#i wanted to add more but I felt like it would take the focus away

[isatohlee]

Forced Compliance

[liquidstar]

I'm working on my next oc set rn (as always) and this one is going to be the first, like, trinary guild to have more than 8 characters on account of twins sharing a spot lol

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love

pairing | young aemond x vampire!reader

word count | 4.1k words

summary | aemond becomes obsessed with his mother's newest lady-in-waiting. he seeks her comfort after aegon takes him to the brothel.

tags | AFAB reader, older woman/younger man (more like older girl/younger boy), delusional aemond, angst/comfort, aemond pov.

note | my first time posting, also I really wanted to see what it would be like with a vampire in hotd, PART 2 coming soon.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

He was ten and two when Aemond Targaryen first laid eyes upon your bewitching figure. At first, he was convinced it was a mere trick of his own mind, a mere mirage conjured forth by imagination and longing.

Clad in a resplendent gown of deep wine red, you appeared nothing short of ethereal, your skin seeming to glow beneath the vibrant hue of her attire. Your hair, intricately braided into an elaborate updo, lent an air of regal sophistication to your youthful appearance. It was no wonder that you had swiftly ascended to the ranks of his mother's most esteemed ladies in waiting.

Despite his tender age, Aemond was keenly aware of the profound allure that you exuded. You could not have been more than eight and ten, and yet you possessed a rare and ineffable grace that captured his young heart with an instantaneous and profound intensity.

In that fleeting moment of their initial encounter, he became resolutely certain that, when he came of age, you would be the one he would take as his wife.

He despised them. The sheer sight of Aegon and his nephews filled Aemond with deep-seated resentment. It was a reminder of the injustice he felt deep in his bones. Aegon and those bastards, useless and undeserving, had been gifted with dragons, while Aemond, a true warrior, was left without one. As if to add insult to injury, they had gifted him a lowly pig, a cruel mockery of his situation.

Consumed by anger and grief, Aemond could not contain his rage any longer. He stormed into the Dragon Pit, the heat and fury of the dragons surrounding him. In the chaos, he narrowly escaped being burnt alive, only to find himself scolded by his mother.

And then he was seeking solace in her arms. Rare as it was for her to offer comfort, Aemond clung to her, desperate for any shred of comfort in the face of his overwhelming emotions.

Before their moment could fully settle, a soft, melodic voice filled the room. "Your Grace - Oh, I apologize for interrupting," your voice wafted into the chamber, causing Aemond to hastily pull away from his mother, his back turned as he hastily wiped away the traces of dirt and tears from his face.

Aemond straightened his posture and steadied his breath, turning to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes filled with genuine concern and compassion. He felt a pang of embarrassment as he realized he had been caught in such a vulnerable moment.

"It's alright, My Lady," his mother, Alicent, reassured you as you approached them. Aemond couldn't help but notice the weariness in his mother's expression. Did comforting her son take such a toll on her?

Alicent gave Aemond a brief, tightening look before turning to her lady-in-waiting. "Perhaps you could see my son back to his chambers," she suggested, her tone laced with a hint of exasperation.

It was clear that his mother was eager to pass him off to her lady in waiting, but Aemond couldn't bring himself to feel too upset. Since his lady love happened to be the one assigned to escort him, he had no complaints. Despite their six-year age difference, Aemond was confident that once he reached his maturity, their age gap would no longer matter.

"Of course, Your Grace," you said with a respectful bow of your head. Your gaze slowly shifted to the prince, and he nodded as he made his way out the door, with you following close behind.

"You're wondering about my appearance," Aemond murmured softly, his focus fixed straight ahead as the two of you strolled through the corridors of the Red Keep.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and Aemond savored the sound, filled with pride knowing he had elicited it. "Tis not my place to ask questions, My Prince," your warm voice filled his ears, "But judging by the ash and dirt on your fair skin, I would venture that you were likely at the dragon pit."

"It's unfair," Aemond grumbled indignantly, feeling an unjust injustice in the situation. Immediately, he wished he could take back his words, realizing that he had unintentionally come across as childish when he was supposed to be displaying to you his maturity and wisdom.

"The world can be cruel and unjust, My Prince," you replied with a saccharine sweetness in your voice, "But that is why it is imperative for you to assert your authority and take command of your destiny."

Aemond angled his head to catch a glimpse of your elegant profile, admiring not just your physical beauty but also the astuteness of your words. "And how can I accomplish that?" he inquired.

You turned to meet his gaze, your eyes locking and causing his heart to skip a beat. You bestowed him with a subtle yet meaningful smile before you said, "By refusing to accept a life you do not deserve."

"And what of you," Aemond inquired, "What do you believe you deserve, My Lady?" If you were to marry him, you would lack nothing; he was prepared to grant you any request you might make.

"It’s difficult to say," you murmured, tilting your head thoughtfully. Even that Aemond found endearing, "Some individuals believe they are worthy of the entire world, whereas I value simplicity."

Aemond raised an inquisitive silver brow, "Simplicity?"

"Stability and security. A serene life," you explained. Then you glanced down and offered him a warm smile, "Perhaps we can continue our discussion another time, your grace."

Aemond was scarred. Left disfigured and crippled, condemned to a life of one-eyed hardship due to the foolish actions of his bastard nephew. He had once thought it a fair exchange, an eye for a dragon, but now, lying in his chamber chambers, sedated by the potent poppy milk, he questioned his own judgement.

Aemond frowned as he noticed they had reached the doors to his chambers. Before he could utter another word, you nodded courteously and departed. He was determined to offer you a serene life. As his wife, he would spare no effort in providing for you. And in turn you would be his serenity.

As he lay there, disabled and near death, he longed for your presence. Perhaps that was why he willingly surrendered to the effects of the poppy milk, for it allowed him to see you in his dreams. He took solace in slumber, for it was there that he could find you, if only in his mind.

But despite his yearning to see you in waking life, a part of him hesitated. He did not want you to witness the repulsive scar that marred his once-perfect face, especially the swollen and oozing scar where his left eye once was.

The pain from his injuries radiated through his body, a burning fire within him that consumed all other emotions. Aemond's thoughts turned to vengeance, as he vowed to take back what was stolen from him. His mind was set on becoming the best warrior in the Seven Kingdoms, one to surpass even his uncle, Daemon Targaryen, and he would not rest until he had retribution.

He would not accept a life he did not deserve, as his lady love had told him. With the biggest dragon in the world by his side, Aemond was determined to become even better than his past self. And then, you would be his. His lady love would be his wife, and together, you and him would rule with fire and blood.

He longed to shed his skin. The scorching heat in the chamber had become unbearable. The wine she had offered him churned in his gut, causing him to fight the urge to expel it.

Following the feast of Aemond's thirteenth nameday, Aegon had hinted at a surprise for him. Little did Aemond know that his elder brother would lead him into the depths of a pleasure house. Without a chance to protest, Aegon vanished into a sea of bodies and silks.

Next, Aemond found himself ensconced in a chamber bathed in the soft glow of flickering candles. Obscene tapestries adorned the walls, depicting the most intimate of acts between man and woman. And then, a woman entered. She was of an age exceeding even that of his own mother.

She cooed at him, showering him with soft words and adulation. Soon, she was touching him, disrobing him. Aemond wanted to protest, to scream for her to stop, but his vocal cords betrayed him. His body quivered as she caressed him, whispering into his ear.

Once it was over, Aemond was left in a daze. His body no longer felt like his own. Swiftly, he scrambled to dress himself, fleeing the brothel in a disheveled state, He didn't care where Aegon was, all he could think about was reaching you.

His heart pounded in his chest as he raced through the secret passageways of Maegor's Holdfast, his lungs burning with each desperate breath and tears falling down his pale cheeks. He bypassed his own chambers and his mother's, instead making a beeline for the guest wing where he had roamed many times in an attempt to get a glimpse of you.

Finally, he reached her door and pounded on it frantically, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to compose himself. He had to see you. He needed you.

As the door creaked open, his eye widened with the realization that you and him had not spoken since he had lost his eye, and he had carelessly left his eye patch behind in the brothel. He feared that you would see his disfigurement. Before he could flee, however, the door swung open.

You stood before him, ethereal and captivating. Your locks cascaded down, some strands delicately tucked behind your ears. Cloaked in a deep crimson silk robe, which accentuated your graceful form.

Though your initial expression seemed perturbed by the intrusion, it quickly softened as your gaze fell upon Aemond. Your eyes wandered over his disheveled appearance and his one glassy eye, and a wave of concern washed over your features.

And without a second thought, he threw himself into your soft body, wrapping his arms around your waist as he laid his head against your stomach. Almost instantly his tears returned and after a moment, your arms came around him hesitantly, offering him your comfort.

Gently, you extracted yourself from his arms and offered your hand to him and without hesitation, he took it. Your skin was soft, yet cold, providing relief to his overheated body. You led him into your chambers which was simple and minimalistic, but all Aemond could focus on was the coolness of your touch.

Guiding him to the chaise in your chamber, you gently urged him to take a seat. As you walked away, Aemond mourned the loss of your touch, but you soon returned with a goblet in hand, offering it to him.

With a hint of wariness, Aemond took a tentative sip, finding the water refreshing. He greedily drank, while your worried eyes remained fixed on him.

As he finished the water, you placed a hand on his wrist, your concern evident in your touch. "You must tell me what happened, my prince," you urged, your voice soft but determined.

Aemond’s gaze turned away, a tempest brewing in his heart. “Shall I summon your mother, then?” you suggested, your tone a mere whisper laced with concern.

At the mention of his mother, Aemond’s eye snapped back to yours, desperation flickering in his gaze. “No. No, please don’t do that,” he pleaded, his voice a hushed urgency.

Swallowing hard, Aemond felt the weight of his brother's casual cruelty descend upon him. “Aegon,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, “he said it was a surprise. A rite of passage, he called it. He told me it was time to… get it wet.” He faltered, the memory crashing over him like waves against a rocky shore. Closing his eye, he inhaled sharply as his pulse quickened, “I can still feel it. Her hands were everywhere, warm and suffocating. I didn’t know how to make it stop... so I just waited until it was done.” Pain and confusion tangled in his chest, threatening to spill over.

He felt your gentle touch then, your hand gliding from his wrist to envelop his own in a tender squeeze. “Oh,” you murmured softly, your voice a balm against the chaos within him

But as you slowly withdrew your hand, a wave of panic surged through Aemond, tightening his grip on yours. “No…” he breathed, desperation creeping into his tone. You hushed him gently, your grip reassuring as you leaned closer. “Calm yourself, my prince. I intend to run you a warm bath, to cleanse you of the filth from that place.”

He nodded, though a nervous knot twisted in his stomach, and watched as you glided away into the adjoining bathing chamber. As Aemond took in the chamber surrounding him, he noted its unadorned simplicity. No treasures adorned the walls, no personal tokens to lend a semblance of warmth or familiarity. Yet, a heavy goblet rested on the table before him, catching his eye. The reddish liquid within gleamed like blood in the dim light, causing a shiver to race down his spine. He forced his gaze away, willing himself to ignore the unsettling thought as he waited for your return.

Moments later, you reemerged, the soft fabric of your robe trailing behind you. “Your bath is ready, my prince,” you said gently, cradling in your arms a neatly folded bundle of his clean clothing.

“How did you retrieve my clothes so swiftly?” Aemond asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

You averted your eyes, but he caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Your chambers lie but a breath away from mine."

But his chambers were on the other side of the castle?

Aemond's heart raced, not out of insecurity concerning his form — for he considered himself a Targaryen, and his lineage was his strength. Yet, the hole of his left eye gnawed at his pride. You met his gaze with an equal measure of courage, undeterred by the scar that marred what once was a handsome countenance. It was still the body of a boy, and though he was thirteen, he could not shake the flicker of embarrassment that flared in his chest.

Stealing a furtive glance towards you, Aemond found comfort in the fact that your eyes were cast downward, filled with allocation rather than scrutiny. With a swift motion, he shed the last vestiges of his clothing, and with that, slipped into the warmth of the steaming bath. As the water enveloped him, a sense of relief washed over him, mingled with surprise. The oils that swirled within the bath carried your fragrance, soothing and familiar, reminiscent of sunlit fields and the gentle sway of blossoms in the breeze.

"Shall I fetch a maid, my prince?" You asked, your voice soft and gentle. Your eyes finally settled upon him, he could detect an undercurrent of genuine concern.

"No," he replied curtly, his tone sharper than intended, the remnants of his pride still gnawing at him.

Aemond could hear you hum softly as you came to kneel by the edge of the bath, your fingers trailing in the water as you offered him a placating smile, radiating warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill of the world outside. Aemond’s gaze remained fixed on you as you began to scrub away the remnants of what had happened just before.

“Does it still hurt?” you asked softly, your eyes momentarily flitting from his face to the scar that bisected it before you continued your ministrations, your cloth gently gliding over his skin as if to erase the memories of that night.

“Stings sometimes,” Aemond replied, a shadow of shame dancing across his features.

You nodded, your hands deftly working to cleanse his face, but your gaze lingered on his empty eye socket—an echo of loss and pain that pierced deeper than any physical wound.

He cast his gaze downward, feeling the familiar pang of discomfort rise. “It’s… ugly,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

With an unexpected tenderness, you cupped his face in her hands, guiding him back to meet your gaze. “No, my prince,” you countered softly. “Not ugly. Merely different, a testament to your strength. You might even adorn it, you know.”

Adorn it? Aemond raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite the prickling pride that flared. “With what?” he asked, fixing his single violet eye upon you, momentarily captivated.

A gentle smile danced on your lips, a flash of mischief flickering in your expression, illuminating your features in the dim light. “Why not place a jewel in it, perhaps? What’s your favorite jewel?”

He shrugged, a habitual defense against showing too much of himself. “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice low.

The question hung in the air as you added, “Mine are sapphires."

Aemond’s thoughts drifted momentarily, recalling the dresses you had worn, swirling fabrics in hues that bespoke your grace. A pang struck him; “I’ve never seen you in blue.”

You shook your head dismissively, your eyes averted, as you responded, “It does not suit me, my prince."

“Impossible,” he mumbled, the word escaping in a barely audible whisper. He found it hard to believe you could not wear something so exquisite and innocent as blue, just as he found it hard to believe himself worthy of your affection. You were a jewel in your own right, far surpassing the treasures of the crown and the markets.

Once Aemond was freshly scrubbed clean and clad in his simple garments, the flickering torchlight cast shadows upon the stone walls of the Red Keep. You regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Are you ready to retire to your chambers now, my prince?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond's heart sank at the thought of leaving your presence. The heavy weight of what had occurred a few hours ago felt more burdensome than ever. He cleared his throat, struggling to imbue his tone with the command expected of a Targaryen, "I wish to stay here."

Your brow furrowed slightly, and he could see the hesitation in your eyes, but you nodded nonetheless, leading him back toward your bed where you made to arrange the bedding around him. His lone eye followed your every movement, drawn to the curves of your form and the gentle way you tended to him. As you turned to leave, Aemond’s instincts took hold. With a swift motion, he grasped your wrist, his grip tighter than he intended. "Stay with me."

Your expression shifted to a sternness reminiscent of his mother, a reminder of the propriety and decorum that governed your lives. "That would be most inappropriate." Your tone was firm.

"Please," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near pleading softness.

With a heavy sigh that betrayed your weariness, you succumbed to his request, moving to the far side of your bed and, to his joy, sliding beneath the sheets. Aemond felt a rush of daring coursing through him like wildfire; he subtly shifted closer, resting his head on your chest. For a brief moment, he feared rejection, his thoughts racing to the taunts of his nephews and the ache of the void left by his lost eye. But then, as if sensing his need for solace, your arms enveloped him, warmth flooding through the cold shadows of the brothel.

In that cocoon of stolen intimacy, Aemond found refuge. The bitter weight of Aegon’s taunts, the pain of his injury, and the disquiet of the brothel faded away like whispers in the wind. He was no longer Aemond, the one-eyed prince; he was simply a man seeking comfort from the woman he loved.

Weeks after, Aemond strode into his chambers with the weight of the day's demands heavy upon him, only to halt in his tracks at the sight of a delicate gift-wrapped parcel resting atop his oaken table. Unease prickled at the edges of his mind as he approached, an unfamiliar crested insignia embossed on the fine paper hinting at its sender. With practiced grace, he unwrapped the offering, and there within gleamed a sapphire so vivid it whispered of the sea’s depths, glinting alluringly in the candlelight.

A smile unbidden flickered across his features, for he knew—knew it was from you. A token of your affection, bright as the glory of House Targaryen itself. It swelled his heart, igniting a warmth that had grown chill. He could envision your soft gaze as you selected the gem, the way your laughter danced through the air like the sweetest song.

Determined to express his gratitude, he spent the day scouring the halls of the Red Keep, threading his way through the throngs of courtiers and servants, all the while searching for your familiar figure. But fate, it seemed, had conspired against him. The hours slipped by like sand through his fingers, and as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows throughout the stone halls, bitterness sank into his bones.

After the evening meal, his resolve led him to seek his mother. With a furrowed brow, he pushed the door ajar and entered, expecting to find answers from her. But the sight that greeted him was far from comforting. Alicent sat hunched over a letter, the wax seal shattered beside her, her expression dark and heavy with unspoken words that lingered in the air like the scent of damp earth before a storm.

“Aemond?” she murmured, as if startled from a reverie, her voice a mere whisper, laden with melancholy.

He watched her for a moment, his previous thrill of joy eclipsed by her obvious distress. “What troubles you, Mother?” he ventured, stepping closer.

Alicent lifted her head, her expression a fragile mask that crumbled the moment she met his gaze. A semblance of a smile teased her lips, but the sorrow beneath was palpable. “All is well, my son,” she lied.

He knew the bond his mother shared with you, the girl who had nestled herself in the depths of his mother’s affection, unlike the numerous ladies-in-waiting who flitted about like storm-dodging sparrows. To Alicent, you were not merely a servant but a girl she cherished as if you were her own blood.

But Aemond’s sharp eye caught the glimmer of distress that lingered in her tone. He advanced further into the room, his gaze honing in on the parchment that lay forgotten in her delicate grasp. “What is it?” he pressed, his heart beginning to thrum in his chest, sensing the foreboding weight of something unsaid.

Alicent's voice was tinged with sorrow, a shade that unsettled Aemond's heart as she whispered the name of his beloved, “It is from her.” The chill of her words struck him like winter's breath. “She has decided to leave the Keep."

In that moment, it felt as though the very foundations of King's Landing trembled, the walls echoing his anguish. Aemond's heart tightened painfully, a dragon's fang sinking into his chest, yet Alicent remained blissfully unaware of her son’s turmoil as she set the letter down upon the polished mahogany table before turning away, her silhouette retreating into the shadows of her room.

Stinging tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eye. You could not have forsaken him; you would never abandon the bond the two of you shared, so why had you departed? Aemond seized the letter, his hand shaking with urgency, his eye darting across the elegant script. You had spoken of a deep homesickness, a yearning to reconnect with your family. You graciously thanked his mother for her kindness during your stay.

Yet, amidst your carefully penned words lay an abyss of uncertainty. No mention of where you had gone, nor any promise of when—or if—you would return. Only your name, signed with elegant flourish and the seal of your house—a sigil that felt as foreign to Aemond as a stranger’s face.

— Mikaelson

[lucaslovescats]

Thank you so much for writing Joost fics 💙

Could I request a smut fic where Joost and reader are playing video games in his lap, and then things escalate from there

Thank you 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Mario Kart - Joost Klein x fem!reader smut

Summary: An innocent Mario kart match quickly turns interesting as Joost tries to distract you from the race

Extra note: thank you so much for the request love, however I am incapable of writing smut without adding a bit of fluff, forgive me.

Tw: Smut(?) (let me know if I need to add anything)

Word count: 1115 (more or less)

“Fuck you!” Joost called out, albeit with no venom and in between little giggles after your little elbow shove had made him drop his remote controller, evidently giving you a few seconds of advantage. You laughed a bit, but still kept your focus on the most intense Mario Kart race of your life. Neither of you were the biggest Mario Kart fans, however the one which loses this race has to make dinner and getting up right now seemed like the biggest inconvenience in the world.

It was fun whenever you did this, trying to beat each other despite the fact that you both knew the chances of just settling for takeout were getting higher by the second. Joost surprisingly still hasn't caught up with you, almost certainly securing your win. You were so focused on the race playing on the screen that you didn't feel Joost straightening his back behind you, head slowly inching closer and closer to your neck. You flinched slightly at the feeling of his teeth going straight for your neck, biting and sucking your sensitive spot, not even giving you time to process anything before you almost dropped your controller. Worst part is that through all of this, he didn't peel his eyes away from the screen, actually using your little slip up to his advantage

“Joost, that's not fair! That's cheating” You said, trying to sound as leveled as possible, knowing that if he knew how affected you were that would just encourage him further.

He didn't need any sound from you to know you were affected by his assault on your neck, your squirming and the little bead of sweat falling from you forehead said it all “You were cheating too, when you hit me” Joost retorted back, whispered in your ear, only stopping to get his words across and then going back to sucking on your neck.

As you opened your mouth, Joost decided to bite particularly hard, causing a loud gasp to be heard across the room. You felt him smirk against your neck before moving to attack somewhere else. You finally dropped your controller, but the race had left your mind long ago, now only being able to focus on the others lips. His hand left his own controller too, snaking over to the front part of your torso, tugging slightly on your shirt “Can I take this off?” He asked, you nodded before helping him to remove the top, throwing it somewhere you both weren't paying attention too. He started moving both of your positions, you blindly moved with him, leaving you lying underneath him, on top of the couch. His shirt was quickly thrown too, and you pulled him into a kiss before you could even process what you were doing.

The kiss, for what you were doing, was surprisingly tender. Not as hungry as the ones you usually had in moments like these, but not innocent either. Only ever pulling away for a few seconds to catch your breath.

“Can I take this off?” He asks in one of the few intermissions between your kisses, fingers hocking on the waistline of your pants. You nodded, desperately wanting him to get going with it. He pulled down our pants and underwear in one swift movement, not bothering to fully take it off before moving himself in between your legs, quickly continuing with your previous makeout session. Eventually, his lips left your own, and started slowly to move downwards, biting and sucking mostly gentle marks into your skin but occasionally leaving a darker mark, as if wanting it to stay longer. Little moans escaped your mouth, but you were biting you lip making sure nothing too embarrassing came out. After what felt like hours of torture to you, he finally reached your lower abdomen leaving a gentle kiss before traveling down to your pussy, before gently blowing on it. You let out a louder moan at the feeling of cold air against your wet folds. “You´re so wet, huh?” Joost says, smiling before leaning in to kiss them.

A little broken mixture of a gasp and moan escaped your mouth, the loudest of the night. Your hands reached his hair, about to shove him closer for him to just hurry but he moved away before you could reach him. “Not tonight”

You could hear him pulling down his own pants and boxers in a hurry, getting his dick out and pumping his dick a few times before opening a condom and quickly rolling on a condom. He lined himself up with your pussy, extending his hand so you could hold it, which you quickly accepted as he slowly sank in. The first few moments were always the most difficult for you, no matter how many times you did this you never seemed to get used to his size, much less when he first entered you, Joost knew this, and the hand holding was something that he had started and had just become the usual, a simple gesture that helped so much. You squeezed his hand tighter and tighter, making sure not to hurt him, until he bottomed down. You let out a little gasp of relief, waiting a few seconds for your body to get ready so you could tell the other to continue.

He leaned down and planted a tiny kiss on your forehead, before whispering “Don't worry, take all the time you need, there is no rush” emphasizing his statement with a kiss on your cheek and then leaving one on your mouth for a good measure. A peck, something not longer than a few seconds but it managed to convey so much, so much trust, love, reassurance. You let out another exhale before speaking up “You can move, please, move”

He started moving slowly, making sure not to hurt you and staring intently at your face to see if he could see any signs of discomfort or hurt in your face, but only watching your face scrunch up into pleasure as you let out more and more moans as his pace quickened. His thrust were hitting all the right spots, some particularly harder or deeper than other sending chills down your spine, running your mind completely, unable to formulate sentences

“Ah fuck, you feel so good, soo good” Joost too was a mess, babeling something above you, but still more composed and aware than you were. His free hand, the one that wasn't holding yours, ending up in your pussy. He slowly started rubbing the areas around your clit, not focusing on it but not avoiding it either, teasing you a bit. You weren't even sure when you had started swearing or begging but you were. In your desperate state you could still tell you were mostly muttering nonsense, but Joost seemed to get the message as he finally started rubbing your clit just like you liked it, not too fast but not too slow, not too hard but not too soft.

It didn't take you long to cum after, clenching tightly as the shocks of your orgasm rolled through your body, leaving your legs trembling slightly. It didn’t take long before Joost finished too, coming with a grunt and collapsing on top of you, having already been tired before you even started. His face nuzzled into your neck, wrapping one arm around whatever he could have you and the other still holding tightly onto your hand.

“I love you” he whispered in your neck

“I love you too”

[dustofthedailylife]

You were not supposed to hear that...yet

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader

Summary: Alhaitham reveals a secret about the inner workings of his heart to his friends over a cup of wine and in between some banter. However, he did not expect it would go this wrong...

Tags: Fluff, crack, comfort, teasing, consumption of alcohol (by characters), the whole 4ggravate crew is here, friendly banter between friends, a small sprinkle of angst because reader is insecure (but it's unjustified)

A/N: Dust posting a new fic?! Not an April Fool's joke, despite the date! Finally felt inspired and well enough again to finish this fic that has been rotting in my WIPs forever. I hope you like it. And feel free to hit me up with asks and reblogs - it'd motivate me greatly after my long break 🥺

The usual friend group of Cyno, Kaveh, Tighnari, and him - Alhaitham, was sitting at the Tavern. A gathering like it happened almost every weekend at this point.

The wine bottle on the table had been emptied around two or three times already when Kaveh ordered a new one yet again. At this point, Alhaitham had actually lost count of how many glasses of wine he'd already had, too. But one thing was for certain, he could feel the alcohol in his system and the warm blood that was rushing to his cheeks. All things considered though, despite feeling a little tipsy from the intoxication, he was still able to think clearly.

"Let me guess I'm the one who will have to end up covering your bill again?" He took sarcastic a jab at Kaveh. 

The man in question just squinted his eyes and glared daggers at him before opening his mouth in an attempt to protest before it was quickly shot down by Tighnari's hand covering it.

Alhaitham leisurely leaned back in his chair smirking to himself, training his focus back onto the TCG cards in his hands and considering his next turn of action in the game he was playing against Cyno.

"What, am I just supposed to take it all the time and be quiet?!" Kaveh retorted, directed at Tighnari. The fox's ears were beginning to droop lower and lower as his expression became more and more deadpan.

"You all know as well as I do that if [Y/N] was here he wouldn't be acting like this. He would be on his best behavior and pay for the drinks without so much as complaining or being so cocky."

"By the way," Tighnari attempted to divert the attention away from Kaveh's ranting. "Where are they? Didn't you say they wanted to stop by the Tavern as well today, Alhaitham?"

Alhaitham played his round, throwing his card Cyno's way before looking up at Tighnari again.

"They mentioned it but I suppose something must've come up instead. I will ask tomorrow."

"Isn't it strange?" Kaveh addressed the others. "Whenever it involves [Y/N] he graciously offers himself up to talk to them and seek them out but whenever someone else is looking for him he is nowhere to be found."

"Maybe you just can't find me because I simply don't have anything to discuss with you." Alhaitham threw another jab at Kaveh with a smirk, which was promptly followed by a light punch against his bicep by the blonde architect.

"What? I constantly have to talk to you already when we're at ho-"

"SHHH! Don't say that out loud." Kaveh hissed, quickly covering Alhaitham's mouth in panic, since he didn’t want him to spell out that they were currently living together. “It's embarrassing enough that I currently have no other choice, no need to add to my misery.”

A witty quip was burning at the tip of Alhaitham's tongue after Kaveh's remark yet again, but he decided to swallow it. He didn't want to upset him too much, especially since he knew he'd had it rough lately. Even if it would've been said in jest, there was no need to add insult to injury. Instead, he simply resorted to taking another sip of his wine with a low chuckle and a glance in the blonde architect’s direction.

“Aaaaanyway…”, Tighnari cleared his throat, addressing Alhaitham once more. “What is it between [Y/N] and you anyway? You've become quite close haven't you?”

“That's an understatement.” Kaveh groaned, dropping his head on his folded arms on the table dramatically. “He can't stop talking about them. Day in and day out it’s [Y/N]-this, [Y/N]-that.”

“We started working on a project about six months ago. Things are progressing quite smoothly if I do say so myself. Certainly makes things easier if you're working with someone who is both hardworking and intelligent in every way. I’ve been lucky to have been assigned to the project with them.” Alhaitham answered Tighnari’s question rationally while ignoring Kaveh’s dramatic display.

“Here he goes again.” Kaveh huffed, directing his comment at Cyno and Tighnari. “Whenever he talks about them you hear nothing but praises.”

“If someone is doing a great job, is it not logical to give them the credit they deserve?” Alhaitham added matter of factly.

“No… I mean yes, but no. It's just not something I'd see you doing. It’s so out of character.” Kaveh huffed. “And before you say anything, yes, maybe I just don't know that side of you because I don't give you any reason to praise me. No need to add that, thank you.”

Kaveh poked his tongue out at Alhaitham before taking a big sip from his wine.

“Why, if you want to be praised you just need to say so, Kaveh. I think you're quite brilliant - your shortcomings aside.” He just had to add that last bit. Kaveh was just way too easy to tease. And what would this friend group be without the playful banter and jabs at each other?

Kaveh choked on the drink immediately and slammed his cup down onto the table with a loud clang. A fire burned behind his crimson eyes when he spoke next.

“This is exactly what I meant, thanks for proving my point!”

Kaveh looked at Cyno and Tighnari gesturing in the direction of Alhaitham with a move that said “Do you see what I mean now?”.

Tighnari just facepalmed and shook his head.

“And what is your point exactly?” Cyno inquired, playing a card from his hand.

“Did you not listen to what he said?” Kaveh gasped.

“Not really,” Cyno admitted honestly, his eyes trained back on the cards in his hands.

“It's the fact that he can praise others too, but never without also pointing out their faults in the same sentence. Did no one ever notice that? However, he never does that when it's [Y/N].” Kaveh explained.

“And?” Tighnari and Cyno replied in unison, looking puzzled as to where Kaveh wanted to go with this.

Kaveh put his head in his hand and groaned in frustration. “Sometimes you all make me feel like I am surrounded by idiots.”

Now everyone raised their eyebrows at him.

“You're all so clueless… anyway.” He sighed dramatically and accusingly pointed a finger at Alhaitham. “This guy. This admittedly handsome but blockheaded, know-it-all, stoic, annoying-”

“Get to the point.” Alhaitham chided, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine, fine." Kaveh spread his arms like he was holding a presentation and Alhaitham his canvas.

“This guy's right here, as alien as it may sound – has fallen in love.” 

“You're in love?!” Cyno exclaimed his eyes widening. “With who?!”

Tighnari rolled his eyes, knowing full well Cyno hadn't listed at all the past ten minutes because he had been so absorbed in his cards, and gently slapped the back of his head.

“[Y/N], of course!” The Forest Ranger exclaimed with a huff.

Cyno, now rubbing the back of his head just ushered a “Wait really?” while Kaveh and Tighnari just curiously began eyeing Alhaitham in the hope of seeing any type of confirmation on his face. However, it stayed as unreadable as ever.

He nonchalantly took another sip of wine from his cup while leisurely looking back and forth between the cards on the table and the ones in his hand before playing another turn as if this conversation just now hadn't happened.

“So!?” Kaveh asked, almost hysterically at this point. “Do you intend to enlighten us?”

Just how had he gotten into this situation now? Alhaitham suppressed a sigh before turning to Cyno: “Your turn. Two of your cards are down.”

“Archons!” Cyno cussed, immediately attempting to go back to study his cards but a fist slammed the table harshly, drawing all attention to it.

Tighnari flinched in shock and Cyno, too seemed to be pulled back to reality. Kaveh’s hand was trembling slightly, visibly agitated.

“Stop changing the subject, Alhaitham. The more you keep avoiding answering the question the more I think I am right in my assumptions.”

Alhaitham pinched the bridge of his nose beginning to truly feel a little stressed by Kaveh’s insistance. The man was truly too nosy for his good.

“Kaveh, just let it be if he doesn’t-” Tighnari began before being cut off by Alhaitham.

“And what if you are right? What then, Kaveh?”

Everyone at the table fell silent and everyone was staring at him with a mix of disbelief and shock.

He hadn't planned to reveal any of this yet, especially since he feared they would try to become his wingman. Which, admittedly, may be a nice gesture on paper but with them it could only end in disaster. Plus he would prefer to deal with his feelings alone first and think them through thoroughly, before talking about them with anyone. Besides, it should be you, if anyone, who should hear about them first - alas he was too deep into this now to weasel his way out.

“What?!” Kaveh’s mouth hung open in shock.

“So it is true then?” Cyno inquired, putting the card in his hand down on the table, now suddenly fully hooked on the tea that was being spilled.

“Hold on. Pause.” Kaveh sat upright, before quickly gazing over Alhaitham’s shoulder. “So you-”

“For Archon’s sake.” Alhaitham was beginning to get annoyed because he didn't know how much clearer he had to become for them to get it. “Yes - I’ve been in love with them. For a while now-”

“Alhaitham-” Kaveh tried to interject.

“No, don't interrupt me now, you pestered me about it for the past twenty minutes now you'll have to listen. I have never met anyone who is so hardworking, intelligent, and stunning in any way. Of course, I would be infatuated with a person like them. It would be hard not to fall for them.”

“Uhm Alhai–” Kaveh laughed awkwardly before being interrupted by Alhaitham’s ongoing monologue once more.

“At first I wasn't sure about it but I am now. I am thinking about them first thing in the morning and last thing when I go to sleep - unless you're hammering away on some project again that keeps me awake, Kaveh.”

Kaveh waved for him to shut up already but Alhaitham didn't let that bother him. If he wanted the full story with all the details - he'd get it. He hoped that would get this discussion out of the way once and for all.

“And guess what? They even remembered how I liked my coffee just after I told them once and gifted me a book that I had been trying to find for weeks. So yes, Kaveh. I love [Y/N]. There, does that suffice now, or?”

Kaveh let out a squeal as soon as Alhaitham had stopped speaking but upon further inspection of his expression, it hadn't been one of excitement but rather pure terror and awkwardness. 

“Alhaitham…” Cyno and Tighnari said in unison and he only then noticed as well how their gaze was trained on a spot behind him.

“What?” Alhaitham inquired, curling a brow up in confusion before all three men pointed their fingers at something behind him.

When he turned his head around to look at what they were trying to show him, he felt his heart drop to his stomach for the first time in ages.

To his utter shock, you were standing right behind him. Or rather, you were frozen in place, your hand still half lifted in greeting as if you had just been about to greet the lot of them. Your mouth was slightly open in shock still and your pupils were but the size of pinpricks and transfixed on Alhaitham.

And judging by your reaction you must've heard every last word he had said.

“I-I…” You started stammering, clearly confused about what you had just heard. “I uh-, I'll head back home.”

You abruptly turned around on your heel and marched straight out the Tavern door you had just come through as if someone was chasing you.

Alhaitham hadn't moved a muscle ever since he had spotted you standing behind him and he looked like he was frozen in place. Everyone at the table had fallen so silent, one would've been able to hear a needle drop.

Alhaitham's eyes were still fixed on the door you had left through. The little bell that chimed every time the Tavern door hit it on the way in or out was still dangling lightly from the impact. But the movement was dying down slowly but surely - just like Alhaitham, who felt like someone had dropped a boulder on his chest.

You were not supposed to hear that, yet.

“You uh…, Alhaitham you should probably follow them.” Tighnari was the first to speak again. He awkwardly scratched behind his ears. Cyno hummed in agreement while Kaveh just sat there with his mouth wide open.

Alhaitham exhaled in frustration, unable to properly place his emotions. But they were somewhere between unsettled, nervous, and discomforted.

When he got up it felt like someone had tied heavy iron blocks to his ankles that were weighing him down.

“Yeah, I guess I do,”  Alhaitham muttered before marching off.

When you stormed outside the Tavern the cool evening breeze gnawed at your skin and made goosebumps erupt all over. Although you weren't quite sure if it was the temperature or your emotional turmoil at play here.

There was no way Alhaitham had just said that and actually meant it. He wouldn't be the type of man to flat-out admit that he had feelings for anyone. Or would he? He had been talking to his closest friends after all.

You were questioning your sense of reality and thought you must've fabricated it all in your mind. Or maybe you misheard what he said and he was talking about something else entirely.

But no, he said your name, and the others looked panicked when you entered the tavern and approached the table.

As you rushed through the streets of Sumeru City the chilly wind kept whipping in your face. Not even you knew where you were going at this point. You simply went where your feet were carrying you.

But eventually, you realized you had run up the Akademiya and to the blue-green mosaic pavilion that glistened in the last rays of sunlight. The spot at which you and Alhaitham often spent your lunch break together. 

You sunk down on the bench exhaustedly and stared holes in the ground.

No way.

There was just no way.

Alhaitham. The man you had fallen for so hard that he had begun to occupy every waking thought you had. That man was supposed to have feelings for you and had just flat-out admitted it?

No, this simply had to be a dream. A bad joke. Or maybe even a bet between the group that they orchestrated to prank you.

You could feel your heart thumping in your head and it felt like your head was swimming. It was as if you had downed an entire bottle of wine by yourself, but you were as sober as one could be.

Yes, that had to be it. It was a bet between the boys over one too many cups of wine and they had all acted their parts out flawlessly.

You got up again walking to the railing, overlooking Sumeru city that shone majestically in the last remaining rays of sunshine that the day had to offer. Another gush of wind blew your way, making tears well up in your eyes. Although it may have also been your emotions who were to blame for that instead.

You inhaled deeply. Once. Twice. But nothing seemed to help calming the rapidly beating heart in your chest.

In your daze, you completely missed how someone had quietly come up to the pavilion as well.

Alhaitham leaned against the railing himself, looking over the city in silence, too. He was clearly ringing for words. Although you assumed the wrong reason for his struggle.

“Look,” you began, trying your hardest to suppress the tremble in your voice. “If you came here to apologize - please, spare me your words.”

He looked at you opening his mouth before closing it again right after with a silent nod. His cheeks were dusted in a light pink shade - you assumed it was caused by the alcohol he had downed at the tavern with the others.

“I hope that we can go back to normal tomorrow and just finish our project. I’d prefer if we kept our distance after that. I think it’s for the best” The words left your mouth at normal speed, but it felt like you had to force every single one out. They felt tenacious, like old chewing gum that you tried to pull out from in between your teeth.

“I understand.” He stated calmly before retraining his gaze back into the distance. 

You both kept standing next to each other in silence for a long while before you decided to confront him about it directly. You eventually decided it was for the best if you got things off your chest now so that you could get over him quickly. Ripping it off like a band-aid would hopefully give you the relief you so desperately craved right now.

“You know,” you began. “I don’t know who came up with the idea and I also don’t care, no need to tell me. But you guys should never do this to anyone again because you never know how much it might end up hurting someone else’s feelings.”

Alhaitham stood upright and turned to face you directly. He crossed his arms over his chest and slightly cocked his head like he always did when he was thinking about something you said.

After a momentary pause, he asked: “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t toy with someone’s feelings as a prank. It’s never actually funny for anyone but the people who orchestrate such a prank. No matter if the other person reciprocates the feelings or whether they believe the statement, they always end up being the one who is being ridiculed.” You explained as rationally as possible, which was a stark contrast to the tempest that was raging both inside of your heart and mind.

“Especially when the person hoped to hear those exact words for the longest time, too…” You added. It wasn't more than an utterance under your breath - so quietly it was barely audible. But Alhaitham heard nonetheless.

“But I meant everything I said.” He stated matter of factly, seemingly catching on to the fact that you must’ve assumed the wrong things about the whole situation.

“What?! Alhaitham, please, there is no need to add insult to injury. You had your fun now–”

“No.” He gently took your hands in his, exhaling heavily. “Archons, you weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

He rarely swore which made the impact of his words even stronger.

“I wanted to tell you face to face and was waiting for the right moment to do so. But, just know that every word you heard and everything I said back at the tavern was the truth. No bet or scheme made me say it. Not that anyone would be able to make me say these things in the first place.” He sighed once more, giving your hands an emphasizing squeeze. “I meant it.”

“You did?”

“Every word.”

You felt the blood rush to your face and immediately lowered your gaze in an attempt to hide your flusteredness.

“Had I known this would happen, I would’ve told you everything right from the start. I don’t like how this went now but–”, he moved his hands up to cup your face. His beautiful turquoise eyes trained on no one but you. 

“I’m absolutely certain I like you. You drive me crazy. And I love and hate how much you occupy every waking thought of mine because I can’t focus on anything when you’re around. And when you’re not, you’re still always on my mind. So please – be mine.”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Heyho, I saw that your wolverine requests are open and would love Logan reuniting with the reader who he was in love with and thought was dead. Instead she was just Stuck in the void for some reason, maybe being besties with Remy and Logans a little jealous? 👀💞

Logan had just about enough of Wade pissing him about, dragging him along with the promises of getting the TVA to fix his timeline, the timeline he has fucked up and lost everyone he cared about, and subsequently made everyone go against the mutants because of his own actions.

He has lost you prior to the massacre at the mansion. You were sent out on a mission, a simple rescue mission that got dicey real quick with the brotherhood of mutants came, and for weeks on end Logan was left on the edge of breaking the longer the silence on your end grew; only for it crescendoed when it it was brought to everyone’s attention that you and the brotherhood were seemingly wiped from existence. No traces of you were left behind and Logan was forced to deal with the thought that you may be dead, never to come home and brighten his day ever again with that sweet smile of yours.

It had hurt him beyond words to hear this news and immediately responded in denial and anger that he later went to the location where you seemingly disappeared, only to come across a piece of fabric caught on a branch, it was yours for your fresh scent was on it, and so in sobering acceptance Logan pocketed the fabric and made his ways down to the pub to drown his sorrows before encountering his second tragedy back at the mansion.

Two tragedies that ended up with Logan losing the most important people in his life and he couldn’t do anything about it, it ate away at him when he was awake and ate even more at him during the night where the screams were at their loudest. Logan didn’t know whether you died screaming but now and then he swore he could hear your screams the loudest amongst them all.

So while he was eyeing the impressive collection of liquor, debating on which one he should down first, he heard a laugh and then a voice so familiar and engrained in his mind it made his eyes water upon hearing it.

‘Remy i did not steal your bo staff, that is such a ridiculous statement, you probably left it somewhere you can’t remember.’

‘If not you mon Amie then who? Last I recall you wanted revenge against me for a harmless little prank.’

Logan heard you sigh. ‘Harmless is one way to put it but I swear I did not touch your bo staff!’

‘That’s what someone who takes other people’s bo staffs would say.’ Remy replied playfully as you both came into Logan’s view. His eyes were quick to focus on the way Remy’s arm was slung over your shoulder oh so casually as jealously began to brew within his chest. You were both too close for Logan’s liking and he’d have half a mind to walk over and slice Remy’s arm clean off, but unfortunately for the time being he had to show restraint.

Logan could only watch as your laughter subsided and disappeared when your eyes locked onto his. ‘Logan.’ You said his name breathlessly. ‘Logan it’s me!’ You cried as you were quick to push yourself away from Remy’s side as you walked towards him with hope in your eyes. Logan felt his walls crumbling down and the raging jealousy subside as he greeted you halfway, bringing you into his arms tightly as he buried his face deep into your neck.

‘I know it’s you dumbass. There’s no one else quite like you here.’ He said softly as he breaths you in, trying his hardest not to break down right then and there, and telling himself repeatedly that this wasn’t a dream like the ones he had countless times before; You were here in his arms and smelling as sweet as the day you left on that mission. ‘I thought you were dead.’ He adds softly just for you to hear and you couldn’t help but feel your heart break for the amount of hurt Logan must’ve went through thinking that you were dead.

‘I thought I was too.’ You admitted to him as you burrowed your face into his chest, having been missing him dearly since the moment you were brought to the void lost and with no way home to him, you could only imagine what he must’ve been thinking back home that it brought you to tears that day. You knew of Logan’s past and knew how deeply he loved and how deeply he could be hurt, you promised him that you wouldn’t be amongst the people he lost, but it seemed as though the TVA had differing opinions on that and pruned you on the day of the mission.

‘What happened on that mission.’ Logan asked.

‘Everything was going fine, up until these weird people in uniforms- the TVA- that came out of those orange door like portals and pruned all of us.’ You explained as best as you could but even now you still didn’t understand why. However after some time spent in the void you had grown past the point of caring about the reason behind it and just wanted to go home, but most importantly go back home to Logan.

‘Why?’ Logan growled, finding himself hating the TVA even more than he did previously knowing that they had a hand in your disappearance, and even had the audacity to lie and tell him straight to his face that you were dead, not trapped in the void but dead. ‘What gives them the right.’ He adds as he tightens his hold on you, hoping that it would keep you safe for he wasn’t planning on loosing you a second time. You sounded so scared and he fucking hated knowing that you were on your own here for so long, scared and afraid of the unknown of the void.

‘I don’t know Logan.’ You told him honestly, not caring whether or not people saw you break down, ‘I was so fucking scared that I tried calling out for you in hopes that you’d hear me…but you weren’t there…I was so scared that I was going to die here.’ If Logan wasn’t already protective of you before, then he was even more protective of you if that was possible to begin with as he pressed reassuring kisses against your forehead. ‘It’s okay, I’m here now, you’re not alone anymore not ever again will you be alone.’ He promised you as he hugged you tighter against his chest in hopes of bringing you comfort with his warmth.

‘I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.’ You told him, pulling back to press your forehead against his own, smiling softly when you felt him push his head against yours.

‘I’m just as fucking glad to see you’re okay too sweetheart.’ Logan replied as he felt comfortable enough to close his eyes, finding it easier to breathe and relax within your presence as he drank you in.

The reunion between you two was sweet as it was comforting knowing that the other way okay, but then Remy opened his mouth. ‘ you must be the Logan they’ve talked so highly about.’ He said with a smile, happy to see you reunited with a loved one.

‘Who’s this.’ Logan asked you with a sense of hostility as you held his face within your hands so that he wouldn’t be able to look elsewhere but you. ‘Remy. He’s just a friend I made here and an occasional pain in my ass, nothing more.’ You reassured him as you stroked his cheeks in hopes of calming him down.

‘I can assure you that their heart is more than taken by you.’ Remy interjects as you glare at him to shut up, only for him to smirk and shrug his shoulders before deciding to grant you both some privacy. ‘Just don’t do anything carnal or nasty anywhere near my liquor yeah?’ He adds without shame as you glared daggers into his back, by the gods he can be so embarrassing sometimes.

‘I’m so sorry about him.’ You told Logan but he was too busy admiring your lips.

‘Is what he said true?’ He asks softly.

‘Yes.’ You admitted, ‘but it’s not like you like me I mean what about jea-‘ before you could finish your sentence Logan was quick to shut you up with a impassioned kiss that almost knocked you back, but you were just as eager to reciprocate the kiss tenfold as your hands ran up and into his hair, giving it a sharp tug now and then as Logan would retaliate with a low growl and biting your bottom lip.

‘Are you going to fuck now? If you are should I leave or?’ Wade asked and Logan was reminded of the most obvious and annoying person alive and pulled away to glare at him. ‘Fuck off.’

‘Okay.’ Wade said and was immediately out of the room as fast as he could.

‘Where were we?’ Logan asked once he looked back at you with a soft smile as you drew him back into a soft, warm kiss, your soul singing happily as you reunited with the man you loved the most.

[midastouch013]

"So f**king stupid"

Based on this request

Summary: You've been neglecting your pregnant wife for a while now, and so when you come home early from a mission, what do you realize?

Warnings: Pregnant Nat, Angst, Hurt, Insecurity, Stupid reader. hurt/comfort. Minor swearing

малютка - Little one

--

It had been weeks since Natasha had felt the warmth of your embrace for more than a fleeting moment. Your once bustling mornings, where you’d share quiet cups of coffee and stolen glances, had become a distant memory. Instead, Natasha watched the clock tick as she waited for you to finish whatever mission or task had consumed your attention for the day.

When you finally appeared, it was never long enough. Five minutes for a rushed lunch, barely enough time to talk, before you’d sprint off for another meeting, debriefing with Steve, or diving into Tony’s chaos. Natasha tried not to take it personally, but as the days passed, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being left behind.

She had suggested lunch together, but you were too caught up. "I have five minutes, and then I need to brief Steve on the mission,” you had said, eyes scanning the files in your hands as you quickly stuffed the sandwich into your mouth.

"Five minutes," Natasha echoed, the sting of disappointment lacing her words. She didn't want to argue or demand more of you, but the gap between the two of you felt insurmountable now. The movie night you had planned, a quiet, cozy evening for the two of you, never came to fruition. “I can’t, babe. I’m helping Tony with the team’s weapons. I’ll make it up to you,” you had promised, but the days turned into weeks, and Natasha was left curled up on the couch, movie tickets long forgotten.

Then came the nights—quiet nights. Natasha would curl up in bed, waiting for you, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. You’d pass through the door just as she was about to fall asleep, your face flushed from running through the day’s tasks. She’d offer a smile, but you would always say the same thing.

“Don’t wait up. I have a ton of files to go through.”

And Natasha would nod, pretending everything was fine, even as she lay in the dark, alone.

Sometimes, other members of the team would come by, but they were too busy to stay long, and Natasha wasn’t about to burden them with her own loneliness. She didn’t want to be the needy partner who demanded attention. So, she tried to fill the silence by keeping busy, like working on her own training or catching up with Clint, but even that didn’t erase the quiet emptiness she felt in your absence.

You hadn’t realized. Or maybe, you hadn’t noticed how much you’d drifted away. Your focus was on the mission, on keeping the team safe, on the work that needed to be done, and Natasha understood that. She wasn’t angry with you. But somewhere between the late nights and early mornings, she had slipped through the cracks.

And with the passing weeks, Natasha's growing discomfort seemed to only intensify. She had always been strong, capable, but the changes happening in her body, combined with your increasing absence, were slowly eating away at her. She tried to brush it off, to remain the confident, fierce Black Widow, but deep down, doubts gnawed at her.

Her body had changed as the baby grew, and she could feel her insecurities creeping in. The soft curves, the slight roundness in her belly, the changes she couldn’t ignore. She knew, intellectually, that it was natural, that this was a process she was supposed to embrace. But all she could see was the woman she once was slipping further and further from view, replaced by someone unfamiliar.

And you, the person she needed most, were always busy. You were still there, but you weren’t really there. You’d rush in and out, offering half-hearted apologies when you saw the sadness in her eyes, but it never seemed enough. She didn’t want to burden you more, didn’t want to add to your already overflowing plate, so she remained silent, trying to make do with the little moments she could grab in between your tasks.

But then, as the days stretched into weeks, something shifted. The way you looked at her, or maybe the way you didn’t look at her. It was subtle at first, but Natasha started to feel invisible. Was it the baby? Was she no longer desirable to you? The fear of you losing interest in her started to fester deep inside. She knew you loved her, but that didn’t make the pain of being neglected any less real.

She tried to convince herself that it was just the stress, the weight of being an Avenger, but the fear of you leaving her, especially with the baby on the way, made her chest tighten. And it all festered until that fateful night.

--

It wasn't that late but the house was dark and quiet, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as you slipped inside. The mission had wrapped up early, for once, and instead of your usual routine of staying to finish reports or help Tony tweak weapons, you’d decided to come home. Natasha had been on your mind all day, you missed her and wanted to see your favourite person and soon-to-be other favourite person (your baby) again.

As you walked down the hallway toward your bedroom, you noticed the faint light seeping through the slightly ajar door. You slowed, intending to surprise her, but the soft sound of her voice made you pause.

Natasha was talking. No, she was… whispering.

You peeked through the crack in the door, and your heart clenched at the sight. She was sitting up in bed, her arms wrapped protectively around her swollen belly, her head bowed as though in deep conversation. Her voice was thick with emotion, barely above a whisper, but every word carried the weight of her pain.

“Hey, малютка,” she began, her tone soft and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t heard in months. “It’s just us again tonight. I guess that’s nothing new, huh?”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. She thought she was alone, pouring her heart out to the child growing inside her.

“I know she’s busy. She’s saving the world, like always. And I’m so proud of her. I really am,” Natasha said, her hand rubbing gentle circles over her belly. “But it’s hard, you know? Feeling like I’m the only one here. Like she’s forgotten about us.”

Your chest tightened, the guilt clawing at your insides as you stayed rooted in place, unable to interrupt her.

“Maybe it’s me,” Natasha continued, her voice cracking. “Maybe she’s just... not attracted to me anymore. I mean, look at me.” She let out a hollow laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. “I’m not the same woman she married. I’m bigger, slower, more emotional. I cry at stupid things like movies now. I wouldn’t blame her if she looked at me and thought, ‘This isn’t who I fell in love with.’”

“No, Nat,” you whispered under your breath, tears stinging your eyes.

“She probably thinks I’m too clingy,” Natasha said after a long pause. “But it’s just... I miss her. I miss the way she used to hold me, talk to me, look at me like I was her entire world. And now... now I feel like I’m just another thing on her to-do list.”

You wanted to burst in, to tell her how wrong she was, but you couldn’t move. Her words pinned you in place, each one hitting you like a punch to the gut.

Natasha’s voice softened again, almost a whisper. “I’m scared, малютка . What if she leaves? What if she realizes she doesn’t want this life, doesn’t want me... or you?”

Your knees nearly buckled as she continued, her words slicing through you like shards of glass.

“I’m trying to be strong for us. But some days, I feel like I’m falling apart.” Natasha sniffled, her voice trembling. “I just hope... I hope you’ll know how much I love you. Even if she doesn’t stay, you’ll always have me. I promise, okay?”

That was it. You couldn’t take another second of her pain. Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, and Natasha’s head snapped up, her tear-streaked face a mixture of shock and mortification.

“Y/N?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “How long have you been standing there?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The lump in your throat was too thick, and the shame was too heavy. Instead, you crossed the room in a few quick strides, sinking to your knees in front of her.

“Tasha,” you choked out, your voice breaking, unable to conjure any words.

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head quickly, reaching for your hands. “No, Y/N, I didn’t mean—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to downplay it. I’ve been so blind, so caught up in everything else, that I didn’t even see how much I’ve hurt you.”

Your eyes glistened as you looked up at her, your heart breaking at the sight of her swollen belly and the raw pain in her eyes. “I’ve been such a selfish idiot, Nat. You’re my wife. You’re carrying our child, and I’ve been neglecting you. I let you feel alone, and I let you doubt yourself. God, I’m so fucking stupid.”

Natasha tried to squeeze your hands, to reassure you, but it only made you feel worse. “I know you’re busy,” she began, her voice soft and hesitant. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, don’t,” you pleaded, cutting her off. “Please don’t make excuses for me. I don’t deserve it. I’ve been putting everything else first when it should have been you. I’ve been taking you for granted, and I hate myself for it.”

She hesitated, her lips trembling, and you could see the walls she’d tried to build around her pain start to crumble. “I just... I didn’t want to be a burden,” she admitted quietly.

“You could never be a burden,” you said firmly, cupping her face in your hands. “You and our baby are the most important things in my life. And I’ve been so stupid, Nat. I’ve been so caught up in everything else that I didn’t realize what I was doing to you, to us.”

“I’m so sorry, I—please forgive me, Nat. I promise, I promise, I’ll be here. I’ll be here for you, for the baby. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with tears of her own, and for a moment, she was silent. But then she nodded, slowly, her face softening with the first real sense of relief you’d seen from her in weeks.

“You mean it?” Her voice was small, fragile, but hopeful.

“I mean it,” you whispered, pulling her into your arms, holding her tightly. “I’ll be here, Nat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. You’ll never feel alone again.”

She melted into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as her tears fell silently against your skin.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I’ve missed you so much.”

"I missed you too", you whispered back with a kiss to her forehead.

And you held her tighter, never wanting to let go. The weight of the past weeks hung between you, but in that moment, as you both finally allowed the distance between you to close, it felt like there was hope. Hope that, despite everything, you could fix this. You could be the partner she deserved. The mother of your child. The one she needed.

And you’d never make her feel alone again.

[allfearstofallto]

A Once a Week Arrangement

Yandere! Childe x AFAB! Reader

Synopsis: Childe no longer wants to force you to be intimate with him, so you agree to it, but only once a week.

Word Count: 2.3k

TW: Yandere, Dub/Non-Con, Violence, NSFW, Smut, Oral, Forced Marriage, Manipulation, Unprotected Sex, Mentions of pregnancy/breeding

The way you kicked, bit, and screamed was a bit of a predicament. Your kitten-like punches did little in the way of actually hurting him, it felt more like feathers against his strong chest.

But he hated what he had to do to get you to behave for him, the welts and bruises he'd leave on your body hurt him more than they hurt you. And he hated the silent treatment you'd give him after your nights together. How you'd flinch away from his touch, nursing one of your swollen wrists.

“I don't like hurting you like this,” he'd say to you, his tone sincere, “but we've been married for a year and I do have needs.” As he said this he squeezed the fat of your thigh to add urgency to his words. And you let him. After the night you had, your will to fight was flickering out like a candle in the wind.

He took your lack of a response as a response itself and continued his little lecture, “So I thought, let's put things on a bit of a schedule. I get what I want and you get your well deserved rest. How does three times a week sound?”

“Once.” You spat back quickly. You wanted to say never or not at all, but you knew he wouldn't take that for an answer. Not the sex crazed maniac that was Childe who claimed to crave your body like a drug.

“Deal,” he replied with a smirk.

You should've known there was a catch with how quickly he agreed. And the catch was your submission.

The lingerie you wore was little more than a few stings and lace, something that he insisted that you wear, as it would make the night better and easier for the both of you. You felt your body prickle up with goosebumps as the cool air of his bedroom tickled your practically bare skin.

“I am truly blessed by the Tsaritsa,” he said this line like he was out of breath as he shut the door behind him. He slipped the robe off of his shoulders and left him in nothing, but his underwear.

His body was one you'd seen many times before when his urges took over. He was toned and firm, a rock hard stomach with a thin waist. Years of fighting left him littered with battle scars. All over his torso was burns, cuts, bruises, some looking worse than others, depending on how long it took to treat them.

You didn't want to look him in the eye, instead you stared out the window. You hated Snezhnaya, but when you had to admit, it had the best night sky. With little in the way of streetlights, the sky here looked like it was bursting with stars.

“None of that,” he gripped your face in one of his hands, squeezing your cheeks and making you look at him. At this angle, you were face to face with his erection. His thick, long, hard length was pitching a tent in his underwear, the tip of his aching cock was damp, practically dripping with precum, “It needs your attention.” Childe moaned as he pressed the leaking head against your cheek.

You scowled at the demeaning way he was toying with you, but based on what you agreed upon, you couldn't say no. It's just for one night, you had to tell yourself, and it was better than what he was doing before.

With little grace, you grabbed the hem of his underwear and ripped them down. His large cock sprung free, hitting his abdomen and continuing its insistent twitching. He held the back of your head, petting you like an animal and urging you to come closer.

“Your mouth first,” he began, his lips still on that stupid fucking proud smile.

Still sitting on the edge of your bed, you leaned forward and opened your mouth. He met you halfway and pressed his hips forward, pushing his dick into your mouth. His precum already began to coat his tongue, a salty taste that you could barely focus on as he'd already begun to thrust into your mouth.

You held his hips as you tried to match the pace of his thrusts with your mouth, but also keep him from pushing too far. Of course, he still tried it and with the hand that was on the back of your head, he pushed you all the way down to the base of his cock.

The tip of it hitting your throat made you gag immediately, but much to your dismay, he held you there with a strong grip. Your nose was nestled up against his orange bush of pubic hair, lips already began to secrete drool that dripped down your chin.

It felt like he was trying to kill you with it. The noises your poor throat was making could only be referred to as lewd with the way you gagged and choked on it. But even the glare you shot up at him with tear stained eyes didn't make him wish to stop, instead it only made him fuck hard, until he was using your hair as an anchor. Gripping the base of your scalp so hard, you were sure he was going to rip you bald, he made sure you didn't move a muscle as his hips moved back and forth, in and out of your mouth.

“Ah! Yes! Yes! Just like that, my angel,” his sickly sweet moans dripped off of his tongue, head thrown back in pleasure, while his hips seemed to not cease.

Your jaw was hurting and it was hard to breathe, every thrust made you gag, and most of all you hated the man doing this to you. All and all, you were miserable, but there was nothing you could do, other than let him fuck his twitching member into your mouth and hope that he'd stop stop.

Childe looked down on you, those deep blue eyes looked like they were glowing in the darkness of the room. He had a smirk on his face, an expression that you hated on him, it meant he was thinking of something in that sadistic mind of his.

“All over that pretty face,” he grunted to himself and before you could even register what he meant, his cock was pulled out of your mouth. Silver drool from the back of your throat connected your lips to his dick, a disgusting sight for you, but a turn on for him.

That drool of yours was used as lube as he began to hastily stroke his shaft. The noise was loud, as it was right by your face, you couldn't pull away if you wanted to, he still had a tight grip on your hair.

“Close your eyes. Now.” He ordered in a strangled grunt. And you did as you were told quickly, clenching your eyes shut.

You could hear him stroking himself just a little longer, before he began those familiar moans. Then you felt it. A hot liquid hitting your face. You grimaced knowing what he was doing, he loved showing his ownership of you and what better way to do it then to splurge rope after rope of his semen all over you.

Disgust was only the beginning of your feelings as you felt some of it land on your hair, your cheek, even on your eyelid and breasts.

He finally released the death grip he had on your hair, which prompted you to open your eyes. His dick was softening and his chest was rising and falling quickly as rose through the waves of his afterglow, but you knew better than to think he was done for the night. Oral was just an appetizer for him.

A finger was placed near your lips, his tired eyes watching you intently, “Open.” He directed you and begrudgingly, you did.

A little of his cum had landed on his hand, you recognized that familiar salty, bitter taste. He thrust that finger in and out of your mouth before pulling it away and stroking your cheek in a gesture that would be tender, if he wasn't the one doing it.

“On your back, legs spread,” his cock had already started twitching to life again. Apparently that forced, little show you'd put on with his finger was enough to get him started again.

Much to your dismay, he didn't just pull your panties to the side and start fucking into you, getting this over with as quickly as possible. He often complained that the sex wasn't passionate because of how hard you were fighting him off, but who would want passion from someone like him, someone you didn't even care for.

He started up top instead. Your heart was thumping in your chest as he climbed on top of you, placing both of your thighs on his hips, keeping your legs spread for him. You could feel his dick pressing against your thin panties, a sensation that made your stomach churn and knot.

He presses kisses against your neck and chest. His touch felt like fire on your skin, a disgusting feeling that you just had to allow. You hate to say it, but you preferred the way it was before. That way it would be over quickly. That way you didn't have to watch as he kissed and licked all over your body.

With a teasing hand, he slid the lace of your bra to the side, exposing your nipple to the air. His pink tongue wasted no time darting out of his mouth and lapping at the sensitive bud. You hated this the most, hated when he was making you feel good.

Your teeth were clenched together painfully as you tried to not moan from him. Tried to not enjoy the feeling of his cock grinding between your wet lips, pushing the fabric of your panties against your clit.

Another smirk from him and you knew you were in for something awful. He lifted up and grabbed his now hard dick in his hands, pushing your panties aside and rubbing the tip of his length up and down your slit.

“Ask me to put it in,” he said while pushing the tip against your hole, but not completely filling you. He'd do this over and over again, barely fucking you with the tip before pulling it out and doing it again.

You wanted to roll your eyes, wanted to spit in the face, to kick him and punch him, to fight him rather than asking him to fill you. Anything is better than the alternative, you told yourself.

“Just fuck me already, Ajax,” your grumbled, unable to force yourself to be submissive in the way you wanted him to be. But your brattiness seemed to make his eyes light up, his cock twitching even harder against your entrance.

He pushed into you hard, a sadistic grin on his face. You mewled out from the pain, he knew his length was larger and hard for you to take, but in this very moment, he didn't care. The way you defiantly asked for him was something he didn't think he'd enjoy and he wanted to fuck the attitude out of you.

His pace was brutal, but that was something you were here used to when it came to sleeping with him. How he fucked into you so hard, you tits would bounce and the sound of your skin slapping against each other would echo off the walls. Without your usual struggling, it felt completely different. You could feel each and every inch of him sliding across your walls that were growing slicker by the minute.

He was letting out those same tender moans while he pounded your cunt, fucking you just the way he wanted you. One of your legs was lifted up and he placed it on his toned, large shoulder, managing to thrust even deeper into you.

“This pussy is incredible,” he moaned while still fucking you into the mattress. He reached a hand down and made you look at him, “I'm close, my angel.”

Those words made a pit form in your stomach. The implications of him cumming inside not going past you. You turned your head away as he continued to pound you, based on the rules of your agreement, you couldn't say no to him for the duration of the night and Childe always mentioned how badly he wants to see you swollen with his children. That thought only made you more sick to your stomach.

He pumped inside you a few more times, sweat dripping down his forehead, before his hips start stuttering and his thrusts become sloppy. His pace slows down to a slow crawl and he lets out a guttural moan.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he whines while balls deep inside of you. He twitches and writhes with his eyes shut tightly drinking in every delicious inch of you, then pulls out quickly.

You gasp in surprise as he begins to shoot ropes of cum onto your body. His shot so far, so much, some of it even managed to hit your face again. He let out a sigh of content, then flopped down on the bed next to you, wrapping a territorial arm over your body.

“I was gonna cum inside you,” he admits with a cheeky grin, “but I want it to be just the two of us for a little while longer.”

You merely scoffed at his answer, rolling over so that you were faced away from him in bed. You just wanted to go to sleep and for the night to be over with, but much to your dismay, you felt a hand on your hip and his body grinding against you from behind.

“You must've forgotten the terms of our agreement. I've got you all night,”

[rubywithecat]

-How you turn them on(JJK men)-

Minors do not interact as it contains mature usages and ideas.

Gojo Satoru

(Small moans)

- You knocked on his office room door. “Love, I’m so busy. Can I talk to you later?” He said, still focusing on his paperwork, not even looking at you. You felt sad. You understand his work is important but he can’t just keep ignoring you, so u decided to make him pay. “Well… isn’t it so hot here? Ah…” he took a glance at you, so it’s working. You smiled. “Satoru, is your AC broken or smth?” You said innocently as you sat on the couch near his desk, crossing your leg, reveling slightly skin of your tigh from your skirt, undoing some top buttons from your shirt, making soft moan, enough for him to hear. He seems to be irritated by it so he adjusted himself at seat. You smirked, taking a look at him. “Ah…, Satoru… “ you continued. “What!” He replied raising his voice. “Can we grab some coffee later then” you replied quickly and casually. He can’t remain calm anymore. “Well, u wanna play games. I’m up to it” He said as removed himself from his seat and came to u. You raised your left brows. “Don’t u have works to do?” You teased. “How can I focus on it” he said, kissing you as he zipped off your skirt.

Geto Suguru

(Jealousy)

- U had a huge fight with him before coming here, “Y/N, ur so drunk. We should return home.” He said as he pushed away the cup from your hand and trying to get u up from ur seat. You resisted him and u can see his expression serious and frustrated. “I don’t wanna leave! If u want, u can by urself. The door is right there” you said as u took another shot, cheered with ur classmate. “Ur so fun, (classmate name). And ur cute too” You flirted, touching his face. “Another shot?” Classmate offered and smiled. Geto harshly grabbed the cup from him and put it aside, then he pulled u with all force he can use and made it to his car. U were both silent during the drive. Actually, u were mad at him. “I know ur mad at me” He said as he parked. U tried to open the door without talking to him but it was locked. He leaned near u and u looked away. He smirked and pulled u closer then, passionately kiss u. It was so good that u moaned. “So, do it up at home or right here?” He asked. U know u can’t resist him even tho ur still mad at him. “I want u right here” u replied as u felt betrayed by ur body.

Toji Fushiguro

(Touching him innocently)

- His mood is bad tdy as he got to talk with his son Megumi. “He is ur son. He doesn’t mean anything he said” U comforted him, patting his shoulder. He shirked. “I’m not in the mood!” he yelled which made u flinched, “I… didn’t do anything…” u replied as u backed off. “I’m sorry, (ur name). I just… never mind, come here” he opened his arms. U sat down on his tigh as u hugged his neck with both of ur hands. U looked at him face to face. U were about to say smth but he stopped u by kissing u. Then, he lied u down on the bed as he undo his belt.

Sukuna Ryomen

(Dirty talking)

- U have to verbally say it. “If u want it, u beg it” he had said before with a huge ego. But u would never make him get his way. He should be the one coming to u. So, u decided to turn him on in a way that he could never resist. “Sukuna, please… more!” U said, as u simply made him to add more blueberry in ur yogurt. He looked at u and frowned. “R u trying to turn me on by saying these things?” He asked as he put ur hair strands behind ur ear, "I told u before, u beg for it if u want it." U shrugged. “Maybe not. Anyway I hope these blueberry should be huge banana cuz I’m good at sucking it” u winked as u took a sip of yogurt and licked a bite from ur ring finger seducingly. "Stop resisting me, baby. I'm urs if u say it" he said, his armed crossed. "U should be the one who say it" U replied. "Don't u like my taste? U says what... oh, it tastes like... hmm..." u teased. He can't do it anymore. He grabbed ur waist and bent u against kitchen counter. "U started this first. Don't tell me to stop" he hissed to ur ear.

(Hii! I hope u enjoy this! Please like, comment and share if u love this <3 Thanks!)

____

[sweetimpurity]

I Think I'll Keep You 5

a/n: Thank you again for your patience! I hope you guys enjoy and the next chapter is already underway and will come very soon! And some more art and bots coming out as well so look out for that!

w.c.: 10.2k NSFW MINORS DNI

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“...accurate and efficient methods of decoding… further aiding us in understanding… um… complicated genetic codes… pushing preservation and conservation. Uhh… yeah.” Miguel sighs, sitting up in his seat and peering over your arm as you type away on his laptop. Sitting at a table in the middle of the library during tutoring hours. Your fingers typing for him as he speaks what he wants written. He can’t type. Not with his right hand totally out of commission. So he’s come to your open tutoring hours. And now you have a student to work on so you can get paid and he can get help with his work. It’s Saturday and the two of you have been practically connected at the hip for the past two days.

You woke up beside him yesterday afternoon after that late night emergency room run. Lazily, sleepily taking the rest of the day slowly. Walking across campus to get food since all you both ate the whole night was a few pieces of candy. Smiling and talking, shoes splashing in shallow puddles along the concrete. A refreshing feeling having moved on from the mess of the last few weeks. The bubble has popped. That bubble of sex and ignorance that felt so great for the both of you. Sitting in the dining hall, among the hardwood and tall, ancient windows of your old university; looking over the school grounds turned fall shades and the autumn breeze blowing in through the window. Trying to talk about anything that won’t add any more stress or tension. No talk of friends, or family, not even school. Really just talking about whatever comes into your mind. And the conversation is just so easy. It’s different to spend time with him outside of the dorm room. It didn’t happen very often before. A lot of your conversations were pillowtalk. It’s different talking about the other parts of your life that don’t take place right after doing the deed. Miguel is funny. And he’s a good listener when his mind is clear and he’s focused on you. Only you. 

Feels like things are going back to normal. Well not how it was before. A new normal. 

“I think it sounds good… it’s a little awkward in the intro still but we can fix it up later…” You assure him, fixing a few typos and reading it over. The library is nice and quiet as always. You didn’t have any other students come this afternoon so you have time to focus on this and help Miguel since you know he can’t really do it himself right now.

“I don’t know… feels like I’m missing something. I’m gonna include the research but it doesn't feel like enough.” He sighs, leaning his elbows on the table, pushing his frames further up the bridge of his nose and looking over the notes in his hand. His knee is bouncing under the table and you can feel the vibrations of it in your seat. He’s applying to the Alchemax grant program. A huge grant with a long essay to go with it, multiple letters of recommendation and a personal profile piece. Tens of thousands of dollars for his research project. And he’d basically be an intern there. Able to use their facilities and labs to complete the job and create a brand new study of his own. It would start right after graduation and almost definitely lead to a great job at Alchemax Industries. He sighs, leaning back in his seat, draping his arm over the back of your chair. 

“You okay?” You hum, observing his clearly distressed behavior. His knee bouncing, his brow furrowed, the sighs. He looks over at you, in your eyes. Don’t lie. “Yeah I’m fine… just… want to get this right.” 

You nod. Knowing that’s not all there is to it. But accepting it for now. “Well, maybe you should include some of your… personality…traits…” You suggest with a small smile, knowing that it will be like pulling teeth with him, clasping your hands in your lap and looking over at him next to you. 

“Like what. I mean… Tyler knows me. He’s the one that told me to apply.” [Tyler Stone. President and Ceo of Alchemax Industries.] He sighs, pushing his glasses up on his head, his dark curls becoming a little messy with the metal pushed through them, and rubbing the sides of his nose with his fingers. The ache of wearing his glasses for a while when he usually doesn’t like wearing them at all. But he’s worn them more often the past few days. He can see you more clearly now.  

“Yeah but he’s not the only one who’s gonna be working with you or deciding if you get the job or not. You want people to know who you are… know the kind of person you are. More often than not, that’s more important than the research when it comes to something like this. I mean, you’re not just applying for a grant, you’re applying for a job…” You explain kindly. He looks up, in your eyes, his eyes raking over your pretty face. He loves feeling like he can be close to you again. He loves feeling like he knows what’s going on in your head. Or maybe that’s just his need for control seeping in. Like venom in warm blood. Just sitting next to you like this. Even if he hasn’t so much as kissed you since everything went down. It’s only been nearly two weeks but it feels like an eternity. He wants to so badly. But he reminds himself that this is how things are right now. He messed up and he’s getting a second chance. He won’t take your forgiveness for granted. “Yeah, you’re right.” He admits, dropping the graphs and charts on the table.

“Maybe talk about family… inspirations… personal goals. People like that kind of stuff. People also want to know that you can be a part of something bigger than yourself…” You say, fingers brushing over the keys and ready to type what he says. “Uh…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to pull this out of his brain. He doesn’t really want to talk about his family. Doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of being considered inspiration. But his upbringing and his parents’ names alone have opened a lot of doors for him in the past. His fingers fidget on the back of your chair, catching a few strands of your hair, playing with it so softly that you don’t even feel it. And he watches the side of your face to make sure you don’t notice, your eyes focused on the computer screen. Curling the strands around his finger and getting lost in touching you. Hanging on desperately to this morsel of touch. Knowing he probably shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself.

“I guess… we could say I grew up watching my parents with their business. But that’s more… financial services. When I was born, OLI was just taking off and now… I’ve watched them build it into what it is today.” He explains. You keep typing, writing it down in the notes to keep it straight. You can hear the sigh in his voice like he hates to be talking about it. You don’t know why. Mostly because he’s never spoken about this before. But if he’s applying for such a big opportunity then it’s important to include.

“OLI, I’ve heard of that, I think…” You look over at him, unsure what that stands for but you know you’ve heard that acronym before, or maybe you’ve seen it somewhere? 

“O’hara Legacy Investments.” He says with a nod and sigh, a level of disdain in his tone. He leans forward, his mind still on this essay. On beefing it up with info that might secure him this grant. Even though he’s confident his connections will get him in. There’s always a chance things might not go his way. He wants to prepare for every possible outcome. He hates to feel out of control. You stop typing. That sounds like investment banking. Like the kind of thing that makes people billionaires. 

“Is that the… that tall building downtown?” You ask, looking over at him and he nods, a blank stare in his eyes as he’s looking down at the research notes. “Your family runs that?”

“Yep.” He sighs, not offering more information so you don’t ask for more.

“Okay sooo… how would that influence your work at Alchemax?” You prompt, trying to veer back on course. You can tell he’s losing steam, you’ve been at this a while. 

“So I guess it’s not really the same as what I would be doing at Alchemax but… Watching how that runs… how many people it takes to keep something running like that. I guess something about leading teams of people working towards a goal…” He keeps thinking out loud and you keep typing, interpreting his words into organized notes and ideas. “So.. maybe about you as a leader? You think you can be a good leader…” 

“Yeah. I think so… and soccer, we could include that too.” He says, perking up and sitting up a bit straighter. Although the topic of soccer does bring his anxiety levels up a bit. Watching you type while playing with a piece of frayed material on his cast. “Yeah, captain of the soccer team, sports is always something they want to hear. If you’re a leader… organizer. And coming from SU especially, they love to see it.” You agree, typing and compiling the thoughts that come to mind. “And to know you can work in a team…” 

Miguel nods. Feeling relieved that you’re able to help him with this. He did all the more technical notes for it over the past few weeks. Organized lots of thoughts and data to start the writing process. Then he broke his fingers and that put a wrench in the process. It’s due next week and without you he’d be screwed. But it works out sort of perfectly, and a little selfishly, that now he’s spending more time with you because of that. “I think also…” 

He starts. You look over, ready to type whatever he suggests. “I’m an older brother too… that’s… I don’t know…” He mumbles. You find yourself smiling. “I feel like… maybe being a leader in that way is different.” 

“It’s very different, yes…” You nod, looking back at the laptop screen, a smile dancing on your lips. “Maybe something about… protecting… looking out for those that are important to me. Or being a good role model I guess…” He sighs. Thinking. About Gabriel. About you. Pretty much the two most important people in his life. I guess I haven’t been a very good role model as of late. 

“Loyalty… role model…” You say and nod. Typing those words in the compilation of notes you’re making in the margins. His knee is still bouncing.

“I also think you’re very passionate…” You say. He looks over at you, the side of your face, watching you type more things in the notes. Trying to create a section of his essay that can portray him as not just another applicant. “I think I’m just generally angry… I don’t really think before I do things…” He scoffs, shaking his head and leaning forward, his arms on the table, his head resting down on his forearms, looking at your pretty face from this angle. You grin and nod, giving him a look. “Yeah but we don’t have to include that… passion works…” 

He laughs through his nose, blinking softly and admiring your face. Watching your pretty eyes, the light of the computer screen reflecting in them, making them especially sparkly. It’s quiet for a moment, just the clicks of keys and fingertips. He thinks, reflecting on all that’s happened in the past few weeks. That thing with Dana keeps coming to mind. That was really a moment of lost control. Is that the passion you’re talking about? That he loses control and can’t get it back until it’s almost too late? He worries about that. Not remembering most of it because he was so angry. It sort of feels like a dream. Especially since he fought with you right after that and then everything went right to shit. 

All he knows is that Dana made it back to his dorm. He knows for a fact nothing happened. He wouldn’t have wanted it anyway because he despises her and she was drunk off her ass. But she did lie on his bed. Her perfume was all over him. And he remembers standing over her and wanting to make her hate him. Just so that she would leave him alone. That’s a level of anger he never wants you to witness, or anyone really for that matter. It scares him a bit now to think of it. All he knows is that if you think he’s loyal, he’ll be loyal as a dog. If you think he’s passionate, he’ll be a raging, burning fire to keep you warm. You think he’s anything, he’ll be that. If you want him to be. 

He fidgets with the fray on his cast. Coming off the blue material. His gaze caught on the little cursive “mine” you wrote. That night in the drug store. When you were both so deliriously tired, sitting in the middle of the floor. Having this on his arm is like a reminder. Or a promise. That maybe you’ll be his or he’ll be yours again. He’ll just have to be patient. His thumb brushes over the word, like making sure the letters won’t fall off, making sure they’re stained into the blue permanently. Do you even remember writing this? He thinks. Or were you so tired it feels like a dream? His bouncing knee still vibrates against your chair. 

“Anything else for today? We did a lot…” You ask, looking over at him. Bringing him out of his thoughts. “No, I think that’s good, thank you… but maybe next week we can finalize things and you can help me edit it?” He asks hopefully. “Yeah definitely, I’ll block out some time for you…” 

He nods, sighing and pulling his glasses off his head. Folding them up in his hand and collecting his papers. You just save the document, debating in your head the words on your tongue. Closing the laptop so he can pack it up in his bag. 

“So… you wanna tell me what’s stressing you out?” You ask, turning in your seat to face him and leaning your elbow on the table, head in your hand. He stops what he’s doing, putting down the stack of notebooks. “You can read my mind…” He smiles. 

“No, you’ve just been bouncing your knee against my chair for the past hour.” You sigh, smiling soft but sympathetic at him. His shoulders slump. “Oh sorry…” He shakes his head, feeling embarrassed for being so obvious, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers. 

“It’s okay… Is it the grant? I think your essay will be good enough…” You hum. Noticing all of his distress and not wanting him to be freaking out over something he’s already spent so long working on. “No it’s not… I… I’m really glad you can help me with it. Thank you… I’m just worried about the game tomorrow…” He nods. And it dawns on you. “Ohh…”

“I actually should get going… have a meeting with the coach. Figure out how we’re gonna pull this off…” He sighs, getting up from his seat to gather his things. He’s been wracked with anxiety about the game ever since putting two and two together that he’s out for the next few weeks. It’s against the rules for someone to play with a plaster cast on and he’s nowhere near getting that removed. So the team will have to supplement him. 

“You’re not gonna play are you? You shouldn’t… not with your hand like that.” You insist, watching him get up, pulling on his jacket precariously with his one working hand. He can hear the concern in your voice. “I can’t. It's an instant disqualification… so I have to talk to Coach and maybe I’ll just assistant coach tomorrow, I don’t know…” He sighs, knowing it’ll be a struggle for the team to play without him. And they very well might not win. This is a university proud of its win streak so far. 

“If it hurts, let Coach know… you don’t have to do anything that’s uncomfortable.” You advise softly. Wanting him to be comfortable. Always. That look of care on your face makes him feel a little warm. Making him feel a little soft and fuzzy inside. He can’t remember ever being worried over like that. He clears his throat, trying not to let that feeling get to him too much, shoving his laptop in his bag and zipping it up. “I will… don’t worry about me…” 

He says it but he doesn’t really mean it. Although he doesn't want you to be anxious; he definitely doesn’t need to inflict any more emotional pain on you, he’s done more than enough of that over the past few weeks… he does want you to care. Or it’s more like… once he realized you actually do care, now he doesn’t want to lose that. 

“Just be careful… I know you’ll do well and the team will be fine…” You smile gently. Clicking your pen and watching him getting ready to leave. His bag slung over his shoulder. “Thank you… yeah I just need to chill.” He sighs, moving his hurt hand around absentmindedly to soothe the ache. “Well… the feeling you’re having just means you care. It’s a good feeling, even though it’s scary…” 

He looks in your eyes, down at where you’re still sitting. Feeling struck by your words. You’ve always been so good at that. You always know exactly what to say when he needs to hear it. He hopes to do the same for you one day. If only he can figure out how you manage to do it every time. He just nods in thanks, a renewed sense of relief inside. 

“Dinner later?” He inquires, brow raising as he’s starting to walk away. Walking backwards away from the table, his eyes on you the entire time. 

“Sure, I’ll meet you there…” You rest your head on your hand, watching him go from where you’re sitting. Watching that look on his face. A sort of satisfaction in that he’s leaving but already thinking about when he gets to see you next. He nods. Turning towards the library doors and smiling to himself, making his way out. Sneakers tapping on the hardwood floors of the academic building, sparing you one last glance. Finding your eyes still on him. A stupid sort of giddy feeling in his chest. Lopsided grin on his lips as he leaves the library.

“O’hara! Dude.” Peter’s voice brings him out of his flurry of thoughts. Watching his friend march down the rest of the hall to him. “Where you been? You disappeared again…” Peter chuckles.

“Oh yeah I‘ve just been… busy in the lab and stuff… and my application.” He lies. While it’s true he has been working on his application and piles of homework, he’s also been actively avoiding all of his friends ever since your fight. Unable to handle even the slightest of social interaction. His mind set on you and only you. But he won’t tell Peter that. 

“Dana said you were being crazy or something…” Peter huffs, his brow quirked in disbelief. Miguel’s heart starts to beat a little harder at that. Did Dana tell everyone what happened? Or her version of what happened? “What did she say?”

“Well… she’s kinda implying that you two hooked up after the party last week…” Miguel’s eyes widen at that news. It’s just not true. But that seems to be the story everyone believes so far. “MJ thinks she’s full of shit bu-"

“She is full of shit.” Miguel sighs. Pinching the bridge of his nose. Or trying to with his cast. It was a foolish thing to give into his anger and take Dana back to his dorm. But he didn’t sleep with her. He’s not surprised though that she’s spreading that rumor around. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Shit, what happened?!” Peter flips, looking down at the cast engulfing Miguel’s forearm to the tips of his fingers. Looking at the seemingly broken hand, his eyes scanning over Miguel as a whole. Feeling like he has no idea what’s going on with someone who’s supposed to be his closest friend. “I broke my wrist but it’s fine, doctor says it’ll be fine even without surgery.”

“It’s fine?! What about the game?” Peter asks in panic, running a hand through his previously neat light brown locks. It’s against policy rules to play with a hard plaster cast for the safety of the other players and teammates. But Miguel’s the captain, their top offense and shooter. 

“I’ll be on the sidelines and Miller and Durante can take care of it.”

“It’s Princeton, Miguel. We’re gonna get fuckin’ smoked out there…” Peter huffs, going on and on but Miguel just shakes his head, feeling that anxiety rising again. The anxiety you were able to dampen only moments ago. “I know it sucks… I know. But those new drills have been helping… I’m gonna talk to coach.” 

“Alright… but Marco and Santiago need to get their asses in order before tomorrow. I’m not playing defense because they can’t pay attention to the fucking ball.” 

“I know, I know…” Miguel sighs and nods. Knowing this is all bad timing. They’ve been preparing for this game for a while now and it’s a pretty big spectacle. The stands will undoubtedly be full to the brim. It makes him tense and anxious to think about.

“Okay…” Peter huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, text me what Coach says…” He sighs, lifting his fist. Their knuckles colliding as he’s starting to walk off to where he’s going. “No more disappearing…” Peter chuckles, looking back as he starts walking down the hall, pointing a finger at his friend. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Peter says with a nod, his hands in his pockets as he rounds the corner, walking into the library. Miguel sighs, feeling that tension, that tomorrow might not go well and it’ll be all his fault. Because he can’t do more to help the team he’s supposed to be leading.

He jogs down the stairs, down another hallway and outside. The fall breeze and smell of the trees and crisp autumn air flows past his cheeks, blowing back the little curls by his ears. Hunching his shoulders up when the brisk air cools his neck, pulling his collar up and walking across the commons to get to the athletic building on the other side of campus. To meet with Coach about the game plan for tomorrow. 

“Come on guys, one more time!” Miguel calls out to the team. Dressed in his uniform, dark blue and silver stripes, school colors with the Sterling University crest on his arm, a C on his chest. Number 99 on his back. Cleats and his cast to match. It does suck he has to miss out on actually playing but he does a lot of assistant coaching as captain anyway so it’s nothing he’s not used to. Coach Dean is talking with the referees anyway. Schmoozing on the sidelines, convinced it’ll earn them less whistles through the game. 

Miguel sighs, anxious, shaking his head and directing his attention to the mobs of people filling the stands. The sun is setting, the field lights coming on and a slight chill filling the air. A buzz with that too. College soccer fans here as well as lots of students from both universities. People are excited. The team is excited as well as anxious without Miguel playing beside them. Knowing they’ll have to supplement him being out. Miguel huffs, stretching his arms and wincing slightly at the remnants of ache in his wrist, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“Come on… si yeah! ¡Mantén la posesión!" He shouts from the sides, watching the team warming up with the drills and keeping order, following them up and down their half of the field. “Marco!¡Sigue presionando! Call for it!" A mix of Spanish and English naturally leave his lips. Dark eyes follow their form and technique. Keeping everyone in order. They’re doing really well as always. But Miguel would prefer perfection. “Good! Alright break!” He shouts.

The team all relaxes, sighing in relief and collecting on the sidelines near the bench. Some passing the ball back and forth. The goalie is doing some technique in the practice nets with Durante and Miller. Others glancing at the opposing team warming up on their side of the field. “Marco, you’re gonna break you’re fuckin’ ankle doing that. Keep it light, it doesn’t have to be so fast. Slow down and go through the steps, alright?” Miguel instructs calmly, grabbing a ball and demonstrating on the turf by the benches. Marco nods, wiping his brow with the edge of his jersey. 

“Just like that… keep it loose and look at Miller, he’s the one you’re paying attention to. Don’t look at Durante, he’s gonna be looking at Miller for that pass down the field. But that was still good, keep it up..” 

“There’s a lot of people here…” Peter comments, squirting some water into his mouth, catching his breath. Miguel walks over from helping Marco, standing beside his friend and looking out at the people in the stands. It’s a little more than they’re used to. Little intimidating considering this stadium seats thousands of people.

“It’s a big game…” Miguel huffs, grabbing his water bottle. Wish I could fucking play… he thinks. Glancing at Coach, still talking to the refs near the midline. They have a little while before everything starts.

It’s the end of the first half and it’s been a good game so far. Princeton is good but so is Sterling. They’d be better if Miguel was on the field to help them. He finds himself getting frustrated on the sidelines, disagreeing with the refs calls and calling out to his teammates, trying to lead and instruct. The whistle blows and the team finally relaxes. Panting and walking over to the sidelines. 

“They’re fast…” Marco pants, plopping down on the bench to catch his breath. “We have to be faster… but we’re holding our own…” Miguel says, hands on his hips and looking over the team, trying to keep the edge from his tone. He’s here to lead, not berate.

“You good?” He sees Peter covered in grass stains. Peter’s the one that’s been scoring pretty much all the goals so far. Princeton’s defense is good. It’s one of those games where no one’s going to score very many goals, it’s all about making sure the other team doesn’t get too close. “That was really good, keep doing that. And if it works better for Marco to go up the right side, then do that.” Miguel says. 

“I will… they’re so fuckin fast…” Peter pants, grabbing his water bottle and squirting some in his mouth. Breathing heavy through his nose. The team takes a few minutes at halftime to refuel and plan for the second half. Peter and Marco will have to be smart about the next plays. They’re down by two and the other team just keeps getting closer and closer. 

“I got a girl in the stands…” Peter says with a lopsided smile, still out of breath, spraying some more water into his mouth. “Yeah?” Miguel’s brow quirks at that information. He knows Peter has a lot of girls around him and friends that are girls. Makes sense, he’s very smart, an athlete, loud and the life of the party. Everyone always trying to get a piece of him. Not a foreign concept to Miguel himself. Miguel grabs his water bottle too, raising it to his mouth. “Who is she?” 

“Her name’s y/n…” 

What?

“...yeah you should meet her… she’s really pretty and smart and funny...” 

What?

Peter keeps talking, tossing a ball to someone else across the bench. Not even registering the look on Miguel’s face. Like shock and something else. Something Miguel himself can’t put a finger on. And Miguel can only half listen to Peter’s words. “She’s head of the tutoring club… did I tell you I started doing that? Dude, I’m getting paid to do some freshman’s homework and get course credit. It's like the easiest shit in the world…” Peter laughs, talking on and on. 

Miguel doesn’t understand. It’s like his brain can’t process this. Staring at Peter silently and waiting for him to say it’s a joke. But how could it be a joke?

“She’s riiiiight… there-” Peter turns, pointing at the stands. Turning stiffly, Miguel looks out to where he’s pointing. His dark eyes searching the stands and looking for your face. Hoping to see some stranger who happens to have the same name as you. But no. It’s you. 

He watches your gaze snap onto them, seeming surprised to have both their attention now. How did he not notice? You’ve been here this whole time, sitting nearly 15 rows behind him and he didn’t know? But Peter knew?

He can’t help that his immediate reaction to seeing you is relief. Seeing you up there and he just wants to smile. Wants to disappear with you and forget this stressful game. You’re like… his best friend in the whole world. But then that relief is quickly quelled when he realizes Peter is the one who invited you, he’s the reason you’re here. 

Miguel huffs. Nearly getting hit in the face when Peter starts waving at you. Stepping back and trying to make sense of this. There you are, waving back their way. What is this? He wonders. Unable to help the scowl that appears on his face as he observes Peter waving. What is this happening that he doesn’t know about or had no idea could even happen? Another bubble has popped and he didn’t even know it. 

He looks back up at you. Your eyes looking his way. But are you looking at him or are you looking at Peter? He hates that he can’t even tell. He hopes it’s him but it’s too much distance to know for sure. He just holds up a hand weakly. Waving at you. Feeling like an idiot, a total fool. And here Peter is waving at you, thinking Miguel doesn’t even know who you are. Fuck.

“Alright boys! Let’s huddle up!” Coach yells, coming over to the bench and motioning for everyone to come over. Peter moves to head over, gently kicking a ball on his way. And Miguel can’t help but keep glancing at you. Feeling self conscious. You’ve been watching him and witnessing all of this, this entire time? He didn’t even know you were here and half of the game had already been played. And all he’s done is stand on the sidelines while Peter played big shot scorer. 

Your hands wave at him, mouthing something he can’t make out. His brow knitting together as you try to communicate something to him before Coach snaps again. 

“O’hara!” 

His eyes snap to the team huddled by the bench. Taking long strides to get over there. But his mind is a mess. He didn’t even know you knew each other. 

The second half, the rest of the game, it’s hard for Miguel to focus on coaching. He’s watching the team play but it’s like a delayed reaction in his mind. Like his body is here but his brain is trying to tap into some invisible signal stretching from you to him. Peter scores again and Miguel flinches at the sound of the stands erupting. Cheering and echoing through his head. Pounding the sides of his skull.

He can’t help but glance your way every chance he gets. But every time he’s able to spot you in the sea of colors and foreign faces, you’re looking at the ball on the field. Which is always in Peter’s possession. And he can’t focus on anything except what he doesn’t know. What he can’t control. 

…

“Wooooo!” Marco hollers, the team gathering in a huddle on the field and celebrating their close victory. They won, but it was a tough game. Miguel stares almost blankly as the team all slaps hands and says good game. And by the time he snaps out of it, turning to find you, the stands are already emptying out and you’re gone from your seat. 

“O’hara!” The team shouts, bringing him out of the mess of thoughts. The players crowding him in celebration on the sidelines. Cheers and loud voices. Talking about moments in the game, highlights, certain techniques that had Princeton on their toes. All in all it was an exciting match and Peter was definitely the savior, scoring more goals than anyone and making the game. And Peter is all smiles. 

The team heads back to the locker room. Showering and warming down from the game. Miguel stands at his locker. His new locker since the punched in door wouldn’t close properly on his old one. Pulling off his jersey carefully with one hand and hanging it up. Wiping down his broad chest with a towel and hearing Peter with some of the boys walking in from the showers. His movements slow, brow furrowing, grabbing his change of clothes and pulling a tank top on, the black material bunching down his toned abdomen against his deep skin. Listening to Peter’s voice. 

His mind races. Since when did you two become such good friends? And why wouldn’t I know you were coming to the game when I saw you all day yesterday? Does Peter know that? Does Peter know we spend countless hours together? Does Peter know we have this deep connection that I’m actually working really hard to repair? He ought to. 

He listens to Peter’s conversation, as if waiting for him to say your name to confirm he’s talking about you. But he can’t make it out all the way. Something about a party, something about his car, something about the game. He watches the rest of the guys leave the locker room. Peter walks by with the guys and he just subtly, silently glares as they pass, not noticing him. pulling his hoodie on and shutting his locker gently. Pulling his phone off the charger and slinging his sports bag over his shoulder, walking out. 

He slumps down the concrete steps, the hallway leading to the exit doors, opening out to the athletic parking lot. Raking a hand through his hair, his mind a mess. He’s not used to feeling so beaten down after a game. They won, he should be happy. He should be glad. But he just feels indifferent. Or he just really needs to see you. 

When the door swings from someone else leaving, he catches a glimpse of you through the opening. The bright lights from outside assault his eyes as the door swings again. Seeing you for just a moment. Just a split second. Talking with Peter against the fence. He stops. What is he walking into? What’s about to change? You’re gonna be there right when he goes through that door. He stands in the dim concrete tunnel, feeling his heart race. He doesn’t like this feeling. This is the loss of control.

“Miguel!” Peter smiles, making you turn to look back. And there he is, walking out the door. You want to just run into his arms and tell him how great he was. Even though he didn't get to play he still coached very well and played his part in the victory. But Peter is talkative and gets in there before you can. And you don't really want to interrupt when he's talking with his friends. Since this is the first time you've been around his friends with him. 

“We’re gonna get drinks, you have to come” Peter says, ushering Miguel over to where you’re standing. “This is y/n… y/n this is Miguel” 

“Yeah we know each other.” Miguel says immediately. Not a hint of a smile on his face. He’s annoyed with Peter. Annoyed that it’s not a known thing. He wants it to be known that you two are an item. Or… that there’s something going on… he’s not even sure of at the moment. At least that Peter should know to back off. “Oh cool, so drinks?” 

Miguel’s a little astonished with how easily Peter just brushed that off. Eyes flicking between you two and hoping to god you don’t accept the drink invite. But he bites his tongue. Friends. Really good… friends. 

“Uh… I don’t know, I’m kinda tired…” You sigh. Part of you not wanting to go since it’s not your normal scene but a bigger part needing to go so you can feel like you’re really one of Miguel’s friends. Not someone he has to hide. That you can get along with them and be a part of his life. That’s all you want to prove to him. 

“Come on… please?” Peter pouts. And Miguel wants to scream. Trying to tell you with his eyes that he doesn’t want to do this. Not right now. Maybe later when he’s had time to mentally prepare himself. It doesn’t help that you look adorable right now. In your Sterling Uni hoodie with a scarf to keep warm. He doesn’t want to do this. He’d rather just go to dinner. Like always. Talk for hours and maybe even fall asleep talking in your dorm like always. Not this. Please not this. 

His eyes burning a hole right through you, trying to communicate it without using the words since he can’t right now, not with Peter standing right there. Part of him wants you to come and show you off. The other part of him wants you all to himself, not wanting to share you with anyone. But he’s trying to be better. Trying to control himself rather than try to control everything else around him. 

“It would be fun, right Miguel?” Peter asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He wants to say no. Wants to say fuck no and disappear, taking you with him. But he can’t do that now. So he just nods stiffly, forcing a smile. Almost painfully. “Yeah… come…” 

Your eyes light up and Miguel knows he’s done for. “Oh great!” You smile and Peter is instantly excited too. Talking about how great it’s going to be and how many people will be there. Miguel’s heart is pounding, seeing how easily Peter was able to get you to come. How Peter is smiling and looking at you. A sense of dread filling his chest.

It’s the usual bar. The college bar around the corner from campus where the sports teams usually congregate after a game. Or the general student body on a Friday night. Loud music and conversation, the place is packed. Football and UFC playing on the multitude of TVs hanging in the place. The team filters in all acting like they own this place. Playing pool and getting drinks, talking to girls in corners and at the bar. It’s a crazy night at least for you. Miguel’s seen nights like this before, but this time you’re here. And he won’t let you out of his sight. Even as people talk to him, trying to strike up conversation and catch up. Since everyone knows who he is and knows his name. He still keeps his attention focused on you. He doesn’t care about anyone else in this bar tonight. 

Drinks flow the second everyone is in there, laughter and loud voices, trying to be heard over the music. Miguel keeps his arm barred at your side to help get you through the density of people. Like a shield to make sure no one bumps into you. Not wanting you to be too claustrophobic or crowded. Staying nearby until you find two seats at the bar miraculously. As you sit down, Miguel quickly scans the room. Looking for one face in particular. No sign of Dana and he can relax a tiny bit. Sliding into his stool seat beside you. 

He sits down, watching how you observe the place, looking a little out of your element here. It’s clear you’re not a party girl. You’re a smart, intelligent tutor and it shows. It would almost be comical if Miguel didn’t have a fierce determination to protect you in this place. 

He leans over, getting closer to your ear to be heard over the noise. The smell of your shampoo mixed with your perfume, so close and familiar, filling his senses and almost making him dizzy. His mind flashing with moments of you in his bed. Your body under his and his face buried in your soft sweet smelling hair. He’s the only one in this bar that knows what you sound like when you come.

“Drink… Do you want a drink?” He asks, trying to be heard over the noise, his cheek brushing against yours. Pulling back to hear your response. “Yeah! Whatever is fine…” You smile, trying to speak over the chaos of people and stimulation. A bit out of your element but doing fine. Excited to be here with him and feel like you’re fitting into his world. 

He gets the bartender's attention, ordering you just a beer in a bottle. He doesn’t know if you’d want anything fruity, not that this crappy bar would have anything that good anyway. He’s never drunk with you before. He slides it over to you, watching you take a gulp and smile. You’re so out of your element here. He sighs. A swell in his chest. 

Even though he would normally be drinking a couple beers himself, he just has water in front of him. He wants to stay relatively sober. Enough to keep watch over you and make sure no one else talks to you. “Oh, I thought you were gonna get the same thing…” You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the bar and watching him sipping his water from a plastic cup. 

“Someone needs to be responsible for all these people right?” He chuckles. As captain of the team he actually does feel that responsibility. To keep people in line since he knows they’ll listen to him. “And I need to be sober if I’m carrying you out of this place drunk off your ass…” He jokes, teasing you. 

“I’m not getting drunk tonight, no way. No thank you…” You sigh, shaking your head. Looking down at the label on the bottle in your hand. Then your eyes dart around the crowded room a few times. He just looks at your face. You’re so pretty. Especially pretty in this low light. 

“Well how is the beer at least? I know it’s not something sweet but it’s probably the best thing they have here.” He huffs, keeping his eyes on you, studying you. He’d love to just be all over you and show people that you’re his. But you’re not right now. You’re his friend and that’s the boundary you both set. He’s trying his best to uphold that after his mistakes. “It’s fine… I don’t ever drink much anyway so I’m not picky…” 

He nods. Learning more about you all the time. The two of you have never been out to a bar or club before so this is all brand new. He can see how you’re a little nervous in this place. It’s not your usual hangout spot and he can tell. “Yeah, this place is pretty chaotic tonight…” He comments, looking around then back at you. “You’re okay though, right?” 

“Yeah I’m fine…” You smile. Clasping your hands in your lap. He’s attentive, more recently than ever. It’s true that he’s become like your best friend over the last month and a half. Even though it hasn’t been that long, it’s felt like a lifetime. And with how much time you spend together, it still feels like he separates you from a lot of the other parts of his life. Friends, family, everything else. You spot Peter across the way standing with some people. The only other person you even know in this place. 

Miguel follows your gaze over towards where Peter is and he can't help but wonder why you're looking at Peter or what you're thinking. He looks at the group of people around him, recognizing teammates and classmates, but notices Peter in particular.He tries to remain cool, looking back at you. "He's a great friend… isn't he… "

He says it with a little bit of annoyance in his voice, thinking about how you two have gotten really close as friends and he didn't even know it.

"Yeah he's really sweet," You smile, not really noticing his expression. You want Miguel to know that you can get along with his friends too and you can be a part of his life. "He's funny…"

His brow twitches just a bit. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that you two are friends in and out of the tutoring club. And that you’re calling him sweet. And funny. He knows how charismatic and charming Peter is, knowing he could get any girl he wants. "He always gets the girls…  he's quite the flirt…" He mumbles.

"Oh really?" You smile and scrunch your nose up, looking back at Peter and seeing that yes, there are many girls around him right now. And he must be very popular with the girls, you think. You hadn't really noticed that Peter was a flirt but you think he's charming. Maybe you're just so focused on being his friend to prove to Miguel you can be part of his friend group.

Miguel can feel his patience slipping. How you seem so oblivious to the fact that Peter is a huge flirt and that Peter was flirting with you earlier when he invited you to the bar. But he's been Peter's friend for years, of course he knows the girls flock around him. It just annoys him that you’re completely oblivious to it. He watches you watching Peter across the room, trying not to let it show on his face how frustrated he is.

"How's your hand?" You ask, taking a sip from your bottle. Gesturing towards his cast in his lap. Trying to talk over the noise in the room. The topic change gives him some relief. Grateful to think about something other than the image of Peter taking you home tonight. He lifts his hand, flexing a few fingers. "It's fine. Doesn't really hurt much right now. It's a good reminder to not lose my cool again… "

"Yeah, that locker room hates to see you comin’…" You joke with a smile. Shaking your head. Punched his locker like some guy in a movie.

Miguel can't help but smile, knowing you’re referring to him punching the front of his locker like a crazy person. He sighs, knowing it was stupid and a loss of control. "That locker had it coming though…"

You laugh at his words, his eyes lighting up watching your head throw back a bit. The fluttering sound of your laughter carrying slightly over the noise in the room and hitting his ears. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time. Make you smile like this every day. And  Peter works his way through the room over to the bar. 

"There you guys are! I thought I lost you…" Peter's face lights up when he gets closer, excited to see his best friend and you, the pretty tutor. He stands behind both your chairs putting his hands on the backs of them. Miguel’s eyes flick back-and-forth between you two. You're still oblivious. Smiling at Peter like you don't know what he's doing. Every instinct inside of him telling him to make Peter back off. But he's trying to be better for you. Trying not to lose control or act impulsive. 

"Spending the night bragging, are you?" You smile and tease Peter lightly. Leaning over the back of your chair. He did score a lot of the winning goals tonight. Peter laughs and loves any attention from you. Miguel can only listen and watch this interaction between the two of you. It's like a nightmare come to life. And he's feeling claustrophobic in this crowded place with all these people. He just wants to take your hand and go back to campus, go back to your dorm, go back to the library.

"Well you all played very well…" You hum. Looking between the two boys. You can't help but notice Miguel’s body language. Thinking he must just be upset that he didn't get to play because of his cast. But he did very well on the sidelines. 

"Peter here was especially on his game today. Princeton is tough…" Miguel says with tension in his tone, finally joining in on the conversation. His eyes flicking between the two of you but landing on you mostly. Watching your reaction to Peter's words.

"It's all in the foot work really. Reading the opponent… Gotta think about 10 steps ahead." Peter says with a grin, in his element. Miguel has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. As much as he loves Peter, he wants him to fuck off right now.

You giggle softly at Peter's joke and his obvious love for attention. Loving the way you can so casually hang out with Miguel and his friends for the first time ever. Miguel clenches his jaw, sipping his water and trying to keep his cool. You take a sip of your beer finding it's the last one, putting the empty bottle back on the bar. It seems both boys take notice. 

"Can I get you another? "Peter asks, His eyes lighting up.

“Um…" You're thinking. You don't really do this that often and you're finally getting to hang out with Miguel and his friends. What the hell… "Sure!"

Peter flashes that charming smile at you and Miguel can feel his control slipping again. Now he's buying you drinks? 

"I got it." Miguel suddenly says, waving to the bartender for another round. If anyone's getting you drunk tonight, it's gonna be him. So he can make sure you're okay. “Okayyy…” Peter huffs softly, raising his brow at Miguel’s rivalry. But Miguel doesn’t care. Grabbing the fresh cold beer bottle and sliding it over the bar in front of you. Looking back up at Peter, a stern expression on his face. 

Over the next hour and your next two beers, Peter just won’t go away. He’s practically hanging on your chair, talking to you about whatever. And because you’re so nice and sweet you just keep giving into him. Smiling at Miguel too like you want him to be in on the conversation. But it just makes him feel worse somehow. Is he really losing you to Parker? Is that how this is gonna go? 

“So… you guys are like best friends?” You ask, your words slightly slurred, cheeks pink and flushed. You’re tipsy and Miguel’s watching you like a hawk. Your beer shined lips as you smile up at Peter. So damn cute and pretty. “We are… best friends…” Peter says in a cocky way. Grabbing Miguel’s shoulder and shaking it a few times, a beer in his other hand. Miguel might be the only sober one in this place and it’s getting annoying. 

He fidgets with the same fray on his cast, pulling on it and pulling on it. Watching you talk to Peter. Forcing a smile when you look his way. It’s getting unbearable. Eyes flicking around the crowded room and just wanting to get out of here. 

“One more round?” Peter asks and Miguel groans internally. You’re both drunk, everybody is drunk and he just wants to get you back somewhere it’s safer. Peter gets to chatting loudly with some other people down the bar.

“Do you wanna leave?” You lean over, getting closer to Miguel, right up to his face and he just gives you a soft look. Admiring your pretty flushed features. He can see you’ve been having fun. “No, I’m good, we can stay if you want…” He hums gently. 

“Don’t lie, Mig…” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear over the noise. And his brow knits together, hearing the nickname, your soft warm voice, wanting to reach out and brush your hair back, kiss your pretty pink lips. Anything. “I’m a little tired…” He admits. And even in your tipsy state, you know it’s time to go. 

“Let’s go then… it’s too loud…” You sigh, a distracted Peter now talking loudly with Marco and Miller down the bar. Relief, Miguel thinks. He does really want to make sure you get back to your dorm okay. 

…

“Wai-I ‘ave a question…” You slur, hanging onto him and pressed up against his chest as he’s trying to get you over to bed. His big strong arms around you and it feels so good, feels so right. What you’ve been missing all this time and now it just feels like everything is perfect and everything is good and… and your tongue still tastes like beer and… and he smells so good. 

“Yeah, what's your question?” He asks so soft and gently. His voice is like smooth melted butter mixed with sweet brown sugar. Bringing you over to your bed and sitting you down on the edge. Making sure you don’t topple over. “Hold still, I’m gonna take your shoes off…” 

“D’you think… that… um…” You sigh, the alcohol clouding everything making you instantly forget what you were about to ask him. But the thought is mixing around your brain just waiting to come out. After all, it’s all you were thinking about all night. “M-my shoe is stuck”

“I know, I’m trying to get it off…” He sighs, unable to stop the smile when he hears your little whine. You are pretty cute like this and he likes helping you. Kneeling down in front of you and taking your shoe onto his knee to undo the laces, slipping it off.

“Do you think that… all your friends… that they like-like it?” You sigh, wiggling your toes in your socks as he slides your shoe off. His hands on your calves, absentmindedly caressing up and down, having you in his hands like this is too good to pass up, but he looks up at you at your question. His brow furrowing, wondering what you mean. “Do they like what,-?” He almost called you baby right there. But stopped himself. Maybe it’s just being like this with you right now. Being close and finally being needy for his help, needing him in any way. Or the way you seem so soft and fragile right now he just wants to protect you. 

“That they like me…” You sigh. Pushing a hand through your hair and he pulls your other shoe off, your feet freeing and legs dangling off the side of the bed. 

He looks up at you, piecing together your broken sentence. Do his friends like you? Peter? 

“Like P-peter… does Peter like me?” You ask and his expression goes serious. Swallowing thickly and setting your shoes to the side. He knows the answer. He knows that Peter obviously has a thing for you. It’s becoming more clear you have a thing for him too. 

Miguel straightens back up, standing over you and listening to your drunken rambling. Your mumbles. “Cuz I think Peter is really nice and I think you and I can be friends… and I can be friends with your friends too…” 

He doesn’t understand what you mean. Towering over you and feeling so blocked up. Like he’s miles away from where he wants to be with you. He wants you to want him. Not think about Peter. 

“Uh… I think Peter likes you, yeah…” He mumbles. Looking down at your face. The way it lights up and his heart falls. “Really? So we can all be friends?” 

His heart hurts, looking in your eyes. So confused, not knowing what to think. But wishing he could just kiss you right now and make your thoughts stop. Or to fill your thoughts with him. If he kissed you right now would you forget Peter ever existed? If he kissed you right now, if he laid you down and pumped into you until you were a crying trembling moaning mess like all those times before, would you forget Peter and think about him again? 

“I’m sweating…” You huff, moving to get up off the bed and his arms come to steady you. “Woah woah slow down, sweetheart…” The words ooze off his lips. His hands guide you before you reassure him you can walk. He huffs, watching you walk over to your closet. He sits down on the edge of your bed, head in his hands. Feeling pathetic and so lost. Not even knowing what to do at this point. Has he actually lost you for good? Will he actually only ever be your friend now?

You’re sweating, pulling at the material of your hoodie and ripping it off over your head. Slipping your pants off and sighing in relief. Standing in your panties and bra by the dresser and looking for some comfy clothes. Your mind filled with the thoughts of being Miguel’s again. You’re friends with his friends like any girlfriend would be. So what’s stopping him? What’s stopping both of you from just being together again? Since you’ve proven to him, you can fit in. 

“Miguel…” You hum, his head coming out of his hands and looking up at you. Eyes widening seeing you in just your underwear. Gulping thickly. “Yes?” He whispers. Like beckoning to your call. Like a plea for you to just put him out of his misery already. 

You walk over to him, trying to half haphazardly pull on a big t-shirt. His hands unable to stop themselves, coming up to help pull the material down. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. This all just makes him feel somehow worse. Your body taunting him, teasing him with everything he needs and no way to get it. 

Your hips slot between his legs, standing between them and getting closer. Fingers clenching into his shirt and smashing your lips against his. His fingers splay out, shock and surprise. His eyes wide and heart seemingly stops. You’re… kissing him… you…

Heavy breath through his nose and his eyes flutter closed. Kissing you back, feeling your eager tongue tasting like alcohol come into his mouth. Letting it swirl against his lips and his tongue. His big hands snaking around you, holding you for the first time like this in so long. You gasp and hum against his lips and a chill goes down his back. He must be dreaming. 

But your hands go to his chest, pushing him back on the bed, and he’s so weak to you. His back hitting the mattress. He wants this so badly. Wants you more than anything in the entire world. You climb on top of him, clambering over his body, sitting on his abdomen and leaning down to kiss him again. 

“Wait-”

He’s silenced by your lips, trying to be dominant and licking into his mouth. You never did that before. That was always him. But right now it���s like you’re hungry for him in the exact same way he was hungry for you all this time. 

“I need you…” You whisper, pulling back from his lips with a smack. His eyes wide and breath heaving. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and yet it’s not right at all. “No baby… you need to go to sleep… you’re drunk…” He whispers, feeling so weak, his hands running up your warm bare thighs, like medicine. His cast is slightly scratchy on your thigh. Finally your body on his, your warmths feeding off of each other. 

“No please… say you want me, please you have to, don’t you want to?” You whine. Leaning over him and kissing his cheek, burying your face in his neck. He’s speechless. Doesn’t know what to say or think. He thought you were done all this time. He thought you were pining after Parker. 

“I want you… I do want you…” He whispers before his mind can even think. His hands falling from your thighs and flat on the bed. It feels wrong to touch you this way. His love for you overshadows his own selfish need. You won’t remember this in the morning. 

You won’t remember this in the morning. 

“I love you…” He whispers. Into your hair. Choking back a lump in his throat. 

“Mm?” You groan, pushing yourself up drunkenly on your hands, your hair dangling into his face under you. 

“Nothing…” He whispers. Swallowing thickly and wrapping his arms around you again. Pulling you to his chest and hugging you. Keeping you there, knowing you’ll pass out in a few minutes anyway and he can tuck you into bed safe and sound. 

To be continued…

Reblogs and comments very much appreciated!! Let me know what you think or your theories!

Taglist (thank you my sweets 🍬) :

@miguels-cock-piercings @queerponcho @club-danger-zone @bossva @softcrayon

@nommingonfood @bruhhvv

@jessies-unrelagated-thoughts @mauvecherie-writes @haveclayeveryday @kimivixen

@jadeloverxd @chiikasevennn @mvlanchqly @resident-cryptid

@x0tw0d57 @vampyboys @miguelspriscilla

@francesca-the-1st @migueloharasbbm @razertail18 @laysmt

@tojiragdoll @maiyart @wazawazooo @mun-2996 @marshhbs

@curious-randomlr @safixiovi @daddyfroglegs @theplaid-wearingmoose @reader-1290

@yeanika @elysiumsangel @rinnako @mangoslushcrush @twwcs

@izakopanyi2 @migueloharasoulmate @slut4oscarissac23

@miss-loomis @genny101

@aphinthestars @webshooterrr9 @m4dyy

@jdbxws @roserfz27 @ohara-whore @oharaslove @daisy-artfield

@mooreaey6yem @peachey-pie @migueloharacumslut @pxtched

@yougavemeyourheartyouknow @julia4today

[frozenmxngo]

✧*̥˚ In Between the Lines | Choi Beomgyu *̥˚✧

✧ beomgyu x selective mutism fem!reader ✧ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. ✧ warnings: panic attacks, social anxiety, mute!reader, swearing, angst, verbal abuse, eventual smut, virgin!reader, slow burn?, trauma, fluff, a bit of self-hatred (let me know if i missed anything! i’ll add more tags for each part as needed) ✧ part one, word count 14k

✧ an: helloo, honestly i wanted to use this fic to spread awareness for selective mutism as a lot of people are unaware of it, i hope this can help people be more understanding and patient with others. ty, i hope you enjoy the read!

MASTERLIST next »

The library was quiet, the hum of the air conditioning blending with the faint rustle of pages and the soft clack of keyboards. Y/N sat at a small table in a tucked-away corner, surrounded by open books and notes. It was her safe haven, away from the chaos of campus life. Shelves upon shelves of books surrounded her like a fortress, muffling the outside world. 

Large bay windows let sunlight pour in, casting a warm glow over the silent corner of the library. Her notebook lay open on the table, half-filled with neat, tiny sketches of animals—an owl perched on a branch, a cat curled up asleep, a bunny mid-hop.

She didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the notes sprawled across her desk. With a big test looming next week, her attention was locked on the video playing softly through her headphones. Her pen hovered above the page, but instead of jotting down key points, she found herself sketching a tiny mouse in the notebook’s margin.

Beomgyu, on the other hand, was anything but quiet as he weaved through the aisles, earbuds in, barely paying attention to where he was going. He wasn’t reckless, just distracted, his focus split between the music blaring in his ears and his search for a textbook he desperately needed for his next assignment. He wasn’t much of a library person—too quiet, too stuffy—but today, he was desperate. 

Beomgyu had been wandering the library for what felt like hours, his eyes scanning the shelves with no success. The textbook he needed was nowhere to be found. He checked the library’s online system twice already, double-checking the section he was once in before, but it still wasn’t showing up. In reality, though, it had only been half an hour.

A sense of helplessness started to creep in. He wasn’t used to asking for help. He liked figuring things out on his own, but right now, he was at a dead end.

Frustrated, he let out a sigh and dragged his hand through his hair, turning to look at the rows of books around him. That’s when he saw her—sitting at a table in a quiet corner, her head bent low as she scribbled something in her notebook.

Beomgyu blinked for a moment, momentarily distracted by the scene. He hadn’t noticed her before, but there was something about her that drew his attention. Her focus seemed unshakable, and the way her pen moved across the page made him pause.

But then he realized something: the music blaring in his ears was so loud, that he could barely hear his own thoughts, let alone anything happening around him. He fumbled with the earbuds, awkwardly tugging them out of his ears with one hand, hoping to avoid drawing attention to himself. His music, still playing loudly, thumped through the air, and he quickly scrambled to turn it off.

He winced, realizing just how distracted he had been by the music. He probably looked ridiculous.

After a brief moment of awkwardness, he gathered himself. “Excuse me,” Beomgyu said, taking a few strides over to the girl. 

Y/N didn’t look up at first. Her headphones were on, but the volume wasn’t high enough to block out the world entirely. She’d grown used to the assumption that no one would ask her for help. It was rare.

Beomgyu cleared his throat, more self-conscious now. “Excuse me,” he tried again, his voice quieter this time, trying to avoid sounding out of place. He took a few more steps toward her, his voice still hesitant, though more intentional this time. “I’m looking for a Music Theory book. Do you know where it is? Or, um, any books on music?”

Y/N’s pen paused mid-stroke. She didn’t look up immediately, as though she were processing his words. Her fingers hovered over the notebook for a moment, before gently putting the pen down.

Beomgyu shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a strange tension knotting in his stomach. He wasn’t used to feeling this nervous, especially not when asking for help. Normally, he was the type to speak his mind, loud and clear, without a second thought. But something about the silent library and her focused, unbothered presence made him second-guess himself.

Why was he suddenly so awkward? He'd approached strangers for help plenty of times before. Was it the stillness of the library? Or maybe it was the way she was taking her time, processing everything so calmly like she was in no rush to answer him. It felt different than usual, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

When she finally did glance up at him, a faint flush spread across her cheeks. Recognition flickered in her mind—he was in her lecture, always a bit too loud, usually with his friends, his voice always cutting through the room. The sudden focus on her made her feel small, as though she were being pulled out of her quiet world. She hesitated, her eyes flickering between him and her notebook, trying to figure out how to navigate this. Her mind raced, knowing she couldn’t react the way others might, and for a brief moment, the silence between them felt deafening.

“Uh, I took a photo of the section where it’s supposed to be, but... I swear the section must’ve been moved,” Beomgyu said, his voice tinged with discomfort as the silence stretched on. He pulled his phone from his pocket and awkwardly shoved it in front of her face.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to his phone screen, her eyes scanning the library catalog photo. She quickly noticed the error—it was mislabeled, and she immediately knew where the books had been relocated. The music books had once been in the section he showed her, but now they’d been moved to the history section; the two categories had swapped. She knew this simply from the countless hours she’d spent in the library.

Her eyes darted briefly back to his face before she stood up, her movements slow but deliberate. She gave him a small, wordless nod, avoiding his gaze as she stepped past him. Without a word, she made her way toward the section where the history books used to be. 

Beomgyu fell into step beside her, his hands buried in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say. The silence was starting to feel a little too heavy, so he took a deep breath, deciding to break it.

“So, uh, do you come here often?” he asked, hoping to make the situation a little less awkward. “I mean, it’s pretty quiet. A good place to focus, right?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered briefly toward him before she quickly looked away, focusing ahead as she walked. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and now, with Beomgyu walking beside her, she felt the weight of every step. Her fingers twitched, lightly fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve as she tried to calm the nervous energy building up.

Beomgyu noticed her fidgeting and quickly tried to back off, his voice quieter this time. “Sorry, I guess I’m just rambling,” he said, chuckling lightly. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed for not picking up on the cues that maybe she wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

Y/N’s eyes darted toward him, just for a moment, before she looked away quickly. She was still unsure of how to respond but decided it was easier to just let the silence sit. It was what she was most comfortable with.

Beomgyu glanced at her, studying her subtle movements. She wasn’t giving much away, but something about her quiet presence made him want to keep trying. He had a knack for talking to people—usually. So why did it feel so different now?

“I’m Beomgyu, by the way,” he added after a beat, his voice soft enough to match the library’s quiet atmosphere. “Not that, you know, you were dying to know or anything. Just thought I’d introduce myself.”

Y/N’s grip on her sleeve tightened slightly, her pace steady but her mind racing. She didn’t dare meet his eyes again, unsure if acknowledging him would invite more conversation or make things more awkward. She gave him a slight nod, not even sure if he had caught it or not. 

They turned a corner, the rows of books stretching ahead of them like endless possibilities. Beomgyu’s gaze flicked between her and the shelves as he tried to gauge whether she was annoyed, shy, or just indifferent. He wasn’t used to feeling this uncertain.

As they approached the section where the music books had been relocated, Y/N slowed her steps. She hesitated, briefly scanning the spines of the books before pointing to a specific shelf. Her small gesture was precise, her hand lingering just long enough to guide him.

Beomgyu followed her gaze, then backtracked to where her finger had pointed. “Oh, here it is! You’re a lifesaver,” he said with genuine relief, pulling the textbook off the shelf.

Y/N gave a faint nod, her eyes fixed on the floor as she took a small step back, giving him space.

“Do you, uh, study here often?” Beomgyu asked, trying to keep the conversation alive. “I mean, you seem to know this place like the back of your hand.”

Y/N’s face flushed deeper as she glanced up at him, their eyes meeting for the briefest moment. She gave a small nod before quickly looking away, her gaze flitting to the books on the shelf—anywhere but his face.

Beomgyu tilted his head slightly, curiosity sparking in his expression. He couldn’t help but be intrigued. She hadn’t spoken a single word to him. In all his life, he’d never had an interaction quite like this. Sure, he’d met shy people before, but even then, he’d always managed to get at least a word or two out of them.

“Oh,” he said, his voice softening as understanding dawned. “That’s pretty cool. No wonder you knew exactly where to go.”

He let out a light chuckle, his usual confidence tempered by the realization that this wasn’t the time for his typical charm. “Really, though, thanks. I’d probably be pacing these aisles for the next hour if you hadn’t stepped in.”

Y/N met his gaze for just a second before offering a small, shy smile, her fingers lightly brushing the hem of her sleeve.

Beomgyu shifted the book in his hands, unsure if he should say more or let the silence linger. For someone who thrived on conversations and easy banter, this felt foreign—yet oddly intriguing. There was something about her that pulled him in, even without words.

He glanced at her again, watching as she took a half step back, her eyes flickering to the shelves as if searching for an exit. Not wanting to push too far, he cleared his throat, offering a tentative smile.

“So… Do you work here or something? Or are you just, like, the unofficial library expert?” he asked, trying to keep the mood light.

Y/N hesitated, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to respond but didn’t. Instead, she just shook her head, her small smile returning for a brief moment before she looked down at her shoes.

Beomgyu nodded, not sure what else to say but also reluctant to let her slip away just yet. “Well, you definitely saved me. I owe you one. Maybe… I can return the favor someday?”

Her head tilted slightly at his words, and though she didn’t respond, her expression softened, as if the offer had caught her off guard in a good way.

Before he could overthink it, Beomgyu laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Or, you know, I’ll just try not to get lost next time.” He gestured to the book. “Anyway, thanks again. Seriously.”

Y/N gave a small nod and took a step back toward her corner of the library, her movements quiet but deliberate. Beomgyu watched her retreat, his mind already racing with curiosity about the girl who had barely said anything but somehow left an impression.

As he turned to leave, his footsteps slowing, he found himself glancing over his shoulder, wondering if she’d look back at him.

And she did. The moment his back was turned, Y/N raised her eyes, her gaze following him as he walked away. There was a flicker of something in her expression—curiosity, maybe, or a faint trace of amusement—but when Beomgyu didn’t turn again, she let out a hushed breath and returned to her seat.

The library was Y/N’s sanctuary—a place where she could exist quietly, without the weight of expectations pressing down on her. But as the sun dipped below the horizon and the warm glow of the street lights flickered on, she found herself heading back home, her silent retreat fading behind her.

Home was a different kind of quiet. It wasn’t the peaceful stillness of the library but a silence filled with tension, unspoken words, and carefully maintained boundaries.

Y/N slipped through the front door, her movements silent and deliberate as she kicked off her shoes. Her dad was in the living room, the soft murmur of the TV playing a news channel filling the space.

“Hey, sweetie,” he greeted, glancing up briefly. He was one of the few people she could speak to comfortably, but even then, her words were rare. She offered a small smile in response, her eyes darting toward the stairs.

Her stepmother’s voice echoed sharply from the kitchen, tinged with irritation. “You’re late again. Dinner’s been on the table for an hour.” She emerged into the living room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Y/N froze, unsure how to respond. She gave a small, dismissive nod toward her bag, a quiet way of saying she’d been at school, but her gaze never lifted. The floor seemed safer to focus on.

“Figures,” Her stepmother muttered, the frustration in her tone clear. “You always lose track of time, don’t you?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She simply slid past her stepmother, the familiar weight of tension hanging in the air. She ascended the stairs to her room, the soft click of the door closing behind her bringing a wave of relief. The noise and expectations of the house faded away.

Her room, a quiet refuge, was exactly as she’d left it—shelves lined with books and small trinkets, her desk cluttered with notebooks and unfinished sketches. She sank into her chair, feeling the familiar warmth of the space wrap around her like a soft blanket. With a contented sigh, she grabbed the remote and flicked on her favorite drama, the low hum of the small TV filling the silence. As she began to sketch, the pencil moved instinctively across the paper, her fingers dancing to the rhythm of the drawing. She found herself humming softly, her lips curving into a smile as she let the characters on the screen distract her for a while. In this room, it was easy to forget the outside world. Here, she could giggle, whisper to herself, and just be—no pressure, no expectations.

A few days later, Beomgyu sat in the lecture hall, his focus flickering between the professor and the scribbled notes in front of him. His mind kept wandering back to Y/N, the girl who had quietly helped him in the library. The memory of her sketching in her notebook, so immersed in her own world, stuck with him. It felt odd that he hadn’t really noticed her before, considering how often they must have been in the same place. He couldn’t figure out why, but now, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He had seen her once or twice in the halls before, but it was always fleeting—a brief glimpse as she walked past, her presence never lingering in his mind. It was only now, as he glanced around the lecture hall, that he realized she was sitting in the same class. Her name had never crossed his mind, and he certainly hadn’t noticed her before, but there she was, standing up and packing her bag as the lecture ended.

A strange realization hit him, and for a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She was so calm, moving with that quiet grace he’d seen before. His heart raced a little. This was his chance—he had to talk to her. He had to know her name.

Without thinking, he stood up quickly, trying to weave his way through the sea of students heading for the door. His eyes stayed fixed on her, determined not to lose sight of her this time. When he finally opened his mouth, he called out to her, his voice cutting through the chatter in the room. “Hey!”

Just as he was about to push through the crowd to catch up, he felt a hand grab his arm. It was Taehyun, his friend’s grip firm as he pulled Beomgyu’s attention away.

“Beomgyu, wait up!” Taehyun’s voice was a mix of impatience and excitement. “I need to ask you something before you head out.”

Beomgyu’s gaze flickered from Y/N, who was making her way toward the door, to Taehyun. His heart sank as he realized he’d lost his chance to talk to her.

"Ah, come on, I’ll only be a minute," Taehyun continued, unaware of Beomgyu’s internal struggle.

Beomgyu hesitated, torn, but Taehyun was already steering him away. He shot one last glance at the door where Y/N had just disappeared, frustration bubbling up inside him. He hadn’t even gotten close enough to say anything.

Across the room, Y/N had heard Beomgyu call out to her, his voice cutting through the chatter like a sudden unexpected burst of noise. Her eyes flickered back toward him for a brief moment, catching the earnestness in his expression, before quickly looking away. The tension in her chest flared—was he expecting her to speak? To respond? She wasn’t sure she could handle it.

Her anxiety gnawed at her, whispering doubts in her ear. She couldn’t disappoint him. The skin on her palms felt clammy, and her fingers twitched slightly at her sides. The tightness in her chest made it harder to breathe, her heart thudding faster than the noise of the students around her. With a quiet breath, she pushed herself forward, her steps quickening as she made her way to the exit, each one carrying her farther from the conversation she couldn’t bring herself to have.

Y/N stepped out of the lecture hall, the weight of her thoughts pressing on her chest. The bustling noise of students moving between classes surrounded her, but it all felt distant—muted like she was underwater. She clutched the strap of her bag tightly, her knuckles pale, as she made her way across campus, her head lowered to avoid the curious glances of strangers.

Her mind replayed the moment Beomgyu’s voice cut through the crowd, his tone almost hopeful. She’d seen the way he looked at her like he was trying to bridge some unspoken gap. And she’d ignored him.

Her heart clenched, the guilt nagging at her. Why didn’t I just stop? The question circled in her mind, but her anxiety offered no answers—just a familiar wave of self-doubt. She had felt so sure in that moment that she couldn’t face him, but now the decision left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Without a clear destination, Y/N wandered toward the quieter part of campus. A shaded bench under a tree caught her attention, and she sank onto it, letting out a shaky sigh. Her hands fidgeted with the strap of her bag. The crisp air felt sharp against her flushed cheeks, but it did little to calm the storm inside her. Her guilt, no longer just a whisper, grew louder with each passing second, her thoughts pulling her in circles. She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the worn fabric of the strap of her bag.

Why couldn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she just turn around, meet his eyes, and… do something? Anything? She’d seen the look on Beomgyu’s face—earnest, almost hopeful—and yet she’d walked away. Her chest tightened, a familiar ache spreading through her ribs as her mind replayed the moment over and over, each time adding more weight to the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Her eyes fell to her lap, where her fingers now tugged at the hem of her sleeve. She wanted to cry, but no tears came—just the dull, suffocating heaviness of disappointment in herself. She pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze drifting to the ground as students passed by, their chatter blending into a dull hum around her.

It wasn’t like Beomgyu had done anything wrong. He wasn’t pushy or rude—just curious. Kind, even. She groaned softly, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. A part of her wanted to go back, to find him and explain—though she wasn’t sure how to do that without using words. But another part of her—the louder part—convinced her it was better this way. She couldn’t let him down if she kept her distance.

The minutes ticked by, and Y/N stayed rooted to the bench, the world around her moving while she remained still.

A soft vibration in her pocket broke through Y/N’s spiraling thoughts. She pulled out her phone, blinking at the bright screen.

Jiwon: Hey, where are you? Are we still on for our study session??

Y/N’s heart sank, the weight of guilt pressing down on her chest. She’d completely forgotten. Her mind had been too preoccupied, overwhelmed by the wave of emotions she couldn’t seem to steady. The memory of Beomgyu’s voice calling out to her, the fleeting glance they’d shared, and the way she’d rushed out lingered, replaying in her mind like a broken record.

She stared at Jiwon’s message for a long moment, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Y/N: I’m so sorry! I forgot. I’ll be there soon!

Her thumb hovered over the send button, hesitation gripping her. A small part of her wanted to come up with an excuse, to avoid facing anyone right now. But Jiwon wasn’t just anyone. She was patient, understanding, and someone Y/N didn’t have to constantly explain herself to. If there was anyone she could lean on without judgment, it was Jiwon.

She sighed softly, pressing send. The message was delivered with a quiet whoosh, and Y/N slipped her phone back into her pocket. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she leaned back against the bench. The faint hum of campus life carried on around her. Students chatted as they walked by, their voices blending into a low murmur. It felt like the world was moving forward while she was stuck in place, weighed down by her thoughts.

“I need to get out of my head,” she whispered to herself, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the breeze.

Forcing herself to move, she stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder, her steps slow at first as she made her way across campus. The walk to the library gave her time to collect herself, though the heavy guilt still clung to her like a shadow. She replayed the moment in the lecture hall, questioning her reaction, wondering if Beomgyu had been disappointed or confused by her silence.

As she approached the library, the familiar sight of the towering building brought a small wave of comfort. Pushing the door open, Y/N stepped inside, her eyes scanning the rows of tables until she spotted Jiwon. Her friend was already settled near a window, her laptop open and a cup of coffee beside her. Jiwon glanced up, her face lighting up in a small smile when she saw Y/N.

“There you are,” Jiwon said warmly as Y/N approached. “I was starting to think you ditched me.”

Y/N shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she slipped into the chair across from Jiwon. She pulled out her notebook, the familiar action grounding her.

Sorry, she wrote quickly on the corner of the page before sliding it toward Jiwon.

Jiwon’s smile softened as she read the note. “Don’t worry about it. You okay?”

Y/N hesitated, her pen hovering over the paper. She wanted to say yes, to brush it off and pretend everything was fine. But Jiwon’s expectant gaze made her pause.

I had a rough day, she finally wrote, keeping the explanation short.

Jiwon nodded in understanding. “Well, if you need to talk—or write—I’m here.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread in her chest, the kind of comfort that came from being around someone who understood her without needing a thousand words.

She wrote back with a small smile.

Thanks

Jiwon reached for her coffee, taking a sip before changing the subject. “Okay, so, where should we start? I’ve got a million things to catch up on, and I could definitely use your help.”

As Jiwon launched into a conversation about their upcoming assignments, Y/N found herself relaxing, the tension from earlier slowly easing. For now, she let herself focus on the steady rhythm of studying and the quiet companionship of her friend.

After an hour of focused studying, Jiwon glanced up from her laptop, noticing that Y/N had grown quiet again, her usual energy a little more subdued. The silence between them had stretched longer than usual, and despite her attempts to distract herself with assignments, Jiwon couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“You know,” Jiwon said, breaking the stillness, “I think it’s time for a snack. What do you say? The vending machine’s calling our names.”

Y/N looked up, eyes wide, as if caught off guard by the suggestion. She hadn’t said much since they’d settled in, and though Jiwon respected her space, she couldn’t help but worry.

Y/N hesitated, her pen still tapping gently against the notebook. Jiwon noticed the small details—the way her friend’s gaze flickered downward, avoiding her eyes.

“Come on,” Jiwon coaxed with a soft smile. “A little break will do us both good.”

Y/N gave a small nod, and together, they made their way to the vending machines, the sound of their footsteps the only noise in the quiet space. 

As they reached the vending machines, Jiwon casually scanned the selection, but her eyes kept darting back to Y/N, sensing the weight of her silence. 

“So,” Jiwon began, her voice light but tinged with concern, “what’s going on? You’ve been awfully quiet today, and I can tell something’s on your mind.”

Y/N glanced around the hall, her gaze flickering nervously before meeting Jiwon’s. “I…” she whispered softly, her words barely audible. “I’ll tell you when we get back to the table.” Her cheeks flushed as she grabbed a packet of cookies from the vending machine.

Y/N quickly returned to the table, her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about what she was about to say, even though Jiwon would never judge her. Her fingers tightened around the packet of cookies as she set it down, her gaze briefly meeting Jiwon’s expectant eyes.

Jiwon settled back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest, waiting patiently. She’d always given Y/N space when needed, but today, something felt different. She could tell her friend was carrying something heavy.

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes glancing down at her notebook as she pulled it closer. The familiar act of writing helped her focus, and she quickly scribbled the words that had been bothering her.

I feel guilty for avoiding someone. I don’t know how to fix it.

She pushed the notebook toward Jiwon, her anxiety rising, hoping her friend would understand even though the words felt simple.

Jiwon didn’t immediately speak. She carefully read the note, her expression softening with understanding. After a long moment, she placed the notebook down and leaned forward, her voice quiet but filled with care.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jiwon said gently, meeting Y/N’s gaze. “Avoiding someone… it’s tough. But it’s also okay not to know what to do right away. You’re allowed to take your time to figure it out.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart easing a little at Jiwon’s comforting words.

Jiwon took a sip of her drink before speaking again, her tone playful but still full of understanding. “You know, I don’t think cookies are going to fix this, but it’s a good start. Want to talk more about it?”

Y/N chewed on her lip, feeling a bit of pressure to open up more. Maybe, just maybe, telling Jiwon a little more wouldn’t hurt.

Her mind was racing. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to share, but something about Jiwon’s presence made her feel like it was safe to open up. After a long pause, she finally wrote again, her hand steadier now, but her heart still heavy.

It’s a boy from my lecture... He tried talking to me, but I got too nervous. I don’t know what to do.

She pushed the notebook toward Jiwon, her pulse quickening as the words hit the paper. It was the first time she was saying it out loud, even if it was just on paper.

Jiwon’s eyes widened as she read the note, and she looked up at Y/N with a soft, almost excited expression. “Wait, a boy from your lecture?” she repeated, her voice filled with surprise and a little bit of wonder.

Y/N nodded, her cheeks turning pink as she fidgeted with her hands.

Jiwon leaned forward, her eyes lighting up as if a whole new world had just opened up. “Oh my gosh, that’s so cute!” She grinned widely. “You’ve gotta talk to him! He likes you, I’m sure of it.” Jiwon’s voice softened as she continued, “I mean, it’s totally normal to feel nervous, but he wouldn’t have tried talking to you if he wasn’t interested, right?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at Jiwon’s words, but the anxiety still lingered. Talking to him felt like a mountain she wasn’t sure she could climb.

“I don’t know if I can,” Y/N whispered, the feeling of self-doubt creeping back. She jotted down in the notebook once more.

What if I mess it up again?

Jiwon’s expression softened, her voice gentle but encouraging. “Hey, you don’t have to be perfect. Just talk to him when you’re ready. I want you to have fun with all this stuff, you know? Talk to boys, go on dates—just do all the girly things I’ve been dying for you to experience!” She paused, giving Y/N a playful look. “Besides, he’ll probably think you’re super cute the way you are.”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little warmth spread through her chest at Jiwon’s support. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to take the first step. After all, Jiwon had a way of making things feel easier, even when they seemed impossible.

Y/N hesitated, her pen hovering over the notebook. She glanced at Jiwon, who waited patiently, her head tilted slightly, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. Y/N took a steadying breath before starting to write.

His name is Beomgyu. I met him in the library a few days ago. He needed help finding a book, and I helped him.

She slid the notebook toward Jiwon and sat back, chewing on her lip again as her friend read.

Jiwon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, so this isn’t just some random guy! You’ve already talked to him before?”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded slightly, scribbling another note. Kind of. He talked. I pointed him to the book he needed. That’s it.

Jiwon’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “And what’s he like? What’s your impression of him so far?”

Y/N tapped her pen against the notebook for a moment before jotting down. He’s loud. That’s all I know.

Jiwon laughed softly, shaking her head. “Loud, huh? That’s kind of cute. So, why do you feel guilty about avoiding him? He doesn’t sound like the shy type—you think he noticed?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she wrote. I don’t know. Maybe? He tried talking to me, and I just froze.

Jiwon’s smile softened. “I get why you feel bad, but it’s okay, Y/N. You didn’t mean to ignore him. It’s not like you were trying to be rude.”

Y/N nodded, but her pen started moving again, her words spilling out onto the page. I just feel bad because… he seems like the type of person who’s good at talking to everyone, and I couldn’t even say anything back.

Jiwon’s expression turned thoughtful, her voice gentle. “Well, if he’s the kind of person who talks to everyone, I’m sure he’s not going to be upset about it. He probably understands that not everyone’s as outgoing as him.”

Y/N glanced down, a small part of her feeling reassured.

Jiwon tilted her head, her tone shifting to something more playful. “So, what are you going to do if you see him again? Maybe help him find another book?”

Y/N shook her head quickly, her cheeks heating up as she wrote. I’ll probably just hide.

“Y/N!” Jiwon gasped dramatically, though her grin showed she wasn’t actually upset. “Don’t hide! Come on, you already helped him once. If he talks to you again, just smile or wave. Baby steps, okay?”

Y/N hesitated but eventually nodded, her lips twitching into a faint smile. Jiwon’s encouragement felt comforting, even if the idea of facing Beomgyu again still made her stomach twist with nerves.

Jiwon leaned back in her chair, stirring her drink idly. “So… Beomgyu. What kind of loud are we talking about? Like, constantly talking over everyone loud, or just someone who naturally fills a room?”

Y/N hesitated, tapping her pen against the edge of her notebook before writing. He’s confident. Like he knows what to say, and doesn’t overthink it.

Jiwon tilted her head, her lips curving into a curious smile. “Confident, huh? That’s an interesting word to use. So, he’s not just loud—he actually knows how to carry himself?”

Y/N nodded slightly, her cheeks warming as she wrote again He’s the type of person people probably notice right away. I mean… not in a bad way.

Jiwon grinned, leaning forward. “And you noticed him. That says something.”

Y/N’s hand froze mid-air, her face heating up. She quickly scribbled. Only because he came up to me in the library! He needed help finding a book.

Jiwon laughed softly, her tone teasing but gentle. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop connecting dots. So, what happened after that? Did he say something that stuck with you?”

Y/N thought back to their brief encounter, her stomach fluttering as she remembered his bright smile. She shook her head and wrote. No, not really. He was just… nice. But when he talked, I felt like I didn’t know how to respond.

Jiwon softened at that, her teasing replaced by concern. “Y/N, that’s okay. You were caught off guard—that doesn’t mean you messed up or did anything wrong.”

Y/N pressed her lips together before writing. But what if I see him again?

Jiwon leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “If you see him again… like I said before, take baby steps. Just give him a smile, show him you’re not avoiding him. You don’t have to say anything—just a simple nod and that beautiful smile of yours.”

Y/N hesitated, her pen tapping lightly against the notebook. Jiwon was always so good at talking to boys, and Y/N trusted her advice… Not that she was trying to impress Beomgyu or anything.

Y/N nodded slowly, the tightness in her chest loosening ever so slightly.

“And honestly?” Jiwon added with a grin. “If he’s confident like you said, I bet he’ll find a way to talk to you again. Guys like that aren’t easily discouraged.”

Y/N couldn’t help the faint smile that crept onto her face, a soft laugh escaping as she looked down at her notebook.

Jiwon beamed at the sound, pleased to see her friend relaxing. “Alright, now that we’ve dissected your charming classmate, can we focus on our assignments? Unless you want to write me a whole essay about Beomgyu…”

Y/N shook her head quickly, her cheeks burning as she turned the page in her notebook. Jiwon laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll drop it—for now.”

The two fell into an easy rhythm as they returned to their study session. But even as Y/N jotted down notes and worked through her assignments, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to see Beomgyu again—and if she’d have the courage to do anything differently.

The next few days passed in a blur, each one blending into the next. Y/N kept herself busy with classes, studying, and working at the university café. It was a routine that helped her stay grounded, and she liked the quiet, easy tasks—stocking supplies, making drinks, and cleaning. Currently, she was on drink duty again, and she found comfort in the rhythm of it, even as her mind wandered.

Her back was to the café entrance when she heard a familiar voice, just a bit louder than necessary.

“Taehyun, I’m telling you, I need something to wake me up. Maybe an iced latte?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Beomgyu. She had heard that voice enough to recognize it, even without seeing him.

Trying to stay calm, Y/N kept her focus on the drinks she was preparing. She wasn’t ready to face him. She wasn’t even sure what she’d say, let alone if she could keep her anxiety from spilling out. Beomgyu and Taehyun were ordering, and she hoped—no, prayed—that they wouldn’t notice her.

Beomgyu’s voice rose, this time giving his order, “I’ll have a caramel macchiato, please.”

“One matcha frappé, and a caramel macchiato, coming right up!” Y/N’s coworker called out the order.

Beomgyu and Taehyun moved aside to wait for their drinks, talking casually, their laughter carrying through the small café. Y/N kept her back to them, eyes darting nervously between the drinks she was making and her coworker who, to her dismay, was too busy cashing out a group of customers to help.

Her heart was pounding now. She knew she’d have to hand the drinks to Beomgyu and Taehyun. There was no way around it. She couldn’t just hide forever. But she didn’t want them to look at her, not now.

Her hands trembled slightly as she prepared their drinks, praying they wouldn’t catch her eye. Her movements felt clumsy, each step taking longer than it should. As she finished the drinks, Y/N glanced at the counter, barely managing a quick, panicked glance at the pair. She kept her face turned away, her back still facing them.

Beomgyu and Taehyun were deep in conversation, and Y/N took the opportunity to push the drinks toward them as quickly as she could. But she wasn’t quick enough. As she glanced up, she found Beomgyu’s gaze meeting hers.

Beomgyu’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, and then his gaze dropped to her name tag. He smiled, a little surprised, before meeting her eyes again.

“Hey,” he greeted her, his tone casual but warm. “Y/N, right?” He glanced at her name tag again, as if confirming what he’d just read. "I didn’t realize you worked here."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. His smile was friendly, but the direct attention still sent a wave of heat to her cheeks. She nodded, her throat tightening, not sure what to say next.

Taehyun, noticing the moment, raised a brow as he looked between them, but said nothing, content to let Beomgyu lead the conversation.

Beomgyu waited for her to respond, his smile still in place, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Y/N’s heart raced, her mind spinning as she tried to recall what Jiwon had told her to do. Smile! That’s what she said, right? she thought, panicking slightly.

Forcing her lips into the smallest smile she could manage, Y/N quickly nodded in Beomgyu’s direction. It felt stiff and unnatural like her face wasn’t cooperating with the nerves flooding her body. She immediately looked down at the counter, hoping her awkwardness wouldn’t be too obvious.

Beomgyu, however, seemed to notice her discomfort. His smile softened, and he looked at her with a trace of curiosity, not at all bothered by her nervousness. He turned to Taehyun but lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze still on her.

“Our drinks look great,” Beomgyu commented, taking both cups and passing one to Taehyun. He looked back at Y/N, offering a quiet, “Thank you,” before turning to head toward a table with his friend.

As Y/N went back to the counter, she tried to focus on preparing the next drink, but her thoughts kept circling back to Beomgyu. Was that it? Was that all? Maybe he didn’t really want to talk to her, or perhaps he had only been polite because he noticed how awkward she was. She hadn't said a word, so it made sense that Beomgyu might’ve thought she wasn’t interested in talking.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she made the next drink, her mind racing. She hadn’t realized that Beomgyu had actually been trying to be kind to her, his smile soft, his words gentle, trying to make her feel at ease without pushing her. But to Y/N, it had felt like she’d somehow missed something important. The small part of her that had hoped for something more—maybe even just a longer conversation—started to feel foolish.

With a quiet sigh, she focused back on the task at hand. She had to remind herself that it was just a casual exchange, just like any other day at work. Nothing more to it. But the nervous fluttering in her chest didn’t go away, and as she handed off the next drinks to her coworker, she couldn’t help but steal a glance toward the table where Beomgyu and Taehyun had sat down. And then, just as quickly, she froze.

Beomgyu was staring at her.

No, wait—maybe it wasn’t me he was staring at, there’s a ton of people here, she thought. Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced away, feeling a flush creep up her neck and cheeks. She couldn’t be sure, but it definitely felt like eyes were on her. She tried to shake off the feeling and focus back on her work, but the nervous flutter in her chest wouldn’t go away.

Her shift passed in a blur after that, the lingering buzz of unease settling in her stomach. By the time she stepped out of the café, the evening air was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth still clinging to her face. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, letting the familiar rhythm of her walk to her car settle her thoughts.

By the time Y/N got home, the weight of the day pressed down on her—not from exhaustion, but from a restless energy that refused to settle. She slipped off her shoes at the door and made her way upstairs, the familiar quiet of her room wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

After setting her bag down, she collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling as her mind replayed the moment in the café.

He was staring at me… right?

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to customers looking her way—it came with the job—but this was different. This was Beomgyu. And the way her heart had reacted to him, the way her breath had caught in her throat, made it impossible to ignore.

With a sigh, she rolled onto her side and grabbed a notebook from her nightstand. Instead of writing, she flipped to a fresh page, letting her pen glide across the paper in small, aimless doodles—a pair of mismatched socks, a tiny bear with round ears and stubby paws sitting beside a cup of coffee, and a star with a sleepy face.

Drawing always helped settle her nerves, but tonight, her thoughts kept drifting. To the way Beomgyu had said hi. The way he had left so casually, as if the whole moment had meant nothing.

Maybe it was nothing.

She tapped the pen against her lip, staring at the page. Then, without thinking, she sketched the messy outline of a person—shaggy hair, a hoodie, a slight tilt of the head.

Y/N blinked.

She closed the notebook a moment later, pressing her palms against the cover as though trying to erase the drawing.

Nope. Not thinking about this.

Grabbing her blanket, she curled up into a cocoon, burying her face into the fabric. Tomorrow, she’d forget about it. Beomgyu was just another customer.

She just wished her heart would believe it.

The quiet of her room settled in, the gentle hum of the outside world barely making it through the thin walls. For a few moments, it felt like the perfect escape. The world outside her room could wait.

But then, she heard the creak of the floorboard outside her door—heavy footsteps that didn’t belong to her dad.

Y/N’s chest tightened.

A sharp knock at the door broke the silence. "Y/N," came the voice from the other side.

Her stepmom didn’t wait for an answer before pushing the door open.

"Don’t you think it’s time you stop with all this silent treatment?" She asked, her voice tight with the familiar frustration that seemed to follow Y/N like a shadow. "This whole ‘I’m too quiet to speak to anyone’ routine is getting old."

Y/N didn’t respond, her face still buried in the blanket. She knew what was coming, but she couldn’t bring herself to face it right now.

Her stepmom took a step further into the room, arms crossed over her chest. "You could’ve said something at breakfast this morning, but instead, you just sat there, barely even looking at me. I’m trying, but I’m getting tired of it."

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, but she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Not right now.

In her mind, Y/N silently disagreed. Her stepmom wasn’t trying at all. She never had. Not when Y/N was a child, when her silence was met with anger and frustration rather than understanding. Her stepmom had always used her quietness as a way to control her, to make her feel less, to force her to change in ways she wasn’t ready to. It had never been about helping; it had always been about power.

But Y/N couldn’t say any of this. Not now.

Her stepmom’s voice cut through the silence again, sharp as ever. "Maybe if you actually spoke up, you wouldn’t feel so isolated all the time. You wouldn’t have to hide away in your room."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t that simple, but the words were stuck, trapped behind the knot in her throat.

Her stepmom waited for a response, but when none came, she sighed heavily. "You know, it’s not normal to shut people out like this. I’m trying to help you." The words were layered with frustration, but Y/N knew better. Her stepmom's so-called "help" had never been anything more than a way to force her into compliance.

Y/N didn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her. She could feel the weight of the situation press down on her, the suffocating silence stretching on between them. Her stepmom was still standing there, waiting. But Y/N wasn’t going to give in. She never did.

"Don’t you think it’s time you grew up and spoke for yourself?" Her stepmom’s voice softened, but it was the kind of soft that felt manipulative, like it was meant to break her down, make her feel guilty. "I’m just trying to help you, Y/N. But you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be."

Y/N’s chest tightened. It was always like this. The same cycle, the same words, the same push to make her speak, to make her perform for her. She was so tired of it.

The silence that followed seemed to last forever.

With a sigh, Y/N finally sat up, the blanket slipping down to her waist. She didn’t meet her stepmom’s eyes, but she could feel her gaze on her, sharp and expectant.

The silence between them felt suffocating, pressing against Y/N’s chest, until the knot in her throat finally became too tight. She had to do something. But what?

Her stepmom’s voice broke through the silence again. "I’m not going to stand here all night, Y/N." The words dripped with frustration.

Y/N’s hands trembled beneath the blanket. She could feel the weight of her stepmom’s expectations, her anger, all of it crashing down on her. And yet, the words refused to come. The silence—her silence—was both her defense and her prison.

For a moment, Y/N almost considered speaking. Maybe, just maybe, saying something would make it stop. But she knew that wouldn’t work. It never did. Her stepmom never wanted to listen. She just wanted to force her to speak, to force her to be someone else.

The thoughts swirled in her mind, the tension in her chest growing heavier, until it felt like she might suffocate. She wanted to yell at her stepmom, to tell her that it wasn’t that simple, that she couldn’t just speak up because her body refused to cooperate. She wanted to say that she wasn’t choosing this silence, but the words never came.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, biting down on her lip to keep the flood of emotions inside. She tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like something was lodged in her throat, a thick, suffocating pressure that kept her from making a sound.

Her stepmom’s voice cut through the silence again, sharper this time. "Why can’t you just say something? Is it really that hard?"

Y/N flinched, her entire body tensing as if the question might break her. She wanted to scream, to shout that it was hard—that she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t. But her throat remained tight, her voice locked away.

"I just want you to be normal!" Her stepmom’s voice cracked with anger, her words sharp and biting, as though the pressure of everything had finally erupted.

Her stepmom waited, the air thick with expectation, but Y/N could only curl further into herself, gripping the blanket tighter, wishing she could disappear.

"Fine," her stepmom muttered, the bitterness in her voice clear now. "Keep hiding. You always do." She turned sharply and left, the door closing behind her with a finality that stung.

Y/N sat motionless, her legs pulled up to her chest, the blanket now pulled tightly around her body. The quiet in her room, which usually felt like a soft cocoon, was now suffocating. The hum of the outside world couldn’t mask the tension that still lingered in the air, thick with the weight of her stepmom’s words. It felt heavy now, the silence pressing in on her, amplifying everything she couldn’t say, everything she wished she could change.

The anger from their confrontation burned in her chest, but it was a slow, bubbling kind of anger. The kind that twisted inside her, gnawing at her with each passing second. She wanted to scream, to yell everything she’d never been able to say, but the words were stuck. Her body felt frozen, caught in this never-ending loop of failure.

Her stepmom’s voice echoed in her mind, each phrase repeating over and over like a broken record. "Why can’t you just say something?" "I want you to be normal." The words cut into her, digging deeper into the wound her stepmom had been picking at for years. And yet, despite the anger that flared up inside her, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that her stepmom was right.

She hated herself for it. Why can’t I just be normal?

The question lingered in the air, gnawing at her. She curled in on herself tighter, her nails digging into her arms. She could feel the anger rising in her chest, but it wasn’t the kind of anger that would help her break free—it was the kind that ate away at her from the inside, tearing at the pieces of her that were already fragile. The kind of anger that made her doubt herself, make her feel smaller, weaker.

She felt so broken. And for a moment, she wished she could tear herself apart and rebuild herself into someone who wasn’t so defective. Maybe if she were someone else—someone who could speak, who could just act normal—things wouldn’t be this way. Maybe her stepmom wouldn’t see her as a burden, as something to fix.

But the truth was, she didn’t know how to change. She didn’t know how to be what everyone expected her to be. And every time her stepmom spoke to her like that, it felt like the pieces of her own self-worth chipped away, leaving behind something less than what she’d been before.

Normal—that word had never felt more unattainable.

Y/N closed her eyes, but it didn’t make the feeling go away. It only made the weight of her own silence feel more suffocating. The pressure of trying to conform, to fit into a mold she didn’t belong in, was like a vise tightening around her chest. Her stepmom’s disappointment echoed in her head, filling up every empty space. Why can’t you just speak?

She didn’t know how to speak when everything inside her felt like it was locked behind a door she couldn’t open. Every attempt to break free from the silence had always led her back here, to this suffocating place where she couldn’t even breathe right.

The self-hatred was familiar now. It had been a constant companion for as long as she could remember. She hated herself for not being able to meet expectations, for not being enough in the way everyone seemed to want her to be. She hated that her stepmom was right—that she was different, that she didn’t belong, that she wasn’t normal.

Her breath hitched as the frustration built up, an unbearable knot in her throat. She wanted to shout, to make it stop, but all she could do was lie there, trapped in her own mind, fighting with herself. It always felt like this. Every time, the words would slip away, and she'd be left in this awful silence, all alone with her thoughts.

But more than anything, Y/N hated how small she felt. How her stepmom's words had a way of making her feel so insignificant, so unworthy. It was as though, by not speaking, she was failing in every way possible. The thought of her years in speech therapy stung. She'd tried. She had. But somewhere along the way, things had fallen apart. In middle school, she’d made progress. But high school? That was when it all came crashing down. She'd had no therapy, no guidance, and the silence crept back in like an old friend—unwanted, but familiar. And now, here she was, stuck with the same old weight in her chest, the same crushing inability to speak.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but it wasn’t just sadness she felt—it was anger, raw and bitter, mingling with the self-hatred that had always lingered under the surface. She wanted to scream, to yell everything she’d never been able to say. She wanted to shout at her stepmom that she wasn’t broken, that it wasn’t her fault. But the words, once again, were stuck, trapped behind the same invisible barrier.

Instead, she let herself cry, angry tears streaking down her face. She didn’t even know why she was crying anymore. Was it because of her stepmom? Or because of everything she could never say? The frustration built in her chest, but all she could do was let the tears fall, each one carrying the weight of her silence, of her inability to just be like everyone else.

Her fingers, trembling, found their way to the edges of her sleeve. She began rubbing the fabric between her fingers, a mindless gesture, but one that had always calmed her in moments like these. The soft, repetitive motion felt grounding, like it was the only thing in her control when everything else felt so far out of reach. She didn’t even notice she was doing it—this small act of comfort that was as much a reflex as it was a way to cope with the overwhelming flood of emotions crashing over her.

As the minutes dragged on, she felt herself sinking deeper into the shame and frustration, the thoughts spiraling out of control. How many times had people thought she was rude? How many times had she been told she was unfriendly, cold, because she couldn’t speak up? She’d seen the looks, the whispers behind her back. She knew what they thought of her. A shy girl? No. They thought she was stuck-up, standoffish, even rude. They didn’t understand that it wasn’t about not wanting to talk—it was about not being able to.

Her head fell into her knees, her body shaking with the force of the tears she couldn’t hold back. If only she could just be... normal. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. And it hurt more than anything.

A few days later, the evening had fallen, and the café was quieter than usual. The last of the customers were finishing their drinks, and Y/N’s coworker had settled behind the counter, casually handling the few remaining customers. Since the café wasn’t busy, Y/N had been given the task of cleaning up—sweeping the floors and wiping down the tables. It felt like a peaceful end to her shift, one where she could quietly focus on the tasks at hand.

As Y/N moved around the café, her mind was distant, absorbed in the repetitive motion of cleaning. She didn’t notice when the door jingled open and someone walked in.

Beomgyu entered the café with a relaxed air, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/N. She was still focused on her task, oblivious to his presence. His gaze softened, watching her for a moment before he stepped up to the counter to place his order.

“I’ll just have an iced green tea, please,” Beomgyu said, his voice light, but loud enough for Y/N’s coworker to hear.

Y/N’s coworker nodded and got to work making the drink, his attention now split between the counter and the lingering emptiness of the café. Once the drink was handed to him, Beomgyu moved to the side, taking his usual spot by the window and casually sitting down at a table, his eyes naturally drifting back to Y/N as she moved about.

He noticed how focused she seemed, her hands gently wiping down a table. She was lost in her own world, unaware of the quiet gaze that followed her movements. For a moment, Beomgyu simply watched, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Y/N continued cleaning, unaware of his eyes on her. She moved to the next table, pausing to scrub at a stubborn spot. It wasn’t until she reached for the cleaning supplies near the counter that she noticed Beomgyu sitting at the window, looking in her direction.

Her heart skipped, and for a moment, she froze. Was he... looking at her? She quickly turned her gaze away, hoping she hadn’t been caught staring. Y/N busied herself with finishing up the last of the cleaning, trying to shake off the nerves that had suddenly crept in.

Beomgyu, however, wasn’t making things easier. Every now and then, his eyes would flick back to her, but he never made a move to interrupt her work. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, his attention still lingering on her, as though waiting for the right moment to approach.

Y/N stole another quick glance at him, her stomach fluttering when she realized that yes, he was indeed looking her way. She quickly looked down at her hands, wishing for the floor to swallow her up. He wasn’t making any attempt to talk to her, but just knowing he was there, watching her, made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t sure how to handle.

She returned to the counter, hoping to stay busy so she wouldn’t have to overthink the situation. Y/N tried to keep her movements casual, even as she caught herself glancing in Beomgyu’s direction again.

Beomgyu smiled to himself as he watched her, taking another sip of his drink. He wasn’t in a rush to leave. He liked how she didn’t seem to know he was watching, giving him the chance to enjoy the quiet moment with her without pressure.

The café had grown quieter as the clock ticked closer to closing time. Y/N’s shift was nearing its end, and she was finishing up the last few tasks—restocking and collecting stray cups. Her coworker, who was managing the counter, had been keeping himself busy with a couple of remaining customers. Y/N stole a glance at the clock, noting that her shift would end soon. Her heart, however, was still racing from the nerves that had built up ever since Beomgyu had entered the café earlier.

She glanced over at his table, finding him still seated alone, but this time, his gaze seemed to be fixed on his phone. She quickly looked away, trying to ignore the feeling in her chest. It was hard not to notice the way his eyes lingered on her all night, but she kept herself busy, hoping the discomfort would fade.

After about half an hour, Y/N finally made her way toward the counter, preparing to clock out. Her coworker was chatting with a customer, so Y/N walked over to the register to grab her things, trying to keep her movements casual, trying to pretend she wasn’t aware of Beomgyu sitting just a few feet away. Eager to be away from work, she quickly untied her apron, folded it neatly, and slipped it into her bag

She pulled her bag over her shoulder and then successfully clocked out. Just as she was about to turn to leave, she felt a light tap on the counter. She looked up, startled, to find Beomgyu standing there with a soft smile.

“Hey,” he greeted her, his voice calm. “Are you about to head out?”

Y/N felt the tension in her body rise again, but she nodded.

Beomgyu’s smile softened as he looked at her. “Ah, I see. Well, I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute before you go. If that’s okay?”

Y/N froze for a moment; she hadn’t expected Beomgyu to approach her again, and part of her was still unsure of how to react. With a slow nod, she looked up at his face.

And that’s when it hit her—up close, Beomgyu was even more striking than she had realized. His eyes, warm and expressive, were just a shade lighter than she remembered, and his smile was disarming. There was something about the way the dim café lighting caught the curve of his jaw and the easy confidence he wore like a second skin.

Y/N found herself momentarily breathless, her thoughts scattering as she studied him. His features were so effortlessly handsome, she hadn’t truly noticed before, distracted by the nervousness whenever they crossed paths. Now, with him standing so close, she realized he had a presence that made it hard to look away, even for a brief moment.

Shaking herself out of her daze, Y/N quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed her brief lapse in composure, but the moment of silence stretched out between them.

Y/N took a deep breath, still feeling the nervous flutter in her chest, but she could tell Beomgyu wasn’t trying to pressure her. His smile was genuine, and there was a kindness in his eyes that made her feel a little at ease.

She glanced at the clock, seeing that the café was about to close, and then back at Beomgyu. With a soft exhale, she nodded. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk, even if it was just a little.

Beomgyu’s eyes lit up, his expression softening. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you’re willing to chat. I know it’s late, but if you’re up for it, we could head to the library. It’s quiet, and I know that’s where we first met… Thought it might be a good place to continue the conversation.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t sure about leaving the café, but the idea of being somewhere familiar, like the library, felt less intimidating. She nodded again, her fingers brushing the edge of her apron nervously, but she made the decision. It was just a short walk. She could do this.

Beomgyu smiled brightly at her response. His expression a mix of relief and warmth. “Great! Let’s head over then.”

The walk to the library was quiet, the cool night air brushing against their skin as the campus felt peaceful. Most students had already headed home, and the soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the path ahead. Y/N could feel her nerves easing a little as she walked beside Beomgyu, his presence somehow calming despite her earlier anxiety.

They didn’t speak much during the walk, and Y/N was thankful for the silence. It gave her time to think and process everything that had happened. She kept her gaze forward, but she could feel Beomgyu’s presence beside her, his footsteps light and steady. Every now and then, she could hear him humming softly, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was nervous too.

When they reached the library, the door automatically slid open, and they stepped inside. The soft hush of the building immediately enveloped them, the sound of footsteps echoing in the empty hall. Beomgyu led the way, gesturing toward a table by one of the large windows.

“Here’s good,” he said with a smile. “I like this spot. It’s peaceful, and you get a nice view of the campus at night.”

Y/N nodded, grateful for the quiet atmosphere. She felt the weight of the day lifting off her shoulders as she took a seat, she placed her bag in the chair next to her and then pulled out her notebook.

Beomgyu settled into the chair across from her, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “So… I guess I should start by saying thanks for meeting me. I know this might feel a little random, but I just wanted to talk with you more.”

Beomgyu shifted in his seat, the quietness between them feeling heavier than he’d expected. He wasn’t used to moments like this—he thrived in conversation, in laughter, in noise. Sitting across from someone so silent was unfamiliar, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d made things awkward.

Y/N glanced up at Beomgyu briefly before opening her notebook. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing over the cover as if steadying herself. Flipping through the pages in search of a clean spot, she tried not to feel the weight of Beomgyu’s gaze.

As she turned the pages, Beomgyu’s attention was drawn to the scattered doodles filling the margins and corners—tiny cats curled up in intricate poses, a few birds in mid-flight, and even a tiny turtle peeking out of its shell. The sketches were charming and full of personality, giving him a glimpse into a side of her he hadn’t noticed before. He couldn’t help but smile, but his smile quickly faded as realization set in.

But as she kept flipping, it dawned on him. She’s never spoken to me… Is this how she talks to people? he thought, his expression softening as understanding settled in.

It wasn’t a bad thing—it was just different. Beomgyu wasn’t used to this kind of communication, but there was something fascinating about it. Watching her write instead of hearing her speak felt quieter, more intentional, and somehow more personal.

Finally landing on a clean page, Y/N pulled out her pen. Her hands trembled slightly as she began writing, her nerves threatening to overwhelm her. She’d never done this with someone like him before. What if he didn’t understand? What if he thought it was weird? Most people found her notebook strange, and she braced herself for the same reaction.

Beomgyu’s natural urge to fill the silence started to creep in, but he resisted it, allowing the quiet to settle around them. It dawned on him that this was how she communicated—on her terms.

When she finished writing, she slid the notebook toward him, her stomach twisting in knots.

Why did you want to talk to me?

Beomgyu blinked, surprised at the bluntness of her question. He glanced up at her and smiled. For someone so reserved, she didn’t shy away from being direct when she wrote.

“Well… I guess I just wanted to get to know you better,” he said, his tone soft but honest. “You’re quiet, but there’s something about you that makes me curious. Like, I feel like there’s more to you than what people might see, and I wanted to figure out what that is.”

Y/N listened carefully, her hands hovering above the notebook as she processed his words. The knot in her stomach loosened slightly, though the nervous energy still buzzed beneath the surface, Beomgyu’s answer caught her off guard.

When she glanced up and saw the way Beomgyu’s gaze softened—more curious than anything—her heart fluttered, though this time, for an entirely different reason. She wasn’t used to someone looking at her like that—without judgment or pity, but with genuine interest.

Her pen hovered for a moment before she wrote again.

I’m not good at talking to people.

Beomgyu leaned closer to read her note, his smile growing softer. “I kind of figured,” he said with a small chuckle. “But honestly? That’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you’re not comfortable. This is different, but I don’t mind it. Actually…” He paused, his eyes catching on her doodles again. “I think it’s kind of cool.” Y/N blinked at his response, her heart skipping because of the unexpected compliment. Her fingers fiddled with the pen as she wrote again.

You’re really nice.

Beomgyu read her note, his grin widening. “I try,” he teased gently. “But seriously, I like this. I like talking to you—however you want to do it.”

For the first time, Y/N felt the tension in her shoulders easing. Beomgyu wasn’t just tolerating her way of communicating—he genuinely appreciated it.

They continued their conversation, the flow of words becoming more natural between them. Y/N shared her passion for animals, her dream of becoming a vet tech, and how much peace she found in working with animals rather than people. Beomgyu, in turn, talked about his love for music, his journey in learning audio engineering, and his deep admiration for the creative process.

Beomgyu wasn’t just being patient with her—he genuinely seemed to enjoy this, treating their exchange like any other conversation.

She tapped her pen against the page before writing. What’s something really dumb that makes you happy?

Beomgyu’s face lit up as he read her question. “Oh, that’s easy,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “When I do laundry and actually find socks that match. It feels like a miracle every time.”

Y/N looked at him, amused, and wrote. That’s… really specific.

Beomgyu gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Are you saying that doesn’t make you happy? Matching socks are an underrated joy!”

She pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh and scribbled. I don’t hate it, but I wouldn’t call it a miracle.

He shook his head with mock disappointment. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m sitting here with a sock-matching hater.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, tapping her pen before writing. I like it when my blanket and pillow are cold when I get into bed.

Beomgyu froze, his face suddenly serious. “Okay, that’s a good one. There’s nothing like that first cold spot under the blanket. But counterpoint—nothing is worse than getting out of bed when you’re nice and warm.”

Y/N sighed dramatically and wrote. Pain. True suffering.

He grinned at her response. “Right? Honestly, I’d stay in bed forever if it was socially acceptable.”

She shook her head, but her smile lingered as she underlined the word pain. The conversation wasn’t deep, but it didn’t have to be. For the first time in a long while, talking—well, writing—with someone felt easy.

After some time, Beomgyu glanced at his phone and sighed. “I should probably get going,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Didn’t realize how late it was.”

Y/N nodded, a bit reluctantly. She was glad they had spent time together, but part of her wished she didn’t have to say goodbye so soon. Still, the warmth from their conversation stayed with her, and she felt a small, content smile tugging at her lips.

Beomgyu stood up and grabbed his bag, looking at her one more time with a soft expression. “I really enjoyed talking with you.”

Y/N reached for her notebook to write something, but before she could, Beomgyu waved it off. “You don’t have to write anything. I just… wanted you to know I’m happy we talked.”

Y/N smiled at him, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook before she tucked it away in her bag. 

Beomgyu looked at Y/N with a thoughtful expression, his voice softening. “Hey, do you need help getting home? It’s late, and I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by his concern. Her heart fluttered at the sincerity in his tone. She shook her head gently, signaling she was okay, though her hesitation lingered. It wasn’t often that someone cared enough to ask.

Beomgyu caught the brief pause in her reaction and nodded understandingly, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Alright. Just wanted to make sure.”

As he adjusted the strap of his bag, a thought seemed to strike him. He hesitated for a moment before pulling out his phone. “Actually, do you mind if I get your number? You know… in case you ever need help… or want to hang out, or even just talk.”

Y/N froze for a split second, caught off guard by the request but oddly comforted. After a moment, she reached out and gently took his phone, her fingers brushing his for just an instant. The warmth of the moment made her chest tighten, but she quickly typed in her number and handed it back.

“Thanks,” Beomgyu said, his grin widening as he glanced at the screen. “I’ll text you so you have mine, too. And seriously, let me know if you ever need anything. Oh, and… make sure you get home safe, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her heart lighter than it had been all day. She glanced up at him as he turned to leave, feeling an unexpected warmth in her chest. Just as he started to walk away, she found herself offering him a small, genuine smile—a gesture that felt monumental to her. Beomgyu paused when he caught it, his own smile softening, before he gave her a playful little wave and disappeared through the library doors.

As Y/N left the library, she hugged her bag close to her side, the notebook tucked safely inside. The cool night air nipped at her cheeks, