#he also always keeps trying to make me change EVERYTHING about how i play in every single aspect too

[fandomgirlz01]

The Most Perfect Christmas Ever

JJ Maybank X Routledge Reader

Imagine on fandom instagram?: No

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: Yes: (1) "Cute Christmas socks." (2) "Are you going to stay out there in the cold all night?" (3) "Come here. I bet you can fit in my coat with me and it’ll warm you up." (4) "Is that my scarf?" (5) "Be careful you’re clumsy and it’s really slippery out here." (6) "Ah. The ground is so slippy.!” (7) "Call me elf one more time!" (8) "Chaos has come again." (9) "Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone." (10) "Come here. I bet you can fit in my coat with me and it’ll warm you up." (11) "Everything I want I can’t have." (12) "Here. Let me pick you up so you can reach the top of the Christmas tree." (13) "How long ago did (Character) fall asleep?" (14) "I believe the Abominable Snowman may be real. I think there may be something in that." (15) "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold."

Style of Writing: Single Fic 

Rating: PG ~ For all the fluff and cuteness, but a few adult comments…

Edited: Not edited so it may change around later guys. 

Word count: 6,717 

Post Date & Time: December 25th 2024 at 1:45 AM

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings Here 

Listen to the story be read out loud here {coming soon}.

Summary: You, your brother John B and JJ (Jackson Jessy "Maybank" Groff) spend another Christmas together, your first Christmas without your father after he’d gone missing. This Christmas however is different than all the others that the three of you have spent together. 

Authors Note: I got these amazing prompts from a fellow writers page @bonniebird Bonnie is an inspiration to me as well as an amazing writer and artist. I did change some of them up so they fit the story better, but I did try to keep them pretty close to the original prompts. Anyway, Bonnie’s work never fails to make me smile and feel all the feelings that I should when reading. I WISH I could write as amazingly as she does, but I’m nowhere near her level yet, I hope and pray that one day I will be. Ladies and gentlemen please go give her love and support because she really deserves it. She’s one of my many inspirations and I’m so so happy to use her prompts because they really pushed me to write this fic even though I was blocked for all of my other works. I feel like it helped me break out of it, so THANK YOU Bonnie for everything 🩵🩵🩵

Also this is our first JJ Maybank fic. We have so much coming out for JJ he will eventually be added into our main people we write for so be on the look out for when we add that in. We both hope you guys enjoy this one. 🩵

You hum softly to yourself along with the Christmas music you have playing as you lay out the decorations. Every Christmas, you, John B, your dad, and JJ would enjoy Christmas together. When you were growing up and found out what JJ’s dad did to him (you didn’t tell them of course, because that’s JJ’s place to tell people about it), you begged for JJ to start spending the holidays with you. Ever since that very first time they agreed, he’s always come over. It’s always been your absolute favorite time of year. How could it not be? When you have JJ and John B around you, your two favorite people? This year is different though, because it’s the first Christmas without your father since he had disappeared only a few months ago now. 

“Hey. Wow. You’ve really got everything ready,” John B comments in shock as he looks at everything you’ve laid out so far. 

“It’s Christmas, JB, of course I’ve got everything ready. Don’t I always?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him and shrugging. 

“I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve and we’re only now decorating…” you shake your head and he chuckles. 

“I know normally you have it all started the last week of November,” he comments, amusement clear in his tone. 

“I know right! I’m so behind. This year has been a lot… it’s been one stressful year…” you mutter out with a roll of your eyes and he again hums in amusement as you bite your lip. 

“Hey. I get it. It definitely has been wild,” John B agrees and you sigh. 

“It’s just… it’s the first one without dad. We should still celebrate, be happy to still all be together right?” You ask, unsure of your own words. 

“Of course, bug. I’m sure we’ll enjoy it,” he tells you as he stops you for a moment to pull you into a hug. 

“Plus, I’ll have my two favorite guys with me. I’m happy and I refuse to not be happy during my favorite time of year,” you push away from the hug as you ramble while continuing to lay stuff out, not bothering to spare a look at your brother. 

“Hey. I get it. I do. No need to preach it to me, bug,” he reverently tells you, giving you a small shrug. 

You continue to lay ornaments and many other decorations out on the table. You step back to look at your handiwork, proud of how it looks. You get pulled out of your thoughts when your brother laughs, making you look at him instead. 

“What?” You ask him, eyebrow propped and he points down at your feet. 

"Cute Christmas socks," he tells you though chuckles and you look down at them, pushing up onto your toes. 

“Oh, really? Good, I got both you and JJ a pair of your own,” you inform him with a giant grin and his face falls. 

“There’s no way JJ will be wearing those…” he tells you and you giggle. 

“Who says! They’re cute!” You cry out and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Sorry to tell ya, bee, JJ doesn’t do cute,” he tells you with humor lacing his tone. 

“Fine. You’ll wear them though, right?” You ask, giving him puppy dog eyes. 

“Not a chance. Puppy eyes don’t work on me anymore, bee,” he tells you and you smirk even though he’s not looking at you. 

“Really? Then why won’t you look at me, huh?” You teasingly ask and he huffs. 

“No reason. No reason at all. Speaking of your two favorite people, where's the other?” John B asks with a hint of humor, changing the subject as he picks up an ornament to look at before carefully setting it back down. 

“Actually, he was supposed to be here about thirty minutes ago…” you comment as you finally look up at the clock. 

“Don’t worry, bug. It’s JJ, I’m sure he’s just running late,” John B tries to comfort you, but you shake your head, rushing over to start putting your jacket on. 

“Exactly. It’s JJ. He’s never late this time of year. He loves having Christmas with us,” you comment as you shove your feet into your shoes. 

“Bug? What are you doing?” John B rushes over to you and you shrug as you stand while zipping up your jacket. 

“I’m going to look for him. What if he needs us?” You counter as you wrap a scarf around your neck and John B sighs. 

“I’m coming with you then,” he informs you as he grabs his own jacket. 

You give him a look of exasperation before shaking your head once more. You pull the door open before starting down the porch, but John B pulls you to a stop. You go to yell at him, but he raises his hands in surrender before pointing over at something and you turn to look where he's pointing. You see JJ sitting curled up on the dock and you sigh in relief. 

“You go talk to him. I’ll finish setting up, okay?” John B offers and you smile softly at him. 

“Don’t you wanna go over?” You ask, popping an eyebrow at him and he pauses with lips pursed in thought. 

“No. It looks more like a you and him moment,” John B answers with a small soft smile. 

“Okay. If you’re sure, birdy,” you tell him, giving a side eye to see if he changes his mind. 

When he doesn’t show any signs of changing his mind, you firmly nod at him before starting to walk over to JJ as John B heads back inside. It’s a cold night so you bring your cupped hands up to your mouth and breathe into them, hoping to warm yourself up a little. Once your hands have warmed up, you move them under your armpits, trying to keep them that way as you move closer and closer to JJ. 

“Jayj…” you call out softly and you can see your breath in the air. 

“Hi, cupcake…” he mutters, not looking at you which makes you frown. 

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” You ask as you sit next to him, your feet dangling over the side of the dock. 

“JJ, talk to me…” you mutter out when he doesn’t answer and you move to cuddle into his side, but he uses his shoulder to shove you off, still keeping his face out of view. 

“JJ. Seriously, what is wrong?” You ask as you grab his shoulder, trying to pull him to look at you even though you have an opinion on what’s going on. 

“Just leave me alone cupcake. Please?” He practically begs, still turned away from you and you frown even harder. 

“Jayj, please…” you whisper out to him once again and he sighs, finally turning to you not liking the hurt sound of your voice. 

“Oh, JJ…” you gasp when you see his face full of black and blue bruises, you had a thought that’s it be about his dad, but you had no clue it’d be this bad. 

“See, that’s why…” he mutters, looking away from you once more. 

“I don’t want you pitying me again… you do it far too often,” he mutters after you haven’t said anything.

“I don’t pity you, JJ. If anything I think it makes you incredibly strong…” you tell him with a firmness to your tone and he feels himself getting choked up. 

“Yeah… whatever…” he responds, not believing you as he shoves you off again. 

“I’m really sorry, JJ…” you mutter softly, not knowing what else to say to get him to believe you. You frown with a shake of your head as tears well up in your eyes.  

“What do you have to be sorry for? You didn’t do this…” JJ asks as he still refuses to look at you and you reach out for him again. 

“I’m sorry you have to go through this. I’m sorry you got dealt such a bad hand in life. I wish… I wish I could force Luke to see you. To actually see you,” you explain as you're finally able to pull him to look at you. He wishes he could wipe your frown off but only smiles softly at you. 

“It’s not so bad. I’ve got you and John B. It could be worse I guess,” he tells you with a shrug as he looks away again and out to the water. 

“I mean, you are right. Having us is pretty awesome,” you agree playfully, bouncing your eyebrows and he chuckles to himself, shaking his head. You smile, seeing his tough exterior finally starting to break down.

“It really is,” he softly agrees as he still looks out over the water and you hold back a sigh. 

“Well, are you going to stay out here in the cold all night and stew in what happened? Or are you going to come in and have fun with your favorite person?” You goad him while nudging him with your shoulder. 

“Oh, John B’s my favorite person now, huh?” he playfully asks, his own lips forming a bit bigger of a smirk now and you gasp. 

“Umm, no. I was actually talking about myself,” you respond with a deadpan look that makes him smile even more as he laughs, shaking his head. 

“What makes you think you’re my favorite person?” he asks you, all smiles now and you can’t help but smile alongside him. 

“It made you smile, didn’t it?” You answer him with a shrug and he’s shaking his head in disbelief again. 

“Yeah… yeah. It did,” he chuckles, continuing to smile softly at you.

"Well come on, then, let's get inside. We have a tree to decorate still and many other Christmas festivities,” you tell him with a beaming smile as you go to get up, but he reaches out and stops you. 

“Can we maybe just stay here for a moment more?” he mutters out and you blink at him for a moment.

“Yeah, of course, Jayj…” you softly tell him and he smiles a small smile at you. 

The two of you sit in silence for a little while before JJ, who's not wearing a coat, starts to shake a little bit."Come here. I bet you can fit in my coat with me and it’ll warm you up," You tell him as you hold your coat open to him. 

“Thanks, cupcake,” he mutters as he slides in under your arm and you smile warmly at him. 

“Of course, Jayj. It’s us against the world,” you whisper to him as you bring your pinky up and he smiles again before bringing his up as well, wrapping it around yours. 

“Us against the world, cupcake,” he agrees and you sigh, laying your head against his that now lays on your shoulder. 

“Hey, is this my scarf?” he asks after a while of silence as he lifts one of the sides of the scarf up. 

“Umm. Yeah, I think it’s the one you left here last year. I found it in my winter clothes. You can have it back if you want,” you answer with your cheeks burning hot and you try to hide your face. 

“Nah. Keep it. It’s a better fit on you than me,” he tells you softly and again you can’t help but blush. 

He says nothing else after that, just cuddles back into your shoulder and you squeeze his shoulder. The two of you stay sitting there, cuddling while looking out over the water in silence and just enjoying each other’s presence. 

“Hey, tweedledee and tweedledum, are you two going to stay out there all night and make me decorate alone? Or are you going to come be of some help?”John B calls out for the two of you from the edge of the dock and you both roll your eyes. 

“Well, you ready to go in?” You ask him and he smiles at you before nodding. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” he agrees before pulling away and the two of you start to stand. 

"Be careful cupcake, you’re clumsy and it’s really slippery out here,” JJ tells you as he stands up and you cross your arms. 

“I’m not that clumsy!” You fight back and he hums in amusement. 

“Okay. I’ll believe that when you're not tripping over thin air,” he jokes back with a smirk and you scowl at him. 

“Whatever…” you tell him as you roll your eyes before turning and taking a step to head back to the house. 

You let out a small gasp as you start to fall back, but JJ, knowing you well, was already reacting and quickly pulling you back up. You stare at him in shock for a moment before you slowly start to smile, making him smile too. 

"You were right. The ground really is so slippery,” You joke, eyes wide in shock and he playfully rolls his eyes at you. 

“Never change, cupcake. You’re truly one of a kind,” JJ tells you with a grin that’s utterly infectious. 

“Only if you promise never to change yourself, Jayj. You’re one of a kind too,” you request and he nods in agreement. 

You both stare at one another for a moment, your eyes staring into the blue pools that are his eyes that you’ve come to love so much over the years and you have a burning need to kiss him. You can feel his heart going what seems to be a mile a minute as he watches your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up to his eyes, his eyes doing the same. He squeezes your waist gently with a million thoughts of how your lips might taste flying though his mind and he wishes he could just kiss the adorable frown off your face, but he knows he can’t, making him frown too. You frown even deeper before opening your mouth to ask him why he’s frowning, but before you get the chance, you get cut off. 

“Hey! Would you two stop making eyes at each other and come help me decorate!” John B calls out again, interrupting the moment and you almost groan. 

“Thanks for catching me, Jayj,” you whisper out and something flashes through his eyes for a moment, an emotion you can’t quite decipher before he grins again letting you go. 

“I’ll always catch you, cupcake,” he promises with a light smile before the two of you start to walk over to John B. 

You slip a little bit once more, but you reach out and grab onto JJ’s arm. He looks down at you and chuckles as you cling to him like a koala bear, making him chuckle. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you to the end of the dock safely,” he promises with a laugh as he laces his fingers through yours and continues to walk over to John B. 

"Chaos has come again, man!” JJ announces as you and he walk into the château before he’s letting go of you to walk over to John B. 

“Don’t think that’s a good thing man,” John B deadpans and you fight to hold back a giggle as JJ pulls back from the guy hug the share looking offended. 

“Fine then, I take it back. You’re definitely not my favorite person. It’s cupcake,” JJ says as he pulls you into him from behind. 

“Oh so now I’m your favorite,” you ask, crossing your arms and giving a faux annoyed look. 

“Let’s be completely honest bee, I think you always have been even when he lies outta his butt and says you aren't,” John B comments with a roll of his eyes as he picks up an ornament and hangs it on the tree. 

“It’s disgusting sometimes really,” John B continues with a fake gag as he hangs the ornament up on the tree. 

“Ohh. I wanna do the Angel!” You happily call out clapping your hands and John B chuckles. 

“Don’t you always do it? This year’s no different, Bee. It’s your one job,” John B comments in amusement making you pout. 

“It’s not my only job! I have others,” you fight back and JJ chuckles, slinging his arm around your shoulder. 

“Yeah, JB her other jobs lookin pretty,” JJ comments as he hugs you into his side and you fight a blush as you groan pushing him away. 

“I extremely dislike both of you,” you comment, crossing your arms with a look of dismay falling on your face and they both grin. 

“That’s not true. You LOVE us,” both of them singsong to you and you uncross your arms shaking your head. 

“Okay maybe I do, but let’s get this show on the road,” you finally cave and agree with them before walking over to start decorating the tree some more. 

“Okay miss head elf,” JJ jokes with a roll of his eyes and John B laughs. 

“Oh that’s a good one Jayj. She really is a snappy head elf this time of year isn’t she?” John B agrees before pushing the joke a little further and you pause crossing your arms. 

"Call me elf one more time!" You seeth out through clenched teeth and they share a look. 

“Awe come on elffie. It’s a cute Christmas nickname that’s all. Plus you're the perfect height for it,” JJ tells you again, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he squeezes you affectionately and you huff, shaking your head. 

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get decorating already…” you tell them in annoyance and JJ snickers along with John B. 

Together you, JJ and John B all dance around and decorate making you completely forget about everything that’s been going on the past few months. For a moment it’s just you and your two favorite people living happily with nothing and nobody to take it away from you. You’d give anything to live every single day like this. You walk away still laughing at something JJ had said and walk back in with the scissors. You stop and fondly watch as John B and JJ fight over who gets to put an ornament on a certain branch. Blue Christmas by Elvis starts to play and without realizing it you start to cry. 

“You okay there cupcake?” JJ asks as he turns around to see you crying and worry flows through him. 

“I’m okay Jayj…” you tell him softly with a gentle smile on your face as you set the scissors on the table. 

“Then why the tears?” John B asks and you giggle wiping at your eyes. 

“I just wish we could all live like this everyday. Just us three having the times of our lives with nothing to worry about,” you start pausing to catch your breath a little bit and to sniffle. 

“Both Kie and Pope have their parents. I’m happy to just have you two,” you explain more tears welling up in your eyes and JJ clicks his tongue coming over to give you a hug. 

“I’m happy we have each other too, Bee, but unfortunately we can’t have it everyday. There’s always going to be good and bad days,” John B agrees with you as he to comes over to hug you. 

“I know, I just wish it could be that way,” you sigh out and JJ squeezes you once more. 

“I think we all do, cupcake. Let’s just try to live in this moment then yeah? Enjoy the time we have?” He asks and you grin up at him. 

“Yeah, okay,” you agree and he smiles happy to see you back to your happy go lucky self. 

You gasp as the song’s lyrics perfectly fit the moment. “But I’ll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas without you,” you sing along to Elvis as you sway and JJ shakes his head, but smiles as he watches you enjoy the music. 

“Perfect timing, much?” He jokes propping an eyebrow making both you and John B burst out laughing. 

“Yeah… definitely don’t quit your day job bug,” John B jokes and you shrug seemingly unfazed by his playful insult. 

“And what day job would that be birdy? Hunting for gold?” You playfully ask back, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“Okay. Okay… you win,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“I always win,” you say in a devious tone with an equally devious look. 

“Don’t I always win, Jay?” You ask, turning to JJ who looks between you and John B in a panic for a moment. 

“Sorry JB. I have to say she is definitely a winner in my book,” JJ tells both of you and you let out a cheer pumping your fist in the air. 

“Eat it birdy!” You cheer out as you do a little dance. 

“So not fair! JJ’s only on your side because he’s crushing hard. Let’s bring Sarah in as a tie breaker,” John B complains and you pause your dance crossing your arms as you prop an eyebrow at him. 

“How would that break the tie? One. Sarah, so would choose me too and second that’d only make it tied even more even if she did choose you,” you comment very pointedly and he shrugs sticking his tongue out. 

“At least it’d be more fair. Again, JJ only chose you because he’s crushing on you,” John B again points out and you shake your head. 

“And Sarah is so crushing on you,” you point out and JJ lets out an “ooooohhh” making you laugh. 

“She got you there JB,” JJ comments with a smirk that’s infectiously making you smirk too. 

“Okay birdy, you win. I take it as a compliment that my favorite person is crushing on me though,” you happily reply, leaving a kiss on JJ’s cheek and he blushes before awkwardly clearing his throat. 

“Okay. Okay. Enough fighting you two. I think it’s time to put the angel up right?” JJ cuts in only wanting to change the whole subject as he holds the Angel up for you to take from him. 

“Yeah, okay.” You agree as you take the Angel from him. 

You look down at the Angel in your hands, the angel you and your mom had picked out together when you were five. You don’t remember much of her, John B does because he’d been a little older (he’d been seven) when she left, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt when you think about how she’d just left the three of you behind. John B and your dad had told you so much about her that sometimes she felt like a phantom to you, like someone that was there for a second, someone you knew so well, then gone the very next. Tears well up in your eyes and you look up at John B. He immediately knows what you’re thinking and lets out a sigh, sad for you as always, he always felt sad you couldn’t fully remember her like he could. 

“I know, bug. I miss mom too,” John B sympathizes with you and you wipe under your eyes as JJ squeezes your shoulder. 

“I just wish I’d gotten to actually know her a little more,” you mutter and JJ pulls you into a hug knowing that’s the only sure way to comfort you. 

“Here, cupcake. Let me pick you up so you can reach the top of the Christmas tree.” JJ tells you after pulling away from the hug and he bends down before slipping his head between your legs lifting you as he stands. 

“You better not drop me Jayj!” You squeak out before giggling hysterically as you’re now sitting on his shoulders one hand in his hair the other holding the angel and he stands straight. 

“I would NEVER dream of it cupcake,” he sweetly tells you as he holds you a little tighter to make it known he definitely won’t drop you. 

You grin as you put the Angel on the tree before looking down to see JJ looking up at you. You then nod at him and he bends to let you down slowly. Once you have both feet on the ground he stands up straight next to you. You smile at him before suddenly you're letting out a gasp pushing JJ away just the slightest but in your excitement. 

“What? What’s wrong?” JJ asks immediate worry, taking over as he looks at John B for help, but John B just shrugs just as confused. 

“It’s If Everyday Was Like Christmas my favorite Elvis Christmas song,” you happily explain and JJ lets out a sigh of relief shaking his head. 

“We should have known,” John B playfully rolls his eyes 

“Oh we really should have dude. She is an old soul,” JJ agrees and he chuckles as you start to sway again just as you had with Blue Christmas and JJ shakes his head again too as you hold a hand out for him. 

“What?” JJ asks with an arched eyebrow and you grin making his heart melt at seeing you so happy. 

"I want to dance with you. Come on. Dance with me Jayj,” you beg, holding your hand out to him more insistently. 

“Okay, but you should know I’m not a good slow dancer sweetheart,” he informs you as he takes your hand in his and you smile as you help him get into position. 

“It’s okay J. Just sway with me. We don’t have to be all that fancy, we’re Pogues, remember? Not kooks,” you remind and he throws his head back laughing before calming as he sways with you. 

“P4L. Never a kook,” JJ happily agrees, proud that you feel the same way he does. 

You lay your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and his leans against yours. He looks at John B for a moment over your shoulder who seems to be watching the two of you fondly. John B then surprises him by putting his hands up in surrender before leaving the room and JJ melts against you a little more. 

When If Everyday Was Like Christmas ends both of you slowly come to a stop and you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him. You smile softly at him and again there’s a moment where you lock eyes. His bright brilliant blue eyes shining with happiness and another emotion that makes you think you might just kiss, but just like all the other moments over the years where you’d been close John B walks back into the room. 

“And what’s going on here?” John B asks ever the overprotective brother that he is and you roll your eyes. 

“Nothing birdy. Are we watching die hard or not?” You ask changing the subject as you push away from JJ and he fights not to frown at the missing feeling of your body heat. 

“Not. I thought we could open a gift or two,” John B tells you and you arch an eyebrow at him. 

“I thought we all agreed on no gifts this year?” You ask and John B shrugs. 

"I’d be down. I know we said no presents this year but I wanted to get you both something special to show you how much I appreciate you, so I uhh did…" JJ admits with a shrug in agreement and John B grins shrugging along with JJ. 

“My gifts really aren't much. Just one to open tonight and tomorrow for each of us. All have super special meaning that’s all,” John B informs you and you grin shaking your head. 

“Well I really can’t say much. I did the same thing,” you admit with a giggle when they both give you a shocked look. 

“Bee! It was your idea!” John B cries out and you smile sheepishly. 

“Oppps,” you shrug feigning innocence, shrugging "Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone else right?” You ask with a lopsided grin and John B lets out a chortle shaking his head almost in disbelief. 

“I mean she’s not wrong dude,” JJ happily chirps out and you smirk, bouncing your eyebrows. 

“I’m never wrong Jayj,” you joke with him poking his side and he playfully scoffs. 

“Okay. Yeah, whatever you want to believe cupcake,” he humors you as he rubs at the spot you’d poked him in. 

After opening gifts you’d all decided to watch the movie so you cuddle up next to JJ and John B decides to sit in the chair off to the side. As the movie plays JJ lays behind you his strong arm wrapped around your waist like normal and anytime he laughs you feel the warm air from his mouth over your neck making goosebumps rise on your arms. You fight the whole movie not to fall even more in love with him and the way he holds you, but just like any other time the two of you cuddle you do. 

“Well, I’m beat. I’m going to bed,” John B announces as he slaps his hands down on the arms of the chair and pushes himself up. 

“Goodnight JB,” you call out as he walks toward his room and he turns around. 

“Goodnight bumblebee. Sleep tight,” he replies with a soft smile your way. 

“So cupcake, you heading to bed too?” JJ asks and you look up at him. 

“I’m not really tired. I might go lay in the hammock for a little while,” you inform him and he nods letting go of your waist. 

“You could come join me if you want, but you definitely don’t have to,” you tell him biting at your lip, nervous he might say no and he chuckles. 

“And skip out on our special hammock time?” He asks like he is offended and he smiles when you perk up. 

“Really?” You ask in excitement and he smiles even more. 

“Really cupcake. I love our hammock time. Let’s go,” he promises softly as he pushes up off the couch and grabs the blanket the two of you always use. 

He then turns to you and looks down at you sitting up before reaching a hand out to you. You smile almost shyly as you slip your hand into his and he pulls you up from the couch. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and together you walk out of the château. You both walk down the stairs and over to the hammocks. 

“After you princess,” JJ tells you as he bows like a butler would and you giggle shaking your head. 

“Why thank you. You're a very kind Prince, you know that?” You ask him as he lays down with you now and he holds his arm up for you to cuddle up to his side. 

“Well it’s easy to be kind to a princess like you,” he tells you and you roll your eyes at his flirty ness as he uses his other hand to put the blanket over the two of you. 

You giggle as he struggles to lay the blanket out evenly over the two of you and you reach out to grab the other side, pulling it over yourself. He chuckles softly, shaking his head before finally relaxing and he squeezes you softly as the two of you look up to watch the very prominent stars in the sky. 

“Can I tell you a secret cupcake?” He whispers out to you after a few minutes as he uses his fingers to rub your arm. 

“Of course Jayj… you can tell me anything. You know that,” you promise as you cuddle into his side even more. 

"I believe the Abominable Snowman may be real... I think there may be something in that." He whispers and you slowly grin, turning to smile up at him. 

“You might actually be right… I mean who’s to say he’s not real?” You ask and he chuckles, shaking his head loving the fact that you just agree with him. 

“I think I may have everything I want right here right now,” you whisper out as you cuddle back down into him with a hum of contentment. 

"Everything I want I can’t have." He admits and you frown pushing up to look at him again. 

“What do you mean? You don’t have everything you want? What else could you want?” You ask with a frown, sad that he could possibly not be as happy as you thought he was. 

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before letting them open once more. His blue eyes stare into yours and you almost lose yourself in them. 

“You,” he whispers almost nervously and you’ve never seen JJ at his nervous before as you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Jayj. You have me. I’m not sure why you think you don’t,” you tell him in confusion and he huffs in anger, but not in anger at you, no he’d never be angry at you, but he is angry you're not getting it. 

“No princess. You don’t get it… I want us to be… uggh,” he groans out reaching up to rub at his chest and your eyebrow furrows even more as you reach up moving his hand before rubbing his chest for him. 

“Jay. Just calm down and tell me. It’s okay… you want us to be…” you prompt him to continue on as he seems to calm a little more. 

“Okay… uhh… I want us to be more than friends and I know Pogues don’t Mack on Pogues, but I’ve wanted to be so much more with you for years…” he admits hesitation clear as he once again for the second time in the night refuses to look at you and you smile. 

“Jayj… look at me please…” you whisper out and hit takes him a moment, but soon he’s doing it. 

"It was always you, through everything it was always you Jayj. Nobody else,” you whisper again with a grin growing on your face as you watch him slowly realize exactly what you’d said. 

“Wait… really? But wait… what?” He asks in confusion and you giggle. 

"I'd always choose you Jayj.” You softly promise and nuzzle into his chest bashfully and he chuckles bringing his hand up to your head to massage at your scalp. 

“I’d always choose you too Princess,” JJ promises just as softly as he leaves a kiss to your forehead. 

“You missed…” you tell him with a confident grin as you sit up to look at him and he chuckles again shaking his head. 

“Oh my bad. Let’s see if I can fix my mistake then,” he jokes right back with his own smile growing. 

Before you know it his hand trails from your hair and to your neck, lightly pulling you to him while tilting your head ever so slightly. He moves slowly and treats you so gently making the butterflies erupt even more in your stomach. There’s a thick anticipation that falls over you with how slowly you move closer together, but it’s the kind of anticipation you really don’t want to end. Finally his lips meet yours in a firm yet delicate and maybe a little desperate kiss. You are a little surprised thinking it would have been a little more heated with knowing how JJ is, but the delicacy of which he kisses you proves to you just how much he’s wanted this. 

He worries if he makes it anymore heated like he normally does with other girls he’d ruin this whole moment and he really doesn’t want to lose you. You're the most important girl outta all the ones he’s ever been with so if he messes it up he’s scared he might lose you all together. You take a leap and kiss him a little harder, surprising him for the smallest of moments, but he smirks into the kiss before reciprocating it even more. You smile into the now heated kiss as you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck and play with the hair at the nip of his neck making him groan. You then maneuver a little more so now instead of laying side by side you lay on top of him and he squeezes your waist after his hands move from your neck. 

Slowly you pull away breaking the kiss almost unwillingly and he chases your lips giving them another peck making you giggle. He then leans his forehead against yours and you grin wide as both of your heavy breaths mingle together. 

“Wow…” you whisper, biting your lip and he grins at you. 

“Definitely wow. I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he admits and you grin as you use your thumb to trace his lips. 

“I know it may be early, but I love you Jayj. You’re my favorite Christmas gift,” you tell him as you scoot down and lay your head on his chest. 

“It’s not early at all, princess. I think we’ve loved each other for a while now. We’ve just been too scared to tell each other,” he tells you as he kisses your head and pulls you even closer then before. 

“Oh and you're my favorite gift too sweet girl. I love you,” JJ adds on and you sigh happily. 

“Merry Christmas Jayj…” you mutter out as tiredness takes over your body. 

“Merry Christmas cupcake,” JJ parrots you again, squeezing you a little closer. 

It’s a little while later and JJ smiles when he realizes you’re breathing has evened out meaning you’re happily asleep in his arms. He yawns, but refuses to fall asleep quite yet, just wanting to enjoy having what he thought he never could. 

"How long ago did, bug fall asleep?" He hears a whisper making him look up at John B. 

“Only a little while ago. She’ll probably sleep in a lot more than the last few years. I thought you went to bed?” JJ whispers not wanting to wake you as you sleep soundly on his chest. 

“I did, but I knew you two would come out here and I wanted to check up on the two of you to make sure you're all good before I actually fall asleep,” John B whispers back and JJ smiles a thankful smile at him. 

“Thanks man. We’re good,” JJ tells him and John B nods pausing to watch your sleeping face. 

“You take care of her, you hear me JJ. You break her and best friends or not I will break you,” John B says in a serious whisper and JJ’s eyes widen for a moment. 

“Don’t worry dude. I don’t plan to and if it ever does happen I’d break myself before you even hit the chance,” JJ whispers honestly and John B smiles at his best friend. 

“I know, but now that the two of you got wise and got together I still need to make it known. I’m her big brother first and foremost,” John B informs him with a shrug and a happy smile at seeing his sister happy as well as safe and sound in his best friend's arms. 

“Goodnight JJ. Sleep well buddy,” John B tells him before turning and starting back to the château. 

“Night man. You sleep well too,” JJ tells him in a happy whisper as he nuzzled into your hair. 

John B knows without a doubt that JJ is good for his little sister and you are for JJ too. He’s so happy the two of you have finally confessed and made it official. He’s had to watch the two of you pine for one another for years and it was painful sometimes because he cares for both of you so much. First and foremost though as he’d told JJ you are and will always be his first thought. It’s just a big brother thing to protect his little sister. 

JJ watches until John B makes it into the château before deciding to hold you close for a little while longer. Before he knows it though your soft, even breathing lulls him into his own slumber and his eyes close, but even in his sleep he holds you close never ever wanting this Christmas to end; the most perfect Christmas ever for the both of you. 

The End…

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[lightlycareless]

Merry Christmas y'all!! I hope you had a wonderful time with your loved ones ❤️

I didn't get to enjoy this holiday that much because of... women issues. iykyk But still, I got to finish this and play some games so it wasn't all that bad :)

There's another piece that I also intend to upload soon, probably tomorrow lol but the bottom line is we getting two Christmas specials :> which I hope you enjoy!!

warnings: none. fluff. you and naoya are married and naomi already exists, however, it's not entirely centric on them. Mai and Maki's mom is the protagonist here :')

Happy reading!

“If you go through with that change, you’ll be over the budget.”

Junko doesn’t know why she even bothers warning you so when it always ends up the same way: you go over your pre-approved spending limit, the elders question you about it, Naoya covers for it—or more like demands them to back off and pays for the difference.

In fact, he seemed to encourage it too, given how he never reproached you about it and even admired your ill choices—certainly unbefitting of your responsibilities as the future Lady of the House.

More so since there’s a new motivator behind your actions this time around.

“But it’s going to look so pretty, right?”

If she already thought the enthusiasm you had for your first Christmas at the Zen’in estate was too much, preparing everything for your daughter’s first celebration was beyond her expectations.

“It’s Naomi’s first Christmas, surely you must understand why I need to make this extra special for her.”

No. she doesn’t. She didn’t even do it for her own daughters, did you really expect her to suddenly grow empathetic to your cause?

The best thing you could do for everyone was stop, at least then she wouldn’t have to deal with complaints about the bad job she’s supposedly doing by guiding you through your new responsibilities.

But you’d become stubborn, just like your husband, marking this as the newest bane of her existence for all eternity to come.

“Hurry, Naoya! We’re just waiting for you! I already have everything set up so let’s go!” you urged whilst holding Naomi with one arm, pulling Naoya onto the main garden with the other—and he laughs alongside you while doing so, after days of endless teases, how could he not be thrilled by your surprise too?

“Careful, my love. I’m not confident our dumpling enjoys being jolted like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You lament, immediately glancing down at your precious baby —just short of a year old— dressed up in a cozy polar bear fleece onesie that made her look even cuter. Alongside her big, round, golden eyes that told you there was nothing to worry about, for she was equally excited to see what you had in store for her. “My adorable princess, are you ready for your first Christmas?”

The baby gurgles, giving the two the most adorable sound capable of curing all ailments in the world, if possible.

“It’s our first Christmas as a family too.” Naoya notes, and your heart flutters at the thought.

“It is.” You respond, looking up to him with pure adoration—unconditional love. As well as partial disbelief, like you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that one of your biggest dreams had come true.

A family.

Composed of a baby girl who couldn’t be any more perfect, a beautiful, sweet little thing that wholly compasses your love for Naoya.

And a husband, loyal, dedicated, protective—who wants nothing but your well-being, and of course, your love. Which he has more than enough to return.

You didn’t care for what Naoya had gotten you this year, not even dared to wonder, because the best gift you could’ve obtained was already in your arms.

“You’re making me cry, Naoya, that’s not fair!” You pout, he chuckles.

“Then don’t, just think about how happy Naomi is going to be when you reveal her surprise.”

Alongside the gathering crowd composed of Mai and Maki, whom you promptly invited the moment this idea crossed your mind, eagerly tugging at their mother’s sleeve as they wished to keep up with you.

“Come on, mom! We’re going to miss it!” Maki insisted. “I want to be there when it happens!”

“You two should be in bed by now!” Junko scolds, gently fighting back against their daughters, but ultimately failing against their unparalleled enthusiasm.

“We’ll go to bed as soon as we see it, we promise!” Mai quickly arranges. “Please, mom? I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

At her unwanted impotency, Junko naturally stretches to find a culprit behind their erratic behavior and make them responsible!

Or more like she wants to directly confront you for being their obvious prime instigator and demand you to stop filling their minds with senseless ideas, less you desired to suffer the consequences!

But of course, it all takes her back to the initial point. There is no use in her frustrations if by the end of the day she’ll just get the same result: you’ll promise to be more careful with your actions, ask the twins to be more obedient towards her… and let your enthusiasm get the best of you once more, completely disregarding the Zen’in’s inner workings.

So instead of wasting her time, she simply makes them promise to go to bed soon after you do whatever it is that you have planned and move on; arriving just a few seconds after you and taking their respective positions, the best seats as you’d put it.

And once ready yourself, you’d look over to your staff, signaling them to begin.

A wide smile on your face as the results of all your careful planning comes to life, bright colored lights decorating the garden, from the flowers to the trees, in all its festive glory—in such hypnotizing manner that those present could only gasp in awe at its beauty.

But if that wasn’t enough, you also made sure to pace everything correctly; a combination of dazzling entertainment that proved to be a complete success given the way your enthralled daughter bubbled whenever her favorite color appeared, or when encouraging her to do so.

“I think our little princess likes it.” Naoya declares, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“I knew she would.” You murmur proudly while resting your head over his shoulder. “And you? Do you like it?”

“I love it, just like everything you do.”

Junko looks away the moment two lean in for a kiss, just in time to avoid any further embarrassments—as if she wasn’t struggling enough with her unruly daughters and your senseless spending.

But even amongst all these inner conflicts, a part of Junko cannot keep her away from looking at your work. The one she previously disregarded as unnecessary, but now, before it’s intricacy… she can’t help but feel calm. Nostalgic even, though this sentiment wasn’t uncommon during these festivities.

Yet, to her it was. Almost intriguing that someone like her, that has never taken interest in commemorating such things in the past, less so after getting married, could feel such a way.

Though one quick glance at her daughters, the beaming, wide-eyed children that were equally enthralled as Naomi in the face of your celebration, would provide the answer. Because just like your child, they too were essentially celebrating their first Christmas together. As a family.

After brief consideration, perhaps finding it unnecessary to cut short this harmless moment, Junko decides to let her guard down and enjoy the rest of the evening. Soon captivated by the following fireworks, courtesy of the nearby village, which she was never aware could be seen from there.

Not that it mattered to ponder about such a possibility now, not when she allowed her mind to diverge instead into a universe where enjoyable moments like these were an everyday norm—and not an example of defiance.

ugh I needed to give them the spotlight :') idk why it just came to me; but omg hahaha I'm sorry if y'all were expecting something a bit lighthearted but I promise the other oneshot I'm working on is 🙈 just needed to get this one out of my system.

Now, without anything else to add, I hope you have happy holidays!! Thank you so much for your support 🥺❤️ really, I could not be here without you guys.

Take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[mattsfavouritewhore]

Why Her Part 3 - Matthew Sturniolo

a/n: I am so sorry it has taken me so long. But i'm back now and I hope you guys enjoy. ALSO TAKING REQUESTS!!!

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, arguing

Summary: Did matt get rid of his gf for you?

PART 2: why her part 2

PART 1: why her

A month had gone past.. you hadn't heard from matt once. Once matt left your place that day, you had filled nick in on everything and he said he'd keep an eye out for you and report back about everything he heard and saw. Nothing had come up from nick besides from a few messages saying he stayed in his room and that she hadn't been over.

But today, your phone pinged...

Nick: Im so sorry y/n.

