#he was a good sport this day and drove me out to this burned down barn he knew of so I could take pictures of it

[theabsurdity]

I found an old contact sheet for a roll of film I took in 2010, this day was fun, out in a small town where you could still smoke in the bar

[pucksandpower]

Pollinated

Day 11 → Sex Pollen 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

“You’ve got a stack waiting for you.” Alan leans on the edge of your desk, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He’s holding a bundle of envelopes, some thick with scribbled messages, some thin and printed with clean, crisp fonts.

Your PR officer’s eyebrows raise in mock exasperation as he shakes them at you. “How do you even have time to race with all these fans wanting a piece of you?”

You grin, setting down your coffee and wiping your hands on your pants. “That’s the problem of being so popular, Alan. It’s a curse, really.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a real burden. Everyone loving you.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

He drops the stack in front of you with a soft thud. “Take your time. I’ll be back in a bit.” His tone is teasing, but you catch the flicker of something more serious underneath, like he’s reminding you there’s more work to be done after this.

You roll your eyes as he walks off. You love this part of your day — the letters, the drawings, the fan art from kids who see something in you that makes them believe they can be here too. They’re always so personal, full of energy, like they’re rooting for you from their living rooms or school desks.

You flick through the pile, reading the familiar opening lines. Dear Y/N, you’re such an inspiration or I love watching you race! Your heart lifts as you come across a brightly colored drawing from a girl named Chloe, of you standing on a podium, arms raised in victory. It makes you smile so wide your cheeks hurt a little. You can practically hear the little girl’s voice, excitedly telling her parents, “That’s gonna be me one day.”

“This is what it’s about,” you mutter under your breath, running your fingers over the crayon marks.

More letters. More words of encouragement. A scribbled note from a group of university students who drove twelve hours just to see you race last season. A letter from an older woman who says she’s been watching F1 since her husband introduced her to it in the ‘70s and how proud she is to see a woman making waves. You pause at that one, your chest swelling. You’ll have to write her back.

You reach for the next envelope, a bit plainer than the others. No stickers, no hand-drawn doodles in the margins. It’s simple, just your name written on the front in neat black ink. Your gut tugs slightly, but you brush it off. Not every fan is an artist.

You open it, pulling out a card with a printed picture of a car on the front. Your car. You smile, flipping it open to read the message inside.

But your smile fades as you start to read.

You don’t belong here.

The words are bold, black, and stark against the white paper. They stand out like a punch to the gut, each line colder and more hateful than the last. The handwriting is meticulous, like whoever wrote it wanted to be sure you’d understand every word.

Women like you are ruining the sport.

Your throat tightens. Your fingers grip the edges of the card a little harder than before, the edges bending under the pressure.

Go back to doing what you’re good at: nothing.

You try to swallow, but it feels like there’s a knot lodged in your throat. It’s not the first time you’ve seen something like this. Hell, it’s not even the worst thing anyone’s said. But right now, it’s too sharp, too specific, too venomous.

You reach up to close the card, your hand trembling slightly. But before you can fully shut it, something catches your eye — a tiny puff of fine yellow powder shoots from the fold, drifting into the air in front of you.

“What the-” You blink, confused for a split second.

Then, it hits.

A burning sensation spreads through your throat and nose. Your skin tingles, a wave of heat rushing over your face. You gasp, trying to catch your breath, but it feels like you’re inhaling fire. Panic spikes as your vision blurs.

“Alan!” The name barely makes it past your lips before you feel your legs give way beneath you.

“Alan!” You try again, but it comes out weaker this time. Your limbs feel heavy, your chest tight, and the room starts to spin in slow, nauseating circles.

Footsteps pound across the floor. Alan’s voice sounds far away, muffled, like he’s underwater. You catch a glimpse of him sprinting toward you, his face pale, eyes wide. “Y/N?”

Your body jerks uncontrollably, a violent shudder running through you. The room twists, everything turning hazy as you hit the floor hard, your fingers twitching against the cool tile.

“What the hell — Y/N!” Alan’s panic is sharp now, cutting through the fog. You can barely see him through the haze clouding your vision, but you feel him grab your shoulders, shaking you gently.

“Stay with me. Just stay with me, okay?” His voice cracks, fear bleeding through the edges.

Your entire body seizes again, every muscle clamping down painfully. A sharp cry escapes your throat as the convulsions take over, uncontrollable now.

“Help! Somebody, help!” Alan’s voice is frantic, desperate, echoing through the room as the world starts to fade. His hands are on your face now, trying to keep you conscious. You feel his fingers trembling against your skin, hear the panic rising in his voice as he keeps shouting for help.

But you’re slipping, sinking deeper into the darkness as the convulsions wrack your body. You can’t speak. You can’t move.

Alan’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

***

The world returns slowly, like surfacing from a deep dive. There’s a ringing in your ears, muffled voices blending into the constant hum of machinery. Your body feels like it’s on fire — each nerve sizzling under your skin, radiating heat. You try to move, but it’s as if you’re bound by weights. The sheets beneath you cling to your body, too warm, too tight, too much.

Someone’s talking nearby, but it’s distant, warped. You can’t make out the words yet. Everything feels heavy — your eyelids, your chest, even your breathing. Your mouth is dry, your tongue like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.

Slowly, the fog begins to clear, and you catch fragments of conversation.

“… highly illegal substance …” A voice, crisp and professional, filters through. The doctor. “… extreme toxicity … very few cases on record …”

You try to focus, but the burning sensation inside you only intensifies. It’s everywhere — your limbs, your core, your mind. Like you’re being torn apart from the inside out.

You manage a groan, the sound barely escaping your lips.

“She’s waking up,” someone says, closer now. Alan? It sounds like him, but there’s a hitch in his usually confident voice. Panic.

Your eyelids flutter open, and the room comes into blurry focus. Harsh fluorescent lights. Sterile white walls. The sterile smell of antiseptic clogs your senses, a sharp contrast to the heat still coursing through you. You blink slowly, your vision sharpening enough to see Alan standing by your bedside, pale and jittery, his hand running through his hair in nervous strokes.

Across from him is the doctor, his white coat stiff and immaculate. He’s holding a clipboard, and his face is a mask of concern. When he speaks, it feels like each word takes a lifetime to process.

“… the substance she was exposed to … it’s not just any powder,” the doctor is saying, his voice measured but grim. “It’s a synthetic pollen derivative, known as Lust Dust on the black market.”

Lust Dust. The words sink into you, but you don’t recognize them. Your throat feels too tight to ask for clarification. Alan, however, doesn’t hesitate.

“What does that mean? What the hell is that?” Alan’s voice is raw, frayed at the edges.

The doctor sighs, flipping through the notes on his clipboard before answering. “It’s an extremely illegal bio-weapon, developed underground. It was used in several isolated attacks a few years ago, mostly in war zones. The symptoms … well, they’re brutal.”

You don’t like the sound of this. Brutal. Illegal. Bio-weapon. The words swirl around in your head, each one setting off alarm bells, but you can barely move enough to react. You just lie there, heat pulsing through you, your body screaming in agony.

“The pollen attacks the body’s nervous system,” the doctor continues, his tone clinical. “It acts as a stimulant, targeting primal instincts, heightening … certain responses. The most dangerous part is that, if untreated, the body will burn out within hours.”

“Burn out?” Alan echoes, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What does that mean? You mean … she’ll die?”

“Yes,” the doctor replies, his tone darkening. “In most cases, without intervention, the victim’s body will shut down. It’s a highly sexualized toxin. The only way to counteract the effects is through physical release.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. The words hover in the air, sinking into the room with a weight you can almost feel. Your heart races, your mind struggling to comprehend what’s being said. Physical release? The burning sensation in your body intensifies, like it’s reacting to the very idea of what the doctor’s suggesting.

Alan’s face pales further, his hand gripping the back of his neck in horror. “Wait, are you — are you saying she has to-”

“Sex,” the doctor says bluntly, not sugar-coating anything. “Yes. If she doesn’t have sex soon, she will die. The sooner, the better, to mitigate the damage the pollen’s already caused.”

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin, despite the unbearable heat raging inside you. The fire in your veins is consuming everything, twisting the doctor’s words into cruel irony. This can’t be happening. Not this.

“I … I …“ Alan stammers, clearly at a loss, his eyes flicking to you, desperate and terrified. “There’s got to be another way. Medicine? A procedure? Something?”

The doctor shakes his head. “There’s no antidote. The only option is the one I’ve given you.”

You want to scream. You want to cry. But you can’t do anything except lie there, burning from the inside out, unable to stop the panic surging through you as the realization sinks in.

Alan takes a shaky breath. “What … what do we do now?”

The doctor straightens, his voice calm but commanding. “The most important thing is finding someone who’s willing to … assist.”

Alan’s eyes widen in horror, but before he can say anything, the door bursts open and several members of your team file into the room — engineers, mechanics, staff. Their faces are tight with concern, and they crowd into the small space, murmuring amongst themselves.

“What happened?” Someone asks, their voice tense.

Alan quickly explains, his voice shaking as he goes over the details. The pollen. The bio-weapon. The need for “intervention.” Every word makes your heart pound harder, and you can feel the collective shock ripple through the room as the reality of the situation sets in.

“She needs someone,” Alan says, his voice thick with emotion. “She needs someone to …”

He can’t even finish the sentence.

The room falls into stunned silence. You can hear the soft hum of the machines around you, the ragged breathing of the people in the room. It feels like time has stopped, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone.

Then, the whispers start.

“I’ll do it,” someone mutters.

“No, I will,” another voice pipes up. You recognize it as one of the engineers, his voice shaky but sincere.

“I mean, she’s our driver, right? We have to help.”

More voices chime in, each one offering, each one willing. The panic in the room turns to a frantic eagerness, as though everyone suddenly realizes what’s at stake. You can barely comprehend it — the idea that your team, your colleagues, are discussing this as though it’s just another task, something to be done to save your life.

Your mind is spinning, your body trembling with the heat still coursing through you. You want to shout at them, tell them to stop, that this isn’t how things should be. But you can’t move, can’t speak. All you can do is listen as the conversation grows more chaotic, more desperate.

Then, the door opens again, and a new voice cuts through the noise.

“Everyone out.”

It’s Max.

The room falls silent instantly, every head turning toward him. He stands in the doorway, his face hard and set, his blue eyes blazing with an intensity you’ve never seen before. He looks around the room, his gaze sharp, taking in the faces of your teammates, the panic, the confusion.

“I said out,” Max repeats, his voice calm but firm.

No one moves at first, too shocked to respond. But then one by one, they start to file out, murmuring to each other in hushed tones as they leave the room. You hear Alan hesitate for a moment, but even he doesn’t argue. The door shuts softly behind them, leaving you alone with Max.

You’re too weak to turn your head, but you can hear him walk closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He doesn’t speak right away, and the silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the soft beeping of the machines monitoring your condition.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Max’s voice fills the room. “It’s going to be me.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“No one else is touching you,” he says, his tone low, steady. “I’m your teammate. I’m the one who’s going to help you. Not them.”

You can’t see his face, but you can hear the resolve in his voice, the determination. He’s not offering. He’s deciding. There’s no question, no hesitation. It’s going to be him, and no one else.

And as the burning inside you flares again, you realize that part of you is grateful.

***

The air between you and Max is thick with tension, the kind that crackles in the silence, heavy with unspoken words. You lie there, your body still ablaze, the fire under your skin pulsing in waves, but something about his presence — steady, resolute — grounds you, if only just. You can’t move, can barely speak, but your mind races, half-paralyzed with the agony of the pollen and half with the strange anticipation of what’s to come.

Max stands beside the bed, his face framed by the fluorescent lights above, casting shadows that sharpen his features. He doesn’t look afraid, though you can tell there’s something behind his eyes — something that trembles just beneath the surface. His gaze locks onto yours, and it feels like he’s looking past the pain, past the situation, to something deeper.

“This isn’t how I imagined …“ His voice is soft, barely more than a whisper, as though the words aren’t meant to be heard by anyone but you. He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours, tentative at first, like he’s asking permission for what’s about to happen.

You want to respond, to say something, but your throat is too tight, too raw, the burning heat still tearing through you. You manage the faintest of nods, your hand twitching against his, and that’s all he needs.

Max leans over, his face close to yours now, his breath warm against your cheek. His hand trails gently down your arm, his touch soft, careful. “I’m here, okay?” He murmurs, his voice low, soothing. “We’ll get through this.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, in that same quiet, tender voice, he adds, “Schatje … you’re so strong.”

The endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, and despite everything — despite the fire tearing you apart from the inside out — it brings a strange, aching warmth to your chest. Max has never called you that before. The intimacy of it catches you off guard, though you don’t have the strength to dwell on it for long.

His hands move lower now, brushing across your skin with reverence, as though you might break under his touch. You shiver, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“You don’t deserve this,” Max whispers, his forehead nearly touching yours. His voice cracks ever so slightly, betraying the calm façade he’s trying to maintain. “I’ve … I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he admits softly, his words a confession, raw and vulnerable. “But not like this. Never like this.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the feel of his hands on your body, the way he’s handling you with such care, as though he’s afraid of hurting you. And somehow, through the pain, you manage to relax just enough to let him in. Just enough to let him take some of the weight from you.

He presses his lips to your temple, a soft, lingering kiss, and you can feel the tremble in his breath. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Just let me take care of you.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the burning inside you dims, replaced by something else. Something warm, and tender, and utterly consuming. Max moves with purpose now, his touch becoming more sure, more confident, but never losing that careful tenderness. He’s cooing to you, whispering soft praises in Dutch, his voice like a balm against the fire raging inside you.

“I’ve always wanted you,” Max admits again, his words spilling out like he can’t hold them back any longer. “For so long. I just … I didn’t know how to tell you.”

His hands continue their journey, and despite the circumstances, despite the fire still licking at your insides, your body responds. Every touch feels magnified, every brush of his skin against yours sending a jolt of something deeper through you, something primal and desperate and… needed.

“You’re so strong,” he says again, his voice reverent, almost in awe. “So perfect. I don’t know how you do it.”

Your body trembles beneath him, not just from the fire that’s still coursing through you, but from the way he’s touching you, the way his words wrap around you like a soft embrace. It’s intimate in a way you hadn’t expected, the vulnerability of the moment stripping away any pretense, any barriers you might have once had.

“I’m here, liefje,” Max whispers, his lips brushing against your ear now. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

You don’t know how he manages it, how he makes something so painful feel like this, but he does. His hands are everywhere, soothing the burn, coaxing your body to relax, to give in to what you need. And with every touch, every whispered endearment, the fire inside you dims, just a little, just enough to let you breathe.

“I wish it was different,” Max murmurs, his voice thick with emotion now. “I wish this was … just us. Not because of this. Not because of …“ His words trail off, but you understand. You understand perfectly.

He presses his forehead against yours again, his breathing ragged, his body tense with the effort of keeping himself composed. “But I’ll do whatever it takes,” he says, his voice fierce with determination. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Your body reacts to him instinctively now, every nerve ending lighting up in response to his touch, the fire inside you blazing hotter but in a way that feels … different. Less painful. More like an ache, a deep, desperate need that only he can fill.

“Max …“ you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse, barely audible. It’s the first word you’ve spoken since waking up, and it feels like a release, like a crack in the wall you’ve built around yourself. He hears it, though, and his gaze softens, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice full of emotion. “I’ve always got you.”

His movements quicken, and you can feel yourself spiraling, the fire inside you building to a crescendo, but this time it’s not just pain. It’s something more, something overwhelming and all-consuming. You can feel him with you, guiding you, coaxing you toward the edge.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers again, his voice breathless now, his own control slipping. “I’ve wanted you for so long …“

His words send you tumbling over the edge, your body convulsing in a wave of pleasure so intense it nearly takes your breath away. The fire beneath your skin peaks, then suddenly, blessedly, begins to recede. It’s like the flames are being extinguished, one by one, leaving only warmth in their wake.

And Max is there, holding you through it, his arms wrapped around you tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breathing is ragged, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself together, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t move.

As the last of the fire dies down, as your body finally begins to relax, you hear him whisper, so softly you almost miss it.

“I love you.”

The words slip out before he can stop them, unguarded and raw, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The room, the pain, the circumstances that brought you here — it all disappears, leaving only the two of you, tangled together, vulnerable and exposed.

You’re too weak to respond, too exhausted from everything that’s just happened, but Max doesn’t seem to mind. He holds you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your hair, your forehead, anywhere he can reach.

“I love you,” he whispers again, like he’s afraid you didn’t hear him the first time. “I’ve always loved you.”

His confession hangs in the air, delicate and fragile, but it feels right. Like it’s been waiting to be said all along.

As the fire beneath your skin finally dies out completely, as your body settles into a state of calm for the first time in hours, you let yourself fall into the safety of his arms, his warmth the only thing keeping the remnants of the fire at bay.

Max doesn’t let go. Not for a long time. And you don’t want him to.

***

Max holds you close, his body pressed against yours, his breath still coming in shallow bursts as the two of you lie in a tangled heap on the bed. The burning fire that had been searing through your body has finally been extinguished, leaving only a lingering warmth that feels manageable now.

But even though the pain is gone, even though your body has found relief, there’s still something… unfinished. A strange, restless feeling that hums beneath your skin, an ache that begs for more.

Max is quiet beside you, his hand brushing gently through your hair as he watches your face, his expression soft but intent, like he’s still worried, still waiting for some sign that you’re okay. But you can see it in his eyes — he knows. He knows it’s not over yet.

You shift beneath him, the subtle movement sending a ripple of sensation through you, and your breath hitches involuntarily. The fire is gone, but that need, that craving — it’s still there, simmering just below the surface. It’s not the urgent, desperate heat of the pollen, but it’s undeniable.

Max’s gaze sharpens, reading the subtle cues in your body. His hand stills in your hair, and you feel him shift beside you, his body tensing slightly as he watches you, waiting for you to say something, to ask for what you need.

You don’t have to.

“Oh liefje,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “You still need more, don’t you?”

Your throat tightens, and you nod, unable to form the words. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes — understanding, maybe, or something deeper. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He already knows.

Max’s hand trails down your body, his touch feather-light, and it sends a shiver through you, your body responding to him instantly. He presses a kiss to your temple, then to your jaw, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “I’m here,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “Whatever you need.”

His lips travel lower, grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, and you arch into him, your body aching for more. He moves slowly, deliberately, savoring each touch, each kiss, as if he’s committing every inch of you to memory.

You can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips when he moves lower still, his mouth brushing against your collarbone. He’s taking his time, drawing this out, making sure every second is filled with pleasure, with tenderness. There’s no urgency now, no frantic need to cure the fire. This is something else — something deliberate, something intimate.

Max’s hands slide down your sides, his thumbs brushing lightly over your ribs as he lowers himself down the bed. His mouth follows the path his hands have carved, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You feel his breath against your skin, warm and teasing, as he moves lower, kissing across your stomach with slow, deliberate care.

Every nerve in your body is on high alert, each touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. Your fingers tangle in the sheets, gripping them tightly as you fight to keep your composure, but Max makes it impossible. His lips are everywhere, soft and warm and completely unrelenting.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “I don’t think you even realize …”

His words send a thrill through you, and your breath catches as his hands slide lower, his fingers brushing the curve of your hips. He presses a kiss to your navel, and you feel the heat pooling deep inside you, the need building again, stronger this time, more insistent.

“Max …” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears you. He always hears you.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers back, his voice soft, reassuring. “Just relax.”

You try, but it’s impossible with the way he’s touching you, the way he’s kissing you, like every part of you deserves his undivided attention. He’s worshiping you with every movement, and it’s almost too much to bear.

Max’s hands slide up your thighs, and your breath stutters as he spreads your legs wider, his eyes dark with want as he looks up at you. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he presses a kiss just below the dip of your waist, teasing you, making you wait.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. “Do you know that?”

You can’t respond, can’t do anything but arch into him, desperate for more. He knows exactly what you need, and he’s giving it to you slowly, carefully, savoring every moment.

Max’s hands grasp your thighs, and he pulls them apart slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s something in his gaze — something raw, something vulnerable. He’s giving himself to you completely, just as much as you’re giving yourself to him.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin there, and your entire body shudders in response. Every nerve is on fire again, but this time it’s not the cruel burn of the pollen.

This is different. This is Max.

He pauses for a moment, his lips hovering just above where you need him most, and he looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath.

You can’t form the words. All you can do is nod, your body trembling beneath him.

Max smiles, a small, almost shy smile, and then he lowers his head, his mouth finally, blessedly, on you. The sensation is immediate, intense, and you cry out, your fingers digging into the sheets as he works you with a precision that only he seems to know. His tongue moves slowly at first, teasing you, drawing out your pleasure, but it doesn’t take long for him to find the rhythm that makes your entire body sing.

He’s relentless, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, driving you higher and higher until you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel. The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter inside you until you’re sure you’re going to break.

“Max!” You gasp, your body arching off the bed. “Please …”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. If anything, he goes faster, his tongue working you with an intensity that leaves you trembling. You’re so close, so impossibly close, and he knows it.

“That’s it,” he whispers against you, his voice thick with need. “Let go, schatje. I’ve got you.”

And then, with one last flick of his tongue, you’re gone, tumbling over the edge into a wave of pleasure so intense it almost hurts. Your entire body convulses, your vision going white as you fall apart beneath him, your fingers gripping the sheets so tightly they burn.

Max doesn’t let up, his mouth still on you, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you’re nothing but a trembling, panting mess. When he finally pulls away, you’re left gasping for breath, your body slick with sweat, your heart racing in your chest.

He crawls back up the bed, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he goes, his hands soothing over your trembling limbs. When he finally reaches your face, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers brushing your hair back from your face.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice soft, reassuring. “You’re okay.”

You can barely nod, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release. Max pulls you into his arms, holding you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back as you come down from the high. His breath is warm against your ear, and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours.

For a moment, everything is still. Quiet. Perfect.

And then, just as your breathing begins to slow, the door creaks open.

The doctor walks in, clipboard in hand, his expression unreadable as he takes in the sight of you and Max — sweaty, tangled together, your bodies still humming with the afterglow. He doesn’t say anything at first, just glances at his clipboard, then back at you.

“Well,” he says after a moment, his tone entirely too clinical for the situation. “It appears the cure has been administered.”

Max stiffens beside you, but the doctor doesn’t seem to notice — or care. He simply jots down a few notes on his clipboard, his pen scratching loudly in the silence.

“Residual effects of heightened libido may persist,” the doctor adds, almost as an afterthought. He glances up from his notes, his gaze flicking between you and Max, then nods, satisfied. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

And with that, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving you and Max in stunned silence.

Max lets out a breath, a low, incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “Did he seriously just …”

You nod, still too dazed to form a coherent response.

Max shakes his head, a small smile playing at his lips as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “Well, I guess we’re not done yet.”

And with the way your body still hums with need, you know he’s right.

[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

[mactavishwritings]

The Flare

Simon “Ghost” Riley x military!reader

smut 18+ MINORS DO NOT READ

a mission goes wrong and you two must hide in a safe house until you can be rescued.

I 100% got high when writing this so :-) i've decided that that there's not enough just plain vanilla, loving smut with Ghost so here I am.

A burning sensation ran through your shoulder and down to your fingertips. You were gasping for air as your Lieutenant pulled you through the forest. "Please! Ghost slow down." You cried out and Ghost pulled you roughly towards his chest. He clamped his hand down over your mouth to muffle your cries as a group of hostiles drove past the tree line. He held you tightly against his chest to help conceal you two better. "Fuckin' hell, (Y/N). Quiet or else they'll hear us. I know it hurts, but please." Ghost whispered into your ear and you nodded quickly, eyes squeezing shut as the pain from the bullet wound on your shoulder flared from the quick moments.

Once the coast was clear, Ghost pulled you away from the tree, further into the forest. You could hear the voices of the people looking for you two growing more distant the further in you got. You soon saw the safe house Price told you two about during the briefing. Ghost wrapped his arm tightly around your waist to help you. You two made it inside and you immediately moved towards the couch. "I think I'm dying." You grabbed your shoulder and Ghost rolled his eyes, watching the outside before turning back to you. "Lemme take a look." He walked over to kneel down beside the couch you were laying on. Ghost gently moved your vest off and pushed your sleeve up to expose the bloody wound you sported. "That was a stupid move you pulled back there." He mumbled to you as he dressed the wound. "You would've been taken if I hadn't so I don't wanna hear it." You snapped back at the man, who just shook his head.

"And now look at us, (Y/N). You're hurt and we're stranded. Gonna have to contact Price to see when the helo can come get us. Could be days or weeks cause how deep we are." Ghost's eyes shot up to meet yours and your eyes filled with tears, caused by both the pain from your shoulder wound and the adrenaline finally subsided, only to leave you with the fear and anxiety that you had been suppressing. "Oh... Baby please. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you." You watched Ghost's shoulders drop and he reached up to pull his balaclava off, reveling your boyfriend, Simon. "I'm just being dramatic." You quickly recovered, trying to push away the tears. Simon pushed your good shoulder down against the couch to hold you down. "Stop. It's okay to feel upset. You got fuckin' shot, baby." You reached up and quickly wrapped your arms around his neck. He was quick to recover and wrapped one of his arms around your waist, lifting you off the couch as you cried into his neck. Simon used his free hand to support your wounded shoulder and just held you until you calmed.

You sighed softly as you pulled away from Simon and he placed a kiss on your forehead. He kissed your forehead a couple more times before moving back to your shoulder. You rested your head on his arm as you grunted in pain. "Almost done, hun. Stick with me." Simon smiled at you and he soon was wrapping your shoulder up. "There we go, all finished." He leaned back on his heels and you sat up, looking down at your shoulder. "God the reports on this mission..." You groaned, rubbing your temples and Simon chuckled, rubbing your back slowly. "Don't worry about that now. I'm gonna contact Price and let him know what went down. Stay, got it?" Simon stood, grabbing his satellite phone and called Price, letting him know that you two had to go to the safe house and that you had been shot. He reached down and start running his fingers through your hair, nails scrapping against your scalp.

"Got it. We'll stay put until then. Thanks." Simon hung up the phone and turned his attention back at you, seeing your eyes had shut and a smile had formed on your lips. He leaned down and kissed your head and your eyes shifted up towards him. "Hey pretty girl. Looks like we're gonna be here for a bit. Cap says they're not able to send out the helo for 3 days. So it's just gonna be us for a bit. Mini vacation for us then." You nodded and stood up. "I wanna get some sleep. Is there a bedroom in here?" You stretched your good side before Ghost lead you to what seemed like the only bedroom in the house. "Rest up. I'll take first watch." Simon kissed your head and led you to what seemed like the only bedroom in the house. "No. Come lay down with me, please. We barely get moments like this anymore. You're always so busy and I very rarely wake up with you." You pulled his arm towards the bed and Simon nodded. "Deal. I would never turn that down."

You smiled as you stripped yourself of your gear, boots, and pants and climbed into the smallish bed. it barely fit the two of you together, but you liked that it forced you two closer. Simon's big arm wrapped itself around your waist and pull you closer so that your back was against his chest. You wrapped your own hand around his wrist, your wounded shoulder resting on his pec. Simon kissed your head before his kisses trailed down to your neck. You sighed happily, chin tilting upwards to allow him more room. Simon's hand rested on your hip, gently squeezing. "Si..." You tried to crane your neck to see him better, but he forced your head forward. "Shh. Let me take care of you." Simon planted a kiss behind your ear before gently turning your body to lay flat on the bed. You whined and tried to relax your body, legs sliding apart to allow Simon a space. Simon leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead, his hand trailed down your body. You gasped and his fingers drew circles around your left nipple. Simon chuckled, kissing your temple. "There she is..."

Your eyes squeezed shut as he tweaked your nipple. You were on edge; Simon teasing your chest as you nearly humped his thigh. You could feel yourself tense, but with every tensing of your body, the worse your shoulder pulsed. You forced yourself to retouch on your breathing and Simon's touch, feeling his fingers trace patterns over the thin material of your shirt. "Off please." You asked, making eye contact with Simon finally. The man nodded, lifting your shirt up slowly and took it off your body, leaving you only in your panties. Simon watched as your body pressed down on his knee, your clothed core dragging up and down his pant leg. "So pretty. Missed having this view; you laying under me." Simon squeezed your hip twice before pinning it down against the mattress. You whined louder at the loss of friction, grabbing desperately at Simon's shirt. He hushed you again and slowly lifted the waistband of your panties, pushing them down your legs to your ankles.

"My pretty angel. Let me take care of you." Simon undid his belt quickly and pushed his pants to his knees, the weight of his cock bounce with heft. You sighed happily and angled your hips upwards, giving Simon a perfect view of your soaked center. Simon's fingers dropped from your nipples to draw circles around your clit. You cried out at the sensation, hips bucking up and Simon pressed them back down onto the bed. "Calm, pretty girl. In due time." You nodded, desperate for him to touch you in any capacity. He drew faster circles before his fingers slipped deep inside of you, causing you to moan his name. Simon smile widen as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, reaching as deep as he could before curling his fingers and pulling upwards. Your hand grabbed his wrist and your back arched; the wet sound of your cunt filling the room.

Simon slipped his fingers out of your cunt before angling his hips down, his cock head laying right at your entrance. You could feel the weight of the world hang in this moment, wanting nothing more than to explode, to send a flare up for Simon to see and cradle. Simon cupped your cheek before pushing himself into you, inch by inch. You gasped for air as Simon pulsed into you. "Simon!" You cried out and Simon groaned under his breath, his thrust beginning to quicken in pace. He continued to hold your face, kissing you sweetly as his hips connected with yours over and over again. Your moans contrasted with Simon's; yours getting high with each thrust as his got deeper. Your good arm reached up to wrap around Simon's neck, pulling him in deep for a kiss. Simon smiled widely into the kiss, using your body to thrust deeper.

"You're so beautiful, angel. Almost there, hold on for me a little longer." You nodded, eyes screwed shut as the flare return in your belly, growing larger and brighter with each passing moment. With each snap of his hip, you could feel yourself being dragged towards your cliff and you were ready to drive nose first into Simon. You wanted to surround yourself in everything Simon and he would gladly take all of you if you asked him. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulder and Simon leaned down, kissing you sweetly once more before pulling back to whisper in your ear, "come for me, my love."

You felt the flare build up before exploding into fireworks behind your eyes. Your back lifted so far off the bed and Simon wrapped his arm under you for support as your thighs shakes violently. Simon's hips sputtered as he came, pressed deep to paint your walls. You moaned loudly at the sensation of his seed filling you up. "Bloody fucking hell, (Y/N). I am going to spend the next three days filling your sweet pussy up until you've had your fill." Simon said with a sickly sweet smile on his face. He turned you over so that you were back in your cuddling position, still stuff deep inside you. "Sleep. I'll wake you in the morning, yeah? I'm gonna stay in you the whole night, just to make sure you're full." Simon kissed your neck before you snuggled against his chest. You nodded and felt sleep creep around your eyes.

You felt one last kiss before drifting off to sleep, being surrounded everything Simon Riley.

[corilash]

TW: depression, abuse, assault (physical)

I've always hated thunderstorms. So loud..agressive..overwhelming.

They remind me of home in the worst way. If it could even be called home. It was my hell. My downfall. Every night I spent there ripped me apart.

My mom told me daily how much of a mistake I was, how she never should have kept me. My dad was always angry, and he took it out on both of us. I tried to cover the bruises, but sometimes I couldn't. Usually, I'd skip school those times.

I'll never forget the day I didn't. I went to school sporting the black eye and fingerprints around my neck. The looks I got were burned into my mind. Not even my friends knew what happened behind closed doors at my house. I never let them see, never invited them over. They just assumed my dad was like JJ's. Neglectful and a drunk, I suppose in a way he was. Maybe that's why JJ and I were so close. We understood and we didn't ask questions.

It wasn't long before I was asked into the principals office. I step inside, sheepish. A sympathetic look Haunted the man's face as I looked up. His eyes widened in disbelief. I know he had already called CPS, they had to.

And I wanted them to.

Hours passed, I told my story to about 10 different people. The police arrested my parents, so I was told, and I was whisked away.

I couldn't say goodbye. I didn't even have a phone to text my friends. I was just gone.

I was 17, no one would want a 17 year old. Especially not a broken one.

My time in foster care consisted of a group home with girls who rivaled the mean girls in high school. They'd do anything to get what they wanted, even if that mean bringing you down too.

But just like that. I hit 18 and I was tossed out into the world with nothing but a trash bag of belongings. No home, no money, nothing. And I just felt...empty.

I was a good 4 hours from OB but I could probably hitchhike there. Was that safe? Nope. But it's the only way I could go back. Back to my friends. Back to him.

After ditching two creeps who tried to give me a ride, I finally found a trucker who was genuine. We chatted idly as he drove. He was bringing supplies to a town 30 minutes away. I could walk the rest. And I did.

Once i hit the streets of the familiar town, I inhaled. The scent of fish, salt, sand, and food. My stomach grumbled. So hungry. But I couldn't think of food right now.

My feet ached, but I pushed myself to walk. And I walked all the way to JJ's. No one was home. "Shit.." I murmur. They were all probably at John B's. It wasn't much further, so I kept pushing.

The familiar sound of JJ and John B arguing filled the air and I smiled. A smile that pulled at my cracked lips. I step around the house to see everyone in the backyard and..Sarah Cameron? I clearly had a LOT to catch up on.

I just stand, watching for a moment. It felt like I'd been here the whole time. Not gone for the last year. And then someone spots me, their eyes widening. Hands smack shoulders, getting others to look.

I don't look much different. I'm still slender, skinny, my skin slightly pale. My blue eyes still too big for my face, it seems. My hair is still the same dark chocolate color, which is currently tucked into a messy bun on my head. I'm not wearing any makeup, though. My clothes consist of jean shorts and a crop top and im wearing worn sandals on my feet.

"I'm back.." I say, giving a small smile.

[clarepreed]

Mud

Short Story Summary and Content: 5,100 words. Northerner Nikki may not survive her first mudding date with her Southern boyfriend. Suffocation/drowning and on-site resuscitation. Features Zoll AutoPulse.

--

“So… we’re riding these things down a muddy trail and into a muddy field and spending the day getting covered in mud?” Nikki eyed the four-wheeler askance and tugged on her old, red-and-blue leggings.

“That’s about it.” Caleb grinned at her. “I swear it’s fun.”

“I guess I’m about to see for myself. Are we wearing helmets?”

“Nah, you don’t need one. Everything’s so muddy it’s like falling in melted ice cream. But I won’t tip us over.” He stepped close to her and snaked his arm around her waist, resting his palm against the bare skin between her leggings and sports bra. “Then we can shower off together later.”

“Well, that part I know I’ll like.” She pressed her curves against him and tipped her mouth up to be kissed.

He grinned, gripped her ass with both hands, and kissed her hard.

“Ugh! Get a room!” he heard his older sister, Em, say. “Gross.”

He broke the kiss, but he didn’t release Nikki, pivoting her around with him as he turned to look at Em and the disgusted expression on her face. “Just because you aren’t getting any—”

Em snorted and rolled her eyes. “Like you would know. I’m knee deep in—”

“NOPE!” Caleb released Nikki and clapped his hands to his ears. Em just grinned at him and sashayed over to her own four-wheeler, her thumbs hooked in the belt loops of her cargo shorts.

“You deserved that,” Nikki said when he dropped his hands. She offered him a wicked grin. “Over here playing with fire, of course you’re gonna get burned.”

He rolled his eyes at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

A half hour later, their group was headed down the trail. There were five total ATVs carrying eight people, all friends, family, and significant others. There’d been hard rain for two days prior on into the early morning, so the trail was a wide, rutty swath of red clay mud.

“Holy shit!” Nikki exclaimed, her arms tightening around his waist as the four-wheeler bounced and a muddy spray from a nearby vehicle doused them.

“That’s why I gave you those goggles!” Caleb shouted, laughing.

“I’m never getting this out of my hair!” she groaned, reaching up to pat her twists.

Eventually, the trail opened into a large, muddy field that Caleb’s uncle had given over to four-wheelers. During the wet times of the year, the field was nothing more than a vat of thick, orange soup.

He drove over to the edge of the field where the ground was firmer and there were downed trees to sit on, thinking Nikki might want a beer or at least a chance to rinse her mouth out. This was also the end of the field where his uncle’s gravel access drive terminated, giving them quick access to the house, should they need it.

The next hour flew by. Sometimes he rode with Nikki, sometimes he went solo. For being out of her element, he thought she was having a good time.

“I’m gonna take your girl out,” Em said, winking at him. Her short hair was spiked with mud, giving her a rakish look. When he didn’t react, she said: “For a ride…”

“Stop,” Nikki said, laughing as she put on the ATV goggles he’d loaned her. 

Em turned and patted the seat behind her, grinning when Nikki climbed on and slipped her arms around her waist. “Wish me luck!”

They took off, pulling in behind Caleb’s friend Mike as he rounded the curve of the field. He chuckled when he heard Nikki squeal, reaching into the cooler to get another beer.

Mike made a point of circling around the women and then cutting across their path, spraying them with a heavy wave of muddy water. Caleb shook his head, a little annoyed. Mike had a tendency to ride too close and go too hard, which is why the friend group often called him “Dumbass” instead of his name.

The far end of the field sloped up toward a ridge of pine trees. Em was more sensible than Mike, and she cut left pretty early before they gained much elevation. Mike, on the other hand, came around them on the right, engine roaring as he overtook them and surged up the hill.

He lost control halfway up, the weight of the ATV tipping back and carrying him and the four-wheeler downhill. He bailed, just before his vehicle crashed into Em’s. The four-wheelers collided and rolled together, dumping the women into the mud. 

Caleb sat his beer down, already losing track of who was where. “Hey! Fuckhead! Em? Nikki?”

“I think someone’s hurt,” he heard Robb say from behind him. “No one’s up waving their arms around to say they’re okay.”

“Em! Nikki!” Caleb hopped onto his four-wheeler and rode across the field, his heart pounding. He’d been in a number of rollover accidents over the years and had always been fine. But when he was in elementary school, his neighbor’s dad had died instantly in an ATV accident. He’d been there, too young to exactly understand what was happening, watching people run around trying to revive him. Also, this was his sister and his girlfriend, and he couldn’t help but feel protective.

Caleb jumped off his four-wheeler, his boots squelching in the mud. The ground was especially soft here, water pooling up around his ankles. He heard another ATV roar up behind him.

Mike was bent over next to one of the overturned four-wheelers. “Em! Hey! Em!”

Caleb ran up beside him and saw his sister sprawled on her back in the mud, her eyes closed. Blood trickled from her nose and a gash near her hairline. 

“Em!” Caleb shouted, shoving Mike to the side as he dropped to his knees next to her. “What the fuck was that, asshole?!”

Mike sat down hard in the mud. “I didn’t mean to! Fuck, I think one of the tires got her in the face…” Their friends Robb and Dana pulled up beside him, coming from a different angle.

Caleb leaned over her, gingerly touching her muddy skin next to the gash. Em groaned and her hands clenched. “Em?”

She didn’t respond, so he looked up, trying to see where his girlfriend had ended up. “Nikki?” 

He almost didn’t spot her due to the mud, but his eyes stopped on something red and blue under one of the ATVs.

He reacted instinctively; he wouldn’t even be able to recall his actions later. Skirting around the ATVs, he slid in next to her, ignoring the sludge that lapped over the top of his boots. Her upper half was completely submerged in the thick, watery mud. He first tried pulling her up at the waist, but the weight of the four-wheeler resting on her lower half pinned her down. 

Robb ran over, and they lifted the ATV off her prone body, setting it upright. Mike broke free of his stupor and grabbed Nikki under the arms, hauling her up and out of the divot she was lying in.

“She didn’t jump free?!” Mike exclaimed, mouth agape, still holding her out of the mud. “Why didn’t she jump free?!” 

Caleb and Mike turned her over. She flopped boneless onto her back, covered in mud, her goggles lost in the puddle. He cradled her head in one hand and rubbed his other hand down her face, trying to wipe the mud off. Watery muck leaked out of her nose and mouth. In a panic, he pushed his fingers into her mouth, trying to scrape out the mud.

“Nikki! Nikki!” She didn’t respond, her limbs dangling as he shook her. “Fuck! I think she breathed it in!”

Caleb leaned his ear close to Nikki’s face. She was motionless, reclined back in Mike’s lap. He’d never seen someone so still outside of a casket. Her chest wasn’t rising, and he couldn’t feel any movement. “She’s not breathing!” 

He pinched her nose shut, not bothering to drag her out of Mike’s lap, and sucked in a deep breath.  He covered her mouth with his, felt the grit of the mud on her skin. The chill of her lips. Then he breathed into her. Or tried to. His cheeks puffed out, her cheeks puffed out, but then the air stopped, finally forcing its way out of the side of his mouth with a sputtering sound. He took a breath and tried again, with the same result.

“I can’t get any air in her!” He shouted, looking up at Mike.

“Dana’s calling 9-1-1,” he heard Robb say.

“Is your uncle home?” Mike asked. His own wild eyes reflected Caleb’s fears. “Can he help?”

“Get her on a four-wheeler with you!” Robb shouted. “Get her over to dry land! I’ve got Em!”

Mike and Caleb scrambled to their feet, awkwardly hauling Nikki’s limp body between them. Caleb climbed onto his ATV and dragged her out of Mike’s arms, setting her sideways on the seat in front of him and wrapping his arm around her middle to keep her from falling off. Holding her was like holding some kind of rag doll; there was no muscle tension in her body whatsoever.

His ATV roared and jumped forward, and Nikki’s head lolled back on her neck.

Their friends Leigh and Nina waited on the other side, and they helped him get Nikki off the ATV and over the ring of tree trunks. Then they laid her out on one of the drier sections of grass.

Caleb leaned over Nikki again, forcing his fingers between her teeth to scoop out more muck. Leigh dropped down across from him. “Is she breathing?”

“No, and I can’t get any air into her!” 

“I think we need to do chest compressions!” Leigh said, briefly resting her hand on Nikki’s motionless chest. “I know CPR from school!” 

Caleb leaned over Nikki and tried to breathe for her again. When the air escaped uselessly out the side of his mouth, Leigh rose up onto her knees. She clasped her hands together and pressed her palm between Nikki’s breasts. It took her several hard compressions to figure out depth and rhythm, and then she started counting, her thrusts making Nikki’s body quake and twitch.

“One and two and three and…”

Caleb turned Nikki’s head to the side, hoping more mud would trickle out. Nina joined him, a bottle of water in hand.

“I’m going to wash off her face,” Nina said, meeting his eyes. “Is that okay?”

Caleb nodded and watched as she used a bottle of water and a cleanish t-shirt to wipe the mud off Nikki’s face.

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…”

“Mike’s gone to find your uncle!” he heard Robb call out. “And Dana took my four-wheeler to try to find cell service, we couldn’t stay connected long enough to talk to 9-1-1!”

“…thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two…” A faint sound came from Nikki’s mouth with each compression. It was disturbingly like the sound you’d expect to hear if someone were violently squeezing a bag full of liquid.

 Now that Nina had washed Nikki’s face, he could see that her beautiful umber skin had gone gray, her full lips purpling. He grasped her jaw, holding her mouth open so he could sweep his finger inside. More muck came out, along with another gush of orange water.

“How’s Em?” he called, his voice cracking.

“She’s okay!” Robb called. “She’s conscious. Keeps trying to get up, but she’s making sense now, so I think she’s alright. No, dammit, stay down, they’re taking care of her!”

“…eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight! When I get to one hundred… after you try to give her breaths… I need to switch!” Leigh was breathing hard, and if Caleb weren’t so terrified, he would be impressed by her strength. She hadn’t faltered once as she forcefully compressed his girlfriend’s sternum. “Ninety-nine, one hundred!”

Caleb scraped more muck out of Nikki’s mouth and then turned her face to the sky, tipping her chin back and pinching her nose shut. Her cold mouth was still as much of a shock as it had been the last time. He blew hard, but again the seal broke from the pressure. “Fuck!” 

“Nina, sit with Em,” he heard Robb say. “I’ll take over compressions.”

Caleb opened her mouth. The inside of her mouth was mostly clear, but he of course couldn’t see into her airway. He tilted her head back further and covered her mouth with his again, blowing hard.

Then Robb was on his knees beside her, his hands coming down hard between her breasts. Caleb turned Nikki’s head back to the side, his fingers lingering on her cheek. Her head was moving with each compression, but her face was still. She looked bad; he’d never seen someone that ashen color, not ever.

The squelching sound coming from her throat resumed. He watched Robb moving over her forcefully, the compressions from his burly arms making her stomach bulge out even further. Looking at her bloated abdomen, he thought she must have swallowed some water. The thrusts caved in her ribcage, jerking her shoulders and making her arms twitch. There was even movement down her legs and into her feet.

“…forty-three, forty-four, forty-five… I’m counting to one hundred, right?” Robb asked.

“I think…” Leigh sounded uncertain, and she was still breathing hard. “I think so, yes. Until we can get air into her. Anyone disagree?”

No one said anything except Robb, who was still counting.

When Caleb looked back at Nikki’s face, he could see foam, mud, and water oozing out of her nose and mouth again. “I think this is helping… the mud is coming out! Come on, baby, I need you to start breathing!”

“I can keep going,” Robb said. “After the next breaths. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!”

Caleb quickly cleared her mouth and then leaned in to try another rescue breath. This time, though there seemed to be a lot of resistance, he saw her chest rise. He forced another breath in and got her chest to rise a little further.

“One, two, three…”

“I got some air into her!” Caleb exclaimed. “This is helping!”

“Should we switch to thirty compressions and two breaths?” Leigh asked, her voice anxious and loud. “I think we should.”

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

The wet bag sound was transitioning to a gurgle, followed by small surges of muddy water and orange-tinged foam leaking from Nikki’s nose and mouth.

A hand suddenly touched his back, and Em dropped down on her knees by Nikki’s head. She looked terrible, her face ghost pale and a dirty shirt pressed to her head wound. “Oh God… Caleb…”

“Thirty!”

Caleb turned Nikki’s face to the sky again and forced another breath into her lungs. Her chest rose, then fell. He gave her another breath.

“One, two, three…”

Caleb spared another look at Em. She was crying, her eyes locked on the violence Robb was doing to Nikki’s chest. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” Caleb choked out.

Abruptly, Nikki’s body heaved, and a great deal of muck shot up into her mouth. 

“I need to turn her on her side for a second!” Caleb exclaimed. Robb stopped compressions and Leigh helped them roll her over so the muck would slide out to the ground and not back into her throat. Nikki made a gagging and choking sound, and then there was another flood of orange water and mud from her mouth. Robb pressed his fingers into her neck as Caleb cleared her mouth.

“She doesn’t have a pulse!” Robb shouted after several long seconds, and they put her on her back again. “Caleb, take over!”

He didn’t hesitate, thinking about what mud might still be in her lungs, and how her heart wasn’t beating. He tried to mimic what he’d seen from the others, his clasped hands thrusting into her chest with a force he never would have previously imagined using on her.

As he worked, wisps of thought kept curling through his mind, threatening to distract him. 

How relaxed he’d felt when he’d picked her up that morning, Nikki coming to the door and insisting he approve her outfit before they left. Peeling the clothing off her when they decided they had time to spare. Further back, the look on her face when he’d explained what “mudding” was, and his own surprised laughter when she’d agreed to come along. The day they’d decided to make it serious. The first time they had sex. The day he met her, just a Tinder date that became so much more.

“Hey, Caleb, that’s thirty!” Robb had his hand on his shoulder. Caleb rocked back, lifting his hands. Em had moved, and Leigh leaned over to give Nikki rescue breaths.

“Count out loud,” Robb said. “It helped me concentrate.”

Caleb forced her sternum down. “One, two, three…”

They heard the roar of an ATV coming up the gravel access path behind them. 

“… eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

“Caleb!” His uncle hit the ground running. “The ambulance is on its way; your aunt and your friend are in place to lead it up here. What the hell happened? Em! You’re bleeding!”

Leigh leaned over and forced a breath into Nikki, her chest rising higher than it had so far.

“I’m okay,” he heard Em say. “But… we rolled and the four-wheeler…”

Another breath.

Em couldn’t speak. Caleb started chest compressions again. 

“One, two, three…” Come on, baby! Wake up, wake up…

“We found her face down in the mud with the ATV on her, sir,” Robb said. “We pulled her out and brought her over here. She inhaled a lot of water and mud. She’s not bleeding, we don’t think, but we don’t know how else she might be hurt.”

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Caleb finally looked up at his uncle. The man’s face was pale, his eyes wide. His uncle David was typically stoic. He’d never seen him look so rattled. 

“Rescue station ain’t far,” David muttered. “We should start hearing sirens soon.”

Then it was time for Caleb to perform compressions. He could see her stomach bulge slightly with each thrust into her chest, felt the cartilage in her ribcage give. “…ten, eleven—Are we breaking her ribs? Fifteen, sixteen…”

“I don’t know,” Robb said. His face was blotchy; pale with red splashed across his cheeks. “I think… I don’t know.”

“You’re doing the right thing, son.” he heard his uncle say. “Do you know how long it’s been? The paramedics will want to know.”

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Caleb hovered over her, shaking his head as he watched her chest rise with Leigh’s exhalation. “I don’t know how long… Too long!”

“At least eleven minutes,” Nina said, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “That’s when I saw you pull her out.”

Caleb felt his eyes sting as he started compressions again. “One, two, three…”

“I hear the ambulance!” Nina said, her voice much louder. 

“…seven, eight, nine…”

“We should switch,” Robb said. “We don’t know how long it will take them to get up here.”

“…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, okay—”

“I’m going to stand at the top of the drive,” Mike said.

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Caleb leaned back, gasping and shaking out his burning arms, his eyes flying to Nikki’s face as Leigh breathed for her. She was still gray, with bits of dried mud along her jawline. His eyes traced down along her long neck and down to her chest. The sports bra was cut low enough that he could see the top of a bruise, looking like a malevolent shadow cast on her skin.

Robb started compressions, his big hands obscuring the bruise, fingers pressing against her left breast through the sports bra. “…three and four and five…”

The siren was getting louder, and Caleb could hear the tires crunching on the gravel. He reached out, took Nikki’s hand. Squeezed it, then brought it to his lips. He thought it was a good chance he was saying goodbye, and either way they would be loading her up in the ambulance soon and he didn’t know when he would see her again.

Then he gently sat her hand down in the damp grass.

“One and two and three and four…” 

The ambulance was close enough now that the sirens and the sound of the tires on the gravel drowned out the squelching sound coming from her swollen stomach and her wet lungs.  Caleb’s uncle showed the paramedic driver where to stop so that it wouldn’t get bogged down.

Caleb was about to be in the way. He scrambled to his feet and almost fell back down, the scenery around him tilting madly. He stumbled backward and then dropped to a crouch as the paramedics unloaded and hurried over to Nikki’s side.

“We have another unit on the way, but they’re twenty minutes out. Where’s the second victim?”

“It’s me,” Em said, sounding miserable. “But I’m okay.”

Robb and Leigh were asked to move back, and he watched the medics quickly assess Nikki’s condition. The female paramedic restarted chest compressions.

“How long have you been performing CPR?” the male paramedic asked. He’d grabbed a duffel bag from their collection and produced a mask with a balloon coming off the top of it. He pressed the mask to Nikki’s face, squeezing the bulb twice before moving on to another task.

“We pulled her out of the mud about thirteen, fourteen minutes ago,” Robb said. “We saw the accident. The ATV rolled over her and she ended up unconscious with her face in the mud and the ATV on her legs.”

“...ten, eleven twelve… AutoPulse?” the female medic asked her partner.

Everything was going so fast, and Caleb didn’t know what a lot of what they were saying meant. He jumped in when he could with things like her name and age, and no they didn’t think she was injured but they really weren’t sure. The male paramedic gave her two breaths from the bag and then checked her abdomen and chest for obvious injury. He went on to use a pair of shears to snip the fabric of her bra down one side and across the straps. The female medic lifted her hands for a second, and he pulled the fabric to the side, revealing her breasts. Compressions started again, her breasts undulating.

The two worked together, the female medic giving Nikki forceful chest compressions, lifting her hands again so the male medic could apply a large white defibrillator pad over Nikki’s sternum. Then she went straight back into compressions, Nikki’s head bobbing with the force. The other pad was applied just below and to the side of her left breast. A few seconds later, a high-pitched whine filled the air.

Caleb watched the male paramedic grab a large, flat blue bag and set it on the grass above Nikki’s head. He opened it up, revealing large white pads attached to straps and a short blue backboard. The female paramedic was still pounding mercilessly on Nikki’s chest, her ribcage flattening and rebounding. Caleb was too far away now to hear the sound the forceful compressions made.

The male medic walked around to Nikki’s feet, stepped one foot between her legs, and grasped her wrists. The female paramedic stopped compressions and he pulled Nikki up into a seated position, her head lolling back. Something about the way Nikki’s body flopped made Caleb want to cry, and he pressed his hand to his mouth.

The male medic held her there for a few seconds as the female medic dragged the blue board underneath her. They laid Nikki back, her breasts swaying, and the male medic rapidly fastened the white pads over her chest before pressing a button.

The straps moved automatically, pulling the large white pads down to her chest. Shortly after, the machine started pumping, pulling the pads down across her chest over and over again. The machine was surprisingly quiet against the noise of everything else. 

Nikki’s stomach rippled and her arms twitched. The male medic folded something white down by her head to hold it in place, and then clipped a harness over her shoulders.

“I’ll get her going on an IV and epi, you intubate and suction."

The machine clicked away, stopping briefly for the male medic to provide breaths from the bag.

“I didn’t know that a… a CPR machine was a thing,” he heard Leigh murmur.

The male medic tipped back Nikki’s head and angled a device into her throat before he said: “Pause compressions.”

The female medic reached over and pressed a button. The machine beeped, and the compressions stopped. The high-pitched whine from the monitor continued. The male medic made quick work of the intubation, and shortly after he reached around and pressed something on the screen of the compression device. 

Compressions started again.

This time, they continued even when the male medic squeezed the bag, which he’d removed from the mask and attached to the end of the tube. 

“Caleb.”

He looked up. David kneeled next to him, putting his hand on his back. 

“I called your folks.”

He had a hard time paying attention to what his uncle was saying. There was a noisy motor sound, and some commentary about what she’d aspirated. He kept looking back at Nikki. He felt hollow and distant.

“They said they have a number for her parents. They’re going to call her folks and send them on to Grace General. If anything changes, we can let them know.”

“Nothing shockable,” the female medic said, pressing a button on the machine. The pads pulled themselves down hard into Nikki’s chest. “…epi.”

“…time?”

“Caleb?” His ears were ringing.

“Coming up—twenty—”

“Caleb!”

His hearing was fading in and out.

“Give—no ROSC—load and—”

“Caleb!”

Caleb blinked in surprise at his uncle’s worried face. He was laying on back in the wet grass, David looming over him.

Leigh’s worried face joined David’s. “One of the paramedics just asked about Caleb.”

“Okay,” Caleb muttered, though he felt disoriented. “Nikki…”

“He’s conscious and talking,” David said, pitching his voice loud enough for the medics to overhear. “I reckon he fainted.”

“She’s dead,” Caleb whispered. 

David’s face changed, unexpected tears glistening in his eyes. Caleb didn’t think he’d seen him cry other than at the funerals of his grandparents. “They’re still working on her, son.”

Caleb didn’t respond. He let his head fall to the side so he could see Nikki. He really couldn’t see much. A bit of her profile, with the tube protruding between her teeth. The machine pumping her chest. Her muddy sneakers, swaying.

He looked back up at his uncle and felt a tear roll down his cheek. 

David held out a hand. “You up for sitting up yet?”

“V-fib,” he heard the female medic say. “Let’s shock her.”

David pulled him upright and kept an arm tight around his shoulders. “You don’t have to watch that, Caleb. It might be upsetting. See, your friends are all looking away.”

He watched anyway, as her chest jumped and her limbs twitched. There was a silent few seconds before the whine started up again.

“Damn. Asystole. Resuming AutoPulse. I’m going to push another epi. Give us back something we can work with, Nikki.”

“After that you want to package her up and do another rhythm check in the bus? Before we head on to the hospital?”

“Let’s do it.”

Caleb thought this was probably a bad sign, but he wasn’t sure. David must have felt similarly, because he said: “They haven’t called the time. They haven’t called her.”

The male paramedic stayed with Nikki while the female quickly packaged things up and hauled most of it to the ambulance. When she came back, she spoke briefly to Robb. 

The female medic crouched at Nikki’s feet and leaned forward, tugging on the blue fabric at the bottom of the CPR device. It unfurled into a lightweight stretcher. Then she picked up the monitor, slinging the strap over her shoulder, and lifted the IV bag. Caleb was surprised to see Robb helping them with the blue stretcher. His friend’s face had gone white.

When they stood, Nikki’s legs hung limp over the end of the stretcher. The machine kept performing compressions, unfazed by the movement.

The female medic looked over toward David and Caleb. “When we start moving, we’re going to take her to Grace General. They can do more for her there and they’re expecting her.”

They walked her to the gurney, and then loaded the gurney into the ambulance. Both medics climbed in and closed the doors behind them.

Everyone was silent for what felt like a very long time. Caleb let his breath out in a rush and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He felt like he was supposed to be doing something, when there was no longer anything for him to do.

David was speaking to him, he realized, and he looked up, though his eyes immediately drifted to the ambulance.

“We’ll ride down after the ambulance and your aunt is going to pick us up at the bottom of the drive,” David said. “She’s already ready to go. Why don’t we go ahead and get ourselves ready to do that?”

Caleb nodded.

“Does she have a bag that you need to grab? She might have insurance cards that she’ll need.”

“Everything’s in my pack,” he muttered, and suddenly his was in front of his face.

Mike, his face anguished, clutched the pack. “Caleb,” he began.

“Not right now.” David took the pack from Mike. “He can’t hear you right now.”

“But I—”

“Go the fuck home,” Caleb heard himself say, his tone ice. 

“Don’t push it,” Robb interjected. “Come on.”

“We’re going to go,” Leigh said. “We’ll get him out of here, Caleb. Robb and Dana are going to get Em down to the house. You’ll let us know? Let us know what…?”

“He will when he can,” David said. “Come on, Caleb.”

Caleb let his uncle help him to his feet and steer him over to a waiting four-wheeler. 

The back doors of the ambulance suddenly opened, and the female medic jumped out, slamming the doors behind her. She stopped long enough to call out: “We just got her pulse back. We’re transporting her now.”

Caleb climbed into the ATV behind his uncle, stunned into silence as the ambulance started, turned on lights and sirens, and headed down the gravel drive.

“Does that mean she’s going to make it?”

“It might, son. If you pray, do it now.”

[pedropenguin28]

Summary from the chapter chaper we got to meet frankie is a complete guy and keeps messing n/a down

Warning kink smut downing fluffy frankie content P and v achol abuse and drug jealous

don't mix achol and swimming

Chapter 5 the bonfire party sizzling fun

" Girl !!!! Tammy walked into my room. Yes, why are you down in the dumps? Did you see frankie all over that girl Tina yes Lauren walked in sitting on the edge of the bed grace smirk, frankie a player we all know this " but you just need to cheer up and enjoy hawi I mean we got the bonfire tonight so that a massive party and you got us yeah " tammy smiled even tho I am with James yeah " so got your ass out of bed and show frankie your not bothed okay they all hugged me " once they left many they are right . I hopped into the shower, washed my hair, and thought of an outfit once showed I walked into my room another hot day I grabbed my green Nike sports shorts and red vest top "getting changed into them. I put my flowed flip-flops on .

"Walking down the stairs to greet the girls know you look better let's head to the beach driving are hire camp van. Down the Road la del playing on the tammy playlist we drove around, then there was a parking space getting out of the van we grabbed are things and headed down the beach" it was busy we lay are towels down tammy went to find James the bar was busy to pumping out music frankie was working I kept looking over my sunglass open printed shirt open and shorts sunglass on his eyes smirking "I lay down to sunbath " on my front until I felt a ball bounce on my leg "shit sorry I turned around a tall ish black hair floppy hair "standing there with blue trunks and beads on his wrist sorry " I stood up it's okay he smirk I am tod I am n/a

Nice to meet you. I was playing football well kicked it to high no it's okay did I Hurt you no I am okay let me buy you a drink it's okay no please " I was just going to use the restroom so I will go sure " I walked up the sandbank I walked through frankie bar

"To the restroom calming down, come if frankie can fun I can walking out I waited at the bar "next frankie serving me can I have to cold beers who that guy no one and what has to got to do with you " I was just wondering well thanks for the beers "see you at the bonfire yeah " walking back down the Beach "here is your beer thank you

"So what do you do ? Oh he smirks. I am a football coach teaching kids nice, what about you? He looks smiling, sipping his beer. I am studying to be a vet really that good, so you care about animals yeah I am on hoilday with my freind cool i am from La cool so are you going to this bonfire party yeah you good. I sip my drink but feeling eyes burning at the back of me I can see frankie getting mad I turned away "

We flirted more. i touched his knee, and you are cutie. Thanks, I leaned in more tod smirk. Are you trying to kiss me? Maybe I took another sip. Well, maybe I want to kiss you okay he moved closer until our lip, ment I kissed him more until it was a full make-out session pulling back I wasn't expecting that me either "grace and Lauren walked up you having fun yeah this is tod oh okay they smirk well I best be going back to practice yeah see you tonight I guess yeah he leaned again and kissed me

"Soo, it looks like you cheered up well. u can't just mop over frankie, so you and tod, yeah, hey, tammy and James Smirk was just kissing my boy tod, huh? Yeah, just laugh he my freind oh okay he is a smart lad. Yeah, seeing him tonight yeah okay I will leave you girls to it " so tonight going to be fun yeah "we spent the rest of the day sun bathing and at the beach " until we was all ready to go back to are villa .

" So what is everyone wearing a white summer dress? Nice everyone in summer dress yes. "Lauren was cooking food grace, was pouring the drinks out Lauren these tacos are really nice thanks we all chilled in the living room " until it got dark " everyone ran upstairs to get changed i decided leave my hair down applying make up and grabbing my saddles is everyone ready tammy shouted yes I walked down .

" wow what you look beautiful, thank you, come on, we drank are drinks that strong, yeah come let's head out locking the door. We contained a walk to Bonfire. The fire was lit up, and everyone was gatherthig talking tammy grace Lauren n/a James ran up glad to see " I seen frankie he looked hot short sleeve white shirt open a bit reveling his sun-kissed tanned beer in his hand and wearing begie shorts " I was holding my sandles placing them by the sun lounge " I grabbed a drink from the tables " hey I turned around it was frankie you look yeah he sipped his beer how things baby I looked over Tina was calling frankie in here whore mini skirt frankie coming see you around yeah there you are tod smirk hey you look wow he laugh " so you fancy a drink I got one maybe this he hands a bottle of vokia yeah I like you style okay we all grabbed a seat a way from the others I mean frankie he was over Tina like a dog on heat " I drank vokia he took a tin out tammy and James smiled James rolled a joint up ams tod lighting it we passed it around the weed hitting me " you okay there hum I was high and drunk more and more drinks the night was getting wild. Let's go swimming, are you sure, yeah? " I am up for it, tammy and Lauren grace said okay we all ran down the Beach James and tod sat and git high more " running into the water it hit my body the toxic achol and weed I picnicking the girls was laughing you okay yeah where heading back see you up there okay the next thing my head was under water I was struggling to breath " tammy shouted but it was muffling sound I was pass-out until I felt drag away away clear CPR chest compression until I choked out water I cough up the water seeing frankie cow brown eyes are you okay yeah you gave us a fright honey holding his hand out everyone was watching I was still drunk. Frankie looked at how n/a get in this state chill out frankie balled his frist up and glaced at Todd you he pointed light up I gave her a joint and beer that ball the next thing frankie frist connect to Todd face hitting him and falling to the ground frankie "why did you do that he a dick "right I amgoing back to the villa tammy smiled we come back no leave me alone I will be fine I carried on walking wait ! I heard it was frankie jogging leave me alone wait we stopped the moonlight dancing on are body's " I am sorry for punching Todd " that makes it all right you flirting with Tina all night and slept togther frankie "I know it complicated "well I am not a complicated girl I don't play stupid games frankie I know he cups my face holding My cheek i know baby he leans in don't kiss me if you don't mean it feankie the next thing he kiss me it was soft and tender "he kiss his forehead against fine I was scared well I am here I kiss him looking over there was a beach shed 'pulling frankie we opened the door old fishing nets and old things frankie shuts the door " I turned around and kiss him " are you sure you want this yes panting kissing him I was working My hands down his shirt he pulled his shorts down and got production got all you can hear is the waves crashing and use " peeling off each other clothes one by one frankie smiled I was going to take of you he kiss me and smirks "I want to protect you I know we both lay on the floor covering was a old blanket and use holding each other in the moonlight frankie all smuggled into me the sea waves all you can hear and frankie light snoring

[mareastrorum]

Story time!

My family used to run a Tex-Mex restaurant (cause we’re Chicanos, mostly from Texas), and every year, we took part in a local salsa festival. We usually entered our pico de gallo, red salsa, and green salsa, and at least one would get an award most years (usually the green). Attendees bought tickets (came with a bag of chips/crisps, as you call them) and could trade 1 ticket per salsa taste. The restaurants showed up basically for advertising purposes and only paid to cover the cost of the food inspector. There was an unofficial, friendly competition between the restaurants to see who could get the most tickets. We usually didn’t win that one, but we tried anyway.

One year, we finally reintroduced my grandma’s old habanero recipe at the restaurant because habaneros were becoming popular again. I loved it. Put it on my burgers, on pretty much any meal with red meat. The bitter complimented those dishes perfectly. Also toned down sweet stuff like barbacoa or tamales.

Then we went to the salsa festival. I worked both weekend days in shorts and T-shirt cause the tent was fucking hot. We wore gloves to serve the salsa and figured that would be fine.

But people didn’t want to try the habanero because it won the best extra hot award. A bunch of people would hover, but wander off. They were worried about wasting a ticket on something that would be too hot for them. So 14 year old me is like, sitting there, roasting in a tent, trying to convince people to try this amazing salsa that I love and that won an award the first time it entered and my family was super proud of it. And no one would do it.

So I started offering people that they could keep their ticket if they tried it and kept a straight face for 1 minute.

OMFG. Suddenly all these macho men line up (and ladies, but c’mon, machismo nonsense in my culture means that kinda man rushes over in droves, especially in small, rural towns) and try it. They failed. Pulled up a timer and everything, but almost every single one of them broke, handed over a ticket, and ran out to the smoothie vendors. The gringos ran to the beer tent, because what do they know? Well, they fucking learned after that, they did. There was one super pale dude that came up, passed, then left, scoffing. He came back and gave us a ticket anyway because we were still the hottest out of the ones he tried. Good sport.

But then it tapered off again. Too many people saw what was happening and didn’t want to. So 14 year old, 5’1” me that weighs like nothing challenges people that I’ll take a shot with them, and if I break, they can keep the ticket.

All these adults are like HOW DARE. So I kept eating all these fucking tacos to even out the acid, but I don’t break because I eat that stuff on the daily. More tickets!

Then, on day 2, halfway through the day, one of the organizers comes up and tells us to knock it off. One of the people that took a shot with me couldn’t handle it and they called an ambulance for them because they were worried it was a heart attack. Nope, just the worst fucking heartburn they’ve had in their life.

So then I start calling that out that sorry, people can’t take shots anymore because they had to call an ambulance for someone. Gotta eat it with chips! Be responsible! Ask the organizers if you don’t believe me! And that gets people lining up too.

We did not get the most tickets. Fucking bullshit. But we were infamous for the entire year, and we were told off the bat the next year that we couldn’t do those challenges.

And then, for the next week, every inch of skin that had been exposed during that week FUCKING BURNED. Turns out that spending 2 days of constant, close proximity to habanero salsa lets it seep deep into your skin. They make tear gas outta that shit.

Still kept putting it on my burgers that whole week. Because the burn tastes good.

The next year, we all showed up in long sleeve everything, jeans, closed toe shoes, gloves, face masks, and face shields. Everyone thought it was a gimmick, and I’m like, NO. I FUCKING LEARNED. DON’T BELIEVE ME? GO LET IT MARINATE ON YOUR SKIN, TRY IT.

Still didn’t get the most tickets. Fuck’s sake.

hot take but taco bell would do stupid well in ireland

spicebags are not that far off from nacho fries. & I want to see what will happen when irish people have to actually confront what real "taco sauce" is in the american mind

[maladaptivedongdreamer]

Animosity

Warnings: blood, betrayal, angst and murder? English is not my first language, not even my second. Sorry if you encounter any errors.

Risotto Nero x GN!Reader (3.9 k words)

"It's killing me again/I replay it in my head when I'm alone/I hope that you're alone now/It's not me, it's you/The one who never got a clue/Drown in your guilt/If karma doesn't hit you, then I will."

Animosity - The Warning

As the car stopped with a jolt, you could feel your heart starting to beat faster in your chest. You let out a slow and deep breath as your hand instinctively reached down to the left pocket of your denim jacket, where a half-empty pack of cigarettes was. A sports car drove past you in the rain, illuminating the cockpit for a brief second and allowing you to see your own reflection in the rearview mirror. You immediately averted your gaze with a grimace.

With your left hand on the door handle and the hoodie covering your head, you took a deep breath before getting out of the car. An umbrella would've been just a burden, so you simply sprinted to cross the deserted road. On the opposite sidewalk, the porch offered you protection against the frozen raindrops, yet you shivered as a gust of wind scourged your cheeks. Instinctively, your hand went to the left side of your face and hastily pulled the hood to cover it. Without raising your head, you reached inside the pocket of your jacket and pulled out a cigarette. It took you a couple of attempts before you finally managed to light it up, as your hand was trembling. You blamed it on the chilling wind and kept walking.

While the bitter smoke burned down your throat, scratching the itch that was tormenting you, the plan unravelled itself for the thousandth time in your mind. As if you could forget it. As if you hadn't spent the past couple of days perfecting every detail, incapable of sleeping yet finding every second of your waking hours unbearable.

Not that your plan didn't have any fallacies. For example, you just assumed that your target would be home. You made sure that they hadn't changed their address - you had spent the past couple of weeks using your Stand to spy on them. Their routine hadn't fluctuated at all since before the accident, you noted with a knot in your throat. Almost as if it never happened.

Thankfully, you knew Risotto Nero far too well for his own good. Around this time of the year, he would take a couple of weeks off, to commemorate the life-changing event in his life: the death of his cousin. The year prior, you had checked on him, to make sure he was OK. Now, you were going to kill him.

Kill him. The words echoed in your mind, so loud that you hesitated and slowed down. You could see his apartment complex now, in the distance. A car passed you by, interrupting the still silence that was enveloping your senses: it was much easier to lose yourself and your resolve in the monotonous pattering of the raindrops. The sound of tires on the asphalt and the sudden light that breached through the midnight darkness became almost unsufferable for a split second. You wanted to close your eyes and cover your ears; you considered the idea of turning around and walking back to your car.

Seeing the man responsible for your death living his day to day life as if nothing happened: not many people have been granted this fortune, and even less people were in the position to avenge themselves. You thought your anger had subsided, only leaving a faint trace, as you had plenty of months of rehabilitation to accept his betrayal. He had no choice but to let you die, you had repeated yourself as a mantra, over and over again, as you slowly regained control of your body.

At first, you had only wanted to reach out and let him know that you were alive. One day, you had patiently waited for him to come back home from "work", your heart almost exploding with impatience in your chest, your throat dry and your eyes wandering around, waiting for his car to become visible in the distance. It was then that you had seen him with her.

You resumed your unrelenting walk: the porch was about to end. Thankfully, the rain also seemed to quiet down, almost as if your vengeance had Mother Nature's stamp of approval.

Now you could see that the lights were on at the second floor of the apartment complex where Risotto lived. Another sign that Fate was by your side, you noted, as the blood rushing through your veins pumped like drums in your ears.

You took one last draw on the cigarette, almost burning your fingers as the combustion was far too close to the filter for the drag to be any good. The bitter taste made you wince, your face distorting into what you could only imagine being a cubist portrait. You threw away your cigarette, letting the rain extinguish its dying flame, and cupped your left cheek with your hand. Under your finger tips you could feel the ragged outline of the scar.

The first time you had seen your reflection after the incident at the warehouse, you couldn't help yourself but think of Picasso's Guernica. Later, you had felt stupid and egocentric for having equated a catastrophic historical event to your personal misfortune. What is the loss of your youthful beauty compared to the massacre of hundreds of people? And yet, as the beautiful woman sitting in Risotto's passenger seat had laughed - her beautiful skin intact - you couldn't help yourself but imagine his repulsion if he had seen the state of you. With your fingernails biting into the skin of your palms, you used that pain as fuel for your anger.

You would make sure he saw you. You wanted to be the last thing he'd see before Death put an end to either of you.

Your rage had yet to turn you blind: you knew far too well that Risotto was a powerful Stand user and an incredibly skilled assassin. You were ready to die by his hand, in case you failed. Would he kill you a second time? You were already dead and gone to him and to dozens of people: killing a ghost would be much easier. But you wouldn't go down without a fight. Worst case scenario, you hoped you could take at least part of his precious vinyl collection to Hell with you.

Risotto lived in a quite unsuspecting neighbourhood: fairly isolated from the city center and of recent construction. The buildings looked all pretty much the same: white and grey cubes of concrete surrounded by vegetation. No one would imagine that the leader of La Squadra Esecuzioni lived there, surrounded by newlyweds and young families.

Using your Stand, Trail of Tears, you focused on melting your body into a puddle that easily passed under the gate dividing the apartment complex' garden from the sidewalk. You proceeded like that, thankful for the darkness surrounding you, until your reached the glass entrance door that lead into the empty lobby. You could feel every fiber of your being focusing on the task as your body squeezed through the much more narrow interstices.

Once you found yourself into the lobby, you felt your body autonomously turn to its normal form. "Fuck", you muttered. You noticed that your breath was short and your retina was blinded by millions of colorful explosions, as if you were about to faint. Laying on your fours, you tried to catch your breath.

It was the first time in months that you had used your Stand to these lengths, exerting its power to transform your body into such fine matter. You could feel yourself hurting where you had suffered the worst injuries during the incident. Your arms were trembling and you bit your lower lip to prevent yourself from letting out pained whines. When you got your sight back, you exhaled abruptly and punched the marble floor, to give yourself the courage and resolve to get back on your feet.

Another thing Risotto had to pay for.

You climbed the stairs, one stealthy step after the other, paying attention to every sound that came from the other apartments. It was late enough that most people would be in bed, but some - like Risotto himself - were still up. If someone decided to go for a walk in the middle of the night, you were ready to resort to your Stand. However, considering the toll it took on you, you prayed that the rainy weather would be a deterrent for any midnight walk.

You finally reached the second floor: the door to your victim's apartment was right in front of you. The time had come for you to act. You inhaled briefly and exhaled as slowly and silently as you could, trying to stop your heart from beating like a drum in your chest. The fear that Risotto's Stand might feel your presence through the blood running in your veins paralysed you for a second. Then again, you told yourself that he wasn't expecting you to rise up from your grave just to murder him.

Closing your eyes in the darkness of the hall, you let your body melt: guided by the current of air that was passing underneath the door, you squeezed your shapeless form through the crevice and only stopped when you felt that the whole mass of your being was now resting on the wooden floor of Risotto's entryway. You stopped for a second, trying to figure whether or not you were alone and ignoring the urge to transform back.

In that form, you were blind, but your other senses increased. You often resorted to the wind or any movement of air masses to determine whether someone was in your proximity or not.

You could hear a laugh track in the distance and the wheezing that usually came from electronic devices. You knew that there was no light in the room, for you couldn't feel any warmth on the top surface of your body.

You turned into your regular form and bent your body forwards - hands resting on your knees - for balance. You mentally cursed yourself, as you held your breath, afraid that you would let out a pained moan if you dared to breathe.

How dared you think that you could kill Risotto Nero in your pitiful state? Biting your lip you slowly emptied you lungs, your nostrils flared, as if doing so would minimise the noise. When the pain subsided, in the darkness you started moving towards Risotto's living room where the TV noise was coming from.

A newfound sharpness had taken the place of the self-doubt. After all, you were a trained assassin and you had to thank Risotto himself for mentoring you and teaching you a set of many helpful skills. It was him who allowed you to understand the extent to which your Stand could be useful. And now you were going to use that knowledge against him.

The door leading to the living room was slightly open. You knew for a fact that Risotto made sure it would screech, to alert him of any foreign presence that might try to attack him. The opening was large enough for you to morph your body without putting to much of a toll on it. Your head could easily pass, which meant that you wouldn't lose sight of the target. In fact, there he was, his fluffy white albino hair resting on the sofa, as he was lazily reading through paperwork.

And there you were, less than five steps away from him. You knew that the only way you could have the better of him was to catch him by surprise, before he could evoke his powerful Metallica. You prepared your body for another - and hopefully the last - metamorphosis. You closed you eyes, feeling the blood rushing through your veins. The moment had come. In a couple of minutes, the outcome of the fight would be decided: you were going to survive and kill the man responsible for your losing everything, or die trying.

"I'm glad to see that you're well, dear." You opened your eyes to meet his bright red irises and black sclera. The surprise made you part your lips. You wished you came up with a witty remark, or just say something, but you seemed incapable of speaking. You imagined you looked like a fish on dry land, your eyes wide open and gasping for air. Your heart also seemed to have stopped.

Risotto slowly got up from the sofa and turned his whole body around to face you. You instinctively turned your head and grabbed at your hood to pull it over your scarred face. Where has your determination gone? Now that your former lover - the man who got you killed - was standing in front of you, slowly approaching you as one would a scaredy wild animal, you felt your legs go week. Was he draining the iron out of your blood already?

He positioned himself in front of you and raised his hands to your wrists, which were still grasping at the hem of your hood. Your knuckles had turned white from the exertion. His warm hands enveloped your joints and slowly lowered your hands to your sides. He was so close that you could feel his scent linger between the two of you - a bitter hint of bergamot and the masculine fragrance of his shaving cream.

"Look at me", he ordered, his deep voice penetrating through your eardrums, vibrating in your head and making the tight knot in your chest feel heavier. You couldn't speak a word, so you just shook your head no, lowering your face as much as you could, your chin almost touching your chest. He called your name, sweetly, as he rose his hand to caress your cheek - the one without the scar. The contact sent shivers through your spine. It had been long since the last time someone had touched you so intimately. The last one who showed tenderness to you had been Risotto.

Then he almost got you killed. The rage that had been brewing for months finally erupted. You slapped his hand away and turned your back to him - admittedly not your smartest move - with clenched fists.

"How dare you?" When you spoke, your voice trembled and you cursed yourself for your weekness. You felt Risotto sigh. He called your name again, softly, almost pleading. "I had to make a choice".

His inadequate response only made you angrier. You turned around to face him, your hoodie falling down and uncovering your face. You say Risotto's eyes widen in surprise, then pity took the place of his astonishment. He unconsciously raised a hand almost to reach out to you, then let if fall back down to his side.

"It was either you, or Melone, Ghiaccio and Formaggio", he continued. You saw his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. "I couldn't let half of the squad die just to save you".

You felt yourself frown, a pained expression now distorting your face. You knew that he was right, you'd always known. His words had been your mantra for months after all. He did took the most appropriate path; in his position, you would've let yourself die too. The main issue was that if Risotto were to be in your place, though, and you in his, you would've never abandoned him. You knew that he did the right thing as a leader. But as a lover, he had failed you in more than one way. And your broken heart pained you more than any of the wounds you had suffered from: his feelings for you were not nearly as strong as yours towards him.

"I also knew that if someone could make it out alive, that person would be you", he added carefully. You shook your head once again, a laughing fit of disbelief about to erupt from your lips.

"And yet you never looked for me", you replied. Risotto lowered his head and took a step back, using the back of the sofa as a place to stand, gripping the edge with his hands.

"I did", he admitted finally. The silence between the two of you felt heavier than ever. Your ears were buzzing, almost as if you were about to faint. "I made myself invisible to infiltrate the hospital and came to visit you late at night", he continued. You swallowed, your throat as dry as the desert, your mouth parched and lips sealed together, waiting for him to continue. "Your medical reports stated that you had amnesia, due to a severe concussion", he explained.

You let out a dry cackle. "Either that, or I had to explain to the cops what was I doing in an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by explosive material."

Risotto nodded and couldn't hide the smirk on his lips. "I figured that out", he continued. Of course he did, which lead to a more complex question.

"Then why did you abandon me?" Your voice and choice of words betrayed your feelings much more than you had hoped for. Instead of accusatory, you sounded hurt, your voice cracking as your tone rose up to mark the question.

"I hoped that you would take this as an opportunity to disappear." His harsh and direct response made your heart sink into your stomach. He must've seen your expression, because he continued. "I know that you had no choice but to join Passione. You told me that if you could, you'd leave in a heartbeat." You felt dizzy, your knees almost giving up on you. You covered your face with both hands, as to protect yourself from any external input. Everything felt overwhelming: from the stupid TV show that was running on the screen, to the sound of the rain pouring down and hitting the glass windows. When did it start raining again?

"I-", you started, but your words froze in your throat. Two strong hands grabbed you by your wrists, uncovering your face. Then Risotto touched your chin and slowly lifted it up, forcing you to look him in the eyes. With his free hand, he traced the surface of your scar. He didn't seem repulsed, yet you shivered and closed your eyes, afraid that you would find disgust in his otherworldly eyes.

"The only thing I want is you", you finally managed to say. Risotto held his breath as soon as the meaning of your words settled in. He called your name one more time, sweeter than honey, as he moved his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you closer. You shook your head one more time and pushed him away. "But you don't love me", you accused him. "It didn't take you too long to get over me, did it?"

His hand was still stuck in mid-air, as if you hadn't moved, or as if he was caressing the ghost of you. Your words seemed to impact him, as he slowly let his hand down and lowered his head, not wanting to meet your eyes. You felt a painful pang of prideful victory when Risotto took his head in his hands. You surprised him, one up-ed him, yet between the two, you were the one slowly bleeding inside. A part of you had hoped that the woman he had taken home that day was no one: maybe a new team member, maybe a neighbor he had offered a ride to.

"I saw you", you continued, taking advantage of his moment of weakness to breach even further into his collected demeanor. He nodded slowly, his head still in his hands.

"Yeah", he managed to say. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes still not meeting yours. "She's-", he hesitated for a second, his lips pursed together and a frown forming a deep line between his eyebrows. Your mouth felt drier than the desert: you were not sure if you wanted to hear the rest.

"So", you continued. Your voice was trembling, in spite of your better intentions. "You abandoned me for dead. You knew I made it out alive, but didn't try to reach out to me. And now you're seeing someone else." He didn't move, he didn't say a word, which only made the fury building up inside of you grow even more nefarious. "That's the most complicated way to dump someone I've ever heard", you hissed between gritted teeth. Without letting him time to protest, you continued, speaking over his voice and ignoring his attempt to get closer to you. "You've ruined my life", you said. His eyes finally met yours. The pain and the pity you read in those red irises of his only made you want to scream into his face. "Made sure no one else would look at me without disgust in their eyes, let alone with desire", you continued, pointing at the scar on your face. "Then immediately started seeing someone else, after you've decided to cut any tie with me."

"I did what I thought was best for you", he finally said, calmly. In a fit of rage, you jumped at him, aiming for his face, your fist turned into a dark pool of ink. He dodged your attack, making sure he avoided any contact with your body, knowing far too well the effect of your Stand on others. He raised his hands and slowly moved away from you, as you continued to walk towards him, your rage distorting your features and obfuscating your thoughts. "I thought you wanted a normal life", he continued.

"All I wanted was you", you repeated like a broken record. He called your name once more, this time firmly, but you couldn't hear him. You made an attempt to close the distance between the two of you again, ready to hit him with all you've got, when a sharp pain to your left knee made you gasp audibly.

Risotto had used his Stand to envelop your joint with barbed wire. The striking pain forced you to back off, clumsily falling back on your ass. Months of rehabilitation had taken a toll on your combat abilities. All it took for Risotto to defeat you was one single attack.

The contact with the hard wooden floor made all your anger dissipate in thin air. You felt warm tears of humiliation running down your cheeks and you rapidly proceeded to wipe them off with the harsh fabric of your denim jacket. You kept looking at Risotto as he approached you, not even realising that the barbed wire had disappeared, leaving you with a pair of torn and bloody jeans. He had also used your blood to patch your wound up.

When he took you in his arms, cradling you like a baby, you started trembling, incapable of stopping the tears. He sat on the sofa, not letting you go, but pressing you even harder against his chest. He ignored your protests when he began caressing the scar on your face, as he peppered kisses on the top of your head.

"I'm sorry", he said.

You couldn't respond, for you weren't even sure of your own feelings in that moment. You felt ashamed, defeated, yet being once again in your former lover's arms made you experience a happiness that you had thought long gone.

As you slowly drifted to sleep in the warmth of that embrace, you heard Risotto's voice - more and more distant - saying "I'm sorry" once again.

Thank you for reading, if you got this far! See you next Monday: it's Abbacchio's turn to be an asshole.

[hereforhalstead]

Period Pains

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: Nope! Just fancied some soft!Jay

• Warnings: pure fluff besties 

• Summary: Jay looks after you as you experience a rough period, unlike anything you’ve felt before. 

• Words: 2482.

• A/N : When I tell you this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever written lmao. I’m so weak for soft!Jay at the moment and had just came on my period when i started this  a few weeks ago.. I have a few ongoing requests at the moment that I’m working on, promise I’m not ignoring them but I just don’t want to post them until I’m happy with them! 

Hope you enjoy!

You notice the bed beside you dip with Jay’s weight as he joins you, fresh from the shower as you feel the heat radiating from him. You attempt to shift and face him, craving the feeling of having your head against his chest with the rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you to sleep. You wince as a cramp hits your stomach, slinging your arm across your stomach as a natural reflex for when the wave of pain arises. 

Jay places a hand on the edge of your shoulder, gripping round your skin as he moves your hair to one side to place a delicate kiss to the exposed shoulder blade “Stay facing that way, I’ll be able to rub your stomach” he whispers into the nape of your neck and causing a shiver to run down your spine at the softness of his words. 

You happily do as you’re told, still in somewhat of a half consciousness as you doze in and out of sleep with the thought of knowing he was there beside you helping the pain drift away. 

“Life your hips for me baby” he softly demands, encouraging you to lift your side for just a few seconds to allow him to slip his arm under you to rest a hand on your stomach “You’re burning up” he tuts, removing the hot water bottle you had pressed against you and placing it on the the other side of the bed “Don’t want you getting too warm, you’ll make yourself ill”. 

His firm tone made your heart flutter, he always had your best interests at heart and made the smallest of actions seem natural to him. You’d happily let yourself curl up under a blanket with a hot water bottle until you were burning hot but it would always leave you feeling faint and you’d end up cooling off in a cold bath or shower which really defeated the object..

You laid in a comfortable silence with Jay, cursing under your breath as another wave of pain hit "Why am I a girl” you mocked, digging your head further into your pillow as some form of distraction. Jay would take it in his stride, dropping a kiss to your back and chuckling as you swear under your breath to take your mind off the intense cramps. 

The motion of Jay rubbing his hand softly over your stomach didn’t stop, you expected it to after a while but it never did. He was constantly tracing shapes across your skin, running his fingernails back and forth under your shirt and laughing as you occasionally flinched if it tickled. Whether it was a placebo affect or not, the cramps would ease under his touch and helped you get a brief moment of sleep. 

You awoke just under an hour later to an empty bed, turning over to see the covers thrown back and Jay’s side of the bed vacant made your heart sink. He was the one helping you through this and even though the painkillers had kicked in, you still missed him just being beside you.

You would often be the first one up in the mornings, heading to the gym before work or just wanting to be awake to make him a morning coffee meant you weren’t used to being in bed alone. He was always there with you, even when you teased him for how long the pair of you would spend in bed on your days off, you loved it and wouldn’t want it any other way. 

In replacement of Jay’s hand, you must’ve reached for the hot water bottle in your sleep and that was a mistake. You were now sweating, the clothes clinging to your skin as it glistens with sweat, feeling clamy and gross wasn’t what you needed right now.

Trudging over to the bathroom and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror was an instant regret, you were hunched to try and relieve the cramps, hair disheveled and your body was covered in red blotches from the hot water bottle. If you didn’t feel horrendous before, you did now. 

You always worried in your relationship that you weren’t good enough for Jay, he woke up and looked perfect, would finish an intense workout and look like a sports model or even concentrating on some paperwork he would look flawless and here you were looking the complete opposite.

You let out a deep sigh, running your fingers through your hair in some attempt to regain a sense of decency but there was no point. Your feelings were being intensified from your period and leaving you feeling worse than ever, wanting to curl up in bed and cry was seeming most appealing but before you can enjoy a good ole pity cry you hear the keys turning in the lock.

Quickly wiping the tears from your face and using Jay’s tshirt that you were currently wearing to try and remove the stains from your cheek was useless, you panicked. Jay seemed to have unnatural ability to tell when you’re not feeling yourself, and this is no exception. Just from taking one look at you he’d be able to tell you were upset and you didn’t want that to be the case, you’d already had a pity day and the last thing he needed was to see you were feeling worse. 

You chugged some water that he had left on the side and took another glance at yourself in the mirror, the red blotches had made their way to your neck so were now much more visible and your normal cheery smile was no where to be seen. 

“Baby?” you hear Jay call out, rustling around with some bags in the kitchen before making his way over to the room you shared. You were sat on the edge of the bed with your arms folded across your stomach, leant forward in pain as you rested your head on your knees.

His heart pulled at the sight, you were in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. He prided himself on always doing whatever he could to help you in any given situation and not being able to take away the hurt was killing him. He’d helped you through many periods in the past but this was the worst one by far, you’d be able to take some paracetamol and carry on but this was defeating you.

You barely had a chance to respond before you heard the footsteps getting louder as he made his way towards you, letting out a deep sigh as he sees you scrunched over in pain. The noise of bags rustling comes to a stop as he crouches down in front of you, resting his hand on the back of your neck and the other on your knee to hold himself steady as he balances.

“What happened baby?” his smooth voice was music to your ears, he didn’t even have to do anything and he was already soothing you more than you ever could. You sniffed before bringing your attention onto him, watching as his eyes soften when he see’s the redness in your cheeks and the hurt in your gaze. 

“Nothing” you lie through your teeth, already knowing he won’t fall for it but thinking it was worth a shot. Instead of giving you the normal ‘are you forgetting how well I know you?’ speech, he simply tilted his head to the side and lifted his hand to rest on the side of your face with a doting look “We’ll talk about it later”.

You were grateful for how well he knew you, knowing not to push you and that you weren’t in the mood to be interviewed like a suspect. Normally you loved it, thinking it was cute how he always craved to prove how well he knew you and could tell you were off just by a simple look but in doing this he knew best to leave it until you were ready. 

“Did you have to go back to work?” you question, still absentmindidly leaning into Jay’s touch as he gently moves his thumb back and forth to caress your cheekbone. A simple shake of his head made you smile, you were secretly hoping you’d have him to yourself so when you awoke to the empty bed you just assumed he’d been called in. 

You couldn’t hide the frown that formed as he removed his hand and stood in front of you, reaching for something on the bed as you stayed hunched over below him. “I got your favourite ice cream” he comments, holding the tub out to you with a grin spreading on his face as your eyes light up “I thought they stopped selling it?” you questioned, already peeling off the plastic from the lid. 

“They did in our local, I asked around and drove to the only place they said still sells it” the pride in his voice was unlike anything you’d heard before as he carried on rummaging around the bag before pulling out 3 more tubs “Didn’t know how many you wanted so I stocked up” he chuckled, placing the tubs back into the bag and watching as you nibble round the edge of the container, too impatient to wait for a spoon.

“You don’t want these then?” you looked round to see him holding a family size bag of crisps, a handful of candy bars and even a box of your favourite instant hot chocolate that you used to have as a child. “How did you know” you probe, reaching for the box and examining the text.

Struggling to remember the last time you saw the packaging in a shop, let alone holding it in your hands. The box feeling so much smaller than it used to from when you were young, bounding to the cashier with 5 or 6 boxes to buy with your pocket money.

 “On our first date we passed a shop that sold them and I’ll never forget the look on your face. You told me how your mum would always make you one if you were having a bad day and they’d always make you feel better” he smiled and could feel the tears brimming in your eyes.

You and Jay had been together nearly 8 months and he still remembered the tinist detail from your first date, something you had even forgotten about. A little remark you made as you passed the shop on the way back to the car park, not thinking much of it as who would remember about a box of instant hot chocolate that probably didn’t even taste good? Jay did.

“Get into bed and I’ll get some bowls for these” he collects the items and puts them back into the bag, his tone still gentle despite the excitement you knew he had inside from presenting you with everything you needed without being asked.

You shook your head, standing to wrap your arms around his torso. Nestling your head into his chest as you feel it vibrate from a silent laugh “I told you to get into bed baby” you felt the shivers run down your spine as he rested his hand on the back of your head, allowing his hand to roam up and down your back in a soft motion. 

“What did I do to deserve you” you mumble into his chest, feeling him rest his head on top of yours as his hand settled on your lower back to push you further into him “So I did good?” you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, pulling back to examine the glowing grin peering back at you as his eyes glistened.

You reached to place a light kiss to his lips, a soft kiss that told him everything he needed to know “Are you gonna make me tell you to get into bed again?” he joked, tapping your back to retract yourself from him. Begrugingly you did so, already feeling the slight cold from the lack of contact you now craved from him. 

Picking the bags up from the bed to pull back the blanket, you felt the weight of something still in the bottom. You opened the carriers to see what must’ve been atleast 5 boxes of different sanitary products rolling around in the bags “What’s this?” you asked, confused as to why he went out of his way to buy you the snacks but you never would’ve expected him to know what products to buy you, or atleast try and guess as you always joked about how little men knew about the whole thing. 

“I didn’t know if you needed any” his voice was timid, reaching to rub the back of his neck with his hand which was a sign of nervousness you’d picked up on over the past few months . “Jay, how much do you think I bleed?” you were grateful to see the corners of his lips lift in a smile “Well, I realised I’ve never bought you any so I wanted to get a few so I had more of a chance of getting the right ones” he admitted, your hands falling to your sides as you allowed the bag to drop to the floor. 

Your feet were bounding over to him before you could even think, all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him as you had no words for everything he had done. “I can’t believe how much I love you” your voice slightly cracked as you felt the lump rise to your throat, as much as Jay loved to care for you, you never would've expected this. 

“I’m sorry I can’t take the pain away” you felt him plant a kiss to the top of your head, another one of his small guestures that made you week at the knees without him even knowing. “You’ve helped more than you’ll ever know” you smiled into him, cringing at your cheesy confession but knowing he loves to hear these things from you, adding to his ego of how well he looks after you. 

You both stood in a comfortable silence, basking in each other presence with the simplicity of the background noises coming from the streets below. From someone looking on, the way you were standing probably didn’t look very comfortable. The way you were entangled together, your arms hanging from his neck as his moved around your body to press his fingertips in the various parts he knew you were probably feeling pain. When Jay finally breaks the silence, he mutters the words that at the moment sounded better than ‘i love you’ when they fell from his lips “Do you want some ice cream, baby?” 

**

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[ryleigh-jae]

How They React To You Smelling Them In Your Amortentia

 Harry Potter Characters x Reader

Here’s a quick writing I threw together for y’all! I know I didn’t add that many characters, but I plan on adding more as time goes on. I have to work today and it has me on a time crunch with how much I can write for this one. Either way,,,,,I hope you like it and I hope all of you are having a fantastic day. Make sure to leave any requests if you have them! <3

-(y/h) stands for “your house” and (y/l/n) stands for “your last name” :)

~

Draco~

“So tell me, (Y/N)! What do you smell?” Hermione looked at her friend, voice filled with excitement. 

The (y/h) girl took in a deep breath, her lips curling into a sweet smile, “Expensive cologne, leather shoes, peppermint...and green apples.”

Realization hit (Y/N), knowing that it was the platinum haired boy she was smelling in her amortentia. Letting out a soft breath, her eyes glanced up from the cauldron that sat bubbling in front of her. Hoping he hadn’t heard her, she looked towards none other than Draco Malfoy, who was in fact staring at her. To her surprise, his lips were slightly tugged up in a slight smile as their eyes met. That was odd because nobody had ever seen Draco smile that way before. 

Just after sending Draco a small smile back, (Y/N) turned to Hermione, listening to what she was smelling. When Hermione disappeared to grab a notebook to record the results, a small origami dove landed on the desk in front of (Y/N). Her fingers slowly opened it up, eyes scanning over the writing.

Meet me in the clocktower tonight after dinner. ~Draco

Snape~

Being Professor Snape’s assistant was easily the best part of coming back to Hogwarts. He had been her favorite Professor all seven years at the school and being able to come back to work with him meant the word to her. Opening the potions book, (Y/N)’s eyes scanned over the formula for the assigned potion of the day. Snape was in his potions room, rummaging around for something which meant that (Y/N) was in charge of making the example potion for the students to see when they entered.

After adding the final piece to the bubbling cauldron, she closed the potions book and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Not noticing that Severus had rejoined her, she inhaled deeply, taking in each of the aromas that filled her nose. 

“Whiskey, old parchment, herbs, and pine wood..” She listed off softly to herself, the man’s presence still unknown. 

The raven haired man’s lips twitched up in the slightest, his eyes locked on her. Not to mention that the room seemed to fill with the scent of her perfume. 

“(Y/N), how much perfume did you put on this morning? Seems rather strong.” His voice spoke up, half startling the girl.

She turned around, their eyes meeting as they shared a knowing look with one another, (Y/N)’s heart swelling with joy at his remark.

Harry~

“And...Done!” (Y/N) smiled, glancing between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

The three gave a teasing, playful applause to their friend as she stirred the mixture in the cauldron. The assignment was to create the amortentia potion and record your results. (Y/N) watched quietly as each friend took a turn smelling the potion, Harry deciding that he wanted to go last. Of course Ron could smell all the things that made up Hermione and vice versa. When her turn came around, (Y/N) inhaled slowly, listing each scent as it came to her.

“Broomsticks..Honeysuckle..and fresh laundered robes.” She looked up at her friends, Ron and Hermione smirking at one another before staring between Harry and (Y/N).

Their reaction told the whole story, causing the girl to shyly look over at the Potter boy, seeing the cute little grin he was sporting. To make her feel more secure, Harry took in a big whiff of the potion, listing off all the scents that made up the sweet girl. This caused Harry to reach under the table, slipping his hand into (Y/N)’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Harry and (Y/N) snogging in a tree!” Ron teased the two, causing the friend group to burst into a fit of laughter. 

Cedric~

Sitting next to Cedric, (Y/N) sniffed the air, glancing over to her long time crush. She raised a brow and laughed slightly, rolling her eyes in a playful manner. Cedric glanced over and gave her a confused smile, confused as to what she was on about.

“How much cologne did you put on today, Diggory? Bathing in that stuff isn’t gonna get ya the ladies.” She teased, playfully nudging the Hufflepuff’s shoulder.

Cedric raised a brow as he sniffed his shirt, shrugging slightly, “I don’t think I even put any on today, if I’m being completely honest with you, (Y/N). Now you on the other hand. Did you use a whole bottle of perfume this morning?”

Just as she was about to speak up again, Hermione who was passing by, paused to give the two of them a look. A small giggle passed the brunette girl’s lips as she looked between the two of them, shaking her head in disbelief. Placing her potions book down, she pointed to the potion they had all made. 

“Amortentia…” (Y/N) and Cedric spoke simultaneously, cheeks flushing red as they dared not to look at one another. 

Cedric was the first to speak again after a few moments, throwing his arm around her shoulders, “Good to know that the feelings are mutual, (Y/L/N).”

Tom~

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, staring Tom down from the other side of the room. Oh how she despised him for being so perfect. Today was the day they were making amortentia in potions class and she was curious as to what she would smell. Just as her good friend Neville finished off the potion, he offered her the first smell, which she gladly took.

“What’s it smell like, (Y/L/N)? Me?” Tom cockily teased the girl, knowing deep down that he had smelled her perfume in his. 

The (y/h) girl refused to look at him, her blush would tell him everything that he needed to know. Instead, she excused herself from class, heading down the hall towards the bathroom. Footsteps gained on her faster than she could note them, hoping that it wasn’t anyone following after her.

“(Y/N) wait up!” Tom’s voice called out, his hand gently holding onto her arm when he finally caught up to her, “I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

Even though she knew it was a bad idea, the girl nodded, “Morning dew, the Dark Forest, and cinnamon candy.”

A grin spread across Tom’s face as he stared the girl down, hands coming to rest on her shoulders, “Do me a favor and read this after class,” the boy slipped a note into her hand before heading back to the class, glancing back to shoot her a grin once. 

Ron~

“C’mon (Y/N). Why won’t you just tell me what it smells like?” Ron begged, following the girl down the hall.

He had been begging for days now and her silence on it only drove her crazy. She knew Hermione liked Ron and she couldn’t do that to her friend. But she also knew how persistent her redheaded friend was and how he wouldn't stop until he got it out of her. (Y/N) stopped just before entering the Great Hall for dinner, turning to look at Ron.

“Fresh cut grass, bonfires, and oak wood.” (Y/N) blurted out, her face going red when she saw his face light up with a bright grin.

Ron pulled his friend into a hug, squeezing her to his chest. She hesitated for a moment before melting into his arms, knowing he was genuine with his reaction. Her eyes fluttered closed for a quick moment, hearing Ron let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you for telling me. Your perfume has been burning in my nose since the other day.” He laughed softly, burying his face in her shoulder.

(Y/N) let out a breathy giggle, her hands gripping onto Ron, enjoying the tight hug, “Your persistence really pays off, now doesn’t it.”

[marquez-junky8920]

Do the riders have to 18 or older for you to wrote for them?

And, can I request a Francesco Bagnaia x reader where the reader and him first meet after the reader has a bad day. Hopefully this isn't too specific. Thank youuu 💖❤💖❤

Bad Day

GIRL, FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED IT. Also, sidenote - writers block sucks a diiiiiick

From the moment you woke up this morning to right now, this day had been a banner day. And not a good one. This had been a banner shit day of all banner shit days. It started when your alarm didn't go off, so you were in a terrible rush to get ready for work. You weren't able to style your hair how you wanted it, you didn't have time to make your coffee, didn't even have time to pack your lunch, and you locked your keys in your car when you got to work. So as if the morning couldn't get any worse, you had to wait outside your office building for a locksmith to come and unlock your car so that you could get your keys to unlock the door to your office.

It didn't stop there. Oh no... At work, you had computer issues almost all day and were barely able to get any work done. Since you were so busy figuring out your computer, you forgot to order lunch and then as you were eating, you spilled some of your food onto your lap. It was just not your day today...

You clocked out and left the office, getting into your car and sighing before leaning your head against the steering wheel.

'Why can't something good happen to me today? Just one thing, that's all I ask...' you said to yourself, starting your car and driving to pick up some dinner and coffee for yourself. At this point, you were shocked that your car even started. Why not add one more thing to the list of bad things happening today?

You drove to the restaurant and decided to have dinner there instead of doing takeout. You wanted to zone out alone at a table and just take in the rest of the day around you. The hostess walked you to your seat and you began to scan the menu. Everything looked delicious since you'd hardly eaten anything today. Putting the menu down, you just put your head in your hands and rubbed your eyes out of exhaustion.

'Excuse me, Ms.? Are you okay?' you heard a male voice say from next to your table. You stopped rubbing your eyes and looked to where the voice came from only to find a very attractive, curly headed man. Brown, curly hair and some facial hair paired with chocolate brown eyes and the cutest smile you'd ever seen. Holy... Mother of god... Evem in the haze of your exhaustion, you realized who this was.

'A-ah yes I-I'm fine. Just tired. I've not had the greatest day today.' you said shyly. He walked over to the chair across from you and pointed.

'Do you have someone else joining you?'

'No! I came here alone.'

'Mind if I sit?' he asked, his brown eyes sparkling down at you.

'Not at all! I'd love the company.'

'I'm Francesco. And you are?' he reached out his hand to yours.

'Y/N. I don't mean to sound creepy, but I know who you are. I'm a huge fan of the sport.' you said, cheeks burning red when he took your hand and kissed your knuckles.

'Ahhh... Maybe that's why you haven't had the best day. There was no race.' he joked, watching a smile and laugh draw out of you.

'I think you may be onto something there. I hate summer break. It seems to feel like an eternity when you guys aren't on the track.' you said, taking a sip of the water the waiter had put on the table.

'Believe me, I know. It's hard to pull away from a passion like that and take a break. But it's nice to have the down time.'

'So what are you doing here? I thought you'd be on vacation in some ridiculously expensive place and having the time of your life.' you chuckled at him.

'I wanted to come somewhere where I'm not recognized. No one knows me here, so it's nice to be able to walk alone in the street and not be noticed or asked for pictures.'

'Well I hate to burst your bubble, but I totally recognized you. I may even ask for an autograph.' you said, giggling when he laughed.

'I'll give you a pass just this once.'

'Even if I ask for a photo too?'

'Even if you ask for a photo. But I will need something in exchange for my services.' he smirked lightly.

'Oh?'

'Give me your number.' he said smoothly.

'Ahh... That was awfully smooth of you Pecco.' you tilted your head and hid your smile by drinking another sip of water.

'Did it work?' he asked with a grin on his face.

'I think it did because I'm about to give you my number.' you laughed, grabbing his phone and putting your number in his contacts.

'Now, do we take the picture and get the autograph now or after we eat dinner together?' he winked.

'Let's do after. I haven't eaten today, so I am starving.' you said while picking up your menu again.

'You are probably the first fan I've met that chooses food over a picture with me.' he joked, liking the change.

'You severely underestimate my love of food then. Food and motogp riders are currently at a tie for first place on my priority list.' you laughed while looking over all of the delicious food options.

'By the end of tonight, I'll make a bet that motogp will be back on top.'

'What makes you so sure?' you quizzed him, squinting your eyes at him across the table.

'Because you're here with me.' he winked, taking a sip from his wine glass that he carried over from the bar earlier.

Turns out, that was all the good luck you needed that day. Months later, he asked you to be his girlfriend and asked you to travel with him. Best turn of luck ever...

END

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes pt40: Growing Pains

TSF pt 39<-

Silent rides were never fun. This time last year, the Valkyrie car was full of laughter and praise at a job well done. Not tonight. Nora drove in silence all the way home, refusing to even turn on the radio. Occasionally she’d stare in the rearview mirror to see Valerie sitting quietly with her head down. What went through her head was beyond Nora. After all, she never believed her own daughter would do something so…underhanded. She still couldn’t believe it.

Ren chose to reassure his wife, rubbing her thigh for comfort the entire ride home. When they finally made it home, Ren was the first to exit the car. When they chose to be together and start a family, Ren and Nora swore their home would be a place of understanding where everyone would be heard and encouraged to speak their feelings honestly. That sentiment will never be abandoned, but the car was not their home.

“I am so disappointed in you.” Nora finally spoke, turning around. “What were you thinking pulling a stunt like that! Valerie, look at me.” She ordered.

Valerie raised her head to see the frustration in her mother’s eyes. It nearly made her cry again. “I…I wasn’t.”

“Do not give me that crap! Not only did you cheat, but you did so knowing it hurts everyone around you in more ways than one! You’re telling me you didn’t think about that!?” Valerie had nothing to say to that, which only made things worse. “You’re grounded indefinitely. Don’t ask to go anywhere fun, or to leave the house without expressed permission. Just school and home, without sports.”

That last part stopped Valerie’s heart. “What?” Nora had already left the car and headed inside. Valerie stumbled out her door and ran inside. “You’re taking me off sports!? I’m key in many positions; I’m captain in some!”

“So what? Cheaters shouldn’t play.”

“Y…You can’t do that!!!” Valerie yelled. Her mother stopped, turning around slowly.

“Excuse me?”

“I have given 110% for years to get where I’m at. Day in and day out, I made any sport I was good at into my life. You’re not just punishing me, but my teammates!”

“We’re your teammates Valerie!!! This family is first and foremost but you’re not playing by the rules. You won’t even actually talk to me!”

“She talked to me.” Ren said, walking in from the kitchen with a water bottle he tossed to Valerie. “As a matter of fact, I warned you not to do something you’d regret. So, did you?”

“Dad, I know you’ve been sensing my emotions so-”

“Did you, or not?” He said firmly. “I won’t ask twice.”

Veronica looked at the bottle. Her puffy eyes stared back at her as her mind looped the last couple hours again and again, burning into her the memory of not just Summer’s anger, but Nick’s look of utter disbelief. Nora was about to say her name again,when the water bottle bursted in her hand as she gripped it tightly.

“Of course I regret it…” she murmured, feeling the water flow down her hands faster than the tears on her face. She looked up at Nora, practically begging. “I know you hate me right now, but please don’t make me quit sports. It’s all I’ve ever been good at. That’s…that’s why I..” Valerie crouched down, holding her head and letting out a stress induced sigh.

“What the hell is wrong with me? I just couldn’t bear the thought that losing to him…means I’m worthless. That nobody is gonna call me when they need help; that he will never need my help. It’s not an excuse. I know that, but…I..I was scared of everything changing, but now they have and it’s my fault!” Her breath hitched violently. “I’m so sorry.”

Nora walked to her crying child and crouched low to meet her. “Let’s get one thing clear. I could never hate you, okay?” She started crying too. “Don’t ever think otherwise. I just…this situation is…” it was Nora’s turn to groan. It would be easier if Valerie didn’t feel terrible.

Ren could tell Nora needed help and sat down on the floor next to them. “Valerie, you messed up, clear as day. No matter what, you have to take responsibility for that.”

“I know…”

He put his hand under her chin and raised her head. “This won’t be easy and people have a right to be upset with you. However, don’t go thinking this bad thing you did makes you a bad person. As far as adults go, you know they still care about you and frankly, have done way worse at your age; me included. As for your friends though, Nick, he’s the one you need to be apologizing to the most. Not us, and you’re going to have to deal with that even if you say sorry, they may not forgive.”

Her face got cold. That was the reality, wasn’t it? Valerie may have just burned two bridges to people near and dear to her. “I…I understand.” She said with a heavy heart. It didn’t matter how kind Nick was in the past. Things were never this bad.

Ren got her to stand again. He wiped her tears for what felt like the hundredth. “Tomorrow is a new day, so we’ll pick this backup then. For now, hit the showers and get some rest.”

“Yes sir.” Ren leaned down and kissed her forehead. She couldn’t tell if that helped or not, but she was glad he did it. Valerie watched her mother stand up. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Nora pulled her unruly child into her arms. “I love you.”

“….I love you too.” Valerie hugged her tightly. She almost didn’t want to let go but eventually did, heading upstairs.

Nora immediately went to Ren, who knew to hug her. “I’m so glad you weren’t on a mission or anything crazy when this happened. I don’t think I handled that well.”

“I think you did. Both of you are a bit…abrasive. I can’t imagine a situation where you two weren’t going to cry.” He rubbed her head, playing with her hair. “Don’t make her quit sports. Val isn’t gonna do herself much good being in her room for endless hours with nothing but frustration and her thoughts.”

“I said it in the moment. I’ll tell her later.” Nora leaned more into Ren’s chest. “I hope this isn’t the end for them. No one ever really forgets their first crush. Let it at least end peacefully.”

“We might be beyond that.”

“Who knows?” Nora looked up at him. “Maybe not now. Perhaps after a bit more growing, but when two people want things to work, they’ll make it work. We’re proof of that.”

Ren smiled. “Yeah. Guess we are.” He kissed her gently. “Let’s hope time is kind then.

xxxxx

With the moon finally high in the sky and the crowds of watchers becoming tourists, Summer’s duties to the people were over, along with her family. Veronica, who was the least tired, went straight through the door and opened it for everyone else.

“We’re back! Surprisingly.” Veronica echoed. Blake came walking out of the living room with messy hair and rubbing her eyes. Veronica squinted, “At least one of us got sleep.”

“Two.” Blake pointed upstairs. “I had to convince him to shower before he locked himself up in his room. Sometimes he’s awake, other times…” “Cries himself back to sleep.” Weiss frowned. She took off her heels and rolled her shoulders, heading towards the kitchen.

“You don’t want to say anything to him?”

“The best thing I can do for him right now is make dinner. No one is a fan of airing out all their feelings multiple times, and it isn’t like any of us can’t imagine how this is for him.”

She had a point. Making this home feel warm and comforting is the way to go. Jaune followed her. “I’ll help out. We’ll have the entire house smell like his favorites if we have to.”

Yang smiled, looking at Winter. “Wanna join them?” The older woman said nothing, staring at her scroll. “Winter?”

“Your uncle hasn’t called all day. Neither has Sparrow.” She put her scroll away. “Penny?”

“Not a word from Oscar.” She said, “I expected at least one by now too.”

Winter didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something was amiss. “I hate to leave given the situation, but I think I’ll head to headquarters and see if I can pinpoint Sparrow’s ship.”

“Need my help?”

“No, I think you’re better off here Penny. I wouldn’t be surprised if anyone here let the stress make them sick. Make sure nobody goes overboard. Especially Weiss and Nicholas. Those two would work to death if they could.”

“I do believe that’s hereditary.” Penny winked at Winter, earning a smirk before she left.

With her gone, all that were left was Yang, Blake, and the kids. Ruby and Whitley stayed with Ruth and the other kids all the way to the orphanage until eventually going home. Penny was sure that had to be taxing for them in their own right. She looked at Veronica, well, scanned her to be more precise. Nothing more than fatigue was affecting the young faunus. As for Summer, she seemed normal, as far as normal goes for her unique situation.

“Alrighty then!” Penny clapped, gaining everyone’s attention. “I think our two youngest and brightest deserve a nice long bath before dinner.”

A hot shower sounded heavenly to Summer. “Nothing would make me happier.

Part of Veronica didn’t want to take off the cheerleader uniform but alas, all dreams end eventually. “Sure. I guess you should go first.”

“That your way of saying I smell?”

“I was being considerate.” Veronica deadpanned. “And you do smell. You’ve done nothing but fight and perform all day. Anyone would smell!”

“Now I know you’re tired and if you can’t hear sarcasm. Also, did you forget where we are? There’s showers and baths galore. As a matter of fact, use mine. It’s the hottest.”

“Is that even a good idea for you?”

“Relax. I know my body. Plus it’s not like everyone else in this house takes cold showers. Just let me get my towel out first.” Summer went upstairs.

Veronica walked over the stairs and sat on the bottom steps. “Who wants to bet she’ll use Nick’s, considering it’s right by his room?”

Blake nodded. “Pretty safe bet. She could’ve just said she’s worried.”

“Siblings don’t simply show concern.” Yang said with a chuckle. “Especially the younger one. Ruby is the same way. What about you though, Vee? Still not going to say anything?”

Blake watched Veronica’s face scrunch up before letting out a quiet, drawn out sigh. “Did I miss something? You don’t want to talk to Nick?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just…it would be…wrong. Everyone knows my feelings about him, including Nick himself. Anything I say might feel disingenuous or like I’m trying to get ahead.”

“Well that’s ridiculous.” Penny called out, surprising everyone. “What? Nicholas is sad right now, not oblivious or any less smart. He wouldn’t assume you’re trying to take advantage of his misfortune. Nicholas knows you better than that.”

“I’m sure he thought he knew Valerie well too.”

“Veronica!” Blake crossed her arms.

“What? Am I wrong!? Even me, someone who can’t stand her, didn’t think she’d pull a stunt like this. I wouldn’t blame Nick if he started giving a little less trust.”

“Be that as it may, do not start going around saying whatever you want about Valerie. Despite how you feel, remember that’s Nora’s daughter. You get in trouble at school but Yang and I don’t let people say whatever-” she stopped herself, seeing Veronica’s ears fall down and eyes narrow.

“So now it’s my fault I get in trouble at school is it? Like I’m trying to get you called nonstop?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.” Blake said softly. Veronica rolled her eyes, getting up and going upstairs. “Veronica!”

“I’m going to take a shower.”

Blake bit her lip, “Shit. I wasn’t trying to-”

Yang rubbed Blake’s back. “She knows. Everyone is tired and needs a minute.”

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have brought school up at all.”

Penny was a bit confused. “Wait…” she looked at her friends, tilting her head. “Veronica has problems at school? I heard she gets into a few fights but is that really that bad?”

Blake held her tongue a little. There wasn’t a place where Veronica wouldn’t be in earshot. “It’s…not great. Never has been, and to be honest, I can’t even be sure of everything that goes on or her complete thoughts on the matter. Just that she hates school as much as Summer.”

“Huh…” Penny looked up the stairs where the girl had run off to. She couldn’t help but frown. “That’s a shame.”

xxxxx

Upstairs, Summer carries her night clothes to the shower past Nick’s room. Her legs gradually take shorter strides as she gets further into the hall; until they completely stop in front of his door. Summer puts her ear up against it. Doesn’t sound like he’s crying. Maybe he’s gone back to sleep? Her hand gently twists the knob, pushing the door open enough to peek in. Nick laid on his bed with his back towards the door.

Summer took a slow, even breath. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and come in here, so please don’t try and shut me out.” She spoke softly, closing the door silently.

Nick rolled over to look at the door. Leave it to Summer to know what actual sleep looks like. He sat up in his bed and waited. Nick honestly didn’t want to talk to anyone but it felt wrong turning her away; especially after Blake told him that Summer had supposedly gone off on Valerie. He still couldn’t believe it. About eight minutes went by before his door opened again. Summer walked in with fuzzy yellow pj pants and one of dad’s old black hoodies. The girl sat on the floor near the bed, leaning her head against the mattress.

“Hey…”

“Summer, can we please make this quick? I don’t feel like talking.”

“That’s okay. If you only want to listen, then listen.” She uttered meekly. “Today…it didn’t go the way either of us wanted, and though there’s parts of it that were beyond our control, it wouldn’t have been as daunting if I…if I didn’t lie.” There. She admitted it.

Nick’s eyes widened slowly. He looked from over his bed to see Summer, but she put her hood up.

“I lied to you. Then had the gall to yell at you about it when you called me out. I’m sorry for what I said, honestly.” Her voice trembled.

“Why couldn’t you have been honest from the start?”

“I don’t know…” Summer wiped her eyes. “I was scared? Upset that it came to it. You got out because of my mistake. I just wanted to do right by you, everyone! It was all I could think of and when I felt good about it…you just looked so fearful, disappointed. I got mad…then you had to lie to everyone for me. M..Maybe if you had gone into King of the Hill without dealing with all my crap then you wouldn’t be so hurt. And…and….”

Nick hopped off his bed and sat by Summer, removing her hood to see her red face and running tears.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered, “I ruined all your hard work.”

Nick pulled her into a gentle hug, rubbing her head. “You didn’t ruin anything, Summer. You saved this entire tournament; rolled with the unexpected like the extra performances and me putting you on the spot. Yeah, I hated that you lied, but it’s because I am scared. I’m scared for you. Losing you…it terrifies me.” His throat started to dry. “And don’t blame yourself for what happened in singles. No one expected that.”

Summer pulled away, seeing Nick start to cry again.

He tried keeping it in but couldn’t. “I really wasn’t expecting that. I…it’s…too much. I mean if you both go to such extremes, then it has to be me, right? I’m the problem? Did I push you all away?”

“Nick-”

“It’s just I can’t think of anything else! I thought we were fine, or getting better! I never know what I’m doing! I gave space and it was wrong. I push only to get pushed back. I tried focusing on myself and she…Val…” he could feel his chest tighten. “What was I supposed to do!?”

“Stop it!” Summer yelled, grabbing his shoulders. “Stop making it sound like you’re to blame; like she calls all the shots! Valerie took your feelings and used them! That is not your fault and I refuse to hear otherwise! If she says otherwise then send her my way!”

Nick watched his sister get angrier on his behalf, her grip on him harder than he thought she was capable of.

“You’re always there. Always watching. I know what I said earlier…but that’s not always a bad thing! We’re lucky to know you.” Why was it so difficult? When did being open become so hard? Nick was everything to Summer. She didn’t believe she could move without him; and that’s what precisely made her so angry within. “I need you. We’re a team. I’m scared too. Scared of dragging everyone down with me. I can’t speak for Valerie and I don’t want to either. I just want you to know you don’t have to put up with us like this. Don’t force yourself to keep trying. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

To be forgotten and left behind, it wasn’t a dream of hers. However, Summer could see the beauty in it. The peace of mind it could bring. Nick brought his hands up to her arms to remove her grasp, yet he still held on to them.

“I’m not forcing myself. Not when it’s you. And as for hurting me…you could start by not squeezing so tightly.” He smiled softly.

Summer’s lip quivered, wavering between smiling or bursting into tears. In the end, tears won like they always did. “We’re okay?”

“Yeah, we’re okay.” He hugged her again. “How’d I become the one cheering you up?”

“I’m sorry.” She groaned.

“Relax, I’m teasing.” He let her go. Nick took her Hood and put it back over her head, tugging it forward to wipe his own face.

“Hey!”

“What’s a few more tear stains?” Nick freed her for real this time. “I hate today.”

Summer nodded. He had every reason to. “This isn’t new advice but stop trying to play the nice guy. Seriously, I can handle you being upset with me. It can be like the old days when…” Summer faulterd for a moment. “When we didn’t like each other.” She held her head. “I’m shocked I remember that. It was before the lake.”

“A lot has changed since we were five. I don’t think going back that far is really an option, but I promise to hold back less. Not like I’m doing it on purpose. Most times I don’t see the point in yelling at you to solve a problem. Then again, you’ve gotten a bit more productive since Veronica showed up.”

“I hate everything about the sentence.” Summer said bluntly. There was a tiny bit of truth in that but in no way did she ever want that kind of attitude thrown at her. “I might actually think you hate me if you were that cold.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“She literally told me she hated me.” Granted the girl pedal back a bit, but Summer clearly knew she stood in a deep gray area with Veronica and the same was true in reverse.

“Riiiight. Forgot about that.” Nick got up to fall back on his bed. “I’d like to go an hour without crying.”

“They’re making your favorite food downstairs.”

“Not hungry really. I also know seeing mom and dad right now will break me down more. I think I’ll just lay here awhile.”

Summer stood up. “Well I’m starving. Odds are you are too and don’t feel it, so I’ll make a plate for you to swipe later.” She started to walk away but then looked back. “Nick?”

“Hmmm?”

“I know you said it isn’t work when it’s me, but is it for Valerie?” He didn’t say anything, worrying her. “I can’t tell you how to feel, but I’m not getting over this easily. Still, I won’t do anything that contradicts how you want things to go.”

Nick rolled over to his nightstand and grabbed his wallet. 50 lien was taken out and pointed to Summer for the usual bribe of silence. “Rain check.”

It hurt but she understood. “Keep it this time. In exchange, I’d like to ask if it’s okay I tell Eliza what went down? She was pretty worried about you leaving so suddenly and has been asking. I’m not a very good liar, as you know.”

Nick had forgotten Eliza’s involvement. It was the furthest thing from his mind. “Okay, might as well. I owe after all.” He said, acknowledging the fact she chose to remain in third. “You can tell her tomorrow at the meeting. I’m not going to school tomorrow.”

Again, not surprising. Yet hearing it was still odd. “I’ll take notes for you.” Summer left quietly. She returned to the entrance, crossing paths with Veronica at the stairs. Much like Yang, Veronica’s sleeping clothes were a tank top and shorts that were knee length. Summer had a sneaking suspicion this was modest for the sake of being at another person’s house.

“Where’s the outfit?” Veronica asked, noticing its absence.

“Oh. Uhhhmmmm-”

“You left it in the bathroom, didn’t you?”

One fumble after the other! “It’s on a hanger at least, and definitely not wet! Hehe…” Veronica didn’t seem to find that funny. “Cut me some slack okay!?”

“Okay.” Veronica walked down the stairs.

“Wait, that’s it?”

“That’s it.” She looked up, “I mean you forgot about it because you were busy trying to talk to Nick, right? Can’t be mad at that.” She kept walking.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“Why does everyone- no! It’s the easiest guess in the world! All these bathrooms and you go to his! Now start moving. I can smell dinner's nearly ready.”

It was weird seeing Veronica show more restraint than usual. Despite her personality, Summer knew Veronica wasn’t a person to senselessly add fuel to a fire. All she wanted out of this were people seeing her clothes. Today’s layered drama probably had her regretting her choice in models. Then again…

“Aren’t you going to talk to Nick?” The speed in which Veronica’s head whipped back around made Summer nearly jump. “What? It’s the easiest guess in the world that you want to. It’s you.”

Her cheeks turned red. “Don’t get cute with me.” Veronica huffed, continuing her walk. “No need for me to say anything. He’s got you to worry about him.”

Add that to the weird compliments jar. Summer jumped from the railing down to the first floor. “Not sure how to take that, but if you want to see him then by all means, go then. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.” Gods know that nobody else sees Vee’s gentle side like Nick does.

Veronica kept on walking past Summer and into the dining room . “Like I said, don’t need to.”

Stubborn as usual. Summer wasn’t sure why she tried talking to Veronica to begin with. No matter. Summer went through the door and was welcomed with the scent of fresh beef stew. Her stomach growled like a grimm, making her rush over to the table where everyone else sat. “No way you didn’t have this prepped before we left. It takes forever to cook.”

Weiss smiled, “This might’ve been planned. In victory or defeat, stew makes things better. How’s Nick?”

“How’d you know I talked to him?”

Weiss gestured to Summer’s face. “Puffy eyes, red face, the fact that you love your brother dearly and we’re scarier than me.”

“I don’t know why you keep asking the obvious.” Veronica said, trying not to inhale her food. If she were in private then she’d already be on the second bowl. Blake tapped her shoulder then stuffed a roll in her mouth the moment she turned around.

“Fill up a little on bread.” She didn’t want Veronica to eat more without others getting the chance to. “You can also have half my stew.”

Yang also took her own bowl and gave Veronica half. “There ya go!”

Veronica blushed, embarrassed by her appetite. “Thank you…”

Penny looked at the exchange, intrigued. “Yang, Blake, while I’m flattered, I think you might’ve miscounted how many mouths at this table are actually going to eat the stew.” Penny spun her empty bowl on her finger. “Both of you split my portion.”

How could they possibly forget about that!? Both girls laughed, “haha, whoops! Thank you Penny.”

“I liked the inclusion, but I’m only at the table to enjoy the company. Anyways, Summer, is Nick coming? He really should eat.”

“I know, but he said he wasn’t hungry. Can’t say I’m much of an eater when I’m feeling down. I’ll make him a bowl to grab later.”

Jaune went through his bowl slowly. “Nick was something else today. We’ve all been so fixated on the low notes that we haven’t discussed that.”

Now that he said it, Jaune was right. Weiss nearly forgot the spectacle except for its end. “He’s gotten stronger.” She smiled warmly, “Truly strong. Now that he’s grasping the basics of traditional glyph use, there’s no telling how far he’ll go.”

Yang nodded. “I don’t think I’ve seen so many people get excited about a fireball. Is it that big of a deal?”

Summer explained, “For him it is. He’s always been putting off how mom and I use glyphs. Then there’s time dilation, which was even more impressive.”

“I guess, but the real show stopper was the armor trick he did! I saw the video that Veronica watched but man it was different seeing it in person!”

Summer thought back to it, seeing the armor glow around her brother as he stood tall with his sword. It should’ve been inspiring, yet she couldn’t help but frown. “Yeah, he’s getting stronger every day.”

Jaune noticed the lack of enthusiasm, or rather the frustration Summer must’ve felt. “You are too.” He reassured her. “Just because you didn’t learn a new ability doesn’t mean you’re the same person you’ve been. Take it from me, progress is steady, even if it doesn’t always look like it.”

“Thanks dad.” Summer smiled. He always knew what to say. Though now that she was brought up, the obvious next topic of course had to be…

“So Shiva…” Penny said on que. “I haven’t had the chance yet to go over your recordings, but can you explain your experience? Specifically today’s.

The table noticeably got a little more tense. Figures. Summer thought back to her match. The sensation, it’s confusing duality and clearity.

“It felt…a bit like an out of body experience and yet it wasn’t. Normally I feel lost inside my own head, forced to watch with my own eyes what’s happening without control. This however, felt like I still was involved. As if I controlled the gas and brakes but didn’t do all the steering.” Summer could tell that gave everyone concern. “But I definitely was able to stop anything crazy from happening.”

“I noticed that. A few times it looked like there was resistance.”

“That was me making sure Shiva didn’t go overboard. I have to admit it was surreal. I didn’t move like myself, but I can’t say I’ve seen Shiva move with that much poise either. It’s as if we fell in the middle.”

“All this because of constant mental training, engaging her in combat for control in varying temperatures. Maybe it’s a clue?”

“I’m not sure, but I do know that things wouldn’t have gone as smoothly without my dust clothes and the flames Max created.” She looked at her parents, more so at Weiss. “I took a risk without warning. I’m sorry.” As much as she wanted to confess to also stealing Diamond Dust, Summer couldn’t bring herself too. It was gone now anyways.

Weiss still wasn’t sure where to stand on all of it. “Let it be known that I’m not thrilled at what’s been going on, but I do understand. I’m just glad you’re okay. There’s so much we still can’t solve. It’s hard to know what’s a real risk and what isn’t. From now on, tell us when you’re doing it. One things for sure is-”

“A mistake could cost everything. Believe me mom, I know.” Summer spoke softly, fearful of losing one day. She will get stronger. She has to for everyone’s sake. “One more thing bothered me. It was the look on Shiva’s face whenever we did certain things. She looked as confused as I was. I don’t think it’s a lie when she says she doesn’t have all the pieces either.”

Veronica finished her secret third bowl. “Well that’s annoying. If nobody knows everything and what you do know isn’t proven, then how can anything be reliable?”

“That’s literal scientific discovery.” Penny giggled, “We simply keep learning more.”

“Sounds miserable. I’ll stick to creating things limited to imagination and not specifically a breakthrough in science. I still haven’t gotten good inspiration for my fire and ice theme.”

Summer spoke, “Oh yeah. Tournament is over so you’ll be going soon. I bet you’re happy to go back to warm sandy beaches, vibrant areas and not a single sign telling you to stay out.”

“You could say that.” Veronica grabbed her glass and took a drink, saying nothing more about it.

xxxxx

Deeper into the night, people eventually started to go to sleep. Summer had immediately gone to bed after dinner, while Yang and Blake were kind enough to clean dishes so Jaune and Weiss could take it easy. They also found themselves wanting sleep, leaving Penny awake. Not that she needed much rest in the first place.

The scientist made sure to keep an eye on the manor and thought it wise to take Nick’s prepared bowl out of the fridge to heat up. She figured she should at least try to get him to eat. Penny grabbed the bowl and headed out the kitchen where she unexpectedly stumbled upon Veronica. The girl obviously wasn’t expecting to be seen, flinching violently before trying to act cool by folding her arms.

“H-Hey! You’re still up.” Veronica stuttered.

“I think that should be my line.” Penny smiled at Veronica. “What brings you down from your room? Hungry again?”

“N-No. I just thought…maybe…” her ears fell and face tinted pinkish.

Penny noticed the subtle glances at the bowl. “Oh! Hehe.” She extended it to her. “I would like to go over a little more of Summer’s training videos. Could you maybe give this to Nick for me, see if he’s okay?”

“I…” there really was use denying it. Penny was kind enough to act like she didn’t know Veronica’s ploy, handing her the very thing she was aiming for. “Okay.” She took the bowl and headed upstairs.

“Thank you!”

The girl grumbled, embarrassed. She was off her game if Penny caught her off guard. Veronica made it to Nick’s room with the steaming bowl. She was so nervous she was surprised the food was still intact. Veronica knocked on the door gently.

“Ummm Nicholas? I have your dinner, if you want it that is.” No response. He could’ve been asleep, but Veronica’s ears didn’t hear the breathing of a sleeper. No, he was definitely trying not to make a sound on purpose. “Nick, it’s stew beef. There’s a roll and some rice in here too. Honestly it’s not the most balanced but…”

“Hardy is never balanced.” He countered.

“Ah, so you are awake. Can…May I come in, please? I’ll be in and out in an instant.”

“…Sure.”

Veronica walked straight through the door into the dark room. “Umm, light please?” She cursed having normal eyes. This would be no problem for Blake.

“Sorry.” Nick said, forgetting the girl’s limitations. He turned on his nightstand lamp. “Better?”

Not the word she would’ve used, seeing his tear stained face and red eyes. Earlier it would’ve made her angry, but now it was only depressing. Veronica snapped out of her trance and walked across the floor of scattered clothes until the nightstand was within reach, and Nick for that matter. She went to set the bowl down but he surprisingly reached out to take it off her hands.

“Thanks, Vee.”

“No worries. Do you…need a drink? I can get one.”

“It’s alright. I probably won’t even finish this.” He bit into the fluffy bread.

His voice sounded so unmotivated. Veronica stood before him awkwardly. It has been more than an instant, yet he didn’t seem too bothered by her presence. Well, she’s come this far. Saying nothing would be a shame.

Her right hand played with her left while she tried gathering her thoughts. “Umm Nicholas?” She held her head up, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m here for you. I’ll listen if you ever want to talk about your feelings, because you’d do the same for me. I know you would.”

Nick looked at the girl who couldn’t seem to meet his gaze head on, shifting her eyes. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

An unexpected question, but Veronica could see why he’d ask. “No. Mom still has business with your uncle, but I’m sure my time being a student here is over with. Now there's no reason to go.”

“Fine by me. I’m not going tomorrow, so… wanna keep me company?”

“Oh! Ummm, I don’t see why not. Sure, we could…hangout.” Why was it so hard to act normal!? It’s normal for a person to want the company of a friend.

“Your face is red.”

“It was bound to happen. Sorry. I don’t mean to be weird about this; especially this. I-”

“It’s okay.” He said calmly, giving her a soft smile. “Believe me, I get it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Veronica nodded, still playing with her hands as she turned around to leave. Above all, being friends takes priority. The other feelings in her stomach would have to stay there for a while. It’s the right thing to do.

“Hey.” Nick said before she left. “Thank you for seeing me tonight. I mean that.”

Veronica didn’t turn around. She barely trusted her lips to avoid ruining the moment. “You're welcome.” The safest thing she could say before finally leaving him be.

Nick continued eating slowly, letting the stew warm him and grant a momentary peace.

xxxxx

At last, a day of many battles, of many conflicts, was over. Except for one. While young fighters found rest, another found nightmares. Ones that brought cold sweat running down their body until

“Weakling…”

Their body shot up from bed, numbing pain spreading from their left shoulder and aches for their palms. A small headache began pulsing while eyes hurt and mind clouded.

“I’m…not weak!” They grunted a little dazed.

“Prove… it…”

A gut feeling made them look out the window of their room, eyes staring off below in the direction of the forest. They didn’t know why, but something unknown to them, like an instinct, was calling for them.

“That brat. I’m gonna make her pay!”

“Only the weak chatter. Move. Move, Darren.”

The boy laughed to himself, gripping the sheets and staring angrily at a silver medal as it laughed back.

[h2bakugou]

Ahh hey!! Okay so um..can you do Bakugo helping reader who has severe family issues and she’s trying to put on a brave face but when he asks her if she’s okay she just breaks down in tears. (Omg I’m sorry if this sounds so personal 😭💜but thank you for your time!!💗)

a/n: hey hun! of course! i think i wrote something similar to this with todoroki? i can’t remember but that’s beside the point lol. much love to you anon <3 !! i’m sending hugs n kisses <33

headcanon: them comforting their s/o who breaks down in front of them

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, mentions of family issues, mentions of trauma

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Shutting things out and putting on a brave face was just how you learned to deal with your past, with your family.

It was easier to act fine when you weren’t. 

Letting yourself be vulnerable, how could Bakugou ever like someone like that?

He never seemed to suspect anything, at least that’s what you thought, what you believed.

You didn’t want to put your burdens on him, he had his own things to worry about. 

Bakugou noticed the little things. 

How you would instinctively flinch when someone raised their voice at you, or how you always acted obediently when elders were talking. There was no hesitation or disagreement, even when it seemed unfair.

Even more so, when your parents showed up for some parent-teacher meeting, you looked like a deer in headlights, frozen in time.

You barely spoke, you acted like the perfect daughter, and every stare in your direction caused your posture to stiffen, a smile to rise to your quivering lips, your trembling hands were forced to stay still as you handed them whatever it is they asked for.

Bakugou couldn’t keep ignoring these signs. It wasn’t like he was blatantly just unbothered, no it bothered him a lot. He bit his tongue when he watched your father’s scolding gaze burn holes into your hopes in dreams when he called your hero career ‘unnecessary and pathetic.’

He couldn’t fight it any longer when you sat quietly in his dorm, having just talked to your folks on the phone.

You were mostly quiet the entire conversation, he could hear your parents yelling at you through the speaker despite it being pressed to your ear.

“Are you okay?” Bakugou asked, completely out of the blue. You glanced over your shoulder at him and closed your eyes.

A shaky breath passed your lips and you turned to crawl over to him.

“No, no.” You cried, hugging him like a stuffed animal. You held him as close to you as you could, your hands grabbing handfuls of his crimson-colored shirt.

Bakugou was quick to grab you, holding you to his chest as you sobbed, your tears staining dark spots onto his shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Bakugou’s voice was soft, an opposing feature to his usual demeanor.

“I’m so tired.” You mumbled, wishing you could just ignore what was going on. 

It was a constant battle between you and your parents. You just wanted them to be proud of you, you wanted to see them smiling at your graduation, cheering you on as you landed your first gig at an agency, hell maybe be those over-bearing parents that blab about how their child is amazing at book-clubs and sports bars.

But you’d never experience that.

“I just want them to be proud of me.” You could barely speak, you were shaking and it was hard to breathe, tears were spilling from your eyes like a broken faucet, and your nose was beginning to run.

“I know.” Bakugou’s quiet voice paired with his gentle hands began to calm you down as you wept.

“It will never be the same, but I’m proud of you.” Bakugou couldn’t give you parental love, all he could provide was his own form of love. But he knew someone who could.

It wouldn’t be the same as your own parents, but he knew more than anything that you were loved so dearly by his own folks.

So later that day, after wiping your tears away, he made a quick call and the two of you rode over to his house.

“It’s so good to see you again! I hope he’s not being too much trouble.” Mitsuki gave you a warm hug, one you wanted to last forever. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying again as you hugged her.

“Let’s-oh, hey are you alright?” Mitsuki’s red eyes filled with worry as she hugged you close to her. Bakugou turned at the sound of sniffling.

“Y-yeah. I’m all good. Just happy to see you.” You pulled away, quickly apologizing for staining her peach-colored shirt.

“Let’s look at embarrassing pictures of Katsuki!” She grinned, knowing just how to cheer you up. Bakugou erupted with anger as he quickly tried to salvage the photo album but it was too late.

Bakugou let it slide though. Watching your face light up, hearing your laugh as you looked through pictures of him as a kid doing silly things, he was happy to see you smiling again.

“You’ll have to bring over a photo album so he doesn’t feel so left out.” Mitsuki laughed. Your smile began to sink.

“I uh...” You stared at your lap. Bakugou looked up from preparing lunch to look at you.

“I don’t have any pictures from my childhood. At least, none in an album.” You admitted, embarrassed. Mitsuki’s heart dropped. Sighing she quickly stood and scrambled through a felt storage cube on a shelf.

Humming satisfied, she yanked Bakugou away and practically tossed him over the couch onto you.

You stared at him for a few seconds before hearing a click.

Snapping up to the sound, Mitsuki stood with a camera in her hands, smiling.

“Starting today, we are making a photo album! Katsuki! Smile!” Mitsuki yelled at her son, forcing the blonde boy in your lap to smile. You began to smile again as you wrapped your arms around him, tickling his sides as Bakugou hunched forward, a genuine smile on his lips.

The sound of another click set off.

It was the beginning of a plethora of photos. You began filling up an album with the Bakugou’s, ones on holidays, even on class trips.

Your favorite was one Mitsuki took of you and Bakugou asleep on one another from a long holiday road-trip.

With your head on Bakugou’s shoulder, his head resting over yours, Mitsuki had turned back and snapped a photo while Masaru drove.

Time began to heal old wounds, though there would still be scars. But even with scars, you could look back at memories from the healing process, and find good that had blossomed from the bad.

You loved Bakugou more than words could describe, and for this, and so much more, you were smitten.

As was he for you.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[emeraldiis]

34 and 50 for smut dbf!bucky plz? 💞

34. “i’ve been waiting all day to do this.”

50. “i thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. i was wrong, it's your moans.”

A/N: hoo boy. i've never really explored huge age gaps in fanfic but this is pretty spicy

Pairing: dad's best friend!Bucky x Reader

Word Count:

Rating: Explicit (18+)

He was leering at you; had been all day. You suppose that it was only fair, given that you had picked out your tiniest bikini to swim in his backyard pool. You relax onto the stairs of the pool, tipping your sunglasses down just a bit to wink at your dad’s friend.

He was hosting a barbecue at his huge house. The property teemed with middle aged men, one of them being your dad, who had seemed surprised when you begged to go. You played it off as just wanting to swim and eat some good food, but in actuality, you wanted to get laid. By a man nearly thirty years your senior. 

Ever since your twenty first birthday, when you and Mr. Barnes had shared one tiny kiss--something that he profusely apologized for--you had been crushing hard on the man. Christ, it was hardly appropriate. He used to babysit you for fuck’s sake, and now you were licking your lips at him, clad in a dark red string bikini. 

Your dad had meandered off somewhere, probably gathered in the garage with his other friends to watch some sports game you had no interest in. Triumph surged in your chest when Mr. Barnes had opted to lounge in one of the pool chairs, subtly watching the water drip between your breasts. Pervert, you thought to yourself. But you couldn’t deny that you loved the attention.

Feeling bold, you raised up a hand and waved the older man over. “The water feels great! I’m sick of swimming by myself, get over here!”

You could see the warring sides of Mr. Barnes’ mind. Thankfully, after some deliberation, he stood and made his way over to the pool. When he stepped into the water, you pushed off from the steps and twirled gracefully in the water. Your hand shot up and splashed him while you giggled mischievously. 

Mr. Barnes rolled his eyes at you. “What are you, ten?” He asked, making his way pff the steps into deeper water.

“I’d rather be ten, then like, a hundred,” you shot back easily. He didn’t act his age, always played along with your antics. Maybe that was why it was harder to see him as a grown ass man.

His eyes narrowed, and you gulped in fear. “You little shit,” the man said, launching himself toward you. You shrieked in mock fear and swam for your life. Mr. Barnes grabbed your ankle, forcing you to flip over to avoid sucking in a mouthful of water. You batted at his hand, laughing hysterically and splashing as much water as you could into his hair.

The two of you wrestled like school children for a moment, not caring that a few of the other adults side-eyed the situation like it was a disaster waiting to happen. You paid them no mind, relishing the fact that you had gotten the attention of your crush. “I’d drown you if your laugh wasn’t so cute,” Mr. Barnes said, flipping his wet hair away from his face and releasing you.

You giggled and ducked your face down, embarrassed. “Yeah, well, uh,” you paused. “Your face is cute!” Not waiting to see his reaction, you dove into the water. 

When you rose, Mr. Barnes was looking at you with an odd expression. “Do ya really mean that?” He asked, testing the waters.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you took the plunge. “Yeah, Mr. Barnes. I’ve had a crush on you since, like, high school.”

His expression softened. “You know I hate when you call me that, makes me sound old.”

“But it feels weird to call you Bucky,” you whined petulantly. 

Mr. Ba-Bucky raised his eyebrows at you. “What’s the matter, do you like knowing that I’m over double your age?”

You bit your lip again. “Kinda,” you whispered. The rest of the adults had vacated the backyard, leaving just the two of you. You watched as Bucky’s pupils dilated, and he inched closer to you. Then he stopped, seeming to break out of his reverie and shaking his head. 

“This is wrong, we shouldn’t-”

With a growl of frustration, you marched over to him--as fast as the deep water allowed--and grabbed his face. “Just kiss me, idiot. Fuck morals, fuck me.”

 The next few minutes were a blur. Bucky surged forward to kiss you, strong arms hooking under your legs and lifting you like you weighed nothing. Even more impressive was, he carried you while walking out of the water. You wrapped your legs around his waist and moaned into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair. 

Bucky carried you inside, then down a hall, before finally reaching his bedroom. He set you down to close and lock the door, then slapped your ass, the wet material of your bathing suit sending sprays of water into the air. “On your hands and knees,” he commanded, motioning towards the bed.

“Yes, sir,” you breathed out, rushing to do as you were told. You situated yourself on the bed, face turning crimson as Bucky yanked your bikini bottoms down to reveal your dripping pussy.

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” Bucky snarled, then buried his face in between your legs. You yelped and pitched forward, burying your face into the pillows to muffle your sounds.  Bucky reached a long arm up to snatch your hair and yank your head back. “No,” he growled into your cunt. “I wanna hear you.”

You were helpless to obey. You moaned his name again and again as his tongue drove into your sex. Your walls fluttered around him, and your legs burned with the effort of not snapping them shut. “M-Mr. Barnes, Bucky, please,” you sobbed, not even knowing what you were begging for.

Bucky sat back and replaced his tongue with his thick fingers, expertly curling them just right to make your back arch and your mouth hang open. “Y’know,”  he started, voice a lazy drawl. “I thought you laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong, it’s your moans.”

It was too much. His filthy mouth and those skilled fingers pistoning in and out of you sent you flying over the edge, a slave to your own endorphins. Your legs finally gave out, and you would’ve collapsed onto the bed if not for Bucky snaking an arm under your hips to keep you up. 

You heard his bathing suit hit the floor, and felt something hard and pulsating caress your outer lips. “My turn.”

[stopeatingwhales]

"how come we've never spoken before?" x noel gallagher

why haven't I written anything for noel in ages??????? anyways this was so cute I hope u lot like it <33

Pairing: 1990! noel gallagher x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1.951

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

“You wanna come over tonight?” Liam asked me as we were walking out of the sixth form building. “Our kids coming to pick us up so was wondering if you wanted to come with.”

“Yeah alright.” I nodded, linking my arm with Liam as we walked out of the gates together. Going over to the Gallagher residence wasn’t an uncommon matter, if anything I was over at theirs at least once a week. Since their father had left the environment was always pleasant, his mum always cooking the best, most delicious meals which caused your body to crave it again each and every day until you returned back for dinner once again. As well as that, being able to spend time with Liam was always an enjoyable experience - him being my best friend since first joining the college, we hadn’t been able to separate ourselves from each other since. Of course, we would have different friends, different groups, but we always turned back to each other - something that I adored most about our relationship; we didn’t constantly need to be with one another to consider each other our best friend. Whenever I was over we would relax in his room, talking about practically everything and everything, sometimes smoking a joint by his window to prevent his mum finding out, even though the stench of it would stick to our clothes like glue - giving it away instantaneously.

After exiting the school gates, we walked for a bit until we reached the nearest neighbourhood of houses, where Noel said he would pick Liam up. To waste the time, Liam brought out a spliff from his pocket, placing it between his lips, then lighting it, him failing a couple times to get the lighter to produce a flame. “Give me a hit,” I said, watching Liam as he quickly inhaled the roll of weed, then passing it to me, a wave of smoke hitting my face from Liam’s mouth. “Stop that you twat.”

There was hardly anybody outside, from the look of the area, merely just the occasional car whizzing past us, causing the empyrean of smoke discarded from our throats to diffuse into the atmosphere. It produced a clear contrast against the skies, which had little to no clouds visible at all. Having a clear, sunny day in Manchester wasn’t something ordinary; it was a rarity, but for the past year the weather had been brilliant, though brilliant becomes unlivable when the temperature continues to increase to the thirties, celsius wise. That’s when the nature of constant traffic, crowded streets and lengthy queues at the ice cream machine disperse into their homes - the sun being too strong it becomes a chore to leave the house. Having the world so silent, hushed, brings another kind of tranquillity to the mind. Watching an inanimate street fixated in the same position, as if it were a ghost-town, encompasses that feeling of being the only person present in the world at that moment, which makes you realise that the life you live is not lead to be controlled of dictated by others - it is yours, and it is something in which you hold complete control over.

After a couple minutes of small talk shared between me and Liam, a small car drove past us, stopping promptly as the windows rolled down, indicating that it was Noel. Me and Liam quickly rushed out of the sun that was beaming down at us, to get inside his car; Liam hopping in the passenger seat next to his brother whilst I occupied the middle seat in the back. “Hi Noel.” I said softly, smiling at him through the rear view mirror, our eyes connecting for a short second whilst he greeted me back, then turning to greet Liam before taking off. Mine and Noel’s relationship wasn’t anything special: we spoke here and there, but since he usually was occupied by hanging out with friends, or travelling as a groupie for Inspiral Carpets, we never conversed much. It was a mere relationship formulated from my closeness with Liam, as manners are important - even if Liam shows the opposite. I was quite intrigued by Noel disregarding his conventional absences; he seemed to lead a life which was exciting and alluring, and was a complete contrast against Liam’s persona from what I had noticed. Liam was more into sports, mainly football, and causing havoc wherever he could (me constantly joining him since he knew how to have an absolute good time), whilst Noel seemed completely consumed by music and the wonders of working with bands. Regardless, they shared some idiosyncrasies, one thing in particular definitely being their love for weed.

Once we arrived at the house, we were greeted by Liam’s mum, who welcomed me in lovingly. “Always a pleasure to have you over, Y/N,” she said as I broke away from the embrace we shared to allow me to take off my shoes. “Liam, I'm going to need you to help me in the kitchen today.” she then said to Liam, whose face then dropped in complete annoyance.

“Why?” he moaned in response, sighing at his mum whilst removing his shoes. “Y/N’s literally here!”

“Maybe because you haven’t done the washing up for over a week, Liam,” she responded, turning her gaze to look at me, rolling her eyes at his demeanour. “Y/N’s not going anywhere, it won’t take you a year.”

After we were able to get Liam to do his chores, I told him that I would be waiting upstairs for him, in his and Noel’s room. Once I went inside, I wandered around the medium-sized room, finding my way over to Noel’s side, especially fixated on the stack of records that he had owned, aligned by the table next to the record player. He had all sorts of bands; the Beatles, the Who, the Smiths, Sex Pistols... All the best artists. The more and more I found out about him the interest I had about him increased. He seemed like a cool older brother to have, and share a room with, even though Liam sees boys in bands quite odd - which is humorous, since he’s practically an entity of his own. Proceeding to pick up a vinyl by the Smiths, the album in particular being the Queen is Dead, I admired the cover whilst grasping it in my palms. The Smiths were the only band that seemed to use the most aimless, but oddy aesthetic images of random men as their album covers - most likely courtesy of Morrissey’s desires - though I suppose is one element which creates the artistic composition of the band, and their music. Snapping me out of the trance I was consumed in, a voice echoed in the room, one which was definitely not Liam’s. “Like what you see?”

Turning around to find out who it was, I was accosted by the sight of Noel, who was holding a warm mug of tea. Flustered, I placed the vinyl back in the stack before taking a seat on Liam’s bed. “Sorry,” I mumbled, looking at Noel whilst playing with my fingers in my lap.

View stuck on him, I watched him walk to his bedside table, placing his mug of tea on the coaster, then reaching out to grab the vinyl that was once embraced by my palms. “You like the Smiths?” he asked, his eyes now connecting to my gaze.

“Yeah I do,” I said, smiling slightly at his question. “That’s my favourite album of theirs actually.”

“Didn’t expect that from you,” He replied back, taking a sip from his mug of tea before taking the vinyl out of its sleeve and placing it on the record player, watching the needle intently as it gently dropped onto the black disc before sitting back on his bed. The title track’s intro then seeped into the silence of the room, paired by Noel humming along to it. “Think their debut was better, if I’m honest.”

“Well preference always matters,” I answered back, walking over to his bed to grab the vinyl sleeve, gazing at the lyric sheets, also taking a seat next to Noel. I felt his stare on me, but I attempted to ignore it as I focused on the little verses of poetry in one of the songs. “Morrissey is such a depressing writer.”

A laugh rumbled at his throat at my absentminded comment. Averting my gaze, I looked at Noel and smiled again. “I’m not wrong!”

“What else you into?” he asked me, curiosity laced in his tone as he diverted the topic.

“Everything else you listen to really, I looked through most of your vinyls,” I replied, watching Noel as his eyebrows furrowed together in shock, my smile widening as I felt my cheeks start to burn slightly - I had never thought that I’d be having a genuine conversation with Noel. “Especially the Beatles, Liam’s told me how much you love them.”

Noel was impressed, and it showed on his face quite evidently. “What’s your favourite album by them then?”

Looking away for a couple seconds, I thought of a response. “Probably Sergeant Peppers. Was their most innovative stuff, in my opinion at least.”

We continued to ramble on about music for a short while, Noel continuing to act excessively shocked whenever I had told him I had indeed listened or liked an artist he questioned. It was nice to finally discuss music with somebody since Liam was never really into it. “You’d never expect me to listen to all of this because I’m friends with a lunatic.”

Another laugh left Noel’s mouth, a smile stuck on his lips. “All he’s obsessed with is football, I don’t even get how you’re both mates.”

“Opposites attract.” I answered back, leaning back to have my back against the wall as we continued to talk. My cheeks began to hurt after a while of us chatting, due to the smile that was unable to leave my lips.

“How come we’ve never spoken properly before?” He asked, walking over to flip the vinyl to side B. “You’re cool.” he added in a mumble, almost as if he didn’t want it to be heard.

I felt blood slightly rush to my cheeks after the compliment fell from his lips, my top teeth clinging onto my bottom lip as a wave of nervousness washed over me. “Maybe because you’re always out.”

A hum of agreement rumbled from his throat as my eyes fixated themselves on the white ceiling. I could see that Noel was staring at me through my peripheral, which caused my cheeks to increase their redness, only slightly. “We should hang out sometime.”

Connecting eyes with him, I admired his dark brown orbs for a second, before I responded. “We should.”

Breaking our moment together, we were welcomed by an exhausted Liam rushing into the room, breathing heavily from his jog up the stairs. Falling onto the bed, me and Noel shared a moment of laughter as we simply stared at Liam’s state. “What’re you lot laughing about?”

Me and Noel turned to look at one another, sharing a gaze once again. There was a specific glint in his eyes which I marveled at, his face beaming at me, only causing me to reciprocate in the same manner. Our stare meant more than what it was, a certain tension was held between us that was felt by both participants. Especially for Noel, whose heart was pumping as if it were about to burst out of his chest, his cheeks a little flushed out of admiration for the girl sitting next to him. “Nothing.” we replied, giggling slightly as our eyes stayed glued on one another.