Your heart dropped... you knew exactly what that meant. She was over. He had chosen her over you. Anger. Tears threaten to spill out of anger. You felt stupid. Stupid for having hope. Stupid for thinking you were more than pussy to fuck. Thinking that he actually wanted you.

You didn't respond to Nick's message.

A week past and you were trying your best to move on. The gym became your second home, and your friends kept you busy with outings and events, hoping to distract you from the mess Matt left behind. Still, every once in a while, you'd catch yourself scrolling through social media, seeing updates of Matt and Maria. Each picture felt like a knife in your chest, a reminder of what could’ve been.

But one evening, after a particularly grueling workout, you got another ping from Nick.

Nick: You might want to come over. You: Why? Nick: Matt broke up with her.

You froze. Your heart raced as a million thoughts filled your head. Was this real? Why now? What did he want? You typed back hesitantly.

You: And what does that have to do with me? Nick: Just come over. He won’t stop talking about you.

Against your better judgment, you threw on a hoodie and leggings, grabbed your keys, and headed to Nick’s place. The drive felt endless, and by the time you arrived, your palms were sweating. You knocked on the door, and Nick greeted you with a small smile.

"He's upstairs," Nick said, stepping aside to let you in.

You hesitated. "What exactly am I walking into?"

Nick shrugged. "A mess, probably. But I think you’ll want to hear what he has to say."

You sighed and made your way upstairs, each step heavier than the last. When you reached the door to Matt's room, you paused. The muffled sound of music played from inside, and you could hear faint shuffling. You knocked lightly.

“Come in,” Matt’s voice called out.

You opened the door to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He looked up when you entered, and the sight of his red, puffy eyes took you by surprise.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice hoarse.

"Hey," you replied, staying by the door. "Nick said you wanted to talk."

He nodded, standing up and taking a step closer to you. “I broke up with Maria.”

"I heard." You crossed your arms, trying to keep your cool. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I realized I was being an idiot," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "I was scared. Scared of ruining what we had, scared that I’d mess things up between us. But being with her made me see how much I don’t want anyone else. It’s you. It’s always been you."

Your heart clenched, but you didn’t let your guard down. "It took you this long to figure that out? After everything?"

"I know I hurt you," he said, stepping closer. "And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. But I need you to know that I’m done running. I’m done hiding how I feel."

You stared at him, your emotions swirling in a chaotic mess. "How do I know this isn’t just another phase? That you won’t change your mind again?"

He reached out, gently taking your hands in his. "Because I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I don’t want to be without you. Not for another second."

Tears welled in your eyes as his words sank in. For the first time, they felt real. Genuine. "Matt..."

He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spilled over. "Just say the word, and I’m yours. No more games, no more distractions. Just us."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity. Slowly, you nodded.

"You had a month.. you left me, no words, for a month... and then i find out you picked her over me." you whispered.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. "I’m not going to mess this up again. I promise."

You believed him. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could finally breathe.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real.

"Okay."

You stood there, his hands still cradling your face, his breath mingling with yours. The tension was unbearable, and before either of you could think twice, his lips crashed against yours. It wasn’t gentle or tentative—it was desperate, like he’d been starving for this moment. You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled you closer, his grip firm but careful.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered against your lips, his voice low and hoarse.

"Don’t you dare," you replied breathlessly.

That was all he needed. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping tightly as he backed you toward the bed. You let him guide you, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he lifted you effortlessly, laying you down and crawling over you, his body pressing into yours in a way that made your pulse race.

His lips left yours, trailing down your neck, where he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, drawing soft gasps from you. Your hands roamed his back, slipping beneath his hoodie to feel the warmth of his skin. He sat up just long enough to yank the hoodie off, revealing his toned chest, and you couldn’t help but run your hands over him, marveling at the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he murmured, leaning back down to kiss you again, his lips hot and urgent.

"Then don’t stop," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He didn’t need further encouragement. His hands found the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head and tossing it aside. His lips trailed down your collarbone, and his hands slid behind your back to unclasp your bra, his movements practiced yet filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

As the fabric fell away, his lips found your bare skin, his tongue flicking over a hardened peak, drawing a moan from your lips. His hands wandered lower, toying with the waistband of your leggings. He looked up at you, his dark eyes searching yours for permission.

"Please," you whispered, lifting your hips to help him slide the fabric down.

He discarded the leggings and your panties in one swift motion, his gaze raking over your exposed body. "You’re perfect," he said, his voice filled with awe, before leaning down to kiss a trail from your navel to your inner thighs.

His lips found your core, and the first touch of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through you. He worked you expertly, his tongue circling and flicking, his lips sucking gently, drawing moan after moan from you as your hands fisted the sheets beneath you.

"Matt, oh my god," you gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth as he held you firmly in place. The coil in your stomach tightened with every movement, and it wasn’t long before you were teetering on the edge.

"Let go," he murmured against you, his voice vibrating through your core. The sensation sent you over the edge, your body arching as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your cries filling the room.

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips meeting yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. As he settled between your legs, you reached for the button of his jeans, fumbling in your haste to undo them.

"Slow down," he said with a soft chuckle, his voice husky as he helped you remove the last barrier between you. He rolled on a condom quickly, his gaze locked on yours as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours.

"Yes," you breathed, pulling him closer.

He pushed into you slowly, both of you gasping as he filled you completely. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, before he began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one sending a shiver through your body.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned, burying his face in your neck.

Your nails raked down his back as you wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper. The pace quickened, the sound of skin against skin mixing with your breathless moans and his guttural groans. The tension built again, the pressure mounting until it was almost unbearable.

"I’m close," you gasped, your head falling back against the pillows.

"Me too," he panted, his movements growing erratic.

With one final thrust, the two of you came undone together, your bodies trembling as you rode out the waves of pleasure. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you both caught your breath.

For a while, neither of you said anything, the silence filled only with the sound of your breathing. But when he finally spoke, his voice was soft and filled with certainty.

"I’m not going anywhere," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

A/N: this will probs be the last part unless someone comes up with a good plot (open to suggestions of all kinds)

LMKK WHAT YOU GUYS THINKKK

[mbat]

my brother has made so many random weird ass comments while weve been in calls playing wow but i just keep thinking about when i was doing some stuff on my horde main and he saw that i was playing horde and he was like 'dude, horde sucks when it comes to pvp, you should finish what youre doing and just stop playing horde forever' and said it completely seriously and i was just ????

theres so many things to unpack in that statement but most importantly: after all of this time why does this man still think i care even a single little bit about pvp or dungeons holy fuck

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. ���My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[taeyongdoyoung]

hide and seek

summary: your best friend chan finds you've been fantasizing about him and decides to turn those ideas into reality... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: *cracks knuckles* cnc/primal play, wolf/bunny roleplay, mention of safewords, traffic lights system (yellow used), hide and seek, mentions of pee, chasing scenario, blowjob mouthfucking, hair-grabbing, degradation, leg cramping, knees hurting, kinda realistic, unprotected sex, missionary but he holds reader down, pet names, daddy kink (like once), breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: this will be the first part in a series, i haven't decided yet how many parts, maybe three? stay tuned if you're interested 🤍 part two & part three word count: 2.5k

Chan simply asks you if he can use your laptop while you’re having a shower since his battery died and he really needs to check something work-related real quick. After doing so, he can’t help but notice the recently opened pages. He doesn’t mean to pry, really. But it’s right there. And a quick look into his best friend’s mind couldn’t hurt…could it?

He is immediately captivated by this story you’ve apparently written and keep hidden in the drafts of your blog. It’s so…sexy and unlike anything you’ve ever talked to him about.

“Dumb little bunny, thinking you can get away from me,” the big bad wolf growls in the bunny’s ear.

The bunny whimpers helplessly, trying to escape the wolf’s strong grasp but to no avail.

The wolf takes the bunny from behind mercilessly, biting her neck and using her to please his needs...

What comes at the end of the story is what shocks him the most.

“Chris, please…”

Huh? Which Chris? Chris Evans? Or maybe Hemsworth? As far as he remembers, you have always been more of a Sebastian Stan and Tom Hiddleston kinda girl but…people change, he supposes.

Until it hit him. His name is also Chris! And people do compare him to a wolf…But no, it couldn’t be…There is no way his best friend is writing stories fantasizing about him.

Unless…

He can’t imagine going on with his life without knowing the answer. So, Chan waits impatiently until you are done with your shower.

“Everything good with your work thing?” you ask him calmly once you return to your room.

“Yeah, all is good. But I found something way more interesting on your laptop,” Chan blurts out meaningfully.

The expression on your face is enough of an answer. You look completely mortified, like a true bunny that is waiting to be devoured.

“I forgot to clear my history, didn’t I?” you murmur even though you already know what Chan has seen.

“That story wasn’t about Chris Evans, was it?” Chan wants to know though he suspects what the truth is.

You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, which takes him by surprise. Gripping his hand tightly, you look so cute and pitiful. He wants to ruin you. Wait, when did those feelings show up?

“I know it was wrong, Channie, believe me. But I just couldn’t help myself, okay? Nothing else helps me get off but this fantasy. I promise I won’t do it again, please don’t end our friendship! You mean the world to me, I’m so so sorry!”

“End our friendship?” he is completely stunned by your train of thought. “Why would I? I mean, you never meant for me to see it, so I think it’s okay to have certain…fantasies. But now that I did see it, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it, if it makes you uncomfortable,” you suggest.

“You’re right, we don’t have to talk about it. But how about I make those scenarios come to life?”

“Huh? You want to what now?” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“It can’t be satisfying, dealing with all these frustrations by yourself.”

“It really isn’t…” you confess.

“Then, let me take care of you. That’s what friends are for, right?” Chan chuckles.

“Let me get this straight, you wanna re-enact my freaky fantasies while still staying friends?”

“Um, sure, why not?”

You would be a fool to agree. This could mess up everything. But you would be an even bigger fool to reject his tempting offer.

“I’m in.”

“Great! Then, should we discuss boundaries and safewords and stuff?”

“No boundaries, no safewords, you can do whatever you like to me, I don’t care.”

“This isn’t right. What if I want to use a safeword?”

Oh. That thought never crossed your mind but perhaps it should have.

“How about this…if I want a scene to end, I’ll say red. I know you said you don’t need one, but just in case, feel free to use it. If we want to just pause for a bit, then yellow. Green is good to go. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Chan. I mean, uhhh…do you want me call you something specific?”

“Whatever you like, babygirl,” he reassures you and pats your cheek. “Do you want to give this a try rightaway? Unless you’ve got other plans…”

“No way, let’s do this!” you practically jump at the opportunity.

“Alright. I’ll give you one minute to hide anywhere in this house. After that, I can do whatever I like to you.”

His words make you so thrilled that your heart threatens to escape from your chest because it’s beating louder than ever.

“If you find me,” you tease.

“Oh, I will,” Chan swears. “Now, run.”

You sprint out of your room and down the stairs, as he starts the countdown.

“Sixty…fifty-nine…”

Where should you hide? The living room doesn’t have any good hiding spots and neither does the kitchen. Under the table is too obvious. Your room would have been a good option but Chan is currently there, so it’s out of the question. The bathroom is right next to it, so once again, not a great idea. Then, it hits you. The basement! You don’t remember ever showing it to Chan so it will take him more time to think of it. You go through the door and run down another set of stairs leading to the basement. You see the perfect spot. A vintage wooden chest that just happens to be empty and is big enough to fit you if you squeeze in.

Okay, maybe not comfortable but you can survive in there for a couple of minutes. Once you’ve tucked yourself inside and closed the lid, you are suddenly hoping that Chan finds you quickly. Whatever he does to you can’t be worse than this tiny space. You didn’t know you had claustrophobia but in this very moment, you do. You can’t hear him from down here so you imagine he is looking through the other rooms first. After what feels like eternity, you finally hear steps. You are grateful that you recently peed before getting in the shower because the current situation would have undoubtedly made you wet your pants. As the steps approach, you begin to worry. What if it isn’t Chan? What if you’d forgotten to lock the door and now a complete stranger comes in to take advantage of you? No, these thoughts are irrational and make you want to use the bathroom. Ugh.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to come out and I’ll go easy on you.”

Chan’s voice both comforts you and freaks you out even more. You’re not coming out, alright. This spot was great! He can do whatever he wants to you.

“Three…two…one,” Chan finishes counting and opens the chest’s lid.

You look up at him, eyes blinking to adjust to the light. He pulls you out of it roughly.

“Last chance. Run.”

But then, you realize you were squeezed into that tiny space for so long that your leg had cramped up. You can’t possibly run right now.

“Um, sorry but yellow,” you feel like an idiot. You had said you don’t need a safeword and yet…

“What’s wrong?” Chan’s threatening gaze immediately softens and he rubs your elbow gently.

“I didn’t think I’d get a leg cramp in this freaking box,” you admit, ashamed of yourself as you shake your legs in an attempt to relax muscles.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Chan coos at you and helps you massage your leg. “Wanna call it a day?”

“Hell nah. Just, no more running, please.”

“Sure, that’s fine by me.”

“Sorry for ruining the mood.”

Chan shakes his head.

“You could never.”

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” you assure him.

“Scene?”

“Scene.”

“Did you really think you can escape me? Dumb little bunny…” Chan tsks at you and you feel your knees giving out. You need him so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

“Please, don’t hurt me, Mr. Wolf,” you plead with him even though every cell in your being would be glad to be on the receiving end of his anger.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? You should’ve locked your door to keep me out.”

If you tell him that you want him inside would it be too out of character for a scared bunny?

“I’ll do anything,” you promise crying. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“You’ll do anything regardless,” Chan smirks devilishly and grabs your hair harshly, pushing you to your knees. With his free hand, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, wasting no time in pulling his cock out of his confines and stuffing your mouth full.

Fuck, your knees already hurt, probably because of that stupid chest but you choose to ignore the discomfort for now because this feeling of being dominated like that is too good to let go of.

“That’s it, take it like the useless cumslut you are,” Chan speaks degradingly but you’ve never been wetter before.

You wish you could say you are doing your best to give him a blowjob but the truth is you are not doing much, his hips thrusting forward aggressively, his hands gripping your hair. Your mouth is nothing but a cumdump for him. Your eyes are watering, vision is blurred. Your throat hurts too but it is nothing compared to the burning feeling in your knee. It is in that moment you realize that you didn’t discuss a signal for a situation where you can’t speak. You rack your brain for an alternative and remember that some subs opt for pinching their dom’s skin in an attempt to communicate discomfort. You really don’t want this to end but…

As you are overthinking this, you realize Chan’s already released his seed inside of your mouth and you are left with no choice but to swallow it up like the greedy cumwhore you are. Only for him, though.

His cock softens in his mouth but he doesn’t immediately pull out and only then, do you remember what you’ve been about to do.

You pinch his thigh lightly, looking up with moist, pleading eyes.

“What is it, darling?” Chan needs to know, taking a step back.

“Help me stand, please,” your voice is hoarse.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks as he grips your hands and leads you to sit for a while on the stupid chest responsible for your current pain. Okay, maybe, you brought this upon yourself but whatever.

“No, you were perfect, it’s just that my knees hurt. Fucking dumb wooden thing,” you grunt in frustration, punching it with your tiny fist.

Chan chuckles and strokes your hair comfortingly in complete contrast to how he was pulling it mere seconds ago. Then, he pulls you into his arms for a sweet hug.

“Sorry…I’m killing the mood again, aren’t I?” you pout.

“Not at all. Remember you’re in charge of whatever happens between us. You wanna pause, we pause. You wanna stop, we stop. I would hate myself if this doesn’t feel as good for you as it does for me.

“You feel good?”

“Are you kidding? Do you think I’d offer just anyone to fulfil their fantasies hidden in their drafts?” Chan laughs fondly.

“I’m glad you think so,” you smile at him gratefully. “I’m better now so if you’re still on board, we can continue.”

“I’m on board but let me come up with a new plan. I was thinking of fucking you doggy style but now that’s out of the question with your knee situation.”

Hearing him speak out loud what he was planning to do to you sends shivers down your spine. Damn it, maybe you should have just hidden under the table.

“How do you feel about missionary?” Chan inquires.

“Wouldn’t it be too intimate for the kind of scenario we’re doing?” you are doubtful.

“Not if I hold you down,” Chan murmurs smugly.

“Oh. Well, then…like I said, you can do whatever you like.”

“Action?”

“Action,” you confirm.

Chan wastes no time in pulling you up from your sitting position and pushing you down on the cold floor. He’s holding your wrists with one hand and undressing you with the other. Scratch that. He’s tearing your dress apart. It was never one of your faves.

“W-what are you d-doing?” you mewl at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chan commands.

He doesn’t bother with stretching you out because he sees you’re already soaking wet for him. Instead, he forces his thick cock inside of your tiny pussy.

Only this time, your screams are real and you’re not at all pretending.

“T-too b-big, it h-hurts,” you cry out.

“You can take it, bunny,” Chan says confidently.

You know that you can put an end to this with one simple word but damn, does it feel incredible to be stuffed full by your best friend’s large manhood.

“Shh,” he whispers in your ear. “This’ll feel so much better if you relax f’me.”

You’re trying, really. But it’s too much you feel like he’ll split you in half. Okay, maybe not a bad way to go but still.

“D-daddy, it h-hurts so m-much,” you slur mindlessly.

Wait, what did you just say?

“Daddy, huh? Easy, babybun, your wolf dad’s gonna take good care of you, I promise,” Chan’s words send you into overdrive and you come around his cock, your thighs are shaking and you’re arching your back. You can’t think anymore, you just need to be with him stuck in this moment forever. Soon enough, he releases his cum inside of your pussy.

You want to beg him to stay there for a while but you are too weak to speak.

Instead, Chan uses his fingers to push back the cum inside of your tiny pussy.

“Gotta make it stick. Will my bunny have my wolf puppies, huh?”

Oh? So, he’s that kind of guy. Well, you can’t say you mind...Besides, you’ve talked about this before and you’re on the pill so whatever he says is just for the sake of the scenario. Right?

“Was this okay?” Chan intends to find out and judging by his soft tone that is just begging to be praised you can tell that the scene is over.

“You did amazing, Chris,” you sigh wistfully and kiss his cheek.

“Better than your fantasies?”

“You have no idea.”

“So…when can we do something like this again?”

“Gee, let me have some water, at least,” you joke but your best friend (?) takes it literally and scoops you up in his arms, heading towards the stairs.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“To get you water, of course. And have a bath. And then to bed.”

Fuck. Maybe staying friends will be more complicated than you initially thought.

Once you’ve both been hydrated, washed up and dried out, you are cuddled in your bed, sharing snacks.

“Do you want to try something more extreme next week?” Chan asks casually. As if what you just did wasn’t already pretty intense.

“Um, sure? What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Kind of an outside setting. It will take some planning to make sure there aren’t other people but…it just came to mind while we were in the basement.”

“Tell me more about it,” you blink curioisly and put your hand on top of his.”

“So…how do you feel about being chased in a forest?”

To be continued…

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Take it off

pairing: stripper!felix x afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2.9k

warnings: sub!felix, grinding, humping, fingering (m receiving), handjob, nipple play, edging, oral (f receiving), spanking, degradation for a sec, felix is called slut once, dacryphilia (lmk if i missed something), reader is older than felix

a/n: i'm writing a longer seungmin fic but felix just had to be a slut so this happened

~check out: Masterlist

This isn't your regular weekend night, where you curl up with a book and a blanket, some quiet music playing in the background.

No, your perfect peace was shattered as your friends begged, no made you finally go out to a club with them, going as far as also making you put on a short tight dress and heels.

You feel ridiculous, being almost in your 30s, too old to party like some horny teenager but your friends were adamant that you need to get out of your house and stop decomposing.

You wanted to argue but they shut down any excuse you had and you whined dramatically the whole ride to the club about a 'ruined weekend' and 'disturbed peace'.

When you finally walked inside the club, and saw how fancy it was and all the half naked men walking around, only then you realized what kind of club it was.

"Y'all. This is a strip club?"- your mouth fell open as one of the men walked by and threw you a wink.

"Yes. And they also provide some more intimate services."- one of your friends wiggles their eyebrows.

You groan loudly as they take you to a booth they reserved for the four of you.

"I can't believe you tricked me! I don't want some weird oiled up man to grind on me!"- you whine, your face scrunched up in disgust, making your friends laugh.

"Look around, y/n. These men are beyond beautiful. And everything is done with consent. Like we've been here multiple times and we always had a great time. You'll love it, I'm sure."

You sigh as your friend keeps trying to convince you that tonight will somehow change your life.

Some music starts playing which makes everyone cheer and scream, all eyes turned towards the stage.

"It's him!"- one of your friend giggles.

"Who?"- you ask curiously, wondering what's got all these people in a hold.

"The star of the show, Felix. He's like the prettiest man ever."- your friend swoons and you scoff.

How pretty can he be to put the whole room in a trance even before he steps out on stage?

You get your answer as soon as finally emerges from behind the curtain, your mouth falls open in shock, your eyes wide as you stare at the man smirking and walking sensually to the music.

You've never seen someone who looks so angelic, moving so sinfully at the same time, his body supple, every single movement purposeful as he strips the flimsy little shirt he had on.

Your eyes are glued to his chest and perky nipples, his abs and the barely noticeable happy trail and everyone around you cheers but your focus is on him.

His eyes land on you and he gives you a devilish smirk before his eyes change completely, they narrow and darken, staring deep into your soul as he dances and looks only at you.

Your friends are estatic, grabbing at you and saying things like 'Felix likes you', 'he's looking at you', they're freaking out and you're sitting there stunned and with arousal pooling on your panties.

He looks like a hunter and you feel like an animal that he's got his eyes on. It's obvious why he's the star of the show when he can take someone in his hold so quickly, before you even know it you're under his spell.

The performance ends too soon for everyone's liking and the pretty boy slowly makes his way towards you.

"He's coming here, oh my god!"- your friend screams as they grab at you and shake you.

"Calm down!"- you smack their arm, trying to calm your heart too.

"Well, hello there beautiful."- his deep voice shocks you and as he leans in closer, you can see his freckles and the glittery make up on his eyes, and the sweat trickling down his skin making him shine like the prettiest diamond.

"You finally brought your friend that hates going out?"- he looks at your friends and you scold them under your breath. Just how many times have they been here without you?

"Yep, we tricked her into coming out."

"Tsk. Sneaky, sneaky."- he snickers. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Y/n."- your voice is shaky as he stands in your personal space.

"That's a beautiful name, for a beautiful woman. My name is Felix, but you can call me whatever you like."- he flirts and you want to roll your eyes, but you don't even have time to think.

"You seem tense. How about I help you relax? Put on a little show for you?"- he asks, his hand on your chin and your eyes scan around to look at your friends, and all of them give you encouraging looks and nudges.

Oh what the hell, you think. You're a little buzzed and you're already here so might as well make the best of it.

"Do your best, pretty boy."- you smirk, shocking yourself and your friends at your sudden boldness.

That only seems to spur Felix on as he smirks back at you and starts dancing, moving his hips and ass tentatively in front of your face.

You feel hotness surge through your body, the way he moves is delicious, making you feel so hungry to touch him.

It's like he senses that, and suddenly his knees are on either side of your thighs and you gasp as he looks at you through his eyelashes as if asking if he should continue. You give a quiet nod and suddenly he's grinding on you, his hands running on his own body as he touches himself, fingertips brushing his cute pink nipples.

Your friends are screaming your ears off but you're drowning them out, only focusing on the beautiful man who's grinding on your bare thighs.

"You can touch if you'd like."- his voice is even lower as he says it quietly, only for you to hear. His hands are on yours and he brings them to his waist.

You wrap your fingers around him, his skin is smooth and slippery from the sheen of sweat on it and your pussy throbs for more.

His chest is in your face, his ass on your thighs and you can see and feel his erection growing in his pants.

"How about we move this to one of the private rooms?"- Felix smirks, a little out of breath.

You don't know what possessed you but you nod quickly.

"Let's go."- you say and he stands up immediately, reaching his hand to take yours.

Your friends cheer behind you as he leads you away to one of the rooms, the doors closing as you walk in.

It seems like different music is playing in there, more sensual and there's even a little bar in the corner. There's a couch and a bed and you gulp as you stare at it.

"Do you want a drink, beautiful?"- Felix's deep voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"No, thanks."- you feel a little awkward suddenly as Felix pours himself a drink and chugs on it.

"Now, where were we? You're tense again, sweetheart. We can't have that."- he shakes his head with a smile as he gently pushes you to sit on the couch.

He stands in front of you as you look up at him, shivering in anticipation.

"You want me to take these off?"- he bats his eyelashes innocently, his fingers hooking into the leather pants he still had on.

You nod quietly, your mouth dry suddenly, wishing you actually had something to drink earlier.

Felix smirks as he unzips his pants, slowly sliding them down, making a show of it and you almost moan out loud when you see what he has underneath.

He's almost practically naked, the little black lacy panties revealing everything to you, his semi-hard cock tucked inside them straining almost painfully to come out, his balls cupped by the lace and a pretty little bush above his erection.

"See something you like?"- he says cockily and you look up at the prideful smirk on his face. Something stirs within you, you want to wipe that smirk off of his face and make this man cry and beg on his knees for you.

"Hm. Maybe."- you return a smirk before reaching out for him and grabbing his hips, yanking him down into your lap. Felix gasps from the sudden change from your shy demeanor, and you can see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he looks at you with a glazed over look.

You grip his hips, bringing him down on your thighs, his cock pressing into your flesh. A little moan escapes his pretty plump lips and your hands slide behind to grab a handful of his ass.

"Oh!"- he gasps, rutting against you.

"Tell me pretty boy. What do you want me to do with you?"- you smirk, flipping the figurative card on him and he looks at you hazily as you massage his plushy asscheeks.

"W-whatever you want. I-I'm here to please you."- he's become a stuttering mess suddenly and you're beyond turned on and sick of all the teasing.

You grip his face with one of your hands and crash your lips into his and he kisses you back eagerly and desperately, his cock popping out of it's confines and leaking onto your bare flesh.

"Eager, are we?"- you chuckle against his lips and he whines.

"Mm, yes."- he chases your lips but your hand tangles in his hair, gripping and pulling his head back. A broken moan falls from his lips as you attach yours on his skin, kissing and nipping at him.

Your hands are now on his chest as you run your palms on his nipples and he keens, arching into you, his chubby cock rutting in the spot where your thighs are pressed together.

You lick at his neck before sinking your teeth in his skin and sucking on it, your fingers pulling and pinching on his aroused nipples.

"Oh-h my- ah- please!"- he whines incoherently and you smirk against him.

You've never felt this kind of power over someone and it made you feel so turned on, your panties now soaked with arousal.

"You're so sensitive."- you say as you blow air on the red bruise you sucked onto his neck.

"Y-yes! Please touch me! Please!"- he begs and you have no idea if he's taking on a role or if he's usually like that but you don't care in that moment, any thoughts are thrown in the back of your mind as you grab his leaky cock in your hand.

He whimpers, hips lifting up into your touch immediately as he grips at your shoulders to steady himself.

Your lips kiss and bite wherever you can reach, his neck, his collarbone and finally his nipples as you run your tongue on the sensitive bud, your hand working his pretty cock that's leaking so much and throbbing in your hand.

"Ah!"- he whimpers when you bite down on his nipple before flicking it with your tongue harshly.

He's sputtering nonsense as he grips at you hard, his fingertips digging into your shoulders.

You detach from his nipples when they're red and swollen, slowing your hand down any time his cock twitches, edging him as you dangle the promise of cumming in front of his face before snatching it away from him constantly.

"P-please!"- he cries, tears framing his pretty face as he looks at you with desperate eyes, his hips dragging against you the whole time you play with his cock.

You only smirk, your other hand lifting up before you land a smack on his ass. Felix yelps, burying his face in your shoulder immediately.

"Ah shit! Please, please do that a-again!"- he moans and you chuckle as your hand speeds up on his length again, the flick of your wrist driving him crazy as you smack his ass once more.

"Mm, y/n!"- your name rolls out of his lips so prettily that you just have to smack him again.

"Fuck!"- his cock twitches hard in your hand as you keep the onslaught on his ass.

Your name keeps spilling out of his lips as he shakes on top of you, crying and whimpering as he holds onto you for dear life.

Another thought crosses your mind and you stop all movement only to have him cry out desperately.

"W-why'd you stop?!"- he cries, tears sliding down his cheeks as he looks at you.

"You look so pretty when you cry."- you smirk, gathering the pre cum on your fingertips before your hand reaches behind him.

"P-please let me cum. Please. I'll do anything!"- he really looks desperate and you almost feel bad.

Almost.

Felix gasps and jolts when he feels your fingertips slide under his panties and press against his little hole.

"Is that okay?"- you whisper and he nods quickly.

"Yes, yes!"- he moans as you circle your fingers, smearing the pre cum on him.

Your other hand grabs a hold of his cock again and this time you decide to finally let him cum as you sink your finger inside his fluttering hole, meeting a little resistance as he leans forward on you, grabbing onto your upper back and whimpering.

You start fucking your finger in and out of him, hitting his sweet spot as your other hand matches the pace on his cock.

Felix is falling apart in your lap, his mind cloudy, the only wish his body has right now is to cum for you.

He grinds into your touch, matching the movements of your hands and it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to blossom inside him.

"Please, please, please-" - he mutters desperately and you chuckle, teeth nipping at a sensitive spot beneath his ear.

"Cum for me, pretty."- you say and Felix keens, his cock twitching before he explodes, spurts of hot white cum painting your black dress, his hole clenching around your finger like it doesn't want to let go.

You keep fucking into his prostate as you milk him dry and he cries and begs for you to stop.

You finally move your hands away when his cock goes completely limp against you.

You grab his face and kiss his lips, you can taste the saltiness of his tears on them and you push your tongue inside his mouth, circling it around his. You swallow all his moans before grabbing a hold of his hair and leaning him back.

"Get on your knees."- you tell him and his eyes widden a little before he scrambles to get up.

"You're getting a little reward for being such a good boy for me."- you smirk, caressing his cheek with your thumb as Felix looks at you dumbly, his mind completely gone from the pleasure he feels.

You lift up your ruined dress, and Felix moans at the sight of your soaked panties.

"Take them off."- you say and he does so, the sight of your glistening pussy makes his spent cock twitch miserably against his thigh.

"What are you waiting for?"- you grip his head and bring him closer to you as you spread your legs more.

Felix's eyes flutter and he wastes no more time as he buries his face between your legs. His plump lips leave kisses all around your throbbing pussy before he presses them into your clit.

Your breath hitches in your throat when he pushes the tip of his tongue into your clit and starts flicking it slowly, pressing into it.

"Mm"- you moan, hands gripping his hair. He grabs at your thighs and runs his tongue on your folds, moaning at the sweet taste of you.

You don't let him lift up as you slowly start grinding on his face while he laps at you greedily, his tongue fucking in and out of your cunt, he's drooling and making a mess out of you.

You smirk when you feel his hips push into your leg, his cock against your skin as he starts rutting against you like a dog in heat.

"What a desperate little slut you are."- you chuckle as you pull on his hair and grip his head with your plushy thighs.

He moans into your pussy, the vibrations making your core throb and you're close.

"Keep going. Make me cum."- you say as he keeps eating you out and humping against you.

You grind against him, dragging your pussy on his face before the coil finally snaps and you spill your release on his tongue and chin.

Felix mewls, his hips jolting as he cums untouched, his cum spilling on the floor right between the heels on your feet, a few drops landing on the straps.

He licks around his lips and looks at you, his eyes still glazed over and not a single thought in his head.

"Look what a mess you made."- you lean in closer to look at his face.

"Y/n..."- he whimpers your name, seemingly the only thing he knows right now.

"Came untouched."- you click your tongue. "You really are pathetic. But I'd still like to take you home. What do you think about that?"- you grip his chin.

He whines a little, his tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip as he leans into your touch.

"I'd love to. My shift ended anyways."

"Right."- you lean back suddenly. "How much do I-"

"No"- he shakes his head. "This was for my pleasure too."- he says, seemingly coming to his senses.

He stands up suddenly and the cocky smirk on his face is back.

"Take me home then. I'd like for us to get more acquainted with each other."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong

[slushycoookie]

Kinktober Day 27 ~ Shower Sex

Logan Howlett x AFAB! Reader

Summary: Exhausted, Logan and you shower together.

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next Kinktober '24 Masterlist

Both of you had a long day.

Practically dragging yourselves inside the home, exhausted, ready to relax. You having a trying day at work and Logan with a not so satisfying mission.

He didn't waste any time giving you a kiss in greeting before suggesting to shower together. To save on water. You barely mumbled a yes before you're making your way to the shower. Stripping off each other's clothes, making sure the water was at a decent temperature before getting in.

Logan holding your hand to make sure you don't fall. For a minute, the two of you stand there, warm water hitting your bodies. Already relaxing the tense muscles. Reflecting on the day. He wasn’t sure about yours, but his tested his patience. Not being able to grab the bad guy and ‘save the day’ as you always put it.

He grabs the washcloth, lathered with soap to wash you up first. Normally, you protest and make a comment about you being able to wash yourself. You don't say anything. You maneuver as Logan washes you down. Over your forehead and cheeks, from the nape to your collarbone. Along our arms and underarms. Across your breasts and abdomen before moving down to your legs and feet.

His brows lowered in concentration. The tiredness gone now as even when you're bone tired, you're still hot as fuck. He doesn’t make any moves when it's your turn to wash him. Your eyes also lowered while running the cloth over his skin. Logan played with the idea of leaving you alone for the night. Until you kiss his freshly cleaned face. Your lips touching the corner of his lips. He decided that your next kiss should be on his lips.

Logan pressed your body close to him while he's exploring your mouth. Sliding along your tongue, grazing your teeth, swallowing your quiet moans. All while fondling your ass. A grip your cheeks to tell you he's been needing you for a while, but everything's been in the way. The constant missions, you getting swamped, neither of you having the desire to spend time together because life was keeping you two busy. Logan wanted to change that.

He suckled on your neck, back facing the shower water. He dipped your body, giving himself more room to mark your skin. To show you how much he missed you. And the way your hands part his locks, pushing him to keep going showed him as well.

Logan's cock pressed against your stomach while you're holding on to him, placing small kisses to his bicep.

“Lo…” You moan, clutching on to his wet skin, “I've been on my feet all day.”

“I know, darlin’.” Logan picked you up, legs around his waist and pressing you against the shower tile. “Let me do all the work.”

He prodded your entrance while peppering kisses on your wet skin. When sinking inside, he groaned almost like he missed being in you. Your cunt already squeezing around him due to the cold wall, your back arching a little. Logan fingertips press deeper into your thighs. He's thrusting up into you, creating a slower rhythm. Unsure if fucking you like this will be the last intimate moment for a while due to your busy schedules.

Logan takes in your gentle sighs when he pulled out before pushing back in. Your cunt slippery just like your skin. He'll apologize later for any bruises on your skin. He just didn't want you to fall.

He's nose to nose with you while fucking you. Taking in your face covered in pleasure. Showing him you needed this as much as he did. Your breath mingling with his, whispering to not stop. He wasn't going to.

The shower water's temperature got cooler. It made you and him shiver. Your nipples brushing along his chest while he formed goosebumps. Logan kept going, each thrust a promise that you two were going to have the chance to do it again soon. When you weren't as tired.

“Mmh I'm…” You clutch on to his shoulder, lip curled up. “Baby I'm…”

“I got you, sugar.”

Logan held on to you during your climax. Your walls molding around him perfectly that he wasn't far behind. Grunting along your head, his seed coating your insides. Little thrusts to make sure it stayed in.

You solidified it with another embrace, so slow that none of you wished for it to be over.

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@smokeywhalee

[just-nc-tea]

do you think i'm f͟r͟a͟g͟i͟l͟e͟? ☆ ͡ ⊹

⭑.ᐟ The coaches daughter -  Lee Heeseung A car accident has turned your life upside down, leaving you with a knee and ankle that ache like they belong to someone three times your age. Navigating college with these setbacks is hard enough, but when your overprotective dad insists you take an internship with the men’s hockey team, you’re thrust back into the world you’ve spent years avoiding. The rink represents everything you’ve lost—and then there’s Heeseung, the captain whom you somehow cannot stop thinking about.

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ genre. College sports aus, angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, fluff, a lot of falling asleep in the same bed, some good old family drama .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, car crash, Y/N just had surgery and is using crutches, partying, some making out .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ word count. 30.k .ᐟ₊ ⊹  ᝰ an.I haven't written or published anything in like 8 years i think! And back then everything i wrote was in German so this was my first time propperly writing in English! I am not 100% pleased with this but i kinda also wanted to finally post this

The sound of crunching metal and the violent jolt of impact were the last things you remembered clearly from that day six years ago.

You had been sitting in the front seat, your legs tucked comfortably into the seat as your dad drove through the light rain on a Saturday morning. “Soobin’s got nothing on me once I perfect my wrist shot,” you told your father excitedly, looking at him in the driver's seat. He nodded and briefly glanced at his phone in the cub holder, frowning when he saw a new message. He shifted in his seat, his focus divided.

You noticed the change in his expression but tried to keep the conversation light: “I was thinking... maybe you could watch the scrimmage today? I’ve been dying to show you how much better I’ve gotten.” Your voice held that hopeful edge, the one you always used when you wanted his approval.

“I’ll try, kiddo,” he said, though his tone was distracted. Before you could respond, your father’s eyes flicked back to the road—and froze. Ahead of the two of you, a truck skidded wildly through the intersection, its tires screeching on the wet pavement. Time seemed to slow as your father’s hands gripped the wheel, his mouth opening in a shout of warning that came too late.

The impact was deafening.

In the split second before the collision, you felt your father’s arm shoot out in front of you in a reflexive, futile attempt to shield your body from impact. Then, all at once, the world turned upside down. The sound of metal smashing against metal rang in your ears, so loud it felt like your head was splitting. Your body was thrown violently against the side of the car, your head slamming into the window with brutal force. You heard the crack of glass, the sharp crunch of bones, and then... pain. Blinding, searing pain exploded through your body, radiating from your foot up into your chest. It stole the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping, choking on your own breath.

Everything was chaos. The car spun, tipping slightly before jerking to a stop. For a moment, everything was still—then the world came rushing back in a torrent of pain and noise.

Your vision blurred as you tried to move, but your body wouldn’t respond. Your leg was pinned beneath the crumpled car door, and every tiny shift sent fresh waves of agony through your body. You could barely register the sound of your father’s frantic yelling, the way the rain tapped softly on the cracked windshield, the music that was still playing. You blinked, your vision swimming as your father freed himself from the wreckage. You saw him stagger out of the car, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, his expression panicked, desperate. He tried to open your door, but it was crushed inward, trapping you in place. You heard him shout your name, but the sound felt distant, muffled, as though you were underwater. Seconds later everything went dark.

You sat between Soobin and Minji, the faint hum of your mother bustling in the background. The whole room smelled of the kimchi stew your mom cooked for dinner. She placed the final dish down, her apron still tied loosely around her waist. “Soobin,” she said, smoothing a stray hair from her forehead and handing him a bowl of rice. “How was class today?”  

Soobin scooped a generous spoonful from the bowl, a smile spreading as he dug in. “It was fine. Professor Kim’s still trying to crush our souls with assignments, though. I’ll probably have to pull another all-nighter.”  

Minji snorted, leaning across the table with a teasing grin. “When do you not pull all-nighters?” Soobin shot her a mock glare but didn’t argue. “The grind doesn’t stop,” he quipped.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “What grind?” you teased, nudging his shoulder with your own.  

The light banter bounced around the table, filling the room with laughter. Minji had just launched into a story about her teacher tripping during class when your father cleared his throat. The sound sliced through the warmth like a blade, dragging all attention toward him.

His focus was zeroed on you. You felt the weight of his question before he even opened his mouth. 

“How’s physio going?” he asked, his tone more like an accusation than a question.  

You kept your eyes on your plate, your fork idly pushing your food around. “It’s fine,” you said, trying to sound neutral. “I had a good session yesterday. I’m starting to put some weight on my foot.”  

Your father’s fork froze mid-air, his expression darkening: “You’re already putting weight on it?” he asked, his voice tightening with disapproval.  

“Yes, Dad,” you replied, bracing yourself. “That’s how rehab works. I don’t just stay on crutches forever.”  

His hand gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening. “You’re rushing it. I’ve been around injuries my whole career. Just because the therapist said you can doesn’t mean you should.”  

The fork in your hand trembled, and you set it down with a clink. The heat of frustration prickled at the back of your neck. “I’m following the plan they gave me. They know what they’re doing.”  

Your father leaned forward, his voice rising. “No, they don’t. They don’t care about your long-term recovery. They just want you off their caseload so they can move on to the next patient.”  

Anger surged in your chest, hot and sharp. “You’re not a doctor,” you snapped, your voice cutting through the tension like shattered glass. “I trust them more than I trust you when it comes to my body.”  

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Minji’s hand hovered over her bowl, frozen mid-bite, while Soobin stared at his plate, his jaw clenched. You met your father’s gaze, refusing to look away.

His voice dropped to an icy calm, each word deliberate and cutting. “I’m just trying to keep you from making a mistake. But if you think you know better, fine. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re back in surgery.”  

His words struck like a slap, but you swallowed the hurt, refusing to let it show. You clenched your fists under the table and took a big breath. Soobin glanced at you and nudged your foot with his in a silent sign of support.

“Actually, I was thinking about something that might help you,” your father continued in a casual tone, as if the argument moments ago hadn’t happened.  

You blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt pivot. “What?”  “The athletic department needs someone for PR for the men’s hockey team,” he said, his voice laced with an almost forced enthusiasm. “It’s a great opportunity for you to earn the credits you missed last semester.”  

Your stomach churned at the suggestion, the tension in the room amplifying tenfold. “No,” you said firmly.  “Dad, I really don’t want to do that. I’m not into hockey anymore. You know that.” “Why not? It’s a great way to get back into it. You did love it before the accident.” he pressed.

“You just answered your own question, Dad. Before the accident, I did love it.” You felt the frustration bubbling inside, fighting against the facade of calm you tried to maintain. 

Your mother interjected, her voice firm but caring. “Woosung, you need to ease off. Pushing her into this isn’t the answer. We talked about this before.” 

“Pushing? I’m just offering her a way back into something she once loved!” he snapped, his frustration mirroring your own. 

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mix of anger and hurt. “Mom, I appreciate you sticking up for me, but I can handle this. I do not want to do it, Dad.” 

Your father leaned back, crossing his arms. “I thought you might appreciate having something to focus on, a way to ease back in.” 

“It’s not about easing back in. It’s about not wanting to be part of that world anymore. I don’t want to help with hockey PR. I just want to focus on my studies and figure things out on my own,” you asserted, frustration edging your voice. 

Your father’s expression hardened, but you could see the concern behind it. “I just wanted to see you succeed. I thought this could help.” “It’s not what I need!” you exclaimed. “I’m tired of everyone expecting me to dive back into hockey just because I had so much potential. I don't have it anymore, okay? I need to figure out who I am without all of that. Helping with the team won't help me at all.”

“Fine,” he said curtly. “Do whatever you want.”  

The rest of dinner passed in an unbearable silence, the warmth and laughter from earlier now a distant memory. The clink of dishes and the faint hum of the kitchen fan were the only sounds as you counted the seconds until you could leave.  

When you finally stood to go to your room, your father called out from the living room, his voice gruff. “Y/N, just… don’t overdo it, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt again.”  

You paused in the doorway, the faint light from the hallway casting shadows across the room. “I know,” you muttered, the words hollow.  

As you made your way upstairs, the tightness in your chest refused to ease. In the sanctuary of your room, the air felt no lighter. You leaned back against your pillow, the familiar ceiling staring back at you. 

The sound of skates scraping against the ice echoed faintly through the arena as Heeseung leaned against the boards, catching his breath. Practice had just wrapped up, and the team was filtering out of the rink, chattering about drills and weekend plans. Coach Choi stood near the bench, his clipboard tucked under his arm, his sharp gaze following the last few stragglers off the ice. “Heeseung, got a minute?” the Coach called, his deep voice carrying easily over the ambient hum of the arena. Heeseung turned, brushing a gloved hand over his damp hair. “Sure!” He stepped off the ice, his blades clinking against the rubber flooring as he approached. His Coach gestured for him to sit down.

“I have been thinking about the team’s image,” the Coach began, his tone casual but deliberate.  

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Image?”  

Coach nodded, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “Yeah. You boys are doing great on the ice, but you’re not just players—you’re prospects. Scouts, sponsors, even alumni donors—they pay attention to more than just your games. They want to see personalities, professionalism, something marketable for their teams.”  

Heeseung crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the boards. “I am aware, sir. But what does that have to do with me?”  The Coach gave a small smile, the kind that hinted at plans already set in motion. “I’ve been in touch with the athletic department. They agreed we need someone to handle the team’s social media—build a strong public image, keep things polished.”  

Heeseung tilted his head, curious. “A PR manager?”. He wasn’t aware that the team had the funds to hire a person to post a few pics of them on instagram to appease the sponsors. As the captain he was included in quite a few organizational meetings and has had to endure endless lectures about how the boys are not supposed to go overboard when partying because it shines a bad light on the whole team and how it could compromise the career of everyone there. But never had he heard anything about a PR manager. 

“Exactly. I was thinking of Y/N,” Coach said, nodding, “she is missing a few credits and this would be an easy and quick solution. That way we dont have to do interviews, since I do know my daughter quite well.” 

Heeseung blinked, caught off guard. He knew you, if only vaguely. You have met at a few team events over the last year and at a few parties. Soobin introduced you as his sister and warned everyone that you were off-limits. He knew that Beomgyu was quite close to you, so he assumed you weren’t off limits for everyone. The few conversations you had with him gave him the impression that you were quite fun. He also knew that you were hot. He respectfully checked you out a few times and then mentally bleached his eyes, when he realized whom he was looking at.

“Your daughter?” he asked your father, his coach.  

The Coach nodded, his expression softening slightly. “She knows hockey inside and out. And she’s good with this kind of stuff—social media, PR, that kind of thing. It’ll be good for her, and it’ll help the team.”  

Heeseung hesitated. He didn’t know you well enough to have an opinion, but he could guess that working alongside the team—especially under your father’s watchful eye—wouldn’t be simple. Soobin had told him that his father was quite overbearing with his sister after a car accident and how it's annoying the whole family. “Are you sure she wants to do this?” Heeseung asked carefully.  

Coach’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. “She’ll do fine. She’s been looking for something to focus on, and this is a good opportunity for her. Plus, it’s not like she’s starting from scratch—she grew up around this sport.”  

Heeseung nodded slowly, still uncertain. “Okay. What do you need from me?”  

“I need you to help make this transition smooth,” Coach said, his tone firm. “She’s going to be around a lot, and I don’t want her feeling like she’s an outsider. Make sure the guys treat her with respect, and if she needs anything, you help her out.”  

Heeseung frowned slightly. “You’re not asking me to babysit her, right?”  

Coach let out a low chuckle. “No, she doesn’t need babysitting. But you’re the captain. It’s part of your job to make sure the team stays cohesive. She’s here to help, not to be a distraction or a target.”  

Heeseung considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Got it. When does she start?”  

“Next week,” Coach said, his tone decisive. “The athletic department’s finalizing the details, but she’ll be here soon enough.”  

As he walked away, his thoughts lingered on the unexpected news. He knew having you around would be an adjustment for the team—and maybe for you, too. But if Coach trusted you to take on this role, then he’d make sure to give you a fair shot.  

“Y/N! Over here!” Chaeryoung exclaimed when you entered the small café on campus the next day. The café had been closed for a few weeks after the original owner passed away, and his son had taken over. Many students visited the old barista more than once a week, and everyone had been distraught by the news of his passing. When his son reopened the café, getting a seat had become quite a challenge.

You slid into the booth opposite Chaeryoung and carefully set down your crutches, making sure they were out of the way of the bustling café. The warm aroma of coffee and fresh pastries enveloped you as you took a moment to soak in the familiar atmosphere. “Hi, guys! It's so nice to be back here. How was Kinesiology today? Did your presentation go well?”

“Ugh,” Yeji groaned, dramatically resting her head on your shoulder. “I don't even want to think about it. I thought I was okay until Sunghoon and EJ presented. Now I feel utterly incompetent.”

Chaeryoung chuckled, shaking her head with a teasing smirk. “You’re being dramatic! What did you expect? They’ve got that whole jock thing going for them.”

“Not to feel like an idiot because some utterly pretty hockey players have the time to create a more or less perfect presentation even though they don’t have time for anything but training and partying?” Yeji retorted, her voice rising in exasperation. She turned to you, her expression softening. “We already ordered for you. I hope you’re alright with hot chocolate?”

“Sure! Thank you, love. Also, Sunghoon isn’t a hockey jock, he’s an ice skater,” you reminded your friends with a knowing grin.

“Hockey, skating, yada yada, it’s all the same. They spend a lot of time on the ice,” Ryujin shrugged.

Lia leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of ice hockey players, I had international law with Jay today. He looked like he was going to slam his head into the table when Professor Binns started handing out the grading sheets for the exams. Did their game not go well last week?”

You shrugged, the corners of your mouth twitching up as you recalled the conversation with Soobin. “Considering my dad told Soobin relatively harshly he’s supposed to get his head back in the game, I assume it didn’t go well"

“Oh, bummer. That’s probably why they didn’t go to the swimming team’s party last weekend. It was wild!" Chaeryoung nodded, her enthusiasm infectious.

“What party?” you asked, genuinely curious, since you’d been out of town visiting your aunt in Riverfield.

“Felix invited us to a party at their house. Well, it started as a small meetup, but suddenly it wasn’t small anymore,” Chaeryoung explained, her eyes widening at the memory.

Yeji waved her hand dismissively. “You didn’t miss out on anything, though. We ended up leaving early because it got a little too crazy for my taste,” she said, accepting the steaming drinks from the waitress. 

You opened the door to your families house. The aroma of the reheated Samgyetang from the day before wafted through the air, instantly making your stomach growl.

“Hey, you’re back!” Soobin called from the living room, where he was sprawled on the couch, game controller in hand. He glanced up, pausing his game. “Did you bring me anything?”

You shook your head, laughing. “If you wanted something from Corner's Creek, you should have told me when we saw each other in the cafeteria.”

“Pfft, why should I even have to ask? If I were you, I’d bring my precious brother some cake without him having to ask,” he replied, flashing a cheeky grin. “How was the café? Still as good as when Mr. Yoon was there?”

“Yeah. His son changed a few of the drinks on the menu, but they sounded nice! And they now do those cookie croissant waffle thingies? Amazing, honestly.” You plopped down on the sofa next to your older brother, carefully lifting up your leg into a more comfortable position. Soobin made an interesting noise at the thought of eating one of those.

“Did you think about the internship offer Dad gave you? I heard him talking to Heeseung about it. How you’re missing credits and how he wants you to take it,” your brother asked, tone careful.

“Don’t get me started on it. He’s been pushing this internship with the hockey team on me like it’s life or death,” you said, stirring your chili absentmindedly.

“Maybe he just wants to connect with you.” Soobin’s tone softened. “He might think this internship is a way to bridge the gap. You know it’s his world—and it was yours too, before the accident.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “You’re starting to sound like him. Honestly, Soobin, that’s not supposed to happen until I’m an aunt to your kids. I just don’t care about hockey anymore. It feels like every time I turn around, it’s all about hockey, hockey, hockey.”

“Look, Y/N, I get it. But if you need those credits to graduate, maybe it’s worth considering.” He crossed his arms, looking at you earnestly. “If anyone gives you trouble, I’ll have your back. I’ll just remind them that I’m still the older brother and boss around here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh dryly. “Right, you’ll just walk in and be like, ‘Watch out, boys! Y/N’s brother is here!’” “Exactly!” He chuckled, and for a moment, the tension eased. “But seriously, you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. If you can handle what you’ve been through, this internship is nothing.”

“Maybe. I just wish it didn’t feel so… forced,” you replied, blowing on the steaming food on your spoon. “I want to find something I’m passionate about. Also, it feels unfair to others who actually care about it. I’d be something of a nepo baby.”

“It’s just one semester. If you hate it, you can quit. But at least you’ll know you tried. Plus, who knows? You might end up being the best hockey PR person out there. I mean, what do you think I hear? Coach’s son playing in his team, the co-captain? Nepo baby runs in our blood."

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, there was a hint of a smile. “I’ll think about it, okay? But I’m not making any promises.” “Fair enough.” Soobin shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just promise me you’ll at least consider it. Besides, it’s not like you have any better options right now.” You nodded slowly, knowing he was right. “Yeah, I guess.” After a night brooding over what Soobin said, you decided to go with it and accept the offer. He was right—if anything, it was just one semester, right? You’d get your credits, your dad would get off your back, and you’d have Soobin and your father, the literal coach, as backup if you needed it.

So after your last class the day after, you went to the ice rink and carefully knocked on the door to your father’s office. “Come in,” your father called through the closed door. You opened the door and pressed your lips into a tight smile when you saw him hunched over some documents

“Y/N,” he stood up, “how can I help you?”

You walked closer to his table and sat down in the chair across from his desk. “I talked to Soobin yesterday. About the internship.”

A moment of silence stretched on as your father waited for you to continue. “Did you decide to take up my offer?” he asked.

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, I decided to give it a shot. Just for one semester, though. I’m not promising anything beyond that.”

Your father’s expression shifted from anticipation to a mixture of relief and disappointment. “That’s great, Y/N! I really think this could be a good opportunity for you. You’ll learn a lot about PR and social media, and you might even discover a new passion.”

You rolled your eyes, already feeling the frustration bubbling up inside you. “Dad, it’s not about discovering a passion for hockey or PR. I just need the credits to graduate. I’m not expecting some life-changing revelation from this.”

“Then why even bother?” he retorted, crossing his arms defensively. “If you’re going into it with that attitude, you won’t get anything out of it.”

“Because I don’t want to keep disappointing you,” you shot back, your voice rising. “You’ve made it pretty clear that you think I should be involved in hockey somehow. This is just a way to keep the peace, right?”

Your father clenched his jaw, visibly frustrated. “I’m not trying to force you into anything, Y/N. I just thought you’d want to be part of something that means so much to our family. This isn’t just about hockey; it’s about being part of a team, a community.”

You leaned forward, your palms pressing against the cool surface of his desk. “But I don’t want to be part of that community, Dad! Not anymore! All I ever hear from you is hockey, hockey, hockey. I care about things other than hockey.”

He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. “I didn’t mean to put that pressure on you. But you need to understand that I’m proud of what I do, and I thought you’d want to be a part of it. I thought maybe being around the team would help you feel less isolated."

You stood too, feeling a mixture of anger and hurt. “It’s not about your pride, Dad! It’s about my life and my choices. I don’t want to feel obligated to fulfill your expectations. I just want to be me. And for the record, I am not isolated. I have friends and a life! It’s just not hockey.”

He softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. “I know, Y/N. But you have to understand that I’m coming from a place of love. I want the best for you. I thought this would help you find your way, especially with how difficult things have been for you.”

“Maybe you need to let me find my own way instead of trying to steer me down the path you’ve laid out,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you. For a moment, silence hung between you, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

“Okay,” he finally said, his voice quieter. “I’ll back off. But I hope you give this a real chance, for both our sakes.”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and uncertainty. “I’ll try, Dad. But just know I’m doing this for me, not for you.”

He offered a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You arrived at the rink an hour earlier than scheduled, more out of nervousness than necessity. The familiar smell of the ice, mixed with the faint hum of the arena’s machinery, makes you stop for a second. Standing near the glass, you watched a few players skate laps. The sounds of blades cutting into the ice reverberate in the empty rink, and for a moment, you feel a pull in your chest. You press your crutches into the ground, standing straighter as you try to shake off the creeping frustration. You've gotten good at suppressing it over the years, convincing yourself that you’ve moved on.

“Are you lost or something?” You blink and turn to see Heeseung, standing a few feet away, looking amused. Lost in thought, you didn’t hear him approach until his voice interrupted your moment of self pity. You turned around and caught the moment where he recognized you.

“Y/N? Didn’t expect to see you here this early.” He settled his bag down next to you.

“I could say the same to you,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “But I guess the captain needs to be the first one on the ice, right?”

Heeseung grinned and shrugged. “Part of the job,” he said, then nodded towards the rink. “Are you already trying to figure out how to make those losers good on Tiktok?”

You shifted your weight slightly, gripping your crutches a little tighter. “Something like that,” you muttered, glancing back at the ice.

He looked at you. “You sound thrilled.”

“Yeah, I am absolutely thrilled,” you said, your voice cool.

“Did your dad convince you to do this?”, his eyes softened a bit.

You didn’t know how much Heeseung already knew about your situation, how much Soobin or his friends that you were also close to have told him so you just shrugged: “Honestly? Kinda. But what can I say, I am here now so there is no turning back, right?”

“God wait until you get to know the others. You will regret your decision. I don’t think we have a lot of potential to be the Tiktok star your dad wants us to be.”, he chuckled

“God Hee, don’t remind me.”, you lean your head onto the glass that separated you and the rink, cringing at the cold sensation. He laughed out loud and patted your back. Someone shouted his name and he grabbed his gear from the floor, while you leaned back again.

“Alright,” he said, watching you with a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’ll leave you to do your very important PR duties. But, uh, if you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.” He pushed his hair out of his face and winked at you. You just rolled your eyes and bid him goodbye. 

Your office was a small, window-lit room with one side dominated by clutter. On the messy side, stacks of papers, unopened mail, and scattered office supplies covered multiple surfaces, including an old wooden filing cabinet. A half-empty bookshelf leaned under the weight of folders, some piled haphazardly on top of one another. Boxes of miscellaneous items were stacked in a corner, threatening to topple. In one corner stood a seemingly clean desk, which you assumed to be the one you would be working from. You settled in, trying to ignore the mess on the other side of the room, while pulling out your laptop to take a look at the team’s social media accounts. 

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting in front of a flipchart, surrounded by notes and scribbles of ideas for content. Your research had turned up dozens of trends and challenges that could work for the hockey team’s social accounts, but your enthusiasm was running low. The chair you were sitting on felt like it was designed for maximum discomfort, and you were seriously considering bringing your wheelchair the next time. You sighed, shifting your weight in a futile attempt to find a more comfortable position. Your hip started aching about 20 minutes ago.

Just then, the door creaked open slightly, and Heeseung’s head popped in. “You surviving in here?"

Without looking up, you muttered, “Barely. What do you want, Heeseung?”

He chuckled and stepped fully into the room, leaning casually against the wall. “Nothing much,” he said, flashing his trademark grin. “Just thought I’d check in. You know, make sure the new PR girl isn’t drowning in spreadsheets or choking on influencer jargon.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not drowning. Yet.”

“Well, that’s good,” he replied, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step closer to the desk. “Though you kinda look like you’re this close from walking out of here and never coming back.”

You snorted despite yourself, leaning back and stretching your arms. “Trust me. This chair? Torture. It makes me want to get out of here asap.”

As he moved closer, you noticed a faint, fresh scent—like soap and something woody, maybe a hint of citrus. He must have just showered. His hair was still damp, a little messy. He looked very attractive in the annoyingly bright light of your office.

Heeseung pulled up a chair for himself and sat down across from you, resting his arms on the table. “So, what’s the plan? Are you trying to turn us into TikTok stars?”

You shrugged, gesturing to the flipchart. “That, or I’ll at least try to make sure you guys don’t look like total idiots online. There’s a fine line. A good start would be acceptable Instagram accounts. Tell me why some of you post random pictures of food with 20 filters slapped onto them.” You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore how nice he smelled, but it was hard not to notice. You weren't sure why, but it was definitely a little distracting. Get a grip, Y/N.

“Ah, come on,” he said, leaning forward with a grin. “We’re already halfway to ‘total idiots.’ You’ll just make us look... what? Funny idiots? Also my Instagram is pretty and aesthetic!”

“Something like that,” you muttered, unable to suppress a small smile. “I found some trends, figured we could hop on a few of them. I’ve got ideas for locker room Q&As, pre-game routines, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a plan,” Heeseung said, nodding as he scanned the notes. “So, when do we start?”

“We?” you scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Last I checked, I’m the PR person. You’re just the guy with a stick trying to hit a rubber thingy.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, Y/N. You’ll need my charming face to pull off half of these ideas.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, though it was becoming less from irritation and more out of habit. “Oh yeah, because that’s exactly what’s going to save this campaign—your charm.”

“Admit it,” he teased, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You know I’m right.”

“Admit what? That you’ve got an ego the size of this rink?” you shot back, shaking your head. “Yeah, no thanks.”

Heeseung grinned, clearly unfazed by your sarcasm. “Hey, can’t blame a guy for knowing his strengths.” You let out a soft chuckle. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Heeseung."

He stood up, stretching lazily, and you noticed how his shirt pulled just slightly across his chest. You quickly averted your eyes, but not before catching the way his muscles shifted beneath the fabric. Okay, yeah. Definitely kind of hot. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you to your spreadsheets and dance challenges. But seriously, if you need anything—or, you know, some extra ‘charm’—you know where to find me.”

You smirked, shooing him toward the door. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now go away, I’ve got real work to do.”

He threw you a mock salute as he backed out of the room. “Yes, ma’am. Just don’t forget to give me a heads-up when you need me to be the face of your operation.” “Don’t hold your breath,” you called after him, shaking your head as the door closed behind him.

The next day, you were sitting at a round table in the student library, your textbooks spread out in front of you, trying to focus on the notes for your upcoming exam. Chaeryong sat next to you, furiously typing something into her laptop, while Beomgyu, who had already given up on studying, leaned back in his chair with his phone in hand, holding your injured leg on his lap. You sighed and leaned back in your chair, finally breaking the silence. "I took that internship, by the way."

Ryujin looked up from her screen, raising an eyebrow. "The hockey one?"

You nodded. "Yeah, the PR thing for the men’s team. Dad convinced me, and Soobin kind of guilted me into it too. It’s only for a semester, so I figured I might as well."

Beomgyu snorted, glancing up from his phone. "Oh boy, you’re going to be stuck with us now. We’ll have to treat you like royalty, Coach’s daughter."

You rolled your eyes. "Please don’t. The last thing I need is people treating me any differently."

"Don’t worry," Beomgyu grinned, his eyes playful. "I’ll make sure the team knows to mess with you as much as possible. No special treatment."

Before you could continue, the conversation was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey, there you are!” Soobin’s tall frame came into view, followed closely by Yeonjun, who stopped behind Chaeryoung to press a kiss onto her head: ”Hi baby.”

She glanced at them, unimpressed. “What’s this about?"

“We’re kidnapping them,” Yeonjun said with a smirk, gesturing at you and Beomgyu. “Coach needs everyone at practice, and Y/N here has a meeting with the team.”

Beomgyu groaned, half-joking as he packed up his things. “And here I was, hoping to spend my afternoon in peace. Guess not.”

You, however, were a little more reluctant. “Wait, I thought I didn’t have to do anything with the team until later this week? I haven’t finished on collecting my thoughts? I am starting from 0 and i am not investing my free time into research?”

Soobin shook his head, grinning. “Nope, the sooner you meet everyone, the better.”

Chaeryoung leaned back in her chair, laughing. “Good luck with that, Y/N. You’re going to need it.”

You shot her a look before standing up, grabbing your crutches, and letting Soobin lead the way.

The locker room door swung open and the noise (and borderline disgusting smell) hit you all at once— talking, laughing, skates clinking. Yeonjun clapped his hands together and announced dramatically, “Alright, listen up! We have a very important guest today.”

Beomgyu chimed in, “Try not to scare her off, okay? She’s family. Like in a literal and theoretical way.”

You rolled your eyes at their antics but couldn’t help smiling. These two were practically brothers to you—they spent so much time at your house growing up that your mom would always joke that she had three sons instead of one. When all three of them got accepted into the sports scholarship Delicis offered your parents threw a party for their sons, which ended in all of you crashing over at Yeonjuns place after you all drank a bit too much of the sparkling wine. Just the thought of the day after made your stomach upset. 

Heeseung, sitting on a bench tying his skates, looked up and spotted you. He grinned at you as he stood up, leaning casually against the lockers. “Hey, if it isn’t our new PR expert. Early again. You sure you’re not secretly excited to be here?”

You scoffed, leaning into your crutches a bit. “No, Heeseung, I’m not excited to be here. I was kidnapped and should be studying econ right now.”

Jay, who was in the same economy course as you, groaned. "Please don't remind me. I feel like I am at least 10 weeks behind and the semester started four weeks ago."

A few of the guys laughed, but Soobin interrupted them: “Alright, listen up,” he said, his voice carrying authority. “Y/N’s going to be helping us with PR this season. Treat her with respect and do what she says, got it?”

Trying to ease your own discomfort, you forced a smile and crossed your arms. “Look, I’m just here to do my job. I won’t annoy you all too much!”

One of the players, EJ?, leaned back against the lockers with a smirk. “Does that mean we are going to be the next Charlie D’amilio?”

You laughed, unable to help yourself. “That depends. Can you dance?”

Jake, still sitting with his skates half-done, quipped, “I’d pay to see EJ try to pull off one of those TikTok dances.” The room erupted in laughter and you felt some of the tension in your shoulders release at the sound.

A few days later, you opted to skip class after an especially grueling session of physiotherapy. You lay sprawled on the worn sofa in Ryujin’s appartment, breathing in the comforting aroma of spaghetti carbonara simmering in the kitchen.

You called out over the sizzling bacon, “I swear to God. I can feel the bruises coming. My legs and my left ass cheek are going to be black and blue tomorrow. I won’t be able to properly sit down!”

“Nobody is seeing your legs or your ass, girl. Just wear a pair of pants, and the problem is solved,” Ryujin shot back, stirring the pan with a wooden spoon. The warm, buttery smell mingled with the salty scent of bacon, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

“Unless you want to show someone your ass?” she teased, glancing back at you with a playful smirk.

“Not really. Who would want to see my blue and black scarred arse unprompted? Do you want to see? I’ll undress just for you, baby. Magic Mike style. Magic Y/N!” You wiggled your eyebrows, shifting the frozen chickpeas from your ankle to heave yourself into your wheelchair.

Ryujin rolled her eyes, laughing as she scooped the cooked pasta into the pan. “I love you, and I have seen plenty of your naked ass already, but I don’t need you to erotically strip for me, Y/N. You are not really my type, I’m sorry.”

You clutched your chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Ryujin!”

“Ha ha! I’m sure we can find someone who would like to see your ass. There are plenty of hot guys on campus that are horny 24/7,” she shot back, glancing over her shoulder as she added a sprinkle of cheese to the mix.

“Sure. And 25 of them are on the hockey team,” you deadpanned, your mind wandering to the group of boys you were now working with. The thought of the players made you chuckle to yourself.

“I mean, sure. But all 25? Soobin is part of that horny group as well?” Ryujin handed your cutlery.

“Honestly? Yeah. I mean, Dad is pretty strict with him and Minji about dating since he thinks they would get distracted, but Soobin definitely appreciates some good-looking arses. Not mine, though. That would be disgusting.” You shuddered at the thought.

“Girl. Ew,” Ryujin replied flatly, shaking her head, and you both burst into laughter.

A few hours later, you rolled into the rink, greeted by the sound of skates scraping against ice and the faint scent of sweat. The boys’ training session was already in full swing, punctuated by grunts and your dad’s authoritative voice barking out encouragement and critiques. Navigating your way through the rink was fairly manageable in your wheelchair. You opted to maneuver around the rink rather than suffer through sitting on that demonic seat in your office for a few hours, especially after gaining a few bruises on your behind and legs. Seriously, your physiotherapist could have not put her entire body weight on her elbow. You didn’t care that it would help your muscles relax? About every muscle in your body was tensed while she tried to relax one in your arse?

You had asked your dad for a few items from home to make the room feel a bit more inviting. You made him buy some more plants and a floor lamp for a more comfortable light source.  A cherry and a pink dinosaur sonny angel were sitting on your desk alongside the greenery. You brought printed pictures of your friends and various art prints, but without your crutches, you decided to leave the task of hanging them up for another day. If you were to work here for the next six months you could definitely personalize the room a bit. 

You were mid-scroll through your R&B playlist when you heard a light knock on your office door. Without looking up, you called out, “Come in!”

Yeonjun poked his head in, flashing his usual grin. “Hello my dearest Y/N!”

Behind him, Soobin and Beomgyu strolled in, still in their sweaty practice gear, looking completely worn out. Beomgyu flopped dramatically into the chair near your desk that Heeseung never put back. “Yeah, sure, come in and just take over my whole workspace with your stinky gear,” you teased, though you didn’t mind the company.

Beomgyu groaned, stretching his legs out like he owned the place. “This break isn’t long enough. Coach is killing us out there. I swear I’m going to die.”

Soobin rolled his eyes, perching on the edge of your desk while Yeonjun leaned against the wall. “You’ll survive. We’ve had worse drills.”

Yeonjun smirked. “Speak for yourself. I’m not built for this much cardio.”

You laughed. “Maybe you should stick to dancing for TikTok, Yeonjun. You know, where you can actually breathe.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “That’s where my talents really shine. Wait until you see the TikToks I’ll be making for the team.”

When it was time for the boys to go back into the rink all three of them groaned. Beomgyu let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not moving from this chair. I don’t care that its uncomfortable.”

Yeonjun glanced around the room, raising an eyebrow at the mismatched furniture. “Speaking of uncomfortable... this office is seriously lacking. We need to get Coach to clear out the second half of the room so we can put in a sofa or something.”

You glanced at the cluttered back half of the office, filled with old sports equipment, boxes, and random items. “You’re not wrong. This place could use some serious cleaning.”

Beomgyu perked up. “Oh, a sofa would be amazing. We could take naps during breaks.”

You grinned, but gave Soobin a playful push toward the door. “Okay, okay, design committee. Go back to practice before Dad drags you out of here himself.”

As they shuffled out, Beomgyu gave you a lazy salute. “We’ll be back with a proposal for the Coach!” You laughed, shaking your head as they left the room, leaving you in the quiet once again

Heeseung had been at the rink longer than usual tonight. After practice had officially ended, he stayed behind for some extra drills, working on his shots while his mind wandered.

He was standing in the shower after, letting the hot water wash away the tension from his muscles. The clean scent of soap and his woodsy cologne clung to him as he dressed, ready to finally head home. He was on his way out, thinking about his bed, when he saw the light still on in your office room.

He peered through the open door and saw you still at your desk, your face illuminated by the glow of your laptop. He hadn’t expected to see you there so late. Most of the team had left, and the rink was practically deserted. What were you still doing here?

He knocked lightly on the doorframe. “You’re still here?” You glanced up, looking more exhausted than surprised.

“You too?” you shot back, though there was a flicker of warmth in your tired eyes. “I thought everyone had gone home by now.”

“I did some extra laps,” he said with a lazy smirk as he stepped inside, making his way over to your desk, his damp hair falling slightly into his eyes. His eyes drifted across the various decorations you had brought into the office. He picked up one of the tiny figurines from your desk and turned it over in his hand with a grin. “What’s with these little guys? A personal touch?”

You gave him a mock glare, clearly more amused than offended. “They’re called sonny angels, and yes, this office was depressing. I needed to liven it up.”

Heeseung laughed softly, putting the figurine back down carefully. “Why would you bring naked angles.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Don’t make fun of my babies. Besides, I’m pretty sure a pink dinosaur would look amazing in your locker. Might even give you a few extra goals on the ice.”

Heeseung laughed, setting the figure down gently. “Oh, for sure. Nothing screams ‘fearless hockey captain’ like a pink dinosaur mascot.”, he sat down on the edge of your desk, “So, what’s keeping you here so late?”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Just finishing up a presentation for the team. It’s taking longer than I thought.”

Heeseung glanced over at the cluttered desk, noting the piles of papers and sticky notes you were using. “And you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Nope. I like torturing myself,” you said dryly, then raised an eyebrow as he continued to toy with one of the angels. “Are you done judging my office decor now?”

Heeseung twirled the figurine in his fingers, then squinted at it. They did look cute, somehow. “I mean, I’ve got questions. First off, what’s up with this one?” He held up a small pink angel wearing a dinosaur costume. “Did you really choose this? And why is the other one naked?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “No! I wanted the red dinosaur one but kept getting the pink one instead. Three times! So, this is what I’m stuck with. And honestly I am not sure but they are cute.”

Heeseung laughed, genuinely amused by the annoyance in your voice. “So you’re telling me this cute little thing is the result of failure? That’s tragic.” He shook his head, mock-sympathetic, before placing the pink dinosaur angel thing back on your desk with exaggerated care

“Tragic doesn’t even cover it,” you replied with a deadpan expression. “I have one in my room, one in my car, and now this sad thing is stuck here, reminding me of my poor luck every day.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Well, pink dinosaur or not, it’s got character.” You just laughed at that. He watched you for a moment, noticing how your shoulders were slightly hunched. His gaze dropped to the wheelchair you were sitting in. He hadn’t seen you in it much before today. You usually relied on crutches when you were out and about. His curiosity got the better of him: “You alright today?” he asked, his voice softer now. “Saw you using the chair earlier. Tough day?”

You hesitated, and for a moment, he thought you wouldn’t answer. But then you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Physio was brutal. Sometimes it’s just easier to use the chair instead of crutches. Less strain, you know?”

Heeseung nodded slowly, processing your words. His chest tightened a little at how nonchalantly you explained it. Like it was just another part of your day, no big deal. He wished he could ask more—about what happened, how you went from being an athlete to sitting in this chair—but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It wasn’t his place, and he wasn’t about to make you relive something painful just to satisfy his curiosity. He couldn’t imagine having to adjust to something like that, especially after living a life as active as yours. Soobin claimed you were good—like, really good, that you had a future in hockey, but... He shook the thought away, not wanting to dwell on what you had lost. It didn’t seem fair, and it wasn’t something he could fix.

“You know,” he said, looking around in the room. “This office still feels so crammed and uninviting. You need a couch or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, your playful smirk returning. “A couch, huh? You are the second person to tell me that today?”

He grinned, setting the picture back down. “Actually, Yeonjun and I were thinking about it even before you had the office. We need to get Coach to clear out the junk on the other side of the room so we can move in a couch. You’d have a nice place to chill while pretending to work.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “And by ‘chill,’ you mean take naps, right?”

“Exactly. I’d probably use it more than you.” He made a mental note to talk to the Coach and Yeonjun about it. The two of them almost had the Coach to approve of their idea before it was decided you would move into this room. Honestly it was probably better for them to not have a sofa here. He got a headache when he thought of the prospect of finding people doing something unholy here.

Heeseung glanced at the clock. It was late—too late for you to still be working and for him to still be in the rink. He frowned, leaning back on the desk. “You’re not staying here alone, right?” he asked, his voice a little more serious.

You looked up. “I’m almost done. I’ll leave soon.

“Yeah, no,” Heeseung said, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself. It’s dark, and the rink is practically empty.”

You gave him a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “You’re not seriously going to babysit me, are you?”

He crossed his arms, standing firm. “Pretty much. I’m not letting you argue your way out of this.”

You sighed, clearly not in the mood to fight him on it. “Fine,” you relented, though he could tell you weren’t really annoyed. “But I’ll be here a while. I still have some things to finish.”

He grinned, leaning back on your desk like he had all the time in the world. “I’m great company, remember? Besides, someone’s gotta make sure your pink angel dinosaur thingy doesn’t run away.”

You laughed, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “I think I can handle my own angels, but... thanks.” He plopped himself down in your empty office chair, watching as you worked, occasionally teasing you about the presentation or critiquing the décor you’d added to the room.

When you stepped into the rink after your classes on Thursday, the first thing you noticed was Jay, EJ, and Beomgyu hauling the old wooden filing cabinet that had been collecting dust in your office. They were making quite the effort, each one grunting as they maneuvered the bulky piece of furniture toward the exit. All three were struggling, shouting different variations of "Hey!" as they saw you walk in.

“Hi! What's going on here?” you called out, laughing a little at the sight.

Beomgyu glanced back at you, a proud grin on his face. “We’re upgrading your office!” he shouted, nearly dropping his end of the cabinet as they stumbled toward the exit.

“Oh?” you scrunched your nose in confusion.

On your way to your office, you passed a couple more of the boys—Taehyun, Jake, and even Sunghoon—all carrying random bits of old furniture and equipment that must’ve been living in your office forever. The rink seemed unusually lively for an off day.

When you finally stepped into your office, you were met with the sight of Soobin, Heeseung, and Yeonjun cleaning the floor of the cluttered side of the small room. While Jay was reading the instructions to the frame of a ikea sofa, which was still in its parcells leaned next to the door.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, seriously… What’s going on?”

Soobin shot you a sheepish grin. “Well, I figured that after Dad basically forced you and I guilt tripped you into accepting the internship, the least we could do is make this place less awful.”

“So we talked to Coach Lee,” Heeseung added, clearly amused by the situation. “And your dad.” He grinned, standing with his arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself. “And guess what? You’re getting a sofa. A nice one too.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, well,” Soobin jumped in, “Coach Lee kind of convinced him. Said you needed a place to rest. And since Dad’s all for you being extra careful, he gave in. Reluctantly. He wasn’t thrilled, but he said yes.”

Yeonjun smirked from his spot against the desk. “So, congratulations on your sofa.”

You blinked, still trying to process. “You really convinced him to get you your sofa? For the record, that was fully your idea, I did not wish for one.” You looked around, almost not believing it.

Yeonjun, who had been lounging on the cleared desk, leaned forward. “Hey, we’re doing this for you, alright? You deserve a place to chill. But, you know... if a nap happens here or there...”

“Yeah, I figured,” you teased, rolling your eyes, “of course. You’re all just so thoughtful.” But despite your playful tone, you really were touched. They’d gone through the trouble of getting permission from your dad, which was no easy task, and now they were basically transforming your workspace into something a lot more comfortable.

Soobin shrugged, feigning indifference. “Hey, at least now you won’t be stuck in this depressing office.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung chimed in, his grin growing wider. “And now you’ll have even more space for your red dinosaur angel collection.”

Yeonjun gasped theatrically, hand over his heart like you’d just broken some unspoken rule. “Wait, wait, wait—you pulled the red one and didn’t tell me? What kind of betrayal is this?”

You groaned, already regretting letting them see your desk decorations,“They’re Sonny Angels!" You sighed, shaking your head. “I didn’t pull the red one, Yeonjun.”

Heeseung chuckled, walking over to your desk, picking up one of your Sonny Angels. “Well, when you do, make sure to put it right here. It can be the centerpiece of the whole office.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the teasing was making it hard to stay serious. “I’m not turning this office into a shrine for my Angels, but thanks for the suggestion.” Jay snickered from where he was now heaving one parcel towards Heeseung.

Soobin knocked his shoulder into yours, “Honestly, Y/N. Your office was lacking big time. We gave it some character!”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun added with a grin, “and when we’re not napping in here, you can totally use it too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Gee, thanks. I’ll make sure to reserve my own office for whenever you’re not busy.”

Despite all the teasing, you felt your chest warm with appreciation. The fact that they went out of their way to make sure you’d be comfortable, going as far as convincing both the coach and your dad—meant a lot.

“Seriously though,” you said, looking between them, “thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Heeseung waved you off, but his smile was genuine. “Hey, anything for the team’s PR girl. You are able to ruin everyone's reputation in here.”

“And we can’t let you suffer in this sad office,” Soobin added with a smirk.

Jay stretched dramatically, shooting you a wink. “Now you can suffer in comfort.”

Heeseung wiped the sweat from his brow after the grueling training session, his legs heavy and tired from the extra drills. It was as if your dad had dialed up the intensity after seeing the boys have a bit of fun with you earlier. Heeseung chuckled at the memory of EJ’s goofy dance moves, knowing full well that your father had caught wind of their little behind-the-scenes moment. "No fun allowed," he thought wryly, shaking his head. Heeseung wasn’t the Coach’s biggest fan. He was too strict, especially when they lost, and lately, his overprotectiveness toward you had only made things tenser. Heeseung got it, though. It couldn’t be easy to see his daughter in a wheelchair after being an athlete herself, but still, the coach’s comments were always a little too pointed, a little too controlling.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Heeseung found himself walking toward your office, knowing that even though the rest of the rink was quiet and nearly empty, you’d probably still be there, editing videos or catching up on schoolwork. It had become a familiar routine over the last few weeks—after most of the team had left, Heeseung would often wander up to find you, usually hunched over your laptop, absorbed in your work. Sure enough, when he knocked lightly and poked his head in, there you were. Your wheelchair was parked near the desk, and you had your laptop open with a few TikTok videos you’d been editing playing on repeat.

"Hey," Heeseung greeted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Still working?”

You glanced up from your screen, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, just editing some stuff for the ‘Get to Know the Player’ series. I can’t believe I got EJ to do that dance.”

Heeseung laughed at the memory, throwing himself onto the sofa that had recently appeared in your office.

"I am just trying to make sure I don’t accidentally make EJ look too good at dancing.”, you shrugged and replayed the video.

Heeseung snorted, pulling up a show he’d been watching lately. “You couldn’t make him look good at dancing even if you tried. He’s a lost cause.”.

You laughed out loud, shaking your head as you saved your work. “I think it’s charming. And it’s getting views, so…”

“Of course it is,” Heeseung said, grinning. “The team’s already loving the content. They’ll do anything for their fifteen seconds of fame.”

He stretched out on your sofa, letting out a loud, exaggerated groan as he sunk into the cushions. You smiled but kept your focus on the screen. Heeseung clicked on the latest episode of the new season of The Walking dead he’d been binge-watching, fully knowing he should probably be writing his essay on whatever topic his professor had picked out instead. But the idea of opening his laptop right now made him feel even more exhausted.

As the show played, Heeseung made occasional comments under his breath, reacting to the twists and turns of the plot. You were typing away, seemingly ignoring him, until he let out a surprised “No way he died!”

You glanced up, narrowing your eyes. “Heeseung, don’t spoil anything! I’m not caught up yet.”

He looked at you with mock innocence. “I didn’t spoil anything! I just… reacted.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you muttered, trying to focus on your work. But Heeseung did not want to keep quiet. He quite enjoyed your attention on him so he occasionally gasped and muttered exclamations, making you groan in exasperation. “Heeseung, seriously! Shut up! If you spoil anything for me, I’m never letting you nap in here before training.”

Heeseung laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! No spoilers, I promise.”

You fell into a comfortable silence again, with Heeseung watching his show and you finishing your work. He was trying to pay attention, but his eyes kept gazing over and he was about to fall asleep. It wouldn't be the first time that he actually took advantage of the sofa to take a nap. Last week he had a free period before his training session and decided to go to the rink to train on his own a bit. Instead of training you lured him into your office with the offer of cupcakes you baked and after talking for a bit you continued working on an essay and he took the chance to take a quick nap.

“You good?” you asked, saving your work and closing your laptop.

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… I mean, I guess. I’m just tired. Like, really tired.”

You looked at him sympathetically. “Long day?” “Yeah, and school’s just... killing me right now. I’ve got so much work to do, and I’m so behind. But I can’t seem to get motivated to do anything. I was supposed to write an essay tonight, but I’ve been lying here watching Netflix instead.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes it feels like there’s just too much going on all at once.”

Heeseung rubbed his face with both hands, feeling the weight of everything he hadn’t done start to press down on him again. “It’s just... I don’t know. Between hockey and school, and trying to keep up with everything else, it’s exhausting. And I know I should be doing more, but sometimes I just want to do nothing.”

You tilted your head, giving him a soft smile. “You’ve been doing a lot, though. You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Heeseung. It’s okay to take a break.”

He gave you a grateful smile but didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, after a pause, he spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “I just… don’t want to let anyone down, you know? The team, my professors, the coach, everyone expects me to be perfect.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” you said gently maneuvering your wheelchair to the sofa, “I don't think you’re letting anyone down. You’re doing your best, and that’s more than enough.”

Heeseung let out a long breath, nodding slightly as he made space for you to sit down next to him. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“It's been a rough day for you too? If you are sitting in the wheelchair?” Heeseung asked, steering the conversation away from himself for a moment.

You hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “I’m just tired. Physio’s been rough lately, and I guess it’s catching up to me. My dad’s been extra… you know, ‘Dad’ about it all.”

Heeseung hummed, understanding what you meant. The coach could be intense. You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were quiet for a moment before speaking again, your tone a little more subdued. “It’s been rough. I try not to complain too much, but… today’s just one of those days.”

He nodded, feeling a small pang in his chest. He wanted to ask more, to understand what exactly you were going through, but he didn’t want to pry too much. Instead, he carefully asked a question that had been lingering in his mind since Soobin had mentioned it in passing. “I know this might be a bit personal, but... Soobin told me you used to play before the accident.” he said carefully, gauging your reaction. “I mean, with your family, it makes sense, but… I don’t know. It must’ve been hard, having to stop.”

Your eyes flicked toward him, and for a moment, Heeseung wondered if he’d crossed a line. But then, to his surprise, you nodded. “Yeah, it was,” you said quietly, your voice a little strained. “I did. I was on the ice all the time. It was my life, honestly. And then… well, then the accident happened.” You paused, seeming to gather your thoughts. Heeseung stayed silent, letting you continue at your own pace. “It was a car accident. We were hit by a drunk driver,” you said, your voice tightening slightly, as you pull your uninjured leg towards your chest. “I-most of my left leg was jammed up and stuck in the wreck. And that was it. No more ice hockey. No more running around. Everything changed after that.”

“I’m so sorry,” Heeseung said softly, not really knowing what else to say. His heart clenched at your words. He could only imagine how hard it must’ve been for you, growing up in a family so deeply rooted in hockey, only to have that taken away after the accident. He’d seen firsthand how strict and overprotective your dad could be.

You gave him a small, sad smile. “It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to come to terms with it. Doesn’t mean it’s easy, though. I mean I was pretty lucky.”

Heeseung nodded, wanting to say something that would make it better, but knowing there were no magic words that could fix something like this.

You shrugged: "It’s tough sometimes, but I’m finding new things to love. Like, I never thought I’d enjoy editing TikToks and running the team’s social media, but it’s been fun.”

Heeseung smiled back at you, “Well, for what it’s worth, we’re all really glad you’re here,” he said sincerely. He was glad you were there but he wanted to kick himself for saying something as cringe as that.

You blinked, a small smile playing on your lips. “Thanks, Heeseung.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging between you, but it was a comfortable silence—one that came from understanding, from knowing they didn’t have to say everything all at once.

Finally, Heeseung broke the quiet. “Alright, I’m gonna shut up and stop spoiling.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Thanks. But seriously, don’t you dare spoil anything. I’ll never forgive you.”

Heeseung grinned, leaning back on the sofa, feeling a little lighter. “Deal."

"Coffee? Or hot chocolate?”

Heeseung looked up from his textbook, startled as you stood in front of him, holding out two cups. His brows furrowed, clearly confused. “I didn’t ask for—”

“I know,” you cut him off quickly, setting the cups down beside him. “But you looked like you needed it.”

He blinked at you, processing for a moment. “Thanks,” Heeseung finally said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, relieved smile. “But… why?”

You let out a breathy laugh, feeling a little more at ease now that he wasn’t brushing you off. “Last night,” you said, shifting on your feet, “I figured I owed you something after you waited for me and drove me home even tho you were dead tired.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, taking the coffee cup from the table, but his expression softened. “You didn’t have to do that. I wasn’t even that bothered.”

“I know,” you mumbled, “but it felt like I should do something. To, you know, thank you.”

He took a sip, then paused, a playful look flashing across his face. “Coffee’s fine.” He took a sip.” What would you have done if I’d taken the hot chocolate?” He gave you a knowing smile. “I know you don’t drink coffee.”

Your stomach dropped for a moment, and you tried not to look as flustered as you felt. How did he even know that? “Wait—how did you...?”

Heeseung’s smile widened, leaning back in his chair like he’d just won something. “You didn’t think I’d notice? You tend to bring tea or hot chocolate to the office. No matter how late.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked away, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You hadn’t realized he’d paid that much attention. “I—well, I would’ve managed,” you replied, shrugging a little too nonchalantly. “But I’m glad you took the coffee because, yeah, I don’t like it.”

Heeseung chuckled, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than usual. “What, you were really going to choke it down just to make me feel better?”

You gave him a half-hearted glare. “I was trying to be nice, okay?”

His laughter softened, his expression turning more gentle. “Sure, the brave Y/N drinking coffee just for me.”

“Hey!”, you hit him softly and tried to ignore how warm your cheeks felt. You were praying that your foundation did its job properly today.

Heeseung grinned, and the atmosphere between you shifted slightly, the playful teasing replaced with something more sincere. “Well, thanks for the coffee,” he said, his voice softer now.

You glanced at Heeseung’s open book, his pages cluttered with scribbled notes and highlighted passages. “You’ve been here a while, huh?” you asked, leaning forward to peek at his notes, feeling guilty for distracting him.

Heeseung sighed dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, midterms are killing me. I’ve been staring at this stuff for hours, but I swear, none of it’s sticking.”

You tilted your head, sympathizing. “I feel that. Econ made me want to throw my laptop out of my window yesterday and i had to resign to finish a episode of TWD. Are you done with the season?”

At that, Heeseung’s face brightened. “Oh, I finished the last episode last night. I swear i didn’t think—”

“If you spoil it, I will fight you,” you interrupted, narrowing your eyes at him.

Heeseung burst into laughter, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, no spoilers! But seriously, you need to catch up soon. I want to know your reaction.”

You bit your lip, debating for a moment before offering, “Well... do you want to rewatch the last like 5 episodes? You could see my reactions in real time then?"

His eyes lit up at your suggestion, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your chest. “I’d love that! How about we do it tonight? I could whip up some snacks, and we can binge-watch the last few episodes.”

You hesitated, suddenly aware of how casual he was making it sound. “Uh, yeah, but only if we actually study before we watch. I have a few things I want to get done today.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, nodding seriously, though a smile tugged at his lips.

The idea of going over to his place made your heart race a little faster. “Alright. Then I’ll see you later,” you said, glancing over at him once more, trying to ignore the warmth rising in your cheeks.

What was he thinking? Heeseung couldn’t believe himself. He had invited you over and casually mentioned he could whip up some snacks?

After his last class of the day, he raced into his dorm, the realization hitting him like two hours too late. Jake and Jay were sprawled across the dinner table with their books and laptops, completely oblivious to the chaos about to unfold. Heeseung nearly slammed the entrance door against the wall as he burst in. “Guys, I might have messed up!”

Jake blinked a few times, confusion etched across his face. “What happened?”

“I invited Y/N over to watch The Walking Dead,” he said, sliding off his coat. “And I told her I’d whip up some snacks. But our dorm is a disaster, and my room is even worse! She can’t come over!” Panic surged through him.

Jay stifled a laugh, clearly enjoying the drama. “So you want us to speed clean so you can impress the coach’s daughter?”

“Yes!” Heeseung exclaimed, already kneeling down to pick up the shoes littering the entrance. “Please, help a guy out. I can’t let her see this place!”

“Sure,” Jake said with a chuckle, standing up and grabbing the takeout boxes scattered around him. “Our dorm needs a cleaning session anyway. And honestly, I’m so done with thermodynamics right now. If I see another heat transfer mode, I might bang my head into a wall hard enough to skip out the next semester. I am suffering.”

Jay joined in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll take the living room and vacuum. Hyung, just focus on your room. I think we have chips in the pantry, so just use that as a snack.”

“Jay, you’re a genius. Thank you,” Heeseung said, practically sprinting to his room.

Once inside, he was greeted by the mess that was his room: clothes sprawled across the floor, bed, and desk, a collection of empty water bottles. On top of that, his hockey gear is spread all haphazardly around the room - gloves, sticks, and bags. He immediately began tackling the mess, grabbing clothes, checking which ones were clean which needed to be folded and put away. He picked up a discarded hockey glove and tossed it into a corner before realizing he’d have to deal with the smell somehow.

By the time he emerged from his room, he felt a sense of accomplishment. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than what it had been. He glanced over at Jay, who was in the living room, vacuuming with an exaggerated flourish. Just that second the shrill noise of their doorbell pierced through the air. 

You stood in front of Heeseung’s dorm building, your gaze drifting up toward the tall, sleek structure. The place looked expensive—not surprising, given what you knew about his background. Heeseung’s parents were wealthy, and while you came from a comfortable home as well, this dorm definitely seemed a cut above.

As you approached the entrance, you felt a slight flutter of nerves you hadn’t expected. Pressing the elevator button for the twelfth floor, you shifted your weight onto your good leg, adjusting your crutches slightly. You didn’t really need your crutches anymore. Enough time has passed since your surgery for you to be able to walk only on your cast but you decided that going about your day and actually walking quite a bit was too much of a risk and took them with you anyway.

The ride up seemed to stretch on, giving you too much time to think. Over the past few weeks, you had grown used to Heeseung hanging out in your office, almost like it was his second home. Some days, he was already there when you finished your last class, quietly studying or taking notes. His presence had become a strange comfort, one that didn’t bother you. If anything, it helped you stay focused. But this—being invited into his space—felt like a new step, one that made your heart race a little. When you reached his door, you hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath. You could hear muffled voices and the sound of something being moved around inside. Whatever nervousness you felt, you quickly pushed it aside before ringing the doorbell.

The door swung open almost immediately, and there stood Heeseung, his warm, easy smile greeting you. Behind him, you could see Jake lounging in the kitchen and Jay standing nearby, holding a vacuum cleaner.

“Hi, Y/N!” Heeseung said, stepping aside to let you in, the others offering casual waves.

“Hey,” you replied, carefully stepping inside with your crutches. The moment you entered, your eyes quickly took in the space—it was neat. Really neat. Surprisingly neat for a guy’s dorm.

Heeseung must have noticed the slight lift of your eyebrows because he scratched the back of his neck, chuckling softly. “Yeah, uh… we did a little tidying up.”

“A little?” you echoed, amused as you glanced around again. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think your dorm would be this... organized.”

Before Heeseung could respond, Jake snorted from across the room, biting into a chip. “Yeah, sure. We always live this clean,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, earning a pointed side-eye from Heeseung.

You laughed, the sound easing the last bit of tension in the room. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like a dig. It’s just—well, I’ve seen my brother’s room?”

“You’re giving us too much credit,” Jay chimed in, leaning the vacuum against the wall.

Once you were in his room, you sat on the edge of the bed, noticing how tidy even his space was. The bed was made, his hockey gear wasn’t strewn everywhere like Sobbing usually is, and the usual hockey player smell was faint, replaced with something cleaner. You caught a subtle hint of Heeseung’s familiar cologne, woody but fresh.

You moved to sit on the bed but hesitated, leaning on your good leg. “Uh, mind if I sit? I don’t want to mess up your bed with my outside clothes.”

Heeseung waved it off with a casual shrug. “I don’t care about that. But if you’re worried about it, I can give you a pair of my joggers?”

You blinked, not really expecting that offer. “Oh... uh, are you sure?”

“Yeah, no big deal,” he said, already moving to his closet. He pulled out a pair of gray joggers and handed them to you with a smile. “Here, these should be comfy.”

You threw the joggers over your shoulder, feeling a bit strange but also kind of grateful. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

After changing in the bathroom, you returned, feeling a little more at ease wearing his clothes, knowing you wouldn't mess his bed up with your outside clothing. You did care about that. The joggers hung low on your hips, the waistband slightly too big, but they were warm and comfortable. When you sat down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, Heeseung flopped down next to you, pulling out his iPad. “Alright, let’s get some studying done before we watch anything, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” You laughed, pulling out your own notes, though your focus was already wandering. The smell of his freshly laundered sheets, mixed with his subtle cologne and aftershave, was distracting you almost as much as his presence next to you.

For the next hour, you both settled into study mode. Heeseung was focused on his music theory notes, occasionally mumbling something about chord progressions or sound mixing, while you tried—really tried—to get through corporate governance. But after what felt like an eternity, your brain was officially fried. With a frustrated sigh, you tossed your notebook aside. “This is impossible. I need help with this. Do you think Jay’s busy?”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “He’s probably still studying in the living room.”

You huffed and slid off the bed and made your way into the living room, where Jay was still hunched over his books. Jake had his headphones on, seemingly lost in his own world of equations.

“Hey, Jay, can you help me with something? Corporate governance is killing me,” you asked, sliding into the seat beside him.

Jay looked up, grinning. “Sure thing. What part are you stuck on?”

What was supposed to be a quick five-minute explanation stretched into ten, then fifteen. You had the gift to ask the right question to make everyone insecure in their explanations and answers and now Jay and you were confused. Great.

Eventually, you noticed Heeseung joining you. “You guys still going at it?” he asked, pulling up a chair next to you. “We’re just about done,” Jay said, pushing his notes aside.

Heeseung laughed. He settled in, flipping through his book, and soon enough, all four of you were studying together at the dinner table. It was surprisingly productive.

After a while, though, you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms. “Okay, I’m officially done. My brain can’t take any more.”

Heeseung set his book aside, looking just as exhausted. “Same here. Ready for some TWD?”

You nodded eagerly, feeling that familiar excitement bubble up again. As much as you tried to play it cool, you’d been looking forward to this part all day. Annoying Lia during your shared class and Beomguy during your break about how excited you were.

Back in his room, you climbed onto the bed again, this time letting yourself sink fully into the pillows and pulling the blanket over yourself. As you did, you caught that same scent of Heeseung’s cologne again. The coolness of the evening was creeping in, and without thinking, you shifted closer to Heeseung, stealing a little more of the blanket. He glanced at you with a small smile but didn’t say anything, his focus returning to the screen.

Heeseung shifted slightly on the bed, stretching his legs as the second episode ended. He turned his head to ask you if you wanted to start another one, but when he glanced over, his breath hitched.

You were fast asleep.

For a moment, Heeseung just stared, not quite sure what to do. You had curled up against the pillows, still wrapped in his blanket, one arm tucked under your head. His heart skipped a beat.

You looked so peaceful. He didn’t want to move or make any noise that might wake you. Heeseung swallowed nervously and tugged at his own shirt collar, feeling a little too aware of everything suddenly—his breathing, the quiet hum of the room, the weight of the blanket. What was he supposed to do? Wake you up? Ask if you wanted to go back home? In a flash of pure panic, he grabbed his phone and opened up a text to Soobin.

Heeseung Hey man, Y/N fell asleep at my place. Is it cool if she stays over? I don’t want to wake her up.

Heeseung bit his lip, waiting for a reply, his eyes darting between the screen and your sleeping form. You looked so calm, your breathing steady, you looked so soft. It made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t quite understand. He wasn’t used to this, if he had girls over it wasn’t for watching TV Shows, nor did they just fall asleep. 

A soft buzz broke his thoughts as Soobin replied.

Soobin Hyung (New) She’s an adult, dude. I’ll let my parents know she’s sleeping over, though. Just tell her she owes me for covering for her.

Heeseung exhaled a sigh of relief, slumping back against the headboard. At least he didn’t have to deal with the wrath of an angry captain tonight. He stared at your peaceful face again, and a small smile tugged at his lips. You really were out cold. Carefully, he shifted closer, trying to tuck the blanket more securely around you without disturbing your sleep. He sent a quick thank you text to Soobin.

Heeseung tried to get comfortable, though he couldn’t ignore the fact that his heart was beating a little faster than usual. He was overthinking every tiny movement, wondering if shifting just a little might accidentally wake you up. Glancing over at you, the rise and fall of your chest was slow and steady, and he felt that strange, unfamiliar warmth in his chest again. He had no idea what to do with it. You were just there, peacefully sleeping, wrapped in his blanket, wearing his joggers, and somehow that made the moment feel more significant than it should. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You were off limits. He shifted a little closer to the edge of the bed, carefully trying to give you more space without disturbing you. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He reached for it, worried that it might be your brother again, but when he checked, it was just a message from Jake into their groupchat.

Puckin' Legends and Sunghoon  Jakey Jakey So? How’s the TV date going hyung Jeongsongie You owe us for cleaning the dorm in record speed. I dont think i ever vacuumed so quickly? Heeseung She fell asleep??  She is so cute tho But thanks for the help. Dorm looks way better now. And don’t call it a TV date?? We were literally studying before this.

He didn’t really mind the teasing—not anymore. At first, when they’d made comments about him spending a bit too much time with the coaches daughter, he’d felt awkward. But now, with you lying beside him, snuggled up under his blanket, he couldn’t bring himself to care. His phone buzzed again.

Hoon I still cannot believe you try to bag your coaches daughter. Jakey Jakey I don’t think the coach can believe it either Jeongsongie I cant believe how gone he is for her??? Did anyone read the she is so cute????

Heeseung rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, setting his phone down without replying. He wasn’t about to engage in that conversation right now. The soft light from the TV illuminated your face just enough for him to see. The way you’d tucked your hand under your cheek, your hair falling slightly over your face—it was… cute. His mind wandered back to earlier, to the way you’d laughed at his teasing or the look of concentration on your face while studying. You had a way of being fully in the moment, and it made him want to stay in those moments with you for as long as possible.

Heeseung closed his eyes, knowing that sleep wasn’t going to come easy, not when his brain was buzzing with thoughts of you. He took one more look at you, tucked under his blanket, your crutches leaning against the wall in the corner of his room. 

You stirred awake, the room dark except for the dim glow of the TV screen that had long since gone idle, casting soft shadows around you. It took a second to remember where you were: Heeseung’s room. His bed. The blanket wrapped around you wasn’t yours. For a split second, panic rose—shit. You fell asleep in Heeseung’s bed? What time was it? How long had you been out? You turned slightly, glancing at Heeseung. He was still sitting next to you, back against the headboard, his eyes closed. You wondered if he had fallen asleep too. Rubbing your face in exhaustion, you felt a rush of embarrassment. This was the first time you were ever over at his place, and you had fallen asleep? Well done, Y/N. Truly.

Glancing at his dimly glowing alarm clock, you realized it was way past midnight. You tried shifting slightly, hoping to find a more comfortable position, but your leg wasn’t cooperating. Every attempt to adjust it left you either more uncomfortable or closer to waking Heeseung. Eventually, you gave in, trying to reposition your injured leg one last time. However, the slight rustling of the blanket stirred Heeseung beside you, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he looked confused, as if he’d forgotten where he was too.

“Y/N?” His voice was low and heavy with sleep, but still warm. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on you. “You okay?”

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty for waking him. “Yeah, sorry. My leg just… won’t get comfortable.”

He shifted beside you, rubbing his eyes. His hair was messier now, and his face carried the remnants of sleep. “Want me to help? Or… do you need a pillow or something?”

You shook your head, adjusting the blanket around you. “No, it’s fine.”

His expression softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Now I know why you need half an eternity to finish the season. You knocked out pretty hard after just two episodes,” he said softly, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

You laughed quietly, feeling a little embarrassed. “Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he said quickly, his voice warm. “I didn’t want to wake you. You seemed really comfortable.” Comfortable. You were. Too comfortable, honestly. You glanced down at the blanket wrapped tightly around you, feeling a strange warmth in your chest.

“Did I miss much?” you asked, your voice still quiet.

“Nah, just the end of the episode,” Heeseung replied, glancing at the TV. “You didn’t miss anything important. I was going to ask if you wanted to watch another one, but, uh…”

“But I was out cold,” you finished for him, chuckling.

“Exactly.”

There was a pause, a soft, almost peaceful silence hanging between you. You didn’t want to move. You didn’t want to leave the comfort of his bed, his blanket, or this moment. You could feel his presence next to you, his arm brushing yours slightly as you both sat there. “So…” you began, hesitating for a moment. “I should probably get going.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything right away. He shifted slightly, and you thought you caught a flicker of something in his expression, but it was gone too quickly to tell.

“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice careful. “I mean, if you’re comfortable here, it’s late… Also, Soobin’s got you covered. He said your parents will survive you crashing here for the night.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You texted Soobin?”

Heeseung’s smile was sheepish. “I didn’t want your parents to freak out when you didn’t show up. So yeah, I let him know. He said you’re an adult but added that he’d let them know you’re safe.”

You sighed, a mix of gratitude and amusement rising in your chest. “Thanks, Heeseung. Really.”

He shrugged, his easy smile still in place. “Anytime. I just figured I should let someone know.”

You began to move out of your blanket burrito,”I’ll migrate to the sofa then! I don’t want to hog your bed. You have training tomorrow and you should get some proper sleep before then!”

His gaze shifted to you, a little more serious now. “Hell no. If you’re gonna stay, you are going to sleep here. If you feel uncomfortable I can go to the sofa.”

You blinked at him, surprised by his casual offer. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,” you protested, even as part of you was tempted.

Heeseung tilted his head, his eyes soft and teasing. “Then I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Just scoot over, and I’ll lie down too. We can both be comfortable.”

A beat of silence passed as you considered it, but then you nodded, scooting over to give him room. Your heart pounded just a little harder as you adjusted yourself, settling more comfortably against the pillows. Heeseung shifted too, lying down on his side, facing you. The bed suddenly felt smaller than it had moments ago, the space between you somehow feeling both large and almost nonexistent.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft as he looked at you.

You nodded. “Yeah. Much better.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You found yourself more aware of everything—the blanket, the smell of Heeseung’s cologne lingering in the air, and the soft, even rhythm of his breathing.

“Good,” Heeseung murmured, his eyes closing again.“Just… wake me up if you need anything, okay?”

You smiled softly, watching as his breathing slowed, his expression relaxed as sleep pulled him back under. It was strange, this feeling of being so comfortable, of having someone care enough to make sure you were okay. You could not believe what was happening right now but you were also too tired to think about it right now. So you just closed your eyes again, the weight of the day and the warmth of the moment making it easier to drift off. And as sleep began to claim you once more, you felt a quiet contentment settle in your chest. 

The sun was barely beginning to rise as Heeseung wiped the sweat off his brow, the air in the rink still heavy with the lingering chill of the early morning. Their training session had just wrapped up, and the team was scattered around the locker room, chatting and peeling off their gear. Heeseung sat on a bench, untying his skates when he felt someone approach.

“Soobin.” Heeseung looked up, surprised to see your older brother standing in front of him with a serious expression.

“We need to talk,” Soobin said, his tone calm but firm. Heeseung immediately sensed that something was up and he straightened up, suddenly more alert. Soobin didn’t usually pull him aside like this, and the shift in his demeanor was hard to miss. Heeseung’s heart rate quickened, but he kept his face neutral, unsure of where this conversation was going. He stood, following Soobin outside to a quieter part of the rink, away from the rest of the team.

Once they were alone, Soobin crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly as he met Heeseung’s gaze. “You're gonna tell me what’s going on between you and Y/N?” Soobin asked, voice stern but not hostile.

The question hit Heeseung like a puck to the chest (pun intended), and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. Scratch that he knew what he wanted to say but saying it out loud made it too real.

He thought about the evenings spent in your office, long after practice had ended, when the rink was quiet, and it was just the two of you. Most nights, it started with something simple—you finishing up work while he lingered, not really wanting to go back to the dorm. You would end up on the sofa in your office, talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

He could picture how you would sit, your back nestled into the corner of the sofa, one knee pulled up to your chest while the other, still recovering, rested comfortably across his lap. You were so casual about it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to drape your leg over him like that. And somehow, it was. You would chat for hours sometimes, and he found himself looking forward to those nights more than he ever admitted. Seeing the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something, or the way your lips quirked into a small smile when you said something you thought was clever. There was a comfort between the two of you that made everything else fade into the background.

On days where your physiotherapist, whom you claim to love with all of your heart, went a bit harder on you leaving you exhausted and in pain he would be trying his best to cheer you up a bit. You never complained but he could tell. Your leg would stiffen up, and you would move with a slight limp, your jaw tight as you tried to brush it off like it was nothing. He remembered the first time he noticed it—how you had tried to hide the discomfort, laughing off his concern with some joke about how you have “had worse.” Without thinking, he had reached out and placed his hand on your leg, gently massaging the tense muscles. You hadn’t said anything at first, but you didn’t pull away either. Instead, you had leaned back into the cushions, closing your eyes for a brief moment, as if allowing yourself to relax in his presence.

That morning, when he got up for training, you had still been there, your hair spilling over the pillow in soft waves. He had whispered for you to stay, to sleep in and leave whenever you wanted, and a small part of him had hoped that when he returned, you’d still be in his bed.

Soobin waited, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Heeseung, don’t make me ask twice.”

But what was he supposed to say to Soobin? You were his sister. He couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing, especially not when he was still trying to figure it all out himself.

“Nothing’s going on,” Heeseung replied, though even as he said it, he knew it sounded weak. “I mean, we’re friends.”

Soobin’s jaw clenched, clearly unsatisfied. "Friends, huh? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like there’s more to it than just being friends. And don’t give me that ‘nothing’s going on’ line. I’m not stupid, Heeseung."

Heeseung swallowed. Soobin wasn’t the kind of guy to be brushed off easily. He shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his damp hair. “I…” He started, his voice a little shaky, but he forced himself to meet Soobin’s eyes. “I think I like her. A lot, actually.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed, and Heeseung felt his heart rate spiking. “You think? Or you know?”

“I know,” Heeseung admitted, his voice more certain now. “I like her more than just a friend, Soobin. I’ve liked her for a while. It’s not just…” He paused, searching for the right words, trying to explain how he felt about you. “It’s not just some fling or whatever. It’s… more. Or at least for me it is.”

There. He’d said it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before—how his feelings for you had slowly shifted, deepening with each shared moment, every lingering glance, every time he found himself thinking about you when he wasn’t supposed to. But saying it out loud and not just gushing to his friends about you made it real in a way that he wasn’t fully prepared for.

Soobin stayed silent for a long moment, his gaze hard but thoughtful. Heeseung’s stomach twisted. But when Soobin spoke again, his voice was calmer, though still edged with that protective tone.

“Look, I get it,” Soobin said slowly, his gaze locked on Heeseung’s. “Y/N… she’s been through a lot. You know that. The last thing she needs is someone messing with her heart. So if you’re not serious about her, if you’re just playing around or you’re not sure what you want, you need to back off. Because if you hurt her, Heeseung… I swear—”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Heeseung interrupted, his voice firm, surprising even himself with the certainty of his own words. “I would never do that, Soobin.”, his chest tightening at the thought of hurting you. “I wouldn’t. I won’t. I just… I don’t want to complicate things for her. But I can’t help how I feel.”

Soobin stared at him for a long moment, as if weighing the truth of his words. Finally, he let out a small sigh, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders. “I believe you,” he said, though there was still a note of caution in his tone. “But I’m warning you—if you break her heart, you’ll answer to me.”

Heeseung nodded, knowing that Soobin meant every word. And honestly, he couldn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed, if he were in Soobin’s shoes, he would’ve done the same thing.

As Soobin walked back toward the locker room, Heeseung let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

With a sigh, Heeseung headed back inside, his skates dangling loosely from his fingers. As he stepped into the locker room, his mind wandered back to his dorm. He wondered if you were still there, still curled up in his bed like you had been when he left. You were probably already gone, but a small part of him hoped you were still there.

“A little bird told me you didn’t return home last night,” Beomgyu teased as he plopped down into the empty seat next to you in the library, dropping his hockey gear with a soft thud. He had no trouble finding you among the maze of bookshelves and antique paintings - you were in your usual spot, struggling through an international law essay. You looked up and sighed, already bracing yourself for his relentless teasing.

“I didn’t,” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “Did that little bird also tell you I fell asleep after studying and watching, like, one and a half episodes of The Walking Dead? Or did he conveniently forget to mention that part?” You knew exactly who the “little bird” was—your brother.

“He did mention that, actually,” Beomgyu smirked, shaking his damp hair free from his hat. “But I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice dramatically. “You had the perfect opportunity to get something going with,” he paused for effect, “a hot guy that Yeonjun hyung, Soobin hyung, and I fully approve of—and you did nothing? And don’t give me the ‘I’m not interested in Heeseung’ excuse. I know all about your little evening sessions in your office.”

Your face heated up at the mention of Heeseung, but you quickly dismissed it. “We’re just friends, Gyu. Friends,” you emphasized. “When he comes to my office, we’re actually studying. It’s peaceful there, no one interrupts us.” You crossed your arms, trying to hide the sudden, unwelcome flutter in your chest.

“Sure, sure,” Beomgyu grinned, clearly not buying it. “But you slept over. That’s new.”

You sighed, glancing back at your laptop. “I slept over because I fell asleep. He had to get up early for practice, so he let me sleep in. When I woke up, he was already gone. It was no big deal.” You said it like you were reminding yourself more than Beomgyu—because it wasn’t a big deal, right? You were just comfortable around Heeseung. That’s all.

“Uh-huh. Sure, it wasn’t a big deal,” Beomgyu leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “Jake and Jay weren’t exactly quiet about it during practice this morning. And now the entire team, including your dad, knows about your ‘sleepover.’ Your dad wasn’t thrilled, by the way. Might want to prepare for an awkward conversation later.”

You groaned, letting your head fall onto the old wooden desk with a soft thud. “Of course he’d freak out. How is he so worried about me being lonely but still loses his shit whenever I’m near a guy?” You turned your head to the side, pouting.

Beomgyu patted your head sympathetically. “Your dad’s a scary guy. I can’t help you there. But seriously, are you sure you’re not into Heeseung?”

You straightened up, an annoyed huff escaping your lips. “I’m not interested in Heeseung like that,” you insisted, though your mind betrayed you with memories of how you’d felt waking up in his bed this morning. The way the sheets still held his warmth, how his cologne lingered faintly in the air... But no. It wasn’t like that. You had just fallen asleep while watching TV, that’s all. It wasn’t a date. Just two friends watching a show, nothing more.

Beomgyu wasn’t buying it. “I’m just saying, you spend a lot of time with him. Almost every other night, actually. And don’t even get me started on the way he naps in your office all the time. That sofa is supposed to be my personal napping spot.”

“I mean, first come, first serve,” you shot back, forcing a lighthearted tone. “Yeonjun’s slept on that couch plenty of times too.”

“Yeah, but I don’t see you staying over at Yeonjun’s place,” Beomgyu countered with a sly grin. “Face it, you’re into Heeseung.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but inside, his words echoed. You and Heeseung had gotten close, yes. Maybe closer than you’d expected. But that didn’t mean anything, right? You were just... comfortable around him. There was nothing more to it.

“Gyu, I’m really not interested in dating right now,” you said, turning back to your laptop in an attempt to end the conversation. “I just want to get this essay done. Jay and Lia asked me to proofread theirs, and I won’t have time if I don’t finish today.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair dramatically. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. But I’m keeping an eye on you two.”

“Oh no, I’m so scared,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Now, can I please focus on this essay?”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But don’t think this conversation is over. I’m just getting started.” You managed to ignore Beomgyu’s incessant teasing for a while, but the fluttering thoughts about Heeseung kept creeping back in, much to your annoyance. It was like a small nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering things you didn’t want to hear. Things like how nice it was that he let you stay in his bed, how considerate it was of him to slip out quietly in the morning so you could sleep in, and how warm his side of the bed had felt when you rolled over into it. Stop it, you mentally scolded yourself.

It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

Nope. No. Stop. You shook your head slightly, forcing yourself to focus. You had way too much going on to be distracted by feelings—or whatever this was. The coming weeks were packed with deadlines, presentations, and a social media campaign for the team that was eating up all your free time. Not to mention the upcoming games, which meant more PR work for you. You didn’t have time to analyze whatever was happening between you and Heeseung. Not that there was anything to analyze.

The final whistle echoed through the arena, and you were still trying to process what had just happened. Heeseung had scored the winning goal - on his birthday, no less. The crowd roared, players rushed onto the ice, and you could barely keep your camera steady as you captured the celebrations for the team’s social media. But your thoughts were still stuck on the way Heeseung had glanced up into the stands after scoring. Pointing at you. Dedicating the goal to technically the teams fans. He’d joked with you before the game that it would be perfect PR if the “birthday boy” scored the winning goal. 

You stood in front of the changing rooms, waiting for the boys to finish up after the game. The arena was still buzzing from the victory—Heeseung’s last-second, game-winning goal had the whole place on fire. You could hear the muffled celebrations from behind the door, the players’ laughter and shouts of excitement as they reveled in their win.

You leaned against the wall, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone as you waited for them to emerge. But before you could even think about your next move, the door to the changing room swung open, and Beomgyu poked his head out.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his grin as mischievous as ever. “Come on, get in here!”

Before you could protest, he gently pushed you into the locker room. The smell of sweat hit you all at once, and the noise of the players’ post-game celebrations was deafening. The boys were in various stages of undress—some half-naked, some wrapped in towels, others already pulling on their post-game clothes. You hesitated at the entrance, suddenly feeling a little out of place.

“Uh, I’m not really supposed to be in here -” you started, but Beomgyu waved you off.

“Nonsense! You’re part of the team too,” he said, nudging you further inside. “Besides, someone’s gotta document Heeseung’s birthday win for the fans, right?”

You smiled at his enthusiasm, but your attention was quickly diverted to Heeseung himself, who was standing by his locker, shirtless, toweling off his hair. Your eyes involuntarily scanned over him, taking in the toned muscles of his chest, the curve of his collarbones, the way the light from the overhead lamps cast soft shadows across his skin. He was talking to one of the other players, a relaxed smile on his face, but you couldn’t help but be distracted by the way his shoulders flexed as he moved, the muscles in his back rippling as he dried off. Fuck. You caught yourself staring and quickly averted your gaze, your face growing warm. Get a grip, you scolded yourself.

“Watch out Y/N. You are about to drool.” Beomgyu teased, suddenly reappearing at your side. His grin was knowing, and you could tell he hadn’t missed the way your eyes had lingered on Heeseung.

“Shut up,” you muttered, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. Beomgyu just chuckled. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was still racing. You glanced back at Heeseung, only to find that he was already looking at you. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. The noise of the locker room, the boys’ laughter, even Beomgyu’s teasing all became background noise as you held his gaze. There was something in the way he was looking at you, something warm and intense that made your breath catch.

A slow, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of Heeseung’s lips, and you felt your stomach flip again. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t stand still, like you needed to move, do something to break the intensity of the moment. But before you could, Heeseung looked away, returning to his conversation with a teammate, breaking eye contact.

After a while, the players finished up and started getting dressed, and you slipped out of the changing room, glad to have a moment to collect yourself. The victory high carried on as the team headed to a nearby bar to celebrate. You tagged along—PR duties and all. Your original plan was to go back to your and Soobins Hotel room to study a bit but Yeonjun threatened to spoil the end of Prison Break if you wouldn’t tag along. That and the fact that Heeseung had his arms around your shoulder in such an aggravating casual way as soon as he came out of the locker and was pouting when you told him about your study plans was pretty convincing. Heeseung kept finding excuses to be near you even after you left the rink. Every time you looked up, he was there—handing you a drink, making a joke, his arm bushing yours as he leaned in to talk.

You found yourself glancing at him more often, watching the way his lips curved when he laughed, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. But every time you tried to be subtle about it, you’d catch him already looking at you, making your pulse quicken and your cheeks rosy red. He would lower his head slightly, his eyes being hidden behind his hair and smirking at you until you couldn't take it any longer and the intense broke eye contact, blushing like a little school girl. 

You were sitting at a booth with some of the players when Beomgyu sidled up to you, a mischievous grin already in place.

“So… birthday boy scores the winning goal and dedicates it to you? That’s a bit more than a coincidence, don’t you think?” His eyes twinkled with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “It was just a joke, Beomgyu. Heeseung was dedicating it to the fans, not me.” You were praying that the noise around you was loud enough for Soobin, Yeonjun and Jay to not hear what the two of you were talking about.

Beomgyu leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, Y/N. We’ve all seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just a joke.”

Your face flushed, warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re in denial,” he shot back, leaning back in his seat and giving you a smug look. “I’m just saying - maybe it’s time to stop pretending.”

You tried to brush it off, but his words lingered. You have been telling yourself that you were imagining things and that you were a bit delusional when thinking about Heeseung - not talking, hell your friends cannot know about your little crush - but maybe just maybe did Beomgyu have a point.  

Heeseung slid in next to you, and immediately, you felt the heat of his body radiating toward you. He was so close, not closer than usual, but you could smell the faint hint of his cologne—something warm and woodsy that made your head swim a little. You liked it a little too much, and you had to fight the urge to lean in closer, to let yourself get lost in the warmth of his presence. Like you have done on his bed plenty of times in the last weeks during your strictly friendly studying-and-binge-watching-not-dates-dates that sometimes turn into sleepovers. (Yes, you have your own toothbrush at his place and a designated set of PJs. And yes, in hindsight you are a lost causes and Beomgyu has been right about everything but you would never tell him that.)

As you sipped your drink, trying to keep your thoughts in check, Soobin’s gaze was on you, watchful and a little too knowing. You could feel his eyes darting between you and Heeseung. It made you even more self-conscious, and you prayed Heeseung didn’t notice. When Heeseung put one of his hands on your thigh while talking, Soobin looked like he was ready to punch his captain in the face. Yeonjun shot Soobin a look and discreetly elbowed him in the ribs.

“Relax, man,” he muttered under his breath, though you heard it clearly.

You silently thanked Yeonjun for the intervention, but you still couldn’t shake the nervous energy building up inside you. You kept your focus on the conversation, laughing along with the others, but the whole time, all you could think about was the way Heeseung’s leg was pressed against yours under the table, the steady heat of his body next to you, his hand on your thigh and his thumb that started caressing it slightly. The skin under his hand was tingling.

The way back to your hotel felt significantly longer than the way there. You were busy giggling  together with Jake about a dumb joke Jay made while walking rather slowly towards your hotel. Having had one or two drinks while relying on crutches may have not been the best idea.

“I don’t want to go to sleep yet,” you pouted as you squeezed into the elevator with the others, leaning your head against Jay’s shoulder. Heeseung and Jake swayed as they stepped into the cramped space, followed by a few of the other players and their girlfriends.

“I swear I am out as soon as my head hits the pillow”, Jay yawned and patted your head causing you to giggle.

You giggled. “Ohhh,” you teased, fake pouting, “you didn’t get your nap today! Poor Jay must be exhausted.”

“Ha, ha,” Jay replied dryly, grabbing Jake’s arm as the latter swayed dangerously. “Might I remind you that I played a phenomenal game today? That’s exhausting, you know.”

“Sure, Park,” you said with mock seriousness, lips pursed as you nodded.

At your floor, you bid the boys a quick goodnight and shuffled toward your room. Inside, Soobin was standing in the middle of the room clad in nothing but boxer shorts, toothbrush in hand, his mouth full of foam. He turned to you with a confused expression.

“Whaf are you doin’ hewe?” he mumbled around his toothbrush, his words muffled as foam threatened to dribble from the corner of his lips.

“What do you mean?” you asked, flopping onto your bed and ignoring the fact that you were still wearing your outside clothing “We’re sharing this room, remember?”

Soobin rolled his eyes and ducked into the bathroom, his voice muffled as he spit into the sink. “Yeah, but I thought you were going to give Hee his present?”

You blinked, sitting up. “Oh. I was thinking I’d do it tomorrow or maybe next week. Didn’t want to give it to him in front of everyone.”

Soobin emerged from the bathroom, drying his face with a towel, water droplets scattered across his chest and shoulders. “No. Do it today. It’s his birthday. I’m sure he’d appreciate some one-on-one time with you.”

You froze for a second. You weren’t entirely sure how Soobin was thinking about whatever was going on between you and his friend and captain, but you hadn’t expected him to ask about Heesung. Especially after the glare he had sent Heeseung’s way at the bar. “I mean, I already talked to him and said happy birthday…” you muttered, trying to brush it off.

“Y/N.” Soobin said flatly, crossing his arms, “Go downstairs and give him your present and spend some time with him. You have my official blessing. Just be careful.”

“I-You-What?”, you gawked at him,, feeling your face flush.

“Do you really think i am that stupid?”, Soobin asked with a shake of his head, grinning at you, “You look at him the same way you did look at your Taemin poster. All heart eyes. It's almost embarrassing.”

Your jaw dropped as his words sank in, your face now fully flushed. “Soobin, that’s not—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, tossing the towel onto a chair, “just go.”

Ten minutes later you found yourself standing in front of Heeseungs hotel room door, your heart pounding in your chest as you worked up the nerve to knock. When he opened the door, already clad in his pyjama pants only, his hair messy, his eyes widened in surprise, but a slow smile spread across his face.

“Y/N,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “What’s up?” You held out the small box in your hands, feeling a bit shy and honestly still a bit embarrassed. You did not give Heeseung herat eyes. Those were for Taemin and Taemin only. “I, uh, got you something. For your birthday.” You were looking into his face and tried to ignore that he was standing there half naked.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly, but he was already reaching for the gift.

“Just open it,” you insisted, your heart beating faster as you watched him unwrap the small package.

“Come in first.”, he ushered you inside and closed the door behind you.

Heeseung’s fingers carefully peeled away the colorful wrapper, his eyes flickering between you and the small box in his hands. He laughed slightly when he saw the packaging and you couldn’t help but smile. He was holding a Sonny Angel dinosaur special edition box you had Soobin buy a few days earlier when he went to the mall. When Heeseung finally opened up the small plastic bag and revealed the figurine inside, his eyes widened in disbelief. It was the red dinosaur.

“No way,” he breathed, turning the figure over in his hands, a wide grin breaking across his face. “Is this the one you wanted?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice soft. “I’ve been trying to get it forever, but I guess it was meant for you.” Heeseung’s eyes lit up, but he didn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at the small figure, his smile never fading. Then, his gaze lifted to meet yours. The way he looked at you had your heart racing in a concerning way.

“I offer one red dinosaur for a pink one. This one fits you better anyway. And the pink one would have a cozy home in my locker.” he said, his voice low.

You just laughed softly and nodded, “Sure scary captain. It will be honored to live in your stinky locker.” The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the warmth in his eyes.

Over the past two months, you’d come to realize that yes, Heeseung was undeniably hot and effortlessly charming, but there was something about him with messy hair and a sleepy smile that completely stole your heart.

“Thank you,” he said, breaking the silence, his voice still soft. “Really, this is... it means a lot.”

You smiled, trying to steady your heartbeat. “You’re welcome,” you breathed out.

Heeseung set the figure on the nightstand beside his bed, then turned back to you, his gaze lingering on your face. “I still can’t believe you got me the dinosaur,” he said, his voice a little lighter now, though his eyes were still on you, unreadable but intense.

You chuckled, trying to shake off the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I had no idea it was in there,” you admitted, glancing at the little red figure on his nightstand. “But I’m glad it was. Birthday luck, I guess.”

Heeseung nodded, his smile softening. “Yeah, I guess so.” He hesitated for a moment, then shifted on the bed, patting the space next to him. “Wanna sit? I’ll put on Prison Break.”

You blinked, feeling your heartbeat pick up again, but you nodded, moving to sit beside him on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and you could feel the warmth of his body close to yours as he grabbed the remote and queued up an episode.

As the show began to play, you tried to focus on the screen, but it was hard with Heeseung so close. His arm brushed against yours as he settled in, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air between you. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but the heat radiating from him was impossible to ignore, your skin tingling wherever you felt his presence.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and as the minutes passed, you felt yourself relax just slightly, letting the comforting hum of the TV and the warmth of Heeseung beside you lull you into a calm state. You tried to focus on the show, but your mind kept drifting back to him. The longer you sat there, the more aware you became of just how close he was, has been the whole evening. His thigh and arm was touching yours, you could feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest with every breath. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the way his features softened in the dim light, his attention half on the screen and half... somewhere else.

Just then, he turned his head, his eyes meeting yours, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch. For a moment, neither of you moved.

Your pulse quickened as his gaze flickered down to your lips for just a second, then back up to your eyes again. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry, your heart pounding in your chest. Heeseung’s lips parted as if he was about to say something, but the words never came. Instead, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. The only sound in the room was the faint murmur of the TV in the background, but even that felt distant now, drowned out by the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Your breath hitched in your throat as Heeseung shifted again, just slightly, his knee brushing against yours under the blanket to reach up and tuck one of your hair strands that fell out of your braid behind your ear. His hand grazed your cheek slightly and you were sure he could not only see but also feel how warm your face grew under his intense gaze.

The moment stretched on, the air thick with tension, and for a second, you were sure he would lean down and kiss you. But instead of closing the distance, he just smiled—soft, almost teasing—and turned his attention back to the screen.

You blinked, trying to calm yourself, not sure if you were just imagining things or not. You nodded slightly, attempting to focus on the show again, but your thoughts still whirled, your heartbeat loud in your ears. Minutes passed, and slowly, you began to feel tired. The weight of the day—watching the game, the excitement of the win, the celebration afterward—began to settle in. You could feel your eyelids growing heavier by the second. Your head involuntarily tilted toward Heeseung, resting lightly against his shoulder. You froze for a moment, worried you’d overstepped, but he didn’t move or say anything. Instead, he shifted around a bit. His arm was now fully pressed against yours, and the quiet rise and fall of his chest was soothing.

You let out a small breath, letting your body relax, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you. The steady sound of the TV mixed with the warmth of Heeseung beside you, lulling you into a daze. You could hear the faint murmur of the characters on screen, but your focus was completely on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the comforting thrum of his presence beside you.

Just as your eyes fluttered shut, you felt Heeseung shift again, his arm lifting slightly, as if hesitating. Then, gently, his arm rested behind you on the bed, his hand barely brushing your shoulder. And as you drifted further into sleep, your head nestled against his chest, the last thing you felt was Heeseung’s fingers gently brushing the edge of your arm. Yeah. Beomgyu was definitely right. This might be more than just a little crush.

The night had already been one big adrenaline rush. It was the final day of the midterms week and Heeseung and his teammates had just won another game earlier in the evening, so the hockey team came into the swimming team’s Halloween party riding the high of their victory.

Heeseung wasn’t usually the frat party type, but after a win, he didn’t mind letting loose a little. He had already knocked back a couple of drinks with his teammates, and the tipsy warmth was settling in his body. He mingled with the crowd, greeting friends and teammates, celebrating their victory. Jeongin had been bragging about his game-winning goal to anyone who would listen, while Jake and Jay were deep in conversation with some girls dressed as cats. Heeseung had been enjoying himself too, wandering around, chatting here and there.

But then he saw you.

You weren’t hard to spot—how could you be when you were dressed like that? Heeseung blinked, not sure if it was the alcohol, the lighting, or maybe a mix of both, but you looked... really good. No, scratch that, you looked hot. You were wearing a vampire costume that hugged your curves in ways he’d never quite allowed him to notice before. The dark lipstick and fake fangs were surprisingly fitting, and the way the red fabric of your dress shimmered under the lights made it hard not to stare.

The crowd shifted, and suddenly you were right in front of him, your face lighting up in drunken enthusiasm as soon as you recognized him. "Heeseung!" you called out, stumbling a little as you reached him.

He grabbed your elbow instinctively, steadying you. His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary. “Hey, careful.”, he laughed and then realized something, “You’re not using your crutches?”

You grinned, tipsy and a little wobbly. “My physio human,” you slurred, “said I could start walking a few days ago! Isn’t that awesome?”

Heeseung blinked, feeling a little hurt that you hadn’t mentioned this to him. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t wanna jinx it!” you said, giggling like it was no big deal. “I’ve been walking at home but didn’t wanna try it in public until I was more confident. And look! I’m walking! No crutches, baby!”

Heeseung couldn’t help the way his heart clenched. He should’ve been excited for you, but a part of him was bothered. Why hadn’t you shared this with him? You spent so much time together lately, and yet, this felt like something important he should’ve known. You were practically glowing with excitement, your face flushed from the alcohol, and the way you kept swaying made him nervous.

“Just… be careful, okay?” Heeseung said, his voice softer than he intended, the sting in his chest dissipating when he saw how genuinely happy you were.

You leaned closer your face dangerously close to his, the warmth of your breath brushing his cheek, “I promise! Look, I’m a vampire now! I’m unstoppable!” You twirled, your dress swirling around you, and Heeseung couldn’t help but smile despite the growing tension in his chest. His gaze followed your every movement. The red dress clung to your body in ways that felt unfair, making his thoughts wander into a dangerous direction. But he quickly pushed the thought away.

“Yeah, but even vampires need to be careful,” he replied, teasingly.

Before he could say anything more, a rowdy group called for a beer pong game, and you were swept away in the chaos, your laughter trailing behind you. Heeseung watched as you joined the game, the way you threw your head back in laughter. It was impossible for him to look away, but Jay came up to him holding a bottle of Malibu, saying something about needing alcohol for a confidence boost.

After the two of them finished the bottle and won a game of beerpong against some cheerleaders, Heeseung stepped away from the crowd to get some air, letting the noise fade into the background as he sat down next to Mark Lee onto one of the many chairs in the yard. He needed a moment to breathe and gather his thoughts and was glad that Mark was apparently sleeping. He did check if he was breathing, just in case. He couldn’t stop thinking about how good you looked, how much he wanted to kiss you. The way you layed there, eyes big, lips slightly parted and looking so so soft. It hasn’t left his thoughts all week. Every time you came close to him today, you cupped his face in your hands to speak into his ear, your proximity sending his emotions spiraling. His hand would instinctively settle on your hip or the back of your neck. One wrong move and he knew he’d lose all control, closing the small distance and kissing you.

Eventually, he felt a little more sober and not like he was about to run inside to ruin your lipstick. He returned to the main area. That’s when he caught sight of you again. You were perched on a sofa, laughing animatedly with some guy from the swimming team while sipping on a colorful drink. A weird feeling flared up in him, and as he watched you lean in closer to the guy. Heeseung’s jaw clenched as he watched the guy lean closer as well.

His feet moved before his brain could catch up, and the next thing he knew, he was walking toward you. As he approached, you spotted him, and your entire face lit up. "Hee!" you called out excitedly, as you reached for his hand and practically pulled him down onto the couch next to you. The closeness sent a spark through him, his skin tingling where your skin touched his.

Heeseung shot the guy a look that clearly said back off, and thankfully, he took the hint and left.

“Hee! I haven’t seen you in days!” you whined, your words slightly more slurred from alcohol than it was the last time he talked to you but bright with excitement. “I missed you! You’re not hanging out in the office anymore. What’s that about?” Your body was warm, and you smelled sweet, like vanilla with a hint of alcohol.

Heeseung chuckled, putting his arm on the backrest behind you. “You haven’t been there either! I thought you were avoiding me.”

Since that morning in the hotel room last week, Heeseung hadn’t seen much of you. You’d been busy working during the day and noticeably absent from the rink during your usual hours. He couldn’t shake the nagging worry that he might have overstepped, that something he did had made you uncomfortable. Instead of reaching out, he chose to give you space.

You shook your head dramatically, fake fangs peeking out as you grinned. “Noooo! I was just doing physio. You know, walking practice. But my therapist only had evening sessions!” You wiggled your foot with the cast and looked down at it. “The bathrooms are all messed up tonight,” you said, your cheeks flushed.

“Bathrooms?” Heeseung raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden change in topic, reaching out to tuck a stand of hair behind your ear. Slightly caressing your face.

“I tried to pee earlier, but every bathroom was closed when I went the first time,” you explained, giggling at the absurdity of it all, leaning your head into his hand. “Then I tried again, and this very disheveled couple came out. I mean”, a hiccup interrupted you, ”they looked like they just had a wild night.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure.” He was tempted to ask how many drinks you’d had and reached for your cup, his brows knitting together. “Can I have a sip of that?”

“Sure!” you said, handing it over with a smile. 

As the night wore on you slowed down on the drinks, after Heeseung refused to get you another one when you asked him to but you still accepted nearly every shot offered to you. He could’ve spent the rest of the night just watching you laugh, but as the crowd grew louder and wilder, he realized you were a bit drunker than he had originally thought.

You were now fully leaning into him. The proximity made his pulse quicken. His hand rested next to your head and he was occasionally smoothing over your hair. His mind kept drifting back to how you looked tonight. How you’d pulled him onto the couch with such excitement as if he was the best thing you have seen all day. How much he still wanted to ruin your stupid lipstick. He couldn't stop staring at your lips.

“I’m so tired,” you mumbled, and before he could react, you nesteled your face onto his chest, moving your body while doing so and lifting your legs to hand over his thights.

He watched as your eyelids grew heavy. “You should stop drinking,” he said gently, gliding his hand along your back. You shuttered slightly and he was loving the effect he had on you. How reactive you were even though we was barely doing anything.

“I know,” you sighed, looking up at him. The sight made his heart race, and he fought to keep his expression neutral despite the way his pulse quickened at your gaze. Soobin and Yeonjun were sitting next to the two of you. “But it’s just so much fun!”

“I can take you home,” Heeseung offered, the protective side of him kicking in.

You shook your head. “No, I am staying at Lia and Ryujin’s. But they’re not answering their phones. My dad would freak if he saw me without my crutches. He’d lose his mind.”

Heeseung paused, running a hand through his hair, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Okay, then come to my dorm.”

“Your dorm?” you repeated, eyes brightening slightly. “Is that really okay? I don’t want to crash your night.”

“It’s fine. I mean, Jake and Jay probably won’t be back until morning, anyway,” he reassured you, trying to keep his tone light.

You contemplated it for a moment, and Heeseung held his breath, hoping you’d say yes. You nodded, a small smile creeping across your face. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Let’s get you out of here,” Heeseung replied, helping you up, saying bye to your brother and his friend. 

The walk back to Heeseung’s dorm was slow and a bit wobbly, as you swayed gently on your feet. The chill in the night air didn’t seem to bother you. He offered you his jacket, but you denied claiming that you were so warm and you didn’t want to sweat into his jacket.

“Hey, can we take a quick pit stop?” you asked after a while, stopping mid-step and glancing around. “My foot is hurting, and I just need to sit for a second.”

“Alright,” Heeseung replied, his brows knitting together slightly with concern. He really did not want to let you sit down on the cold and slightly wet concrete floor in the middle of the campus. “You want me to give you a piggyback ride?”

“What? You want me to ride on your back?” you said, your eyes wide.

“It’s either that or a bladder infection for you,” he said, lifting his arms in mock surrender. “Your call.”

After a moment of hesitation, you grinned and climbed onto his back. When you wrapped your arms around his neck, the warmth of your body pressed against his back, Heeseung’s heart raced. The feel of your breath on his neck, the softness of your body against his—it was intoxicating.

He took steady strides, feeling your laughter vibrate against his back.

“You’re really strong!” you said, your voice muffled slightly against him. “I could get used to this!”

“Don’t get any ideas,” he replied, trying to sound serious but failing miserably.

Once inside, he gently set you down on his bed. You flopped back onto the mattress dramatically, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “This is amazing. I don’t wanna move anymore.”

Heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the doorframe. “Don't you want to get out of that dress? It looks tight, and you’ll be uncomfortable if you sleep in it.”

You pouted, staring up at him with those stupidly adorable doe eyes. “But it’s so comfy here.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes playfully. “Come on, I’ll help you. We can’t have you sleeping in that.You don’t even like sleeping in leggings and I don't want you to complain all day tomorrow.”

With a little more coaxing, you reluctantly sat up, the slight sway in your movements reminding him how tipsy you still were.

“Okay, I might need help,” you admitted sheepishly.

He just laughed and took your cheek onto one hand and caressed it softly, “Alright. Just let me know what to do.”

As you turned your back to him, he helped you unzip the dress. “Just a little more,” he whispered, and he pulled the fabric down gently, letting it fall to the floor.

The sight of the scars on your back caught him off guard for a second. He knew they were there but you were keen on not letting anyone see any of your scars, wearing high waisted pants or skirts all the time. You have told him before, that you were quite insecure over them. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to make you uncomfortable. Instead, he focused on peeling the dress off of your body, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers.

“There you go,” he said, reaching for your set of pajamas in his closet. “Much better, right?”

“Mhm”, you nodded. Heeseung felt a warmth spread through him, watching as you nestled into his bed, claiming your space. He took a deep breath, trying to ease his sudden flustered state.

“Good, we need to hydrate,” he said, already moving toward the small fridge he kept in the corner. He rummaged through it and grabbed a bottle of water before heading back to the bed. “Drink up.”

You took the bottle eagerly, gulping down the water like it was the most refreshing thing in the world and flopped down onto his bed again, shielding your eyes with your arms. Heeseung chuckled at your actions and changed into his own pajamas. He coaxed you to go to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed.

As you brushed your teeth, you stumbled a little while rinsing, giggling as Heeseung steadied you.

When you finally returned to the bed, you carefully adjusted yourself into a position that wouldn’t hurt your leg and snuggled into him. He felt your warmth seep into him, and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you.

“I feel so sleepy,” you murmured, your voice slightly muffled as you nestled closer.

“Then close your eyes and sleep, Y/N,” he replied quietly, resting his chin on top of your head, feeling your breathing slow down.

You put your hand onto his waist and squished your face into his chest. He was praying you didn’t notice his racing heart. He started tracing up and down your naked arm and just as he closed his eyes, he felt you sigh contentedly, your breath warm against his skin. “Heeseung?” you murmured, half-asleep already.

“Yeah?” he answered softly, glancing down at you.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” you mumbled, and within moments, he could tell you’d already drifted off into sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open, immediately assaulted by the glaring sunlight streaming into the room. You winced, instinctively trying to turn away from the light, but you couldn't move. Something was holding you down. Or, more precisely, someone. A familiar warmth, a scent you’d recognize anywhere - Heeseung. His chest rose and fell beneath you, steady and rhythmic, the sound of his slow breathing soothing against your ear. You were completely wrapped around him, using him like a full-body pillow—your head on his chest, arms draped over his torso, and your leg casually resting on top of his. His other arm was curled around you, holding you close. His head rested lightly on yours, his messy hair brushing against your forehead.

It wasn’t the first time you’d woken up like this. In fact, it had happened more times than you cared to admit. But each time felt like a new wave of confusion crashing over you. Friends didn’t wake up like this, right? Yet here you were again, tangled up in Heeseung’s arms, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You sighed deeply, letting the warmth of his body seep into you as you tried to ignore the slow, dull pounding in your head. The light was making it worse, far too bright for your sensitive eyes. Carefully, you slid out of his arms, lifting his arm from your waist with a soft, reluctant tug. The cool air hit your skin, and you immediately missed Heeseungs warmth.

You winced slightly as you stood, your recovering leg was hurting more than it usually did after waking up. Maybe going all out with the cast on wasn’t the brightest idea. You pulled the curtains shut, dimming the room and giving your poor head some relief.

A quick glance back at the bed confirmed that Heeseung hadn’t moved an inch. He was laying there, still peacefully asleep, his hair tousled and his lips slightly parted. You hated how good he looked, even now, first thing in the morning. Last night at the party, when he had shown up in his stupidly perfect Greek god costume, you hadn’t been able to take your eyes off him. And it wasn’t just how he looked. It was everything. The way he was always so caring, so thoughtful. Despite being surrounded by people, he kept checking in on you—making sure you were okay, that you weren’t overdoing it with your cast. In Rihanna's words: he did make you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

After a quick stop in the bathroom to freshen up, you made your way back to Heeseung’s bed, your heart giving an involuntary flutter at the sight of him still sprawled out, completely at ease. He hadn’t moved since you left, still lost in sleep, his chest rising and falling gently.

As you slid back into the bed, careful not to disturb him, Heeseung stirred. Without hesitation, his arm found you again, pulling you right back against his chest. A sleepy groan rumbled through him as he snuggled closer, his nose brushing against your hair. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing were comforting, almost enough to make you forget the pounding in your head and the dull ache in your leg.

You let your eyes wander over his face, taking in the soft curve of his lips, the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, and the way his lashes fluttered slightly as he dreamed. He looked so peaceful, so relaxed, and so ridiculously hot, even now, sprawled out in his bed probably not nursing a hangover but still. It was unfair, really.

You buried your face against his chest, breathing him in—the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something distinctly Heeseung. It was comforting. Addicting, even. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in it, to pretend that this was normal, that waking up with him like this could be your reality. But even as those thoughts tugged at you, the real reality remained the same: you and Heeseung were still just friends. Friends who somehow found themselves waking up tangled together, friends who shared the kind of closeness that made your heart race.

As you lay there, snuggled against Heeseung’s chest, you felt him stir beneath you. His breath hitched slightly before his body shifted, his hand gently trailing down your back as he woke up. You tried not to move, eyes still closed, but you could feel his sleepy gaze on you.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled softly, voice low and husky from sleep.

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Morning."

He blinked lazily, his warm brown eyes still heavy with sleep, but a soft smile spread across his face as he looked down at you. His hand brushed through your hair, his fingers grazing the nape of your neck in a way that sent little shivers down your spine. You were hyper-aware of how close you were to him, of the way his chest pressed against yours.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice still quiet, almost a whisper as if not to disturb the moment.

Your stomach growled at that very second, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teased, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You groaned, burying your face into his chest out of embarrassment. “Starving,” you admitted, muffled against his shirt.

Heeseung shifted underneath you, slowly sitting up and gently moving you off his chest. “Alright, I’ll see what we’ve got.” He stretched, running a hand through his messy hair, and threw you a playful look before getting up and heading for the kitchen.

As he left the room, you took a moment to compose yourself, sitting up in his bed with a soft sigh. The warmth of the bed still lingered on your skin, and you couldn’t help but feel a little empty now that he was no longer lying next to you. You shook your head, trying to shake off the butterflies that seemed to be fluttering in your stomach, and made your way to the kitchen.

When you got there, Heeseung was already at the counter, holding up a box of Froot Loops with a playful grin. “It’s not much, but breakfast is served.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Perfect.”

The two of you sat down at the kitchen island, munching on the cereal together in comfortable silence. Every now and then, your eyes would meet across the table, a small smile shared between you.

As you finished your bowl, the sound of shuffling footsteps caught your attention. Jake stumbled out of his room, his hair a complete mess and his eyes half-shut. He grumbled something unintelligible, making a beeline for the coffee machine.

You watched, amused, as Jake poured himself a cup, taking one long sip before practically collapsing onto the couch. He barely made a dent in his coffee before lying down and pulling a blanket over his head.

“Good morning to you, too,” you called over to him, stifling a laugh.

Jake groaned in response, clearly not in the mood to be social. "Too loud," he mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter over his head.

You and Heeseung exchanged a look, sharing a quiet chuckle. Heeseung finished his cereal and stood up, stretching. “I’m gonna wash up. You good here?”

“Yeah,” you replied, stifling a yawn of your own. "I think I’ll head back to bed for a bit. It’s too early to be awake.”

Heeseung smirked, tossing his bowl into the sink. “Good idea.” He ruffled your hair lightly before disappearing into the bathroom.

Curling up in his bed felt like sinking into a cloud. His scent lingered on the pillows and sheets, a mix of clean soap and something distinctly him, and it was so comforting that you didn’t bother trying to fight the pull of sleep.

Heeseung returned to the room, fresh and looking even better after his quick wash-up. He smiled when he saw you curled up in his bed and slid in beside you, careful not to disturb you too much.

“Wanna watch Prison Break?” he asked softly, picking up the remote.

You nodded sleepily, cuddling closer to him as he pressed play. The intro music started, but your focus drifted more toward him than the screen. The warmth of his body, the way his scent surrounded you—it was impossible to focus on anything else. One of your hands was resting on his chest. You were carefully tracing the design that was printed on his shirt, trying to distract yourself enough to not fall asleep.

You froze as Heeseung’s fingers wrapped around yours, his hand warm and steady against your own.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice rough and low, sending shivers up your spine. His fingers left yours, only to trail upward, brushing against your arm before settling gently on your face.

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice softer now, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. His palm cupped your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart stutter, his thumb grazing your skin in slow, soothing circles. The intimacy of the gesture sent your senses into overdrive. His hand was warm, his touch light, but the closeness between you was almost too much to handle.

You dared to glance up, meeting his eyes. His gaze flickered downward, lingering on your lips for a beat too long before returning to yours. The proximity was dizzying. You could feel the faint brush of his breath against your face and it made your head spin.

“You’re making it really hard to focus,” he murmured, his thumb continuing its gentle path along your cheekbone.

“I’m not doing anything,” you whispered, but your voice was unsteady.

Heeseung’s lips tilted into a small, knowing smile. His other hand came up, cradling your face fully now, his fingers curling lightly around the edges of your jaw. He tilted your face up slightly, his thumb brushing over your chin in a way that left you breathless.

“You are,” he said softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He leaned closer, his forehead brushing against yours as his voice dropped even lower. “You always do.”

“Heeseung…” you tried, your voice barely audible, but whatever you wanted to say evaporated as his fingers shifted, tilting your head just enough that his eyes could lock on yours completely. You were pretty sure that his expression was comparable to the one you gave your Taemin poster back in highschool.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, the words so quiet they almost didn’t register.

You didn’t want to stop. The thought of pulling away was laughable. Instead, you gripped the front of his shirt. “I won’t,” you breathed, the words barely leaving your lips.

That was all he needed. He closed the gap between you, his lips hesitantly brushing against yours. It was soft at first, almost testing, but the moment you leaned into him, the kiss deepened.

You melted into him, your hand sliding up to tangle in his hair, and he groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a thrill through you. His fingers danced across your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every brush of his lips, every touch, sent electricity through your veins. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head slightly, deepening the kiss even more. A soft sound escaped you, and you could feel him smile against your lips..

You responded instinctively, your hand brushing against his chest, then sliding down to the hem of his shirt. The sensation of his warm skin under your fingertips made your breath hitch, but before you could let yourself get lost in the moment, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You okay?” His voice was low, a little strained, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded, still breathing a little heavier than normal. “Yeah. Please don’t stop.”

You gave his hair a small tug again, bringing his lips back to yours. Heeseung’s lips never left yours as he slowly, almost reverently, moved you so that you were straddling him. His hands rested on your waist, his thumbs brushing softly against the exposed skin just above your hips, sending a shiver up your spine. His fingers gently graced the angry red scars along your hip.

“I—Sorry,” you muttered against his lips, your voice barely above a whisper. You turned your face away, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean for you to see those.”

Heeseung’s gaze softened, his fingers stopping at the hem of your shirt. He gently cupped your face with one hand, tilting it upward again so you had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Don’t apologize,” he said quietly, his voice sincere.

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, Heeseung’s fingers gently brushed over your scars again, this time intentionally. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “All of you.”

“Heeseung…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your gaze flickered down to his lips and then back up to meet his eyes again.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips. He deepened the kiss, his lips moving with a slow urgency. His hand, now fully under your shirt, splayed across your stomach, fingers tracing your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. You could feel his warmth radiating against you, every touch, every movement, setting your skin on fire. His lips left yours, trailing along your jawline, down to your neck, kissing, nipping at the skin there. You could feel the heat of his breath against your throat, each kiss igniting a fire that spread throughout your body.

“Can I take your shirt off Y/N”, he breathed out.

You just nodded and he carefully lifted you shirt up, revealing your upper body. He threw your (his) shirt off the bed and gently shifted the two of you, laying you back against the pillows. His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm against your skin as his eyes searched yours. “Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough with emotion. “You’re so hot.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the unexpected comment catching you off guard, but the sound was quickly swallowed by him pressing his lips to yours with a fervor that left you breathless.

His hands began to explore your body again. His fingers grazed the curve of your waist, drifting higher, brushing the edge of your bra. The sensation drew a soft gasp from your lips, and the sound seemed to spur him on. His lips left yours to trail kisses along your jawline, down your neck, and lower. You felt the warm press of his lips against the scars along your hip. He kissed each mark with care, as if they were something to be cherished. Your breath hitched as his gaze flicked upward, meeting yours. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes. Unable to find the right words, you carefully reached down, your fingers brushing against his jaw as you guided his face closer to yours. Before you could speak, a sudden, sharp pounding on the door shattered the moment.

“Heeseung! I hate to break up whatever’s going on in there, but the coach wants us at the rink in, like, 30 minutes,” Jake’s voice rang out through the closed door.

Heeseung groaned, his forehead falling against yours as his lips curved into a reluctant smirk. “Of course,” he muttered, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin. “The world’s worst timing award goes to your father.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly.

As Heeseung and Jake arrived at the rink, a heavy tension hung in the air. The team was scattered around the locker room, each member in a different state of exhaustion.

“Dude, yesterday got crazy after you left,” EJ muttered beside him, still rubbing his temples.

Nicolas, nursing a bruised cheek and offering a wry grin, added, “Not exactly our fault though. Kim Yeoso started it.”

Before Heeseung could ask for more details, the Coach’s voice echoed sharply across the room. “Line up. Now.”

The room fell silent, and a collective weight seemed to settle on everyone as the Coach’s gaze traveled down the line of players. His pacing was slow and deliberate. “Last night was a disgrace. I don’t care who threw the first punch or how it started—this is my team, and I don’t want this kind of attention.”

His glare seared through the team, and though he moved down the line, his eyes rested on Heeseung a beat longer than the others, his silent accusation unmistakable. Heeseung felt the full weight of the words, as if they were directed solely at him. His chest tightened, but he kept his face neutral, silently bracing himself as the Coach continued. Finally, your fathers eyes flickered back to the team with an almost weary finality. “Meeting’s over,” he said, dismissing the rest of the team. “Not you, Heeseung. Stay a minute.”

The players exchanged wary glances as they filed out, each one offering him silent nods of support. Heeseung turned to see the Coach shut the door, his expression shifting from professional disappointment to something far more personal.

His voice was colder than ever when he started speaking: “I’ll ask you once, Heeseung, and I expect a straight answer. What’s going on between you and Y/N?”

His jaw clenched as he quickly composed himself, being caught off guard by the question. “With all due respect, Coach,” he started, his voice calm but firm, “my personal life and Y/N’s are private. I don’t feel it’s appropriate to discuss this with you.”

The Coach’s face darkened, his patience clearly wearing thin. “You think I’m just some overprotective dad, Heeseung?” he bit out, his tone cutting. “She’s barely recovered, and getting involved with you is a distraction she doesn’t need. If you care about her as much as you seem to, you’d understand that.”

Heeseung felt his hands clench at his sides, the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “I understand what she’s been through, Coach. But Y/N is stronger than you’re giving her credit for. And I’m not backing off because it makes you uncomfortable.”

The air between them turned icy. Your fathers expression hardened. “Then you’re making a mistake,” he warned, his voice low, barely contained. “Because if you don’t back off, I’ll make sure there are consequences. And that’s not a threat, Heeseung—that’s a promise.”

Heeseung’s pulse pounded as the gravity of Coach’s words settled in, but he stood firm, his voice unwavering.

“I’m sorry, Coach Choi. But with all due respect, I’m not going anywhere.”

No matter what Coach threatened, Heeseung knew he wouldn’t step back. He was already drafted and chose to go back to college hockey, so the Coach had nothing on him.

Your father held his gaze a moment longer, his expression unreadable but filled with a disappointed resolve. “Fine,” he said curtly. “Then don’t expect me to go easy on you.” Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving Heeseung standing alone in the empty locker room.

“It’s not about whether or not you think you’re fine!” Your fathrs voice is sharper than ever, frustration bubbling over as he paces in front of you. “You’re ignoring your own recovery. The doctors said you could walk without crutches, but they didn’t say to push yourself to the point of needing another surgery. What are you thinking?”

The accusation stinged, sharp and unexpected. You blinked, willing yourself not to let him see how much that hurt. Another surgery. He knew, maybe better than anyone, how terrified you were of that possibility. And here he was, throwing it in your face as if it’s something you’d choose—like you’d ever risk it on purpose.

A mix of disbelief and anger rose within you, and you stood up, meeting his intense gaze. “You know I don’t want that. You know better than anyone what I’ve been through, and you think I’d risk more just for one night? I’m not being reckless, I’m just… living my life.”

“Living your life?” he snapped back, his tone filled with frustration. “Living your life means ignoring everything you’ve fought to rebuild, just for a night of fun? I’m trying to keep you from setting yourself back.”

“You’re acting like I don’t take this seriously! Like I haven’t been doing everything I can to heal. I know my body better than anyone, Dad. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you treating me like I’m made of glass.”, your voice was shaking in anger. When your father and Soobin returned from the rink you weren’t even able to properly greet them, before your father started berating you.

Soobin’s voice cut through the tension, calm but unwavering. “She’s an adult, Dad. Y/N knows her limits. You can’t keep controlling everything.”

Your dad turned sharply to face Soobin, his gaze hard. “This isn’t about what she thinks she can handle, Soobin. It’s about being realistic, about protecting her from making choices she’ll regret later.”

Soobin didnt back down. “But you’re treating her like she’s fragile when she’s proven over and over that she’s not.”

“I just don’t want her making reckless decisions,” your dad insited, but his eyes slide back to you. Your dad’s tone was sharp as he moved past your injuries.

“And then there’s Heeseung.” The way he says his name makes you flinch. “He’s a distraction, Y/N. You’re already pushing yourself too hard, and now you’re getting involved with someone who won’t be there when things get difficult. If you’re not careful, you’ll lose focus on everything that matters. And in addition to that you are distracting my captain from his duties.”

Before you could respond, Soobin stepped forward, his voice firm. “Dad, you’re being unfair.”

Your dad turned, surprised, but Soobin stood his ground. “You know Heeseung. You were the one who made him captain because you trusted him to lead. He’s responsible, he’s focused, and he cares about Y/N, more than you’re giving him credit for.”

Your dad’s expression hardened, and he crossed his arms. “He’s a good player, Soobin. But he’s young, and he doesn’t understand what Y/N needs right now.”

“And you think you do?” You countered, voice tight with frustration. “I am an adult. I know what I'm doing. And Heeseung’s been there for me, supporting me, making sure I am taking care of myself. He’s never pushed me into anything that would risk me recovery.”

Your father hesitated, his gaze moving between you and Soobin, a flicker of doubt finally creeping into his expression. But he quickly brushed it off, his jaw set in a familiar look of stubbornness. “You’re not seeing the big picture. I’m trying to protect you, to keep you from making choices you'll regret later.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. “The only thing I’m going to regret is not standing up for what I want and what I know I can handle. Heeseung isn’t the problem here, Dad. And if you would actually talk to me, you’d know that he’s been nothing but respectful and supportive.”

Soobin looked at your father, his tone more measured. “I trust Heeseung, Dad. You should, too. And more than that, you need to trust Y/N. She knows her limits better than anyone else here.”

Your father’s silence spoke volumes. Finally, he lets out a slow breath, his gaze softening just slightly. “I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt, Y/N.”

“I know,” you said, your voice steadier now. “But I’m not going to let fear control me.”

For once, he didn’t argue, and though the silence remains strained, there’s a glimmer of something that felt like reluctant acceptance. Soobin squeezed your shoulder in quiet reassurance.

You and Soobin sat cross-legged on Yeonjun's living room floor, surrounded by discarded pizza boxes and half-empty soda cans. You let out a frustrated groan and leaned back, resting your head against the couch right next to Beomgyu's thigh, who patted your head in solidarity.

“Maybe you should just… move out? Like properly," Beomgyu suggested, his voice gentle but with a hint of urgency. "If he sees you’re capable on your own, maybe he’d finally get that you’re an independent adult who knows what she’s doing.”

You sighed. “I’d love to, honestly. But how am I even supposed to manage that?” You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It’s not like I have a job—he’s always insisted that I focus on school, hockey, or ‘recovery.’ Everything’s paid for by him. So if I tried to move out, I’d probably have to ask him for rent money anyway. I’m not really independent.”

Soobin, sitting cross-legged beside you, crossed his arms. “Mom would definitely cover your rent if you asked. She’s offered to help me plenty of times.”

Yeonjun, lounging on the other side of the room with a slice of pizza in hand, smirked. “Yeah, and Soobin, you should really take her up on that sometime. You’ve crashed on my couch way too many nights,” he teased, nudging Soobin’s leg with his foot. “Maybe I could ask her.” You shrugged, the thought of moving out felt a bit daunting.

“Trust me, we’ll find you a place that works,” Yeonjun assured, with his usual casual confidence. He reached over and tousled your hair, smiling as he added, “And hey, if nothing else, my couch will always be happy to host any Choi family member.”

“Thanks, Yeonjun,” you laughed, feeling a little lighter.

In the end, you decided to stay at Yeji’s and Ryujin’s dorm for a few days. You weren’t ready for the full commitment of moving out just yet, but the space away from home was a welcome relief. Their couch became your temporary refuge, a safe distance from the constant arguments and suffocating expectations. 

And it seemed your dad got the hint after a few days of you not coming home and keeping conversations strictly professional at work. You noticed his glances lingering a bit longer than usual whenever he’d pass you at the rink, sometimes with a sigh or a hesitant pause, as if he wanted to say something but held back. Each time he tried, though, Soobin, your (now official) boyfriend, or one of their friends would step in, steering you away from him, often under the guise of needing help with some “urgent task.” 

Heeseung was sprawled out on the couch, fingers deftly moving over the controller as he focused intently on the game playing out on the screen. The familiar sounds of COD echoed through the apartment. You had just returned from physiotherapy, and the session had left you exhausted. You rested your head in Heeseung’s lap, the soft fabric of his sweatpants cushy against your cheek.

“Gotcha!” Heeseung exclaimed suddenly, his excitement pulling you out of your sleepy haze. Just as you began to relax back into the soothing rhythm of him playing, the ringing of Heeseung's phone cut through the peaceful atmosphere. He frowned, glancing down at the screen.

“It’s Jay,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully. He answered the call, holding the phone to his ear. “What’s up?”

You shifted slightly in his lap, burying your face into his stomach, seeking more comfort. Heeseung chuckled, brushing your hair back gently. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s going on?”

As Jay spoke on the other end, Heeseung’s face lit up with a smile. “Oh, curry sounds good!”

At the mention of curry, you stirred, raising your head to look at him. “Oh yes curry.” you mumbled sleepily, your voice muffled against his shirt. Heeseung raised an eyebrow at you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Want curry?” he asked, repeating your question back to you. You nodded slowly, still feeling heavy with tiredness, and you buried your face deeper into his stomach as if hiding from the world. You nodded sleepily, and he relayed the message to Jay. “Y/N’s here, and she’s definitely in for some curry,” he said, laughing at how cozy you looked all curled up against him.

After hanging up, Heeseung glanced down at you, his expression softening. “Jay is bringing over curry, is that fine with you?”

You nodded, still half-asleep. “Yeah.”

He chuckled softly, running his fingers through your hair. You shifted again, resting your cheek against his stomach, your eyes fluttering shut for just a moment longer.

“You’re warm,” you murmured, feeling the vibrations of his laughter through your body.

Heeseung’s hand continued to play with your hair, a peaceful silence settling over the room again. “You know, if you keep this up, we might miss dinner and just sleep until tomorrow,” he teased, and you just nodded, not responding anymore.

As sleep began to take hold, Heeseung gently scooped you up in his arms and carried you to his bedroom, tucking you under the blankets. The last thing you felt was his warmth beside you, and then you were out like a light.

You awoke to the sound of animated voices and the smell of food. Blinking against the light, you felt slightly disoriented. As you stepped into the kitchen area, you latched onto Heeseung’s back, burying your face into his shoulder. He chuckled softly, clearly amused.

“Well good evening, nice of you to join us,” he said, leaning back into you.

Jay and Jake turned, both bursting into laughter at the sight. “Look at you two! So cute,” Jake teased, leaning against the counter with a smug grin.

“Heeseung’s gotten so soft, it’s actually embarrassing.” Jay added, shaking his head in mock disbelief. 

As you took a seat at the table, Jay served up generous portions of steaming curry, filling the kitchen with a delicious warmth. You nestled into the chair beside Heeseung, pulling his hoodie sleeves over your hands to keep cozy.

Jake leaned back in his chair, digging into his food. “Not gonna lie, this curry tastes like heaven after today’s practice,” he said, letting out a small groan of appreciation.

Heeseung nodded, laughing. “Tell me about it. Coach was on us the whole time, especially after the last game. I can still feel the bruises from blocking shots in the scrimmage.”

Jake joined in with a laugh. “Y/N, you should’ve seen him. Dude was practically diving in front of pucks like it was a championship game.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Absolutely no chill.”

“Hey, that ‘no chill’ gets results,” Heeseung shot back, grinning before glancing at you a little more seriously.

“Actually… speaking of practice. Your dad stopped me today. He asked about you.”

You paused mid-bite, meeting Heeseung’s gaze. “ What did he say?”

“Nothing pushy,” Heeseung said, clearly choosing his words carefully. “He just asked if I’d seen you and if you were doing alright.”

You took a moment to process it, unsure how to feel. “I mean, he has been calling. And he has been asking Soobin and Minji where I am. Soobin just told to guess where I am.”

Jay gave a thoughtful nod. “Well, maybe he is trying to fix things?.”

Heeseung gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “I think Jay has a point. Maybe it’s worth giving him a chance to apologize.”

You sighed, your eyes drifting down to your half-finished plate. “It’s just… every time we have a conversation, he manages to make it feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m throwing away his idea of the perfect future, or like my decisions don’t matter. I don’t know if I want to go through all that again.”

Jake, who had been quietly stirring his drink, chimed in with a thoughtful look. “Maybe this time you don’t have to go through all of it. Talk to him on your terms. You don’t owe him anything more than what you’re comfortable with.”

Heeseung nodded. “Exactly. You can set boundaries. I’ll even be there if you want—or, you know, Soobin could tag along for backup moral support.”

Jake chuckled, giving you a reassuring smile. “Just let him do all the talking. Sometimes people need to hear themselves to realize how ridiculous they sound.”

You exhaled slowly,”I’ll think about it.”

You entered the rink together with Jays girl (space) friend, ready to capture the day’s events. The hockey team had organized a special event where they would teach local kids the basics of hockey, and you were there to film some PR content. Heeseung crouched down, demonstrating how to hold a stick while surrounded by a group of eager kids. You couldn’t help but smile as you filmed, completely enchanted by how cute he looked in his hockey gear, patiently explaining everything while the kids watched with wide eyes.

After a while, Heeseung noticed you filming from the sidelines and excused himself from the kids. He made his way over to you.

“Hi baby.” he greeted you, gently taking your face in his hands, tilting it up toward him. His eyes searched yours for a moment, and then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was sweet and tender, and you melted into him, completely forgetting about the cameras and the kids for a few blissful seconds.

“Ew. Boo! Get a room!” Beomgyu called out from the sidelines, pretending to gag dramatically, his face scrunched up in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes playfully, trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry, Beomgyu. Didn’t know you were such a romantic,” you shot back.

Heeseung chuckled. “Don’t be jealous, Gyu. Just appreciate the love in the air.” Heeseung pecked your lips again and went back onto the ice, regrouping the kids for another round of activities. 

Heeseung made his way up to your office when the event ended. He knocked at your door and peaked his face into the room: “Let’s go home babe. The kids are all gone.”

“Give me ten minutes. I’ll be done with the Tiktok recap for today.”, you said, softly smiling at him.

“Sure thing.”, he plopped down onto the sofa in your office and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

As you wrapped up the editing, you couldn’t help but glance over at him. Heeseung was focused, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration, and you felt a rush of affection. When you finished, you got up and sat down on his lap, surprising him.

“Hey there,” he said, a smile breaking through his concentration. His hands found their way to your sides, his touch warm.

“Hi Love.” You leaned in closer, caressing his cheek gently. “I gotta say seeing you with kids? Might be one of the best things ever.” you teased, inching your lips closer to his.

Heeseung’s eyes sparkled, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Oh yeah? I guess I’ll have to volunteer more often, then.”

“You just might have to,” you replied, leaning in closer, letting your hand drift to his cheek, your thumb brushing his skin.

He closed the gap between you. The kiss was soft at first, just a gentle brushing of lips, but it quickly deepened as he pulled you closer, his hands resting firmly on your waist. You melted against him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you lost yourself in the moment. You tilted your head to the side and gasped when Heeseung traced your lips with his tongue. His hands started caressing your thighs as you broke the kiss to breathe for a second. He directed his focus onto your neck, kissing it softly.

You closed your eyes and whispered his name, when a sharp knock on your door made you jump apart. “Y/N? Do you have a minute for me?”, your fathers deep voice came from the other side of the door.

You threw a panicked glance at Heeseung, who was frantically trying to smooth his hair and pull his sweatshirt into a more composed position. If your ears were even half as red as his, your father would definitely know what he’d just interrupted. With a quick attempt to brush your own hair back, you got up, meeting Heeseung’s sheepish smile with a reassuring one of your own.

Finally, you took a steadying breath and walked to open the door. “Sure, Dad. Come in.”

Your father stepped inside, taking in the two of you with an expression that looked almost nervous? “Y/N,” he began, his voice hesitant, “can I talk to you for a minute? Both of you, actually.”

You exchanged a quick, curious look with Heeseung before nodding. Heeseung sat up straighter, and your dad took a deep breath before sinking into the office chair opposite you.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” your dad started, his hands clasped tightly together. “About everything… about how I’ve treated you since the accident.” His voice cracked slightly, and you felt your chest tighten.

“I’ve been so hard on you, Y/N. Pushing, hovering, nagging… It’s like I’ve been trying to fix something I can’t undo.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his vulnerability. “Dad…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I can’t forgive myself for what happened. I feel like I failed you. You’re so young, and you’ve had to deal with so much—too much. And instead of helping you heal, I made things worse by trying to control everything. I just… I couldn’t stand the thought of you hurting, and I thought that if I stayed on top of everything, it might somehow fix things.”

The raw emotion in his voice left you speechless.

“I was wrong,” he continued, looking up at you now, his eyes glassy. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone who could help you without suffocating you.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “Dad, I—”

“And Heeseung,” your dad continued, turning his attention to the boy at your side. The tension in the room seemed to double.

Heeseung straightened, his jaw tightening as if bracing for a blow.

“I was hard on you. I know that,” your dad admitted.

“When I found out about you and Y/N, I wasnt exactly happy.”

You winced at the memory, glancing at Heeseung, who gave a small, humorless smile.

“I didn’t want her getting hurt,” your dad said, his voice softer now. “But I realize now that I was wrong about you.” He paused, running a hand over his face before meeting Heeseung’s gaze again. “You’re not just a great captain. You’re a good man. And I couldn’t ask for anyone better to be with my daughter.”

Heeseung looked stunned, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process the words. Finally, he managed a quiet, “Thank you, sir.”

Your dad gave a small, rueful smile. “You’ve earned it. Both of you have. And I hope you’ll forgive me for the way I’ve handled things. I know it’ll take time to rebuild some of the trust I’ve broken, but I just wanted you both to know how sorry I am.”

For a long moment, silence hung in the air. You felt Heeseung’s hand brush against yours, grounding you, and you reached out to take your dad’s hand.

“Thank you, Dad,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m still mad at you, a little. But… I’m glad you said this. It means a lot.”

Heeseung nodded beside you, his own expression softening. “We appreciate it,” he said sincerely. “Really.” Your dad gave a small, watery smile.

The hotel room was softly lit, the glow from the bedside lamp casting a golden hue. You were at the small vanity, adjusting your earrings. Behind you, Heeseung was sprawled out on the bed, still in his undershirt and slacks, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone.

“You’re not even close to being ready,” you teased, catching his reflection in the mirror.

Heeseung smirked, locking his phone and stretching out lazily. “I’m waiting for you to come help me with this dumb tie. You know I suck at it.”

“You could have learned by now,” you chided, turning to face him. “But no, you just like making me do it for you.”

“Maybe,” he said, sitting up. “But it’s also an excuse to keep you close.”

You rolled your eyes but crossed the room anyway. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased, sitting up and letting his knees part slightly so you could stand between them.

Heeseung grinned, holding the tie up like a peace offering. You took it from him, carefully looping and pulling it into a neat knot. He watched you the entire time, his eyes soft and unwavering.

“You’re staring,” you mumbled, focusing on his tie.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he said simply.

Your fingers faltered for a second before continuing, looping the tie around his neck and starting to knot it.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” he quipped, echoing your usual response.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, watching you with that warm, unrelenting gaze that always made your heart skip. As you finished the tie, your fingers brushing against his chest, he reached out to grab your hand, stopping you before you could step back. “Are you sure I look good enough to be seen with you?”

You arched a brow, feigning consideration. “Hmm. Maybe. You clean up okay.”

“Just okay?” he asked, tugging gently on your hand to pull you closer. His other hand slid to your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against the fabric of your dress.

“Better than okay,” you admitted softly, feeling his warmth seep through the fabric.

“That’s more like it.” Heeseung’s voice dropped an octave. His free hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers traced lightly down the side of your neck.

“You’re staring again,” you murmured, your voice unsteady under his gaze.

“Can you blame me?” he said, his lips quirking into a grin. “You’re stunning.”

“Flatterer,” you mumbled, though your cheeks flushed at his words.

“You’re blushing,” he teased, leaning in until your noses were almost touching.

“Stop it,” you whispered, half laughing, but you didn’t pull away.

“Make me.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips were on yours, soft at first, just a gentle brush. But the moment you leaned into him, he made a low sound deep in his throat, and the kiss shifted—growing hungrier, more urgent. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him, while the other cradled your face. One of his hands came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek, the simple gesture making your heart race even faster.

You couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped you when he deepened the kiss, his tongue tentatively exploring as though he was savoring every second. Your hands instinctively flew to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer. He groaned at the sensation, his fingers tightening slightly against your back. A soft whimper escaped your throat when he tilted his head, adjusting the angle to kiss you even deeper. His lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a mixture of passion and care that made your heart race. The hand on your back shifted, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles that made your skin tingle even through the fabric of your dress.

He pulled back just slightly, enough to draw in a breath, but his forehead stayed pressed to yours. His eyes were hooded, his pupils dark with something that made your stomach flip. His thumb grazed your lower lip.

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

“Right back at you,” you whispered, but before you could catch your breath, he leaned back in, capturing your lips again.

This time, the kiss was slower but no less intense, his lips lingering as though memorizing the taste of you. His hand drifted upward, tangling lightly in the hair at the nape of your neck, while yours tightened their grip in his. The small tug you gave his hair made him groan again, the sound vibrating against your lips and sending a delicious thrill down your spine. His free hand slid along your waist, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your dress as though he couldn’t decide whether to hold you closer or take his time exploring. A small, breathless sound escaped you, and he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“You taste like vanilla,” he murmured, his voice husky and low.

“Is that a complaint?” you asked, your voice breathless, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

“Not even close,” he whispered before diving back in, his lips capturing yours with a renewed fervor.

When he finally pulled away, his lips hovered just above yours, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face.“Still think we’re going to be late?”

You laughed, brushing a hand through his hair to smooth it. “Definitely.”

“And I don’t even feel bad about it,” he said, leaning in to steal one more kiss before letting you go.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing your clutch from the nightstand. “Get your jacket. We’re already pushing it.”

He hopped up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. As you turned toward the door, he caught your hand and pulled you back to him. “For the record,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, “I don’t care if we miss the gala entirely. I’ve already got everything I want right here.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “You’re impossible.”

“I am just lucky you love me.” he said, flashing you that boyish grin as he opened the door for you.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love

[crunchystarz]

Twisted wonderland Self-aware au

Housewardens x GN!Reader

Cw- obsessive and possessive behavior, isolation all that good yandere stuff (remember none of this behavior is healthy nor do I condone it this is purely for entertainment )

A/n: I wrote this while dying of the flu I am not built for the cold weather release me from my chains

You downloaded the game for fun. As any normal person usually does. What you weren't prepared for was when your game started acting weird.

It started small, your characters dialogue wouldn't line up with the videos you've seen. No big deal perhaps they just got changed during an update.

It got a bit weirder whenever you'd start seeing new sprites you haven't seen anywhere else. You tried to shrug it off as you just managed to get a newer version of the game(somehow).

You swore the characters started to address you more directly but you again tried to ignore it. You just thought your brain was playing tricks on you.

It was only until you realized you left your phone at your apartment. You quickly rushed home to retrieve it just to find a very real house warden in your home.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

REALIZATION:

When Riddle first suddenly became aware of the fact his existence was nothing but code he was unbelievably out of it. All the conversations he had, his harsh upbringing, everything was just part of his character. Were the feelings of anger, confusion and acceptance even real? He went on a bit of a rampage being harsher than usual but he didn't wish to shatter the reality for everyone else (he'd also sound more like a mad hatter If he tried to explain the fact they were just in a game) So no one knew why for the next month Riddle was more on edge than usual.

He came to accept the fact his life was nothing but a path set for him. He instead started to focus on you(or should I say yuu)

He soon realized that the ramshackle perfect was nothing but a hollow shell. No notable personality or backstory. But he soon managed to be aware of your experience. Glitches allowed him to hear snippets of your voice and how you truly felt. He was your favorite and he wanted it to stay that way.

He'd make sure he was always on your home screen. He'd even get risky and start talking to you directly. He'd listen to you ramble as you played the game. His face would flush red not out of anger but embarrassment when you'd change his outfits or get excited when you realized he'd gotten a new card.

He wished there wasn't a screen keeping you away from each other...

BREAKING CODE:

(I like to think this would be similar to an overblot In a way and enough emotion could cause them to lose themselves and eventually overwrite their code)

Riddle was over the moon. He was really in your room. Sevens he never thought a day would come where he'd be standing in your space. It was so you...

It felt weird, in a space that wasn't just there for scenes. It was actually lived in.

When he sees you he feels as if he succeeded in his life's purpose. You're confused and he can see that. He tries to explain to you how he didn't even know how he had gotten where he was.

You let him stay in your apartment because you couldn't really let him out in a world he knows nothing about. You're too kind he says.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Riddle takes care of most of the household chores. While you're gone, he keeps himself busy by tidying up, reading, or researching ways to improve the home environment. As well as constantly making rules for you to follow. He's so used to rules being set in place, it's what he was programmed to do so In the beginning you let it slide.

However he becomes controlling, trying to regulate every aspect of your life to “protect” you. He insists on setting the rules for "safety" and gets visibly distressed if you don't follow them.

Constantly checks if the you're eating properly or following a “schedule” he created for you both. If you don't he'll sometimes scold you harshly like he would in game. He'll apologize later in fear of upsetting you, he just wants you to be safe.

Becomes passive-aggressive if you end up spending too much time with others, interpreting it as rebellion. All he's trying to do is set you on the right path , can't you see that?

-"It’s for your own good [Name],Without guidance, this world will overwhelm you. Let me take care of you."

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

REALIZATION:

When Leona realizes he's in a video game he's surprisingly the calmest. He's upset and disorientated but he doesn't cause a big scene or let it be known he's losing his mind. He's used to concealing how he feels from others; it's in his codeHe's more laid back after this fact. No matter what he did he'd never be able to change his fate, because it was already set for him he had no control over it. So why did it matter what he did?

When you caught his attention the beast man was obsessed with proving himself to you. To him you were the only person who saw him for him. Who understood him. He was your favorite.

He'd never been anyone's number one anything before and the fact you choose him he wasn't going to let anything take that away from him.

The screen was just another obstacle he'll overcome to get what he wants.

BREAKING CODE:

Leona was really in your room...your room. He felt overcome with joy. Genuine joy, something he'd...never felt. Everything he felt up until then was just what the developers wanted him to feel.

Needs to say you were more than confused when you saw a lion hybrid snuggled up in your bed when you came home.

After getting an explanation you offered to let him stay in your apartment; if you didn't you were more than sure he'd be taken for government testing or something. Too bad you now needed a new phone.

DAY TO DAY LIFE :

Leona is still a lion at heart, he frequently loiters around you, draping himself over your furniture or bed like a lion staking a claim.He’s territorial and quick to anger if someone else tries to get too close to you. Despite his gruffness, he seeks constant reassurance that the you won’t leave him.

He's possessive and hates whenever you leave and doesn’t hide his irritation. He often tries to convince you to skip work/school, suggesting you should spend the day relaxing with him instead. (Sometimes he'll go out with you and will send looks to anyone who looks at you too long)

you're just happy everyone thinks that his animal features are crazy prosthetic since he refuses to hide them

When you come home, Leona monopolizes your time, insisting on napping together and getting all your attention.

He'd dislike the smell of other people on you when you come home and will drag you to bed for cuddles. None of these humans deserve your attention, he worked so hard for it not them .The thought angers him.

- "You're mine, I can protect you—provide for you —love you, you don't need anyone else but me those humans can't do what I can"

AZUL ASHHENGROTTO

REALIZATION:

Azul understandably does not take the life altering realization that he's not actually real well. His usually kept together appearance started to slip. He was all over the place. How could he not? This left Floyd and Jade completely confused why their boss was so out of it. It wasn't like him. He couldn't tell anyone else about this, not that they'd believe him anyway.

His interest in you starts as a mix of fascination and suspicion. He’s drawn to your influence but wary of your intentions. It became an obsession .

He saw you as the only real thing in his "life", Azul was your favorite out of all the characters, you picked him. He'd always make sure he looked right on your home screen (it wouldn't matter anyway since his sprite would always look the same)

You became the only thing he could think about, he'd have you no matter how much it took

BREAKING CODE:

Azul at first didn't think him being in your room was real. He thought it was a dream. When it finally set in that it wasn't just him losing his mind he was more than just happy.

He was in his darlings room. Everything felt so perfect. But not as perfect when he saw you for the first time. You were more than confused to see him(now in your living room) looking around.

After explaining the situation you let him stay with you in your apartment. You had no other choice where else would he go? It wouldn't be so bad to have extra help around anyway.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Much like Riddle , Azul takes care of most of the daily tasks. He offers to assist you with your tasks, whether it’s by organizing your work schedule or helping with assignments. However, he might feel a little hurt if you seem too busy for him. Pay attention to him please!

Don't forget that this is a sly sly man. Azul becomes emotionally manipulative, weaving situations that ensure you stays reliant on him. He uses your gratitude and trust to justify his control, often veiling his obsession with charm and just him being a "gentleman".

He'll shower you in gifts and constantly praise you on everything. He'll try and offer you deals just to make sure you have ties with him.

He'll text you at work with encouraging needy messages. He's always in your corner so just rely on him okay? You don't need anyone else.

- "You’d be lost without me. Everything I do is for you. Just let me take care of all your work."

Kalim Al-Asim

REALIZATION:

Kalim was in denial for the longest time about the realization that he was in a program. He couldn't wrap his head around it. He didn't want to bother Jamil more than he already did especially not with something this big. It was hard to not say anything while his mind was going crazy with thoughts as he tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

When he realized yuu wasn't just another side character and in fact the player he became obsessed with knowing more. He'd get so excited whenever the game would glitch and he could hear your voice and you talking as you played around on the home screen.

It made him so happy; Kalim was your favorite character. Others would wonder why he'd be more bubbly than usual whenever he'd hear you compliment him on his newest card. He wanted all your attention onto him.

He'd make your every wish come true. This screen wouldn't stop that.

BREAKING CODE :

Oh wow he was really in your room. It was way smaller than he expected but that didn't matter. It was your room so it made it much better. He doesn't know what he did to deserve this. He was basically bouncing off the walls; touching everything.

When you walked into your room you didn't have time to react before Kalim was pulling you a crushing hug causing you to yelp. He apologized a bit flustered.

After explaining (he could barely keep himself together) you allowed him to stay. He was so sweet how could you let him out into the world?

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Kalim insists on accompanying you everywhere. Wherever you go Kalim is clinging to you. Your neighbors have all taken a liking to him so him being with you isn't so bad.

He isn't good with chores but he tries his best to clean and tidy when you're gone. He tries to cook but has burnt it multiple times so you tell him not to. He buys you gifts you don't even need all the time. He just wants to spoil you.

Kalim’s obsession is rooted in his desire to make you happy at all costs. However, his constant need to please you and keep you close becomes overwhelming, and suffocating. If you tell him this he'll make you feel bad, that he just loves you so much and wants to take care of you; you often cave.

When you return from work or school, Kalim greets you with hugs and insists on spending the rest of the evening together, often talking about what he did while you were gone.

-" [Name]! I missed you sooo much, you should let me go with you to work, you don't even need work I could make all of your wishes come true"

VIL SCHONHEIT

REALIZATION:

Vil did not take it well... He was absolutely losing his mind. His beauty was nothing but pixels. Was everything he worked for was fake? Everything he knew was just controlled by someone else. It was so frustrating. He ended up locking himself away until he could accept the truth.

When he realized yuu was the player he was...angry. However that anger subsided after he started to know you for you. Vil was...your favorite. It boosted his ego more than anything.

He wanted to be in the spotlight at all times. He craved your attention. It was like he became addicted to your praise. He'd smile whenever you'd call him pretty whenever you looked at a card of his.

He wanted to be perfect for you. He'd show you how perfect he could be, you'd see. He just needed to get rid of the screen.

BREAKING CODE:

Vil stood in the middle of your room. Everything was too perfect to touch. He took it all in. everything felt just...right.

He didn't even calculate how he got in your room but he didn't care. He was in your world and sevens he'd never felt better.

When you walked into him looking at himself in your mirror (taking in how he was an actual real person) . You were so confused why this gorgeous man was in your room.

After explaining the situation you agreed to let him stay with you; if you didn't you swear he'd get kidnapped or something to become a big model. It wouldn't be bad to have a pretty face to look at when you got home.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Vil insists on controlling your wardrobe and grooming, often brushing aside whatever protests you have. He discourages you from associating with “lesser” individuals, claiming they tarnish the your image.

He knows what's best for you come on, those other people will only be dragging you down from your true potential. But of course you wouldn't know that he couldn't blame you.

Vil’s obsession honestly manifests in his relentless efforts to “perfect” for you. He'll critique your choices and actions, believing he alone knows what’s best for you. His fixation often leaves you feeling scrutinized and trapped.

He believes you just need him. He'll do everything just as long as he gets praise from you. Tell him he's being a great help won't you?

"You deserve only the best, and I won’t let anyone drag you down—!"

IDIA SHROUD:

REALIZATION:

This is not as exciting as they make it in manga. Idia was having a crisis. Realizing that he was in a video game made him want to hide away even more than he normally would. It didn't matter how hard Ortho tried he just wouldn't budge. He stayed cooped up in his room trying so hard to distract himself from the fact that he was nothing but code just like the ones he's learned to manipulate. Idia is not going to recover from this.

Idia was already wary around yuu but when he realized you were yuu he wanted to know more. He was still too scared to leave his dorm so you didn't see him much other than the homescreen.

He was so taken back when he realized that, he — Idia shroud was your favorite. He'd never been anyone's favorite before. He was just a loser that stayed cooped up in his room all day and you still liked him?

He grew obsessed with that feeling of being seen, he wanted to just use whatever knowledge he had to break past the screen.

BREAKING CODE:

When Idia realized he was actually in your room he damn near fainted. No scratch that he did. He was so overwhelmed. He didn't deserve to be in your room. Oh man how did he even get here? Nevermind that.

He was so incredibly.. happy. He was in the room of the one person who he felt knew him more than anyone. It made him feel bubbly and his hair flashed pink a bit.

He looked for something to do fearing he'd have a panic attack if he thought about this too long. So you ended up finding him tinkering with your computer when you came home. He basically died when he saw you.

After explaining to you what happened, you, now trying to get him to calm down agreed to let him stay. Not that he'd leave anyway he practically already made your bed his sanctuary.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Your room basically became his. He keeps it clean but doesn't really do a lot of the house work other than that.

Idia spends the day gaming, tinkering with gadgets, or monitoring your online activity (just to make sure you're okay, of course!). He reacts the worst to you being away and just does not like it one bit.

Idia struggles with separation anxiety (like a once stray cat)and might try to convince you to work or study from home. If you insist on going out he bombards you with messages . He'll subtly manipulate situations to keep you away from others, convincing you the world is too dangerous.

When you come home, Idia is overly clingy, insisting you spend the rest of the night together and refusing to let you focus on work. He just wants his cuddles and your attention you were out with those normies all day!

-" Can’t you just stay here and binge-watch something with me? It’s way safer—and more fun."

MALLEUS DRACONIA:

When the fae realizes he's nothing but binary code strug together he's more than perplexed. Malleus has dealt with a lot of things in his time but nothing could prepare him for the crushing reality. He's completely disoriented and Sebek nor Silver can figure out why because he won't tell them. He started lacking on work and just overall seemed more spaced out.

He was very quick to put two and two together. Yuu was the player. It was obvious; human without powers manages to get into NRC and some how is involved with almost everything. It wasn't quite hard to figure out.

Malleus idealizes you seeing you as a perfect being. In his eyes, you are kind, compassionate, and the only one who truly understands him. He was your favorite, this confirms you too think you too are meant for each other.

He'd do anything just for you to join him when he takes up the crown, it's just the screen that's not making it possible.

BREAKING CODE:

Once in your room Malleus doesn't look like he cares at all actually but inside he was losing his mind in the most positive way ever.

Nothing was how he imagined. This is how you like your space? Noted. He tidied up your place a bit and sat in the middle of the room as to not mess anything.

When you walked into him just sitting there you were so confused but he just gave you a smile showing off his fangs.

After explaining the situation you let him stay in your apartment; too scared what he'd manage to get into if you didn't.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Malleus makes sure everything is perfect for you at all times. Everything is organized and you never have to worry about anything being out of place.

Like Leona Malleus has animalistic tendencies, him being a fae dragon causes him to be well.. possessive, not wanting anyone else to monopolize your attention. He might grow jealous of your coworkers, friends, or even family, viewing them as a threat to your bond.

He. Is.clingy. worse than Kalim and Idia. He insists on escorting you everywhere, even if it’s unnecessary. People recognized him as "[Name's] horned bodyguard!" Gods you hated it. He tries to insert himself into every aspect of your life, wanting to be by your side constantly.

It took him so long to just be okay with letting you leave on your own. Once you're home he's bombarding you with questions about your day.(Secretly snuggling up to you so you can have his scent again)

-" I could just use magic you know, there's no need—I'm simply a better option for this stuff you can rely on me"

MASTERLIST

[oimitocat]

STRAY KIDS REACTION….

… to boyfriend!reader being angry and they find it hot (nsfw warning) (hyung line!)

ᡴꪫ CHAN… was extremely similar to you. you’re a lay-backed person, sure sometimes you have episodes where you’re not exactly in the mood to socialize but still, you’re charismatic and let things slide more than he does. you always say it’s because you don’t have energy to entertain that stuff.

yet, seeing you angry — TRULY angry, was something he’d never think he’d get to see. so color him surprised when he hears you shout and pace. the furrow of your brows, your darkened eyes. you looked… good. that tone, he’d never heard it and… it stirred something in the pit of his stomach.

“something wrong?” he asks after a while of eye fucking you.

“company said i need to go on a damn hiatus because some shitheads are spreading a rumor. i could care less, why do they have to make it seem like i’m anxious or whatever?”

chan blinks. “rumor?”

“yeah, super stupid. all i did was call them to say i wasn’t happy with how our last show ended. dude, they literally couldn’t get my headset to work, i had to wing the timing and stuff. their lack of work effort pisses me off.” you groan.

“i know but…” chan pauses when you glare at him. he swallows, “hey, i mean a hiatus is good. you get to rest.”

“i don’t want to rest-“

“i get to have you all to myself without worrying about you missing out on your schedule.”

“if you’re bored, play with me. if you’re angry, take it out on me. you’ll have all the time to do so.” he grins.

you blink, “i- what?” and you can’t even be angry anymore… just frustrated. but chan will also take that.

ᡴꪫ MINHO… had the habit of annoying you and frustrating you sometimes, but never actually making you angry. as idol’s there is a lot of things that can drive you mad. minho for example hates wardrobe malfunctions. fans went crazy over some clips of him angry and upset over a few outfits and so have you.

you never really cared for much, at the end of the day you get a nice paycheck and you’re good to go. still, that doesn’t mean you don’t care about your job. so when he sees that your mic isn’t working and you’re more than upset at the lack of resolve from the sound techs…. he simply cannot look away.

even when you get off the stage, you’re glaring and absolutely not in the mood. everything you do is with anger— ripping off your headset, wiping off your sweat, loosening your outfit. goodness, you look delectable.

“you mad?” he asks teasingly, of course he has to tease.

“i’m not in the mood minho.”

oh! that anger had a pretty tone. “fuck,” he breathes out, pressing himself closer to you, “you gonna take it out on me?” and your eyes bored into him.

he definitely didn’t regret it later.

ᡴꪫ CHANGBIN…. didn’t know you could get angry. he’s only seen you be all soft and gushy. he’s seen you be defensive and stern but never angry. he’s literally making his way to the studio when he hears your voice boom outside the door. worried, he walks in and sees how your standing and yelling at the other producer.

“what’s-?”

“-how long it’s taken us to keep these files and you forget to save them?!”

the producer fidgets, “doesn’t change have a copy? he always has a copy-“

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN THE COPY IS THE SAME AS WHAT WE WERE ADDING TO IT YESTERDAY! you can’t recreate something that was authentic!” you pace, pulling at your hair, “shit man, i worked so hard on that!”

“y/n calm down,” he tries, “what file is it-?”

“changbin, i literally cannot right now.” and you leave.

in the end the file wasn’t deleted, just misplaced in the wrong folder to which it was saved. still, the lack of clarity pissed you off. you didn’t want to work that day and changbin was trying so hard to coax you. yet, seeing you mad was so good for some reason. changbin knew he could make you feel better (totally not feeling you with his hands? and you being angry was making things fun.

ᡴꪫ HYUNJIN…. doesn’t remember a time where you’ve been angry. he’s also never even wanted to. he doesn’t like noise and he remembers how you always say you blow up when angry. hence, when he hears you slam your fist on the desk, he jumps. you’re dramatic like him, so he tried not to think much of it except…

“are you kidding me?” he hear you say with an ominous tone. low and sultry, makes him pause. “so you’re saying that you’re wasting my damn time.”

he peeks over at, seeing you frown and glare at the wall while on the phone. he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that look on you… his mind starts to wander…. would that expression look at him? you’re talking, angry, clearly. and it’s so…

“why are you angry?” he asks when you hang up with an insult and throw your phone of the desk.

“cus apparently i have to do everything myself. why the hell would you-“ and he zones out, watching your angrily rant.

you plop down on the chair, angry. he stands and walks over to you, desire in his gut. “baby don’t be mad…” “well i wouldn’t if they did what i was paying them to do.” “-let’s get your mind off that, yeah?”

and boy did he.

[webslingingslasher]

Unknown Sender

happy valentine's day!

MONDAY: 13:52 

‘hi.’ Peter squints at the message, then the unsaved number. He's not sure how, but it’s a scam. 

‘i’d like to have your attention, please.’ Peter rolls his eyes, swiping left to not only delete but report the number as junk. No doubt it was a bot or someone with a flair for sextortion. 

A new number. ‘that was actually so rude of you, parker.’ 

‘unblock me right now.’ 

Peter shifts in his seat, he does a slow look around the room and finds nothing off putting or alarming. 

‘Who is this?’ 

Green bubbles pop up. ‘unblock me and i’ll tell you.’ Peter was right to guess about extortion. Another swipe, blocked and reported. Peter wasn’t participating in any games. 

A new number. ‘oh, now you’re just being cute.’ 

Peter feels his heart pick up a bit, it’s a tad threatening and now he’s overthinking it a little. What if someone has it out for him? Is there a mark on his back? ‘Please leave me alone.’ 

‘no.’ 

‘can we play 21 questions?’ 

Peter’s face scrunches up, he spins his head around one more time, someone is fucking with him. He has no clue who has time for something like that in university, but he’s not a willing participant anymore, not since high school. 

‘Leave me alone. Go torment a freshman.’ 

‘i don’t like freshmen. i like you.’ Peter chews at his bottom lip, there was a second of hesitancy but he knows the truth deep down. ‘I’m blocking you.’ 

‘sure. i’ll keep texting you, too.’ 

‘I’ll change my number.’ 

‘noooo please don’t do that. i had to work hard enough to get it the first time.’ Peter doesn’t respond. He blocks the number and moves on, and they don’t try to text him again.

Until the next day and Peter knows two things for certain. There is a note in his backpack, and it wasn’t there before his econ lecture. He remembers pulling that pocket open before he started notes, then when he went to zip it up, a note. 

This upsets him. What good was any sense when someone could get that unnoticeably close to him without him knowing? Second, it’s a little frustrating not to know who this person is and how it most likely is connected to the texts he had a few days ago, and that it’s an extremely long played joke that’s mostly boring. 

‘Peter Parker- 

You’ve been secretly admired. It might not be very secret, because I think you’ve caught me staring at you a thousand times. I like you a lot. 

Hopefully liked back, 

-X’ 

But a part of him believes it’s true. He’s trying to think of who’s in his lecture, if he’s caught them staring then they’re either to the side or behind him. There are too many faces, too many times he’s been looked at, he’s almost centered, it’s his fault for choosing a focal point. 

Instead of throwing it away, he refolds the pink handwriting and puts it back into place before hitching a strap over his shoulder and sliding behind chairs. One, two steps up he glances at your face, you have a weak smile, he returns the same kind, it’s more like a polite nod. Peter’s always thought you were pretty and he thinks you're nice. 

But really, he’s wondering who left the note. 

10:30

‘did you get my note?’ Peter does his normal scan across campus, again, his fault for being out in the open. This person could be anywhere, he’s on a picnic bench with a group of friends. If he’s smart, he’d start limiting himself to contained spaces and make you show yourself. 

‘Yeah. Who is this?’ Peter’s thumbs dance around the screen waiting for a reply, it comes quick. ‘i told you. x.’ He stops himself from rolling his eyes, he doesn’t know anyone with an ‘X’ anywhere in their name. 

‘Is that an initial?’ 

‘actually, i’m pretty sure it’s british for kiss.’ 

‘That’s a wild take. Are you saying the UK is responsible for XOXO’s?’ 

‘i’d like to make you responsible for my xoxo’s.’ Peter chews his bottom lip, he won’t play into anything in writing. He doesn’t believe this for a second, everything about this feels off. Someone’s fucking with him and they’re also in his class, or they have someone in on it in his class. 

But this is too advanced.

‘sorry. i don’t mean to like harass you or anything. you’re really hot but you scare me, i don’t think you would like me so idk, maybe if you talk to me you’d like me for me or something.’ 

‘i just think i’m punching wayyyy above my weight class here and i may be making this worse because there is no doubt you think im weird.’ 

‘i am weird. i should leave you alone now. i’m sorry.’ 

Peter reads his screen four times, it’s still not clicking. He’s nothing special and he doesn’t mean that in a way to dog on himself, he’s just nerdy and quiet. It seems a little too authentic to be fake, but he’s got to make sure. 

‘How’d you get my number?’ 

‘your friend. they have been sworn to secrecy but they know what i’m doing and they are in full support. take that as you will.’ 

‘Depends on the friend.’ 

‘i’ll tell you when you find out who i am.’ 

‘I’m going to find out? You’re not going to tell me?’ 

‘i don’t think i’ve been hiding it. you just haven’t been paying attention and now i want you to.’ 

‘Oh, but you’re shy?’ 

‘i’m about to pass out on the lawn behind this fucking screen, don’t play with me parker.’ A slip, you’re around him and you just admitted it. ‘Tell me, admirer, what are you wearing?’ The more detail the better, but he could work off of just a color. 

‘nice try. but you’re looking mighty handsome in the blue.’ A glance down, he suddenly feels watched. ‘Are you stalking me?’ 

‘oh no! no no no. i PROMISE you i’m not that fucking psychotic.’

‘i’m just a “sneak a note into your backpack” level of crazy. i’m here with my roommate and her boyfriend. i saw you and just wanted to know if you got it, i promise.’ 

‘You do understand that this situation makes you seem psychotic, right?’ 

‘yes. but i am not.’ 

‘That sounds like something a crazy person who got my number from a third party would say. Especially after I blocked you six times.’ 

‘it was three and you didn’t understand my intentions but okay. you have a fair point and i extend the olive branch of brett. he gave me your number and he knows me pretty well.’ 

Brett? Easy enough, he nods his head towards him and slides his phone across the table. “Explain.” His friend scrolls through the thread, a trustworthy smile spreads. “Yeah, I gave her your number.” Her. Okay, it’s something. “Who is she?” Brett shrugs, “you know her. She’s kind of a firecracker, you just make her nervous.” 

“That gives me nothing, Brett.” His friend blinks, “she’s not crazy. She likes you a lot for whatever fucking reason and has no idea how to approach you.” Peter’s letting his words soak in, “don’t believe me? Ask her about the grilled cheese, and make sure you tell her that I told you about how she went on for five fucking minutes about the grilled cheese.” 

“What grilled cheese?” Brett slides Peter’s phone back, he’s telling him to ask you. Something tells Peter it’s enough to embarrass, or it might be Brett being the ultimate wingman.

‘I’ve been told to ask you about the grilled cheese.’ 

‘oh god. there is no need to ask about the grilled cheese, did brett tell you about the grilled cheese?’ 

‘He told me to ask you. And to specify that you went on for five minutes about it.’ 

‘five is excessive, it was more like three. second, there is nothing to speak about.’ 

‘I would like to hear about it.’ 

‘i’d prefer if you didn’t.’ 

‘But you’ll do it for me?’ 

‘i’m weak for you and you know it. it’s sicking, parker.’ 

‘i heard you talking about making one in class and you said something about the crust and i really fucking love grilled cheese’s so i had a trip to fantasy land where you made me one and how it’s probably the best thing i’ll never get to taste.’ 

‘Wow. Five whole minutes on that?’ Peter won’t admit it made him feel a little warm on the inside, the most mundane of things to have someone so squirrely makes him feel unworthy. 

‘three.’ 

‘Tell me who you are and I’ll make you a grilled cheese.’ 

‘you have no idea how much that almost worked.’ 

‘What’s the plan then, master manipulator?’ 

‘i don’t know yet. i’m hoping you show me how smart you are and figure me out, then you can do all the hard questions.’ 

‘Hard questions?’ 

‘you know, do you wanna go on a date, do you wanna be my girlfriend, do you want to take my hand in marriage and have a summer home in the french alps? that kind of stuff.’ 

‘Totally not psychotic.’ Peter tucks his bottom lip between his teeth to hide the smile that wants to spread. 

‘mostly not.’ 

WEDNESDAY: 13:57

Peter doesn’t know who X is, but they’re clever and have zero effect on his sixth sense. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Either way, he’s reading a note scribbled in blue pen and as he studies the words he knows it was rushed. It’s proof that he wasn’t being followed everywhere, instead you saw an empty table and an opportunity. 

‘Peter- 

You use mostly gender neutral pronouns. I think that’s very cool. Is it weird that I notice those things about you? Also- what is it that you’re always drinking from Nuthouse? Asking for a friend… 

Have a good day! 

-Your not so secret admirer, X. 

‘Not so secret,’ Peter isn’t sure about that. You’ve done a good enough job at not trying to be obviously known, he might have looked up your number last night to find dust. One was from an app, but the one you’ve been using is a burner phone. 

What he’s really not understanding is how you’re able to get so close to him without him noticing. You had to have been millimeters away when you rested the letter on his backpack, he was gone for less than two minutes and he had zero awareness. 

Peter folds up the note and sticks it in the same pocket as the other one, his back slung around one shoulder as he moves up the stairs for the library. At the same time, you come down the opposite side, Peter gives a friendly acknowledgement. 

You choke down the lump in your throat. “Hi, Peter.” He’s already past you, it’s echoed behind his shoulder. “Hey.” It’s something. You’re trying, you’re trying to be bold for him. But he’s not going to notice, he’s never going to notice you and if you tell him who you are you’ll never live past his disappointment. 

Your phone vibrates, the other phone. Your heart picks up, Peter texted first. 

 14:02 

‘Dirty chai.’ 

‘best of both worlds. how fitting. you’re such a nonconforming king.’ 

‘I don’t even know what that means.’ 

‘But thank you?’ 

‘you’re welcome!’ 

‘anything fun on the roster today?’ 

‘Roster? Who are you?’ 

‘idk you make me nervous. blame yourself.’ 

‘Well, coach. Nothing fun on the roster, just some math. Wanna swap places with me?’ 

‘gross. i hate math so if you like it that’s good with me. one of us has to be smart and it’s not me.’

‘Smart enough to use a burner phone.’ 

‘oooooh, someone tried to find meeee.’ 

‘Can’t blame a guy for being curious, can you?’ 

‘were you disappointed when you found nothing?’ 

‘A little bit. But, you know, it keeps the imagination alive. A little unfair advantage on your side though, you already know what I look like.’ 

‘if it helps, you already know what i look like too.’ 

‘I do?’ 

‘yeah. we’ve talked before.’ 

‘Wait, so I know who you are?’ Brett said he did but Peter thought he meant you’d be familiar, not that he actually knew you. This just opened the floodgates to a million more possibilities. 

‘not really but yeah i guess. you know i exist but we’re not friends or anything.’ 

‘I’d like to think we’re friends, but okay.’ 

‘not outside the texting.’ 

‘That’s your decision.’ 

‘HATER.’ 

‘Anymore hints?’ 

‘.... no.’ 

‘HATER.’ 

FRIDAY: 12:15

You’re about to spill hot tea everywhere but it’ll be worth it to see his face. You ignore your pounding heart and stand in front of him. He’s got no clue you showed up, zoned out looking at the clock on the wall across from him. 

“Hi, Peter.” 

Full frontal attention, he’s looking at you. He’s perceiving you, he’s smiling at you. “Hi,” your eyes expand, he knows your name and it sounds so nice coming from his mouth. Sure, you’ve chatted with each other- even shared a few highlighters, but nothing serious. You’ve always been too scared to try anything else but maybe your fear has been mistaken for indifference. 

“I um, I lucked out today at Nuthouse so if you like dirty chai’s I got an extra one.” Your knees feel weak at his bright eyes, “my favorite. I’d love one, thank you.” You pass over the paper cup, your fingers brush and you think you’re about to collapse. 

“Yeah,” a weak laugh. “I had a feeling.” Peter tilts his head at you funny, you wonder if you pushed a little too far. “Okay, um, I’m gonna… have a good… lecture.” Peter nods and watches you go two rows up, he’s finally got a gut feeling. And it tells him to keep an eye out for you. 

TUESDAY: 12:10

Not that Peter was reliant on your attention, he was used to it. So when the texts stopped for three days and he was unable to find any letters he assumed you had lost interest and moved on. That felt fair to him, no harm no foul, at least he never really got to know you. 

Nevermind, there’s a folded notebook page on his miniature desk and his heart speeds up. His next task, put eyes on you. Bottom level, book and pencil in hand. He makes sure to note it’s a pencil and not the green ink that’s spread across the page. 

Peter thinks it’s a mind game, you were smart enough to know he’d look. Unless he was totally wrong on his guess. 

‘Peter- 

I ran out of minutes on my phone and I’m having a broke college kid moment. However, a friend took pity and donated a twenty to the campaign. I hope you’ve been good- I’ve missed talking to you. 

- Your not so secret admirer, X’ 

ps. stop keeping your backpack so close to you.’

It wasn’t anything personal, you just ran out of minutes. Peter smiles so wide he has to drop it, he almost clutches the paper to his chest in a thank you. Eyeing his backpack, he nudges it a little further behind him, following instruction. He’s kept it close in hopes to catch you, but instead he’s pushing you away. 

Peter’s committing the writing to memory as if he’s going to find you by the handwriting alone. A quick glance at footsteps, you’re three steps away when you smile. “Hi, Peter.” He nods, “hey.” You pause for a moment, mind racing for words. 

“Did you, um- did you do anything fun this weekend?” You’re about to crawl into a hole and die, it takes a moment to click that you were speaking to him. He went as far to look behind himself, then he spewed the answer to try and make up for the lost time. 

“Oh, uh not really. My aunt got a new bed so I had to lug the old one down seven flights of stairs.” Your eyes widen, you feel your mouth go dry and your tongue go thick. “By yourself?” Peter crosses his arms over his chest, a boyish grin swept over and you feel heart eyes form. 

“I’m a good nephew.” You want to pat his head and tell him you’re sure he is, then maybe hold him at gunpoint and tell you more stories about how he’s a perfect humanitarian. But you act like a normal human and smile back, “you sound like it.” 

Peter thanks you and you return to your seat with wobbly knees and a weak stomach, it’s silent torture to tease yourself like this with him. But you can’t help it and it’s only in effort to go after what you want. Even if it blows up when he figures out who you are. 

12:13

‘you’re looking mighty handsome today, mr. parker.’ 

‘I’m wearing a hoodie, but thank you.’ 

‘i said what i said.’ 

Boldly, ‘i see someone had another dirty chai. can’t stay away from them, can you?’ 

Another tick in Peter's stomach, he almost looks behind his shoulder at you, but he doesn’t. ‘It was a generous donation from a classmate.’ 

‘oh? pray tell, peter. pray tell.’ 

‘What? You don’t have a clue about who gave it to me?’ 

You swallow thickly, before you could get something out he sent another message. ‘No chance you didn’t see it go down?’ 

‘how could i? I was still on my way.’ 

‘... or was i?’ 

‘Tell you what, X. It one of the best teas I’ve had in a while.’ 

And you’d be damned if that didn’t make your entire chest flutter. 

FRIDAY: 15:29

“Here,” Peter’s hand clasped over the paper slapped into his chest. A hint of a syllable, Brett cuts himself off. “She asked me to give this to you.” Peter quickly read it and stared down before confiding in his friend for a second. 

‘Peter- 

Roses are red, violets are blue, all that I think about is you. 

It’s sweet in a cringy way, right? Boo on you for skipping class today, if you want, I could get you some notes. 

I hope I’ll see you Tuesday. 

-Your (really) not so secret admirer, X

ps. A pen exploded in my pocket. 10/10 chance my thigh will be stained.’

“I think I might know who it is.” 

“Uh, huh.” 

“But, she’s way out of my league.” 

“Correct.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “so it’s her?” He clarified with your name, Brett shrugged back. 

“I won’t be confirming or denying.” Peter knows what that means, “the lack of a no usually means yes.” 

“Bro,” Peter starts sputtering, “oh, c’mon! You know what I meant, I just meant that, I just- c’mon, Brett. Is it her?” 

“I have no idea who that is.” Peter wants to call bullshit, he has a gut feeling and he swears it’s you. You’re right, it’s not so secret. In fact, you’re painfully obvious. 

FRIDAY: 23:14 

‘you are soooooooo cute’ 

‘like your hair is so cute’ 

‘i looooove curly hair on guys and you have that!!!!!!!!!’ 

‘and you’re really funny cause like it’s so quick and witty like you have such good one liners’ 

‘also you’re really fucking hot and i KNOW you’re hiding something under those fucking sweaters and the second i see skin i WILL go feral.’ 

‘Something tells me you’re at the Kappa party.’ Peter’s pretending he doesn’t have a searing blush. If he’s got an inkling this could be you… then he might have proof for the non-believers that god exists. 

‘yes!!! are you here?? i should come see you.’ 

‘I hate to disappoint you, but I��m currently at a friend's house playing a Mario Kart drinking game.’ 

“But it’s nice to know that you’d give me your identity that quick.’ 

‘oh i can tell you who i am.’ Peter frowns at the text, he’s been doing nothing but crave the answer to who’s behind the love letters but it feels wrong. It’s not satisfactory enough for him, it’s also not what you want, you’re just drunk- and Peter’s going out on a limb here- horny. 

‘Save it for later.’ 

‘And maybe drink some water.’ 

‘i’d do anything for you cause you have the world's prettiest brown eyes’

‘Thank you for the compliments.’ 

‘you’re super welcome i try to hold them back because i’m a good girl but you’re just so cute i had to let you know’ 

‘I think you’re going to super regret this in the morning.’ 

‘false. maybe fact idk’

‘i should trust you tho because you’re super smart and you’re a nerd.’ 

‘I fear this is taking a turn for the worse.’ 

‘and that is so fucking HOT’

‘Oh. Back to compliments. Thank you.’ 

‘if you were here i’d give you a kiss’

‘IGNORE THAT!!!!’

‘I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND THAT!!!! IGNORE IT’ 

‘Not ignored. How cute.’ 

‘screaming crying throwing up’ 

‘i really didn’t mean to send that it was a joke ha ha funny.’ 

‘Idk, sounded authentic to me.’ 

‘peter?’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘i’m a little drunk rn. and you should know how cute you are.’ 

‘Oh, I’m talking about record breaking levels of regret. This is amazing.’ 

‘i have to pee but i do not reget this!!!!!!’ 

SATURDAY: 09:54

‘i stand by my claim and do not regret a thing.’ 

‘correction. i regret this hangover and the way my previous texts are not very cool girl of me.’ 

‘but i would like to know if you won mario last night.’

‘also, who’s ur fav character?’ 

11:12

1. Proud of you for owning it, that’s very cool girl of you. 

2. I did not win. 

3. Petey Piranha. 

‘who tf is petey piranha.’

‘Mario Kart Sunshine. Came out in 2002. (Originally on GameCube but recently released on switch.) (Hell yeah.)’ 

Your heart thumps, he’s such a nerd and you wanna kiss the air out of his lungs. ‘out of all the characters and u choose him. why petey piranha’ 

‘One guess.’ 

‘PETEY PIRANHA.’ 

‘OH MY GOD.’ 

‘you’re petey piranha <333’ 

Peter fights a grin, ‘I am.’ 

‘you’re so cute. i love that.’ 

‘Personally, in the past 24 hours I don’t think I’ve heard enough about how cute I am.’

‘you’re insufferable and it’s sexy.’ 

‘Oo, new one to the mix. You’re making me blush.’ You really are. He’s never been considered sexy before and it feels really nice. 

‘and i bet you look super cute.’ 

‘Super true.’ 

TUESDAY: 12:34

‘white t shirt white t shirt white t shirt WHITE T SHIRT.’ 

‘You like?’ 

‘i’m about to cry i’m biting my fist so fucking hard.’ 

‘:)’ 

‘you’re so ubuibabeyia.’ 

‘Bless you.’ 

‘?’ 

‘Sorry, I assumed you sneezed.’ Peter never whipped his head around so fast at an audible laugh behind him. It was short, it had escaped without being thought about. He’s looking for you, but it doesn’t seem like it was you who laughed. You’re engrossed in chatting to your neighbor. 

On the other hand, you almost blew it by clasping your hands over your mouth. Instead you looked next to you and said, directly and with a burning gaze, “I need you to pretend we’ve been talking this whole time.” 

‘Someone’s losing their edge, you’re just begging to be caught.’ 

‘oh, i’m begging all right.’ 

‘can you hear me whimpering too?’ 

‘Easy, killer. Let’s not start sexting at noon on a Tuesday.’ 

‘are you saying there is a time for it?’ 

‘Give me a little wave and we’ll see.’ 

‘too late, i’m passed out on the floor. the only thing that can resuscitate me are those thick arms wrapped around me.’ 

‘Let these strong arms sweep you off your feet, all you gotta do is come talk to me after lecture…’ 

Peter says that, but he doesn’t mean it. He’ll definitely eat his words when he sees it’s you, then he’d be coming up with a thousand ways to back out of it. He’s so much more than you deserve, you feel so safe behind a keyboard but in person you can barely say a sentence. 

It’s stupid and a little humbling because you’ve never felt this way about a guy before. 

‘trust me, i’m better in your imagination.’ 

WEDNESDAY: 14:22

‘Peter- 

You know a little about a lot and I think that is one of my favorite things about you. Or maybe it’s your voice. I could listen to you talk forever. 

-Your not so secret admirer, X’ 

A note under his textbook, if he follows his hunch then he’d be looking for… you. Conveniently three tables away and to the right of his own, you’re not looking for his reaction, you’ve got your focus on your own textbook but he swears you’re retaining none of it. It’s a distraction, or maybe it’s a diversion. 

Peter doesn’t mind. He’s going to wait. He has all the time in the world today and he’s going to sit here with his eyes on you until you look up at him because he knows you’re going to and once you do, he’s going to have his answer. 

If he’s right, and he swears he is, he’s going to absolutely lose is shit because what do you mean you like him and are intimidated? You boldly lied when you said you were punching above your weight class. Does it make him a jerk to say he wasn’t even thinking of you as a suitor and maybe a girl with a much more average look?

 Peter counted to sixty twice, you glance up, eyes shooting to the note you left on the table. The next stop, Peter’s face. And oh, you were not prepared to have him looking right back. Panic, you shoot a wave, a desperate attempt to pretend you’re seeing a familiar face. 

Peter waves back but he looks much more satisfied than you did, you wonder if the jig is up. Did he crack the code? Was he just trying to find a friendly way to let you down? Deny til death, he has no proof it’s you. You pack your things up, a hurried scramble before you could lose your cool. 

On the way out you almost stop breathing, your forearm caught in Peter’s hand. You’re staring down at it, he’s not removing it. It burns in the best way. “Hey,” you wait, you can’t stop looking at his hand, the muscle, the subtle flex, his fingertips paler to show his grip. “Hi, Peter.” 

It’s breathless, you think you’re about to die. If he asks, you don’t know how you’ll lie your way out. 

Guess who’s got a stained pocket? The corner edge darkened with black ink that would never be washed out. Peter has his answer. You’re her. You’re X. “Thanks again for the tea.” 

 Maybe you wanted more, you feel a bit deflated when it’s all you receive.

“You’re welcome.” Your arm feels cold when he drops his touch, you linger for a second too long, you’re not sure when you’ll be this brave again. It was too much of a close call. “I hope the rest of your day is good.” 

Peter’s got a charismatic grin, he feels settled now that he knows you’re the anonymous lover in his life. Even more so when you find yourself shy and reserved in person, it almost makes him giggle to think of the stark changes in confidence.

“You too.” Your body engulfs into flames when your arm is caught again, you’re struggling to keep calm at his boyish smile. “Quick question,” you nod slightly, trying to show zero paranoia for the following words. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” 

Short circuiting. You see black spots, you think you’re about to pass out. There is only one thing that means, no guy asks that if they weren’t interested in changing that, right? 

“No.” It’s anything but graceful. It sounds like you’ve never had a boyfriend before. It makes you sound like you’re scared he asked it. 

But, Peter doesn’t take it like that. He smiles wider, like he already knew the answer before he asked it.

THURSDAY: 16:37

A new letter, stuffed under the top handle of his backpack. Peter listened and stopped setting it next to him, in return he was rewarded. He can’t stop the small smile, you make it involuntary at this point. Peter’s never felt so special in his life, a little part of him wants this to never end. But he’d much rather look you in the eyes. 

‘Peter- 

I had a dream with you in it last night. Don’t worry, you had your clothes on. I’m not sure what we were doing but you were across from me at a diner and we were sitting in those super thick booths and our friends were there. 

I don’t know who these friends were, and I don’t think you do either. But I knew them as our friends. 

It felt really nice. I’m happy to know you, even if I just get this little piece. 

-Your not so secret admirer, X’

Peter’s been wrong a lot in his life but this time he really thinks he has it figured out. He’s much more bold now, this letter tells him it’s not infatuation, it’s love. 

You love him and he thinks he could love you too. 

FRIDAY: 20:08

‘Hey.’ Peter could be making the worst decision of his life here, he could be reading everything wrong and ruining this for himself. 

‘hi peter!’ But he really thinks he’s got it right.  

‘I really, really liked talking to you for the past few weeks but I think I should tell you that I like someone else.’ 

Gut wrenching despair. You knew it was too good to last, you knew he’d find someone more in his league. Someone who’d be willing to show him their face. There was no reason to respond because what would you say to that? 

‘thank you for letting me know that opening up to you was all for nothing!’ 

‘thanks for making me doubt love!’ 

‘hope you and her are so fucking happy together!!!!!’ 

Fuck it all and fuck Peter. He just liked the attention until it came from somewhere else. You don’t think you like him all that much anymore. You think you’re lying, too. Before you can give into the desire of hurting him just as bad, you calmly turn the phone off and stuff it in the back of a desk drawer to never be uncovered again. 

You slowly sit in bed and tug the blankets over your head. And only then, do you allow yourself to sob. 

Peter chewed on his bottom lip and waited an hour with constant phone checks before he realized a response was never coming. It really set in during the weekend but even further when he got no note or letter on monday. Not even when he left his backpack unattended for five minutes. 

TUESDAY -he was able to see you and how you avoided his eyes. How you pretended you didn’t see him send a small wave. How you had pulled back from him. 

And if he hadn’t hurt your feelings, or X’s feelings, why would you do that? 

You look up at a two fingered knock at the corner of your desk. “Hi.” You blink and ignore the white noise buzzing in your ears at the sight of Peter standing in front of you. “Hi, Peter.” 

“How was your weekend?” Bitter. Terrible. Lonely.

“Fine. Nothing exciting.” Besides you breaking my heart. 

Watching his fingertips dance on the edge of the plastic, you feel everything in you brighten. “You look sad.” There’s a burn in your stomach, he’s the reason for both the sting and the sadness. 

“Do you need something? Or are you just doing a friendly check in?” Peter bites back the grin when you snap at him, he’s so, so, so right and it feels so, so, so good. “Neither. I’m just confirming my suspicions.” 

“Suspicions?” 

“Yeah. You passed.” Your eyebrows furrow, before you could try to question further Peter was giving half a wave, saying bye, and skipping a step to his aisle. 

FRIDAY: 12:08

You stop breathing for a solid second before feeling your brain spark back to life. It could be anything, it could be from anyone, but you know there’s only one person who would’ve left a note on your desk. 

Your fingers slightly shake when you unfold the graph paper, little squares bled through with black sharpie. 

‘X-

Am I right?

Hopefully, 

-  Peter’ 

You can’t breathe, you can’t talk, you can’t move and you definitely can fucking not look at him. No, no, no. You can feel his eyes on you, you know he’s watching for your reaction. Peter figured you out and had his own fun along the way. 

You were the girl he liked. Oh, wow. Is this how special you’ve made him feel? Something just for your eyes, from him. A secret you both shared between lines. 

You spin and swear you can feel his gaze running over your back, he’s aching for the answer. You almost scream at a tap on your shoulder, a peek lets you know it’s the person you’re hiding from. 

Another note, folded up just like the other one. It’s pushed into your hand, Peter doesn’t say a word, he just offers and leaves. He’s not watching this time, he’s sitting and focused on the front, you feel air leak back into your lungs. 

Full on panic shaking, you’re so happy he’s not watching. 

Your name is addressed on the front, just like you do for him. 

‘I like you. 

I think you not so secretly like me too. 

We could talk more about it at dinner tonight. Will you let me take you out?

Circle yes or no. 

- Peter.

PS. XOXOXO now you’re responsible for mine, too.’ 

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 | angus tully x reader (series finale)

read 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 and 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 first!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | angus has been waiting to see you again, but the more feelings get involved, the more complicated your affair becomes.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), mega angst but also fluff too, infidelity, boring old people parties, reader is still emotionally constipated and angus still has a breeding kink, but that's honestly it it's just a bunch of emotions so strap in folks!

Angus was pretty sure he broke some kind of record, with how quickly he ran back to his room after talking to you on the payphone.

He was sure that was exactly what you were picturing him doing— he’d made it pretty clear what he’d do once you hung up, and you’d made it pretty difficult to do anything else with the way you were talking.  You’d been winding him up on purpose, of course; so yes, you could easily imagine him making a mad dash to his room and slamming the door— if you really ever thought about him outside of those phone calls.

That was the thing Angus couldn’t figure out about you.  Well, there were probably a lot of other things than that, but it was the quandary he spent the most time pondering: does she think about me?

Whenever he mustered the courage to ask you something to that effect, you would either change the subject or give a half-answer.  Something about how you had a dream about him the other night or how your parents asked about him— never what he was really asking.

But, frankly, at that moment as he shut his dorm room door and jumped into bed, whether or not you thought about him much was not as pertinent an issue.  Right then, all he could think about was getting his hand around his raging boner; his mind was just playing everything you’d said to him over the phone on repeat.

I’m touching myself right now, you’d whispered in a sultry voice, I’m so wet, Angus— fuck, I’m so wet…

He’d never had to work so hard to keep a straight face on the phone before… he figured if anyone was really looking, they’d notice how red he was turning or how he kept shifting uncomfortably.  And he told you just as much, which of course only encouraged you.  Don’t want them to know, huh? you’d taunted. Don’t want the other boys to find out you’re listening to me get off?

And no, he didn’t— you were such a precious thing, the boys here didn’t even deserve to imagine you— but when you offered to stop if it was too distracting, he only found himself shakily begging for more.

As he quickly opened his khaki pants and gripping his cock, he hissed through his teeth; his ego could barely take all you’d said about that cock, about how thick and ‘perfect’ (you used that exact word, perfect, and he thought he might float) it was, about how you wished you could come around it right then instead of your fingers.

“It’s all yours,” he mumbled to himself, under his breath, not even really noticing he was saying it aloud.  “You want it, baby?  It’s all fucking yours.”

He groaned as he stroked himself, the precum that had been leaking from his tip for a while making everything even easier.  Shutting his eyes tight, he pictured you, like he always did: all of you, everything, anything he could remember.

You ever think about me? you’d asked him over the phone— and he’d blurted out his always before he even realized you meant while he was getting off.  It was still true, but more specific than necessary.  He craved to hear you say it: I think about you too.  But he didn’t ask, and you just went back to moaning while you rubbed your clit— which, apparently, was already swollen and throbbing— and, well, he wasn’t strong enough to interrupt that.

“Fuck,” he grunted, deep in the back of his throat, finally letting his pace pick up until his hand was a blur: after all that anticipation and all that waiting, there was no use trying to hold back now.  It wasn’t like you were here to worry about him coming too fast, even though you’d still maintained you found it endearing when it happened.

He repeated your voice in his head, the moment that had made him worry he would blow his load in his trousers before he could even get off the phone and back to his room: I’m gonna come for you, you’d warned him in the most beautiful moaning voice, Angus— I want you so bad, oh god— I’m gonna come for you, fuck…

His lip caught between his teeth, his hips rocked up into his own palm.  “Yes, fuck, baby,” he panted, “I— fuck!”

He tried to conjure in his mind how it had felt to come inside you, but he knew even his vivid imagination could never really capture the feeling; nothing could even come close.  Still, remembering it and letting himself indulge in his strangest fantasies for just a moment sent him over the edge.  His face flushed suddenly as he came in long, heavy pulses, the back of his free hand falling over his open mouth yet doing little to suppress his moans.

It was intense— it was certainly better than his orgasms usually were when brought on by himself— but it only satisfied him for a moment.  The moment he was finished, with a deep breath in and his hips relaxing back down onto the mattress, he wanted more— he wanted you.

His heavy eyes glanced to the side, trying to remember what it felt like to lie next to you.  He’d never felt lonely after jerking off before he met you; now getting off seemed to bring a new wave of heartbreak each time.

When he shook off the thought and looked down at himself, he frowned as he realized he’d ruined his own shirt doing that— not that he could fully bring himself to regret it.

No, his regrets only really began a few weeks later, when the nagging loneliness in the back of his mind finally got the better of him.

It was the middle of the night when he wrote it, after he woke up from a dream of you that he just couldn’t shake from his mind.  After checking that his roommate was fast asleep, Angus carefully slipped out of bed and tip-toed to the desk, and pulling out a box of cards and envelopes from one of the drawers.  (He thought he’d never use them when his mom sent them with him at the beginning of the year, but a lot had changed since then.)

Something about the ungodly hour made him more honest— or maybe just more shameless.  He wrote a frantic ramble, everything he’d wanted to say to you that he’d never had the courage to blurt out over the phone; all the feelings he’d felt since that incredible night in the backseat of your car, which he’d assumed would fade… which he’d tried to convince himself would fade.

Unfortunately, even the adrenaline of writing down the thoughts of you he’d been poring over for over a month wasn’t enough to overpower exhaustion: he awoke the next morning slumped over the desk, the pen still uncapped and fallen a few inches from his hand, the letter left folded open.

He awoke to the sound of someone’s door shutting down the hall, specifically; jumping and blinking quickly, he looked at the window— it was morning, though still quite early— and then at his roommate who was, thank god, still asleep.

Angus looked back at the letter in front of him, only making out a few words in his brief glance, before his cheeks began to heat up and he quickly folded it shut.  As more footsteps moved through the hall, the boy in the bed nearby stirred and grumbled to himself, and Angus quickly snatched up the letter and shoved it in his book bag before he was caught red-handed.

Ironically, that little commotion was what actually got the other boy’s attention.  “What are you doing at the desk?” he asked groggily, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his palm.

“Oh, I, uh— I had to do some late night cramming,” Angus explained nervously, “that big Geography test coming up and all…”

The half-awake boy seemed to notice for a moment that the story didn’t really make sense, on account of the empty desk, but he simply shrugged and tossed his blanket aside to get up as well.

For the rest of the day, Angus couldn’t think straight— and not just because of his mediocre rest and achy back from the absolutely terrible sleep posture he’d had.  He couldn’t stop thinking about the letter, even if he honestly couldn’t remember for certain everything he’d said… he couldn’t stop wondering if he should send it to you.  He almost didn’t want to read it again first— he wanted you to read it in its most authentic state, he wanted to mail it before he chickened out just like he had when you said you two could just stay casual.  Even if it made his heart race and his palms especially clammy, Angus decided in the middle of that goddamned Geography test that he was going to mail that letter tonight after dinner: he was finally just going to man up and tell you.

Of course, something went horribly wrong along the way: he made a fatal mistake.  Looking back on it, he couldn’t tell for certain if his mistake was falling for you in the first place, or writing the infamous letter, or shoulder-checking Kountze without holding on tight enough to his bag.

The argument that happened beforehand was petty and forgettable, even if it gathered a small crowd of Kountze’s friends, but it ended with Angus trying to walk away a tad… aggressively, and with Kountze grabbing him by the strap of his bag which not only knocked Angus off-balance but spilled the contents onto the floor of the dorm’s shared room.

Everyone saw the books and papers hit the ground; everyone saw the off-white cardstock land right on top.  Angus reached for the letter quickly, but Kountze beat him there, and held it back with a snicker.

“Well, well,” Kountze tutted proudly, “what’s this?”

“H-hey, don’t read that,” Angus warned, hoping the seriousness of his tone would somehow affect the other boy— but, obviously, it did not.  Kountze started to open it and Angus instantly made a dive for it, only to be stopped by three other students who apparently were curious as well about the letter.  “Don’t fucking read that!” Angus demanded.

“Oh god, it’s to a girl!” he realized.  “Do you have a girlfriend, Tully?”

“I swear to god, Kountze, if you fucking read that—”

“I miss you,” Kountze began to read aloud as Angus thrashed around to try to stop him, “I miss you so much I don’t even know what to say.”

The boys holding Angus back were enraptured as Kountze read the letter; “Do you guys pay this much attention in class?” he mocked them, though they were ignoring him completely as they waited for the other boy to keep reading.

“I feel like I can’t breathe without you— aw, Tully, you’re a poet,” Kountze mocked with a smile.  Angus’ heart raced as he remembered what part of the letter came next.  “Not a day goes by where I don’t think about you and your smile— Jesus, this is some really sappy shit— or what it’s like talking with you for hours, or how it feels—”

He stopped, and Angus froze, and after a moment the group of boys started demanding the conclusion.  “What— what does it say?!” “Read it, Kountze!”

“How it feels to be inside you,” Kountze continued with wide eyes, staring at Angus’ bright red face as the other boys began to react loudly.

Angus renewed his struggle against the kids holding him back, but even though he was taller than them, he was severely outnumbered.  “Stop— that’s personal!” Angus demanded to no avail.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to my hand after having you,” Kountze continued with a laugh.  “From what I hear from your roommate, Tully, your hand is treating you just fine.”

“Shut up,” Angus hissed, but his words had lost their bite as his humiliation grew.

“I should’ve told you before I left—” he started, but finally Angus found some new strength within himself to shake off the boys holding him back: he dove at Kountze and took him down, scrambling to snatch the card away.  He was going to be satisfied with just that, but of course Kountze still had to open his mouth, even when Angus had him pinned.  “Jesus, Tully,” he scoffed, “how ugly is this chick that you got her to sleep with you?”

Angus brought a fist swiftly down to Kountze’s nose, who groaned in pain and held his face as Angus got up and ran away.  The other boys let him pass, thankfully, and Angus wasted no time getting to his room and slamming the door behind him.

Defiantly wiping a tear from his cheek, Angus took a quick look at the letter— wrinkled, stained and scuffed from the fight with Kountze— and crumpled it up, tossing it into his wastebasket before throwing himself onto his bed and hiding his head under the pillow.

He was stupid to even write it, let alone consider sending it; it was no use, you obviously didn’t feel the same way about him that he did about you.  You were the one who said it should just be what it was— a fling.  But Angus felt like he’d been flung directly into hell, the way it tore into his chest to imagine you didn’t really want him.

Even if he never read the letter again that day, he remembered how it ended— and it was the part he couldn’t get out of his mind even when he wanted more than anything to forget it all.

Is this what love feels like?

//

It reminded you a lot of that dinner over Christmas break, except somehow, it seemed like he was staring at you even more.  Shouldn’t he have gotten that out of his system a bit by now?

But then again, maybe you should’ve been more used to it, since it had been over an hour of picking away at this quail dinner, and he’d barely taken his eyes off of you.  Something about him looked different; it was basically impossible that he could’ve visibly aged in just a couple months, and yet he seemed like he was carrying just a bit more age on those thin shoulders.  Maybe it was just the slight five-o-clock shadow over his jaw— but, no, there was a different look in his eyes, too—

Realizing you were, in fact, staring back at him, you quickly snapped your gaze back down to your plate.

You’d been wanting a chance to talk to him before this dinner, to hopefully prevent exactly this issue, but once the dinner ended you found yourself avoiding him.  Of course you weren’t ready to talk to him— of course you had a million thoughts in your head and half of them didn’t even make sense.

For once, you actually tried to talk to all of your parents’ snooty friends, repeating the same answers over and over about how you were going to graduate school in the fall and how you were looking forward to your family’s Paris trip in the summer and all that jazz.  It was worth it to keep Angus off your back for a moment, even if you could still feel his eyes boring into said back from time to time.

Midway through a mind-numbingly boring conversation (if something so one-sided could be called a conversation) with the Gordons about renovations they’d done on their summer house, you glanced around the room over your shoulder and noticed that Angus was apparently absent.  His parents were still there, sitting on a couch— that is, his mom and stepdad— so he couldn’t be far, but out of view he was far enough.  Figuring he’d gone to the kitchen or the restroom, you figured it was the perfect time to disappear into the downstairs bedroom and, hopefully, hide out for the rest of the party.  Excusing yourself quickly, you made a polite dash for the other end of the room.

And yet, somehow, he appeared out of thin air; as you turned down the hallway, only a dim lamp on an antique credenza lighting your way, you heard Angus’ hushed voice behind you.  He laid his hand on your shoulder, and the moment you turned to face him, he was on you— his weight pressed you into the wall and you felt trapped in a way that was annoyingly pleasant.

“God, I missed you,” he breathed, kissing you hard and sudden; you whimpered a little, nearly melting into it, before you pushed him back at his shoulders.

“A-Angus, wait,” you sighed.  “You, um… you didn’t call for a while.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, “um, I’m sorry— I just got busy with midterms and stuff— but I really wanted to!”

He moved like he was about to kiss you again, but you kept your hand on his chest to keep him away.  “I wanted to tell you…” you trailed off.

“Tell me what?”

“You remember Brian Stevenson?” 

“Oh— um, yeah, I guess so,” Angus frowned a little, clearly confused by what seemed like a non sequitur.  “I used to go over to his house when I was little, although it was just to play with his little brother, but… yeah, I remember him.”

“I’ve been sorta, y’know… going with him,” you explained, hesitantly meeting Angus’ gaze just in time to see the most terrible sadness cover his face.

“O-oh,” he choked out, quickly stepping back from you and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah…” you mumbled, twisting your loafer-clad foot on the carpet nervously.  “It’s just, you know, he asked me out a couple weeks ago, and ever since then—”

“So is he, like, your boyfriend?” Angus pressed.  You nodded.  He looked away.  “Right— that’s… cool.  That’s cool.”

You bit your lip slightly, hating that he wouldn’t look at you all of a sudden.  “Angus, it’s just that, you know, we said—”

“Right,” he interrupted sharply.  “Right, I remember what we said— what you said, that we weren’t— you know.  That it wasn’t anything.”

“I didn’t say that—” you tried to correct him.

“You said you were mine,” he added suddenly, making your eyes widen.  “Did you even mean that?”

“I— Angus, come on,” you laughed nervously.  “That’s… that’s just something people say…”

He scoffed, and looked to the side as he pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek; contempt looked sort of good on him, you thought, except that it was directed at you.  He was trying to hide it, but his eyes were watering.

“I’m sorry,” you began but he cut you off right away.

“No, don’t do that,” he shook his head quickly, crossing his arms and staring down at the floor.  “Don’t lie to me anymore.”

“No— I really am,” you tried to assure.

“Hey, it’s fine,” he insisted sharply.  “It’s— you know, it is what it is.  It was just one of those things.”

“If it’s fine, then look at me,” you pleaded.  He didn’t.  And for a long moment, the two of you stood there, still and silent.

“It’s fine,” he repeated softly, turning on his heel.

“Angus, wait,” you hissed, not wanting to raise your voice with all the guests not too far away— of course, it was fruitless, and he briskly blended back in with the crowd.

Sighing, you dropped your head into your hands.  That wasn’t how you ever wanted this to go, you never wanted to hurt him; honestly, you’d assumed he’d be irritated, but not… sad.  Not devastated.  Of course he would prefer to be getting laid, but you figured he wouldn’t have too much trouble finding some other girl to screw around with— sometimes, you’d wondered if he already had.

It was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be casual, it was supposed to be fun.  You couldn’t think of anything you’d ever done, or anything you’d ever felt, that was less fun than this.

//

It made a strange sort of sense that the next time you saw him was at another party.  Of course, this party was entirely different from the last one: for one, it was hosted by your boyfriend, and there sure as hell wasn’t any quail.  There was a lot more alcohol, though.

You were hanging off to the side, not feeling quite up for mixing in with the crowd as they danced to the record Brian had put on.  Even if they spared you from the same boring questions that your parents’ friends bombarded you with, they were uninteresting in their own way as every conversation seemed to come back to politics or pot.

Brian startled you a bit by coming up beside you, resting his hand on the small of your back.  “Hey,” he greeted, and you smiled up at him.  Your eyes lingered on his face— he looked… grown up.  It was probably just because he had a beard; he certainly didn’t always act grown up, but overall, Brian was perfectly acceptable.  He’d asked you out, he’d actually had the bravery for that, so that was a great head start.

You tried to shake the thought out of your mind, looking away from him; it wasn’t a head start because this wasn’t a race.  Who, after all, would he be racing against?

For some reason, your eyes turned to the front door— and you bit your lip as you saw Angus coming inside, slipping off his coat and looking around the room (for you, presumably).  He looked even more haggard than before: a little pale, eyes sunken and dark, and he definitely hadn’t shaved since you saw him.

Brian looked to find where you were staring, and frowned slightly.  “Who’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, um— Angus Tully, his parents are friends with mine, I used to babysit him when he was a kid.”

You knew that wasn’t really what he was asking, so you weren’t surprised when he got to the point more directly: “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, hoping Brian wouldn’t somehow figure out that your heart was racing.

Brian’s hand moved up to your shoulder and gave it a squeeze, just as Angus noticed you and hurriedly shoved his way through the crowd to come face-to-face with you.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice raspy and hurried as he took a quick glance at Brian in his peripheral.

“Um— sure,” you agreed awkwardly, not sure which answer would be less suspicious.  Of course, when you glanced at Brian, he just looked mildly annoyed— bored, even.  You realized in that moment that you didn’t need to worry about him suspecting you and Angus of anything, because he barely registered Angus’ existence: he certainly wouldn’t acknowledge him as some kind of sexual threat.

“Privately,” Angus added— and that actually got Brian’s attention, though he seemed more aware of your discomfort than anything.

“Anything you wanna say to her, you can say in front of me,” Brian assured firmly, and Angus swallowed anxiously— it was obvious from the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“Actually, uh, somebody was looking for you out front,” Angus told him.  “Something about a keg getting delivered to the wrong house?”

“Shit,” Brian hissed, dropping his hand from your shoulder and looking towards the door again.  “Fucking idiots…”

Having made quick work of Brian, Angus put his attention back on you.  “Let’s go outside,” he suggested.

“W-we can just talk here,” you tried to say, but he was already grabbing your wrist and guiding you out; why did your heart still skip when he touched you?

Once he’d taken you through the kitchen and out to the back porch— where you could still hear the music and chatter, but it was much quieter— you spoke.

“Angus, I really am sorry about— you know— but you can’t just—” you started.

“It’s not over yet,” he insisted, surprising you with his intensity; you leaned back against the wooden railing, and he stood just a little too close with those dark brown eyes piercing through you.

“If you tell me you’re happy with Brian, I’ll leave you alone,” Angus decided, puffing up his chest a bit.

“I’m happy with Brian,” you said sternly.

A brief moment passed.  “Okay, I lied,” Angus admitted.

“Jesus,” you hissed.

“But only because I don’t believe you!” he explained.  “We were so good together.”

“Yeah, we were,” you admitted, “but… it’s over now.”

“No— it’s not.  It can’t be!” he insisted with a whine, and you scoffed as you shook your head.

“Angus, you’re being childish,” you scolded.

“Oh, don’t say that,” he grimaced.  “Don’t hold that against me— I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Of course you’re not— but you’re not thinking clearly.”

“Damn right I’m not!” he spat.  “You’re all I could think about, for months!  Months, I couldn’t fucking get you out of my head!  And not just the, you know, the dirty stuff— everything.  Every moment I spent with you, every dumb thing we talked about for hours, every time you laughed at one of my shitty jokes—”

“Angus, please,” you breathed, glancing down; you could only take so much of this, and you worried he was figuring that out.

“Does he make you laugh?” Angus pressed, stepping a bit closer to you.  “Does he make you feel special?  Does he make you come?”

“Yes,” you said sharply, “he’s great, okay?  I’m happy— so please just stop fucking this up for me.”

“Okay, fine,” he conceded, “you’re happy, I believe you.  But… but what about me, y’know?  He doesn’t need you like I do.”

Your face warmed up and you crossed your arms tighter, staring down at the ground.

“Of course he likes you— who wouldn’t?  But he couldn’t even imagine how I feel about you— how long I’ve been thinking about you.  I mean, I’ve wanted you since I was a kid!  You’re my dream girl!”

“That’s— that has nothing to do with me,” you tried to explain.  “That’s a fantasy!”

“But it’s real, baby,” he sighed, bringing his hands up to gently hold your arms at either side.  “It’s so real, you know it is.”

You didn’t even have the heart to deny it— or to tell him not to call you that.  You knew if you looked up at him, you wouldn’t be able to fight him anymore; he must’ve known that, too, because he delicately lifted your chin until you met his gaze.

And then he kissed you: tender, sweet, and shameless.  He didn’t care if anyone saw, if anyone knew— even Brian.  You, on the other hand, still cared enough to try to stop him; but even you couldn’t resist a kiss like this, and you found your hands pulling him closer as quickly as they’d tried to push him away.

He took you home, without another word about what this meant or where you stood with each other.  You snuck him into your room and he climbed into bed with you and he touched you like he’d been waiting a lot longer than just a few months for this moment.  Frankly, you were beginning to realize that you’d been waiting a lot longer for this, too.

Before, Angus had always been talkative during sex— sometimes annoyingly so.  But this time, he didn’t say a damn thing; neither of you did.  And yet, somehow, just by the way he looked at you, just by the way he held you, just by the way he moved inside you... you felt like you heard more than you ever had.

//

You sat next to each other on the bench, staring forward into the dark treeline ahead— there was still a layer of frost around their roots, and a new snow had begun to fall even if it wasn’t cold enough for it to stick on the pavement.  You tried not to look at him too long, in case it made this any harder, but you did appreciate that he seemed a bit more put together than he had the last time you went a few days without seeing him.  He was clean-shaven, too… is it wrong that you kinda missed the stubble?

“Thanks for, you know… giving me a couple days to think about it,” you mumbled, and he nodded.

“I thought you might have somewhere better to be on a Friday night,” he said— trying to lighten the mood a bit, you could tell; trying to make you comfortable.

“Well, even if I did, I think this needs to be done,” you explained, and he pressed his lips together a bit.

He waited patiently, though, for you to break the silence and explain yourself, even if he didn’t seem too surprised when you did it.

“It was a mistake,” you decided.  “It was great, but it was a mistake— and I’d really appreciate if we could just… let it go.  And if you didn’t tell Brian.”

“Okay,” he nodded slowly.  “I wasn’t gonna tell him.  But I still think you should dump him.”

“Well, that’s my decision,” you reminded him, crossing your arms.

“I know,” he breathed.

You could already tell, just by the way the next silence began, that he was going to interrupt it with something stupid… you just never expected how stupid.

“The thing is— I love you,” he blurted out suddenly, turning to look at you again as your eyes widened.  “I fucking love you.”

“Angus, I— you can’t—!” you choked out, but he continued before you could try to think of a response.

“I know I do— don’t say I don’t know what that is, or that I’m too young or something stupid like that,” he pleaded.  “I know how I feel, okay?  When you miss somebody this much, when you think about somebody this much— what else could love be, but that?”

You sighed, looking away, and he moved closer to you on the bench.  Even if you knew it was preposterous that someone else would be in the park at the end of the street at this time of night, you still fought the urge to look over your shoulder.

“Don’t tell me I’m crazy,” he breathed.  “You love me too, don’t you?  I mean— I thought you basically forgot I existed, but last night… that sort of thing doesn’t just happen, does it?  It’s not… it’s not usually like that.”

“No, it’s not,” you admitted, “that was different.”

He perked up, smiling wide when you looked at him again.  “Just say it,” he begged, “say you love me too— ‘cause I know you do.”

“I— Angus, it’s more complicated than that,” you explained.  “We’re still— there’s Brian, for one thing… we can’t really go on like this, you know that.”

“I know— I don’t want to keep doing this.  I want to really be together,” he replied.  You tried to turn your body away from his slightly, but he grabbed your hands and held them tight until you looked at him again.  “I’m almost done with high school— I’ll go to college where you’re going for grad school!”

You shook your head.  “No, you can’t do that.”

“Just think about it: us, together— we could actually go on real dates, and go to college parties together, and, like, study out at the library— or, you know, whatever you college kids do,” he fantasized.  You smiled, but shook your head again.

“We… we can’t do that,” you denied.

He frowned, and turned away from you, staring darkly at the ground.  “I knew it,” he mumbled, shaking his head.  “You’re embarrassed— you’re ashamed of me.”

“What?!” you blurted out.  “Angus, no—”

“It’s okay,” he said in a terribly unconvincing way, crossing his arms.  “I don’t blame you: I’m just some dumb kid from your hometown.  You want a guy your age— not some random freshman… you want something better.”

“That’s bullshit,” you replied instantly, “you can do so much better.”

“C’mon, I’ll never do better than you,” he insisted.

Even though he’d misunderstood you, your heart still swelled a bit at the compliment.  “I meant for college, Angus,” you explained, and he deflated a little.  “You can do a lot better than a state school.”

“Well, I, um… I don’t know if I can,” he admitted nervously.  “My grades are kinda… inconsistent.  And I went to so many different high schools—”

“Who gives a shit?” you scoffed.  “You’re fucking smart— way smarter than anybody else here.  You act like an idiot sometimes, but you’re eighteen, it kinda comes with the territory.”

He frowned, but couldn’t exactly deny it.

“You deserve to go somewhere amazing,” you told him.  “You need to go somewhere amazing— and do something amazing.”

For a long moment, he just stared out into the dark; until, suddenly, he whipped his head back around at you with a quizzical look on his face.  “Wait— is that what this is all about?”

“What?”

“Do you not want to be with me because you think you’d, like, hold me back or something?” he accused.

You blinked quickly; something about the way he said be with me caught you off-guard— like it was a term much more mature than you had expected from him.  Instead of answering directly, you just stammered.  “Well, y-you’re young, and—” 

He cut you off quickly with a laugh.  “Oh my god!  You think I give a shit about that?”

“No,” you shot back, “but you should.  You realize how fucking dumb it would be to change your whole life for the first person you ever slept with?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds dumb,” he admitted, looking down at his feet swinging over the edge.  “But what if it’s somebody that, you know, you think you really have a shot with?  What if it’s somebody that you feel like you can’t live without?  Somebody that makes you finally get all those songs you hear on the radio—”

“It only feels like this to you because you’ve never felt anything else,” you explained gently.  “It’s your first love.  It fades.”

“But I don’t want it to,” he said instantly, looking at you with the most heartbreaking eyes you’d ever seen.  “God, I don’t want it to.”

You looked up at him as his hand brushed over your face, and felt tears welling before you could fight them off; he kissed you, in a way that you thought he might have never really kissed you before.  In a way nobody had kissed you before, in fact.  It wasn’t very long, but it felt like it might as well have gone on forever.

When he broke away, he kept his eyes shut, and he pressed his forehead to yours as his thumb stroked your cheek.  “Tell me it doesn’t have to end,” he breathed, “please.  Tell me it’s not going to end.”

“It has to,” you whispered back, watching his shoulders sink and bringing your hand up to clutch at his chest.  “It has to end, someday.”

You took a shaky breath, watching a tear fall from his jaw onto your arm, feeling everything you’d held back finally breaking through as your grip on shirt tightened and your lip began to quiver.

“But it doesn’t have to be tonight,” you sighed.

Gasping with relief and joy simultaneously, he kissed you again, and pulled you closer at your waist, and wrapped you up in his arms tightly.

There was, of course, this nagging voice at the back of your mind— that maybe it didn’t have to end.  And god, you wanted to silence that thought permanently if you could, because it had never done you any good.  That hope had only ever led to pain before.  But, without it, nothing would ever really have a chance: if you weren’t willing to risk the heartache, you’d never let yourself love Angus the way that he deserved and the way that you knew, deep down, you already did.

So, as he kissed you that way you thought people only kissed in movies, and whispered to you those words you thought people only said because they were poets and dreamers, you realized that maybe it didn’t have to end someday.  Maybe he would spend the next several years of your lives convincing you that you didn’t need to protect yourself from your own feelings.  Maybe he would actually have the patience to break down walls he never built, to fix wounds he didn’t leave.  Maybe he was ready to give you something to believe in, something worth taking risks for while you were still young and reckless.  Maybe he, like the oncoming equinox, would melt your ice so new life could grow.

Or, maybe, this feeling he had really would fade once he gained a little more life experience; maybe you would make too many mistakes for him to forgive.  Maybe you would always be friends, or maybe you would have too much history to be able to see each other again.  Maybe you would grow apart— maybe you would have to brace yourself for that, to sit next to him on a cold dorm room mattress as you both realized it just wasn’t working anymore.

The most important thing that you realized in that moment— that eternal moment in his arms, in the dark, in the last snow of Spring— was that it didn’t matter.  It didn’t have to be forever to be perfect; it didn’t have to be the ending to be beautiful.  He loved you.  Even if you were still trying to figure out why, he loved you; and that was true, and real, and special.  His love couldn’t fix you, but it made you feel fixable, and you hadn’t seen yourself that way in a long time— you could only dream that you might see yourself the way he saw you.

When you pulled back from the kiss for a moment, you smiled wide— you laughed, actually— and sniffled as he wiped your tears away.  “I love you,” you told him, and even though he kissed you again, you didn’t stop saying it.  You wanted to keep it on your lips until it didn’t scare you anymore; you wanted to keep your heart open, even if it made you vulnerable, maybe because it made you vulnerable.  After all, you couldn’t ever be sure it wouldn’t come back to bite you… if you could, it wouldn’t mean anything.

Even though all you said to him was I love you, each one meant something a bit different.  I trust you.  I’m not sure I’m ready, but I’m going to try.  I’m sorry.  I’m so glad I met you.  I’ll never forget you.  Please don’t let me go.

Somehow, you felt like he heard each one.  Each time he told you that he loved you, though, you heard the same thing: I won’t let you go, ever.

//

Easter Mass was relatively pleasant, if a little too long.  You did notice Angus sitting with his family, across the aisle and a few rows back, but you only gave him a quick wave before the service started and managed to resist glancing back at him after that.

The best part of Easter was always afterwards, though: you stood at the furthest end of the lawn, in front of the ivy-covered exterior wall of the chapel, as children ran around snatching up colorful eggs to collect for their baskets.  Even if it was totally stupid, and irrelevant to the actual message of the holiday that the priest had just spent the whole service hammering in, you got a kick out of the fancy clothes and tiny dress shoes, the squeals of delight, the candy and toys in bright pastels.  You were just thankful the weather had warmed up in the nick of time for all the festivities— indoor egg hunts never have quite the same effect.

Angus sauntered up beside you, sipping on a styrofoam cup of complimentary coffee, and you didn’t even look at each other, but you both smiled.

“They’re cute,” he stated after a little while.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Do you wanna have a kid?” he asked, and you gave him a hesitant glance only to find him looking right back at you— his expression was friendly, but neutral enough that you couldn’t read if he meant having a kid with him or just, you know, in general.

Deciding it must be the second one, you let out a soft, nervous laugh.  “Uh, I dunno… maybe someday,” you offered, as non-committal as possible.

“How about right now?” he challenged, lowering his voice slightly, but not enough to stop you from glancing around to make sure nobody heard.

“Angus, fucking Christ,” you coughed.  “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m not,” he shrugged.  “I mean, maybe I’m not being literal, but that doesn’t mean I’m not being serious.”

“Well… we can’t,” you mumbled, looking out at the lawn again, hoping not to stand out too much.  “Not here.”

“I know, I know,” he agreed, and the two of you fell back into a silence— an oddly comfortable one, even.  You crossed your arms as you watched the kids run around and he kept sipping on his coffee.  After a few moments, though, you spoke again.

“Meet you in the Sunday school room in the West wing in five minutes?”

“Yup,” he said, already turning to leave.  You smiled slightly to yourself, glancing down at your white shoes planted in the grass.  Even on such a delicately-manicured lawn, wildflowers were already springing up— little periwinkle diamonds scattered here and there.

When what felt like a reasonable amount of time passed, you made your careful and casual exit from the egg hunt to slip back inside.  Once you were away from the crowds and on your way to meet Angus, you couldn’t stop yourself from running… and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, either.

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Previous SessionSession 2 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.3k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone will be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone is brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely can't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise is needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lack yourself—otherwise, they won't last a second with Gojo.

It'll be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also don't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else can take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there she goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she can't handle him but because she's your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually care about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she doesn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on, trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else. Burdening her is simply out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'?" and she tilts her head, "You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really have to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she can is her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or are Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth is killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach puts the final nail in the coffin as she reminds you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you need help would be silly because technically it's true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break forever ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It would be better than nothing because if you can't function, Gojo can't be cared for.

So, who better to help bridge that gap for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock ever since you started at the ward, having your back and sticking with you through tough times when staff constantly dips in and out of the facility like a rotating door, unable to handle the job.

Yuko's a real day one, and next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patients in check.

When you really think about it, it'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest." She's too kind and right in more ways than one. "Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend?"

You roll your eyes—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

Not knowing whether to joke back or wave her off, you softly smile at her concern before nodding, vowing to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges, almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks that hog the interstate, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheery, nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers and lull you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of his melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the bubbles and get out when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from the noise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike sweep into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body says nothing is. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out and head straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you're used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you need to. The truth is painfully clear, and it's disrespectful to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, your heart beating into your ears and making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth suddenly becoming dry when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you before attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a train.

Someone as kind as her, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil is still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to help you figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, breaking your shock and drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and the stares are intense. Confusion and judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

Whether the murmurs are real or in your head, the effect is all the same, and you wish you could just completely vanish. Standing like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

But Gojo is brimming with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. Daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face that makes you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, there's something...uncertain lurking behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knows he's done something wrong.

Yet, words escape you, as if anything needs to or even could be said. But soon, fear and guilt turn to anger, threatening to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust because you are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself. Holding back tears because you know what you've done.

Your fists clench, unsure how to deal with it, but there's fire in your eyes because someone needs to pay.

But then you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at what happened the last time you decided to take things into your own hands. All of your actions, even now, are rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

Pushing down the knot growing in your stomach, you turn away to follow the medics, deciding your friend needs you more than you need revenge. Gojo doesn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it means risking your job or life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbers thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained making you nervous. You don't anyone else to get hurt and Gojo is fully exploiting that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm. But it's obviously a losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

Seeing no one else in the room, his eyes are locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it won't be enough. The goddamn military wouldn't be enough. Gojo is...the strongest, after all.

"Stop."

Your cry freezes the room. Everything goes silent.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you silently apologize to Yuko, swallowing a lump instead of looking back.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic. But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes with surprise, amazement even, before smiling.

The submission in your voice sounds better than anything he could ever imagine. A sweet tones that feed his already inflated ego.

Unsure of how to proceed, the guards exchange uneasy glances.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, that much is evident, and restraining him forever is simply not possible.

You know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this is your doing. Your mess to clean up.

So you squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling at the guards to let him go. They hesitate a second, then reluctantly agree, stepping back and leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

Closing your eyes, you breathe, hating to have to look at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. For yourself. And everyone else in the ward.

But Gojo's satisfied grin says it all. He's won this round.

You're ready to get the next over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head clean off if he wanted to.

Still, Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And you didn't need to ask why. The entire ward shoots daggers at you any time someone walks by now.

Your supervisor reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then she patted your back as if to say, "Lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding his half out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering as he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting. Taking a deep breath, you placed them both on your tongues, in disbelief at your reality, but Gojo's focus was elsewhere, not wasting this prime opportunity to rattle you more and taste you, closing his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed, no longer needing the water you had set aside, and a confusing mix of emotions churned as the tingles spread throughout your body.

Making good on his promise, he swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing glint in his eyes. Like he knows what he does to you. And despite just witnessing this man's violence firsthand, you'd give anything to deny that he still has an effect on you. Hating yourself for being more concerned with the way he looked at you and the lingering sensation on your skin than the tranquilizer now coursing through your system.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you, followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo, a stereotypical warning lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers and laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, the keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around and face him, furious. What would be better? Slapping him, kicking him, or knocking his teeth out. Or should you be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water and you let it rain down. None of the above will do you any good, but it'll show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny," it fumes out before you know you're speaking, "You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend." Your rage echos through the vast bathroom.

Gojo's laugh fades, his smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches. You’re fully positive you must be dreaming.

But when he doesn’t make a joke or even crack a smile, you squint at him.

The words are muttered and reluctant, but there they are, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races as you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for, but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue than to waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Fuck, you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that, stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he ever truly means them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns and overshadows your doubts, twisting your stomach into knots with that familiar smile of his.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it is, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind at the moment other than frustration because you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another lame joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." and he winks.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory, a fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now—because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands; the evidence of him not as invincible as he seems is jarring. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. Still, it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers as it fills the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away, and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and you feel sick for even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward and lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water, but the rustling sound of his shirt being pulled overhead and pants falling to the ground warms your cheeks.

His physique certainly isn't lacking, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, shamefully darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. How cute, he thinks, trying to hide away your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you toss in his loofah. "Well...go on. It's ready." But Gojo only grins, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Relishing in the fact that he still manages to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the conflict swirling in your stuttering heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he refuses to stop playing. Everything is always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by the sound of splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. Picking up a handful, he actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away, and his pale eyes flutter and settle on you in a curious way.

His arms flex as he leans over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with that ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him still being so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with suds.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster, and you're still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

Then again, this is what you signed up for...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption some sort of redemption no matter how sick and twisted the person in need is.

With your loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today and keep your morals in mind. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before proceeding to do your job.

Gently washing his back, he sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of raised marks between the foam, and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to his dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won, the evidence of his past before corruption—everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

You've never really noticed because this level of care is another first for you. Usually, Gojo just hops into the shower and takes care of himself while you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably ends up stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs while making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his stomach, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery for this monster so he can handle this himself again.

You ignore his comment and try to get this over with as quickly as possible, feeling humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

God, please make him shut up, begging for relief so you won't scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

It feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" His velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, and down his sides, the rhythm almost hypnotic and making his head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, but you're losing the battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

And fuck, he has to bite his lip at your touch that suddenly feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself, and one that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again, setting a new record as you're hit not once, but twice in a day. The loofah slips from your hand as you instinctively reach up to shield yourself, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream is ready to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand, placing a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." A lone droplet hangs from your eyelash and he swipes it. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, your nerves on fire as you're forced into close proximity with him for the second time today, inches away from his face that gradually softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better too but he never felt threatened in the first place. Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach, and his finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

His eyes flicker to your bottom lip. "You're so good at your job, Nurse," smoothly pulling it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to me, let alone deal with me, and yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel. "You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of this.

Hesitating, you're unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will do against me then, hmm?" Gojo knows he's a prodigy, but still manages to surprise himself sometimes, his eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter, and he can almost feel a prick from the daggers in your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that," he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

His head slightly tilts.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God, I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing, but instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark, wondering what his idea of "fun" is like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, burning hot between your legs instead.

Fuck, you have to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. With a gruff, you lower to your knees, beginning to dry the floor of his messes and hoping to distract yourself from your questionable sanity.

The sounds of rustling fabric fill the chamber as he dries off, and once you figure it's safe, you look up to find a nude Gojo. Dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

A sliver of your midriff peeked out as you stood on your toes to reach it, but what captured Gojo's attention most was the way the sun rays washed over your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of your strands between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your reaction was...odd.

Not only was this the first time anyone cared to do something so simple for Gojo, but it was also the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict. Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then, you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound, so natural and pure without hesitation. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again. "Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?" he sighed.

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward then, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off, and who could blame her?

You were an anomaly, Gojo already showed that he was capable of mercy and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova," she teased, clearing her throat with a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way Gojo stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you couldn't feel more conflicted, scrambling to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall, taking deep breaths and completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

This force that keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, and Yuko flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurker in the shadows watching and anticipating your every move. Have you become predictable? Now you're wondering if you could do something he wouldn't expect.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You're scrolling through your phone on a deep-diving, scouring the web for any info on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

But the man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible, conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They've damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own mind. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax as sleep eludes you and your mind wanders to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to see him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou 

[natti-ice]

Can I PLEASE have some Colin bridgerton smut? My man deserves it he's so overlooked by Anthony and Benedict that no one barely writes for him and it makes me sadd :(

Imagine you and Colin are on travel(or a honeymoon even) and he just ruins you on a balcony ofc you scold him for it but it's not like he would listen to you

Pairing: Colin Bridegerton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+mdni, groping, teasing, clit play, semi public sex, p in v, creampie. (1.3k words)

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

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You're standing outside on the small terrace right outside your bedroom of the chateau you've been staying at for the past few days, the warm summer air blows gently across your skin as you watch the sun set in the distance. Your week has been quite hectic with all the traveling you and your now husband Colin have been doing, he always promised you that once you were wed he would show you the world and he's done very well at keeping his word. The day after your wedding the two of you set off into adventure, stopping off in many cities in England before working your way through Europe.

You were amazed at just how grand everything was outside of your city, you had grown so accustomed to the high social life you were brought up in, it never crossed your mind that others did not live the way you did, and when you found out, it was life changing. In such a short amount of time you had learned so much from the people you and Colin came across, he's quite the tour guide, he shows you to all of the best places for food and always seems to find the most unique forms of entertainment. You were so grateful to have such a special husband, most of the other suitors were bland and didn't care for culture but Colin was different, he had a thirst for exploration and he wanted you to come along.

Though he loved to travel around and see the sights, he also loved to spend time with you. More importantly, time alone... that man hasn't been able to keep his hands to himself since you both said "I do", his hands mindlessly wander around your body at any given moment, the feeling of his rough callused hands sent a rush through your body and he knew exactly what you were feeling. It was almost if he got off on making you shiver, seeing you try to pretend you don't feel anything when his fingers graze the back of your neck while talking to some local about the price of fish in his small town really gets him going.

You were lost in thought and didn't hear the footsteps creeping up behind you until suddenly long, toned, muscular arms wrapped around your frame causing you to jump. You hear his soft chuckle and immediately realize it was your husband, "my apologies dear, I didn't mean to startle you" your heart was already racing because of his sneak up but it pounded a little harder when his hands started to caress your sides so lovingly.

You let out a soft chuckle and lean against his chest "it's alright my love, my mind was in another word" you say, then you feel his hands starting to make their way up to your chest, his large calloused hands cup your breasts through the thin fabric of the nightie that clung to your body. A gasp gets caught in your throat as you feel yourself becoming more aroused, "Colin, we mustn't do this out here, the staff will see."

Colin's warm breath fanned on the nape of your neck leaving goosebumps in its wake as he whispers "we'll give them a good show, lord knows this place lacks entertainment." Despite your protests he continues to indulge in your body, you look over the balcony to see maids hanging up laundry to dry in the distance, surely if the looked up they could see you but in this moment you stopped caring. Your love and lust for Colin was much too strong to fight.

He moved one hand slowly down your front and lifted the hem of your dress to expose your undergarments that were now damp with your arousal, Colin runs his middle and ring fingers teasingly over your clothed slit sending a shiver down your spine. "Mmm, you're already so wet for me. Just how I like you." His dirty words make you feel like the only woman in the world, the pleasure he gives you is unlike anything you have ever experienced and you know you'll never find anything that will compare. His fingers found their way into your panties and he begun teasing your swollen clit with the pads of his fingers, you fought back moans, you didn't want him to know the effects he had on you but he was already well versed in your pleasure.

The hand that was still on your breast made its way you your neck, he held it gently but firm enough that you knew you weren't going anywhere.

"Tell me what you want, dear. Tell me what you crave." He whispers huskily into your ear, his desire for you strong in each of his words. His fingers slowly circled around your entrance, giving you a teasing taste of what's to come if you just ask.

"You," you let out breathlessly, "I want you." He hums as he is delighted by your response and pulls his hand from your clit making you whimper softly with need, he takes his hand off of your throat to quickly pull down his sleeping pants. You feel his hardened cock against your ass as he pulls up the fabric of your nightgown, his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and pull them down to your ankles. He spreads your legs with his knee and pushes your back forward slowly, your chest presses against the cool metal of the railing in front of you. He takes your hands and makes you grip the rail as he teasingly says "you might want to hold on, dear."

He lines himself up behind you and slowly runs his tip between your folds before pushing his length into your dripping pussy, your body shakes slightly as your senses are taken over by pleasure. He starts slow, rocking his hips against yours as he holds onto your waist firmly to keep you in place, his cock stretches you out deliciously making you moan softly. Your sounds encourage him to go harder, it's taking everything in him to not completely ruin you right now, he wants to prolong the experience to make sure you feel everything. Once he sets a good pace, that's when he starts to have fun with you. He snakes one hand under your bunched up dress and palms your bare tit, he groans into your ear as he pinches your hard nipple, "you feel so fucking good, fit so perfectly around my cock." You can't fight it anymore, you let your moans fly freely for the world to hear, you'll probably regret it later but you don't care right now.

You were certain everyone in the whole estate knew exactly what was taking place, your loud moans bounced off the walls as you came all over his cock, Colin was in complete ecstasy and couldn't care less about any onlookers. Let them watch. Let them see who owns you.

A few more pumps into your tight channel was all it took to send Colin over the edge, he groaned loudly as his hips bucked against you whilst his seed flooded your womb. He panted heavily as he slowly pulled out of you, both of your fluids covered his length in a beautifully raunchy mess. You slowly stood up straight and turned around to face him, the smile on his face matched yours as you both began to giggle softly. You feel so relaxed but you were still a bit embarrassed about allowing him to take you so publicly. "Colin Bridgerton, you are a very scandalous man" you say teasingly and lightly hit his left peck, he laughs heartily at your comment and takes your hand,  bringing it to his mouth and placing a soft, loving kiss to it. "My apologies, dear. You are too irresistible, I cannot contain my desire for you." He says with a smile and helps you straighten out your clothing before leading you back into your bedroom where he will most likely repeat the events that just transpired.

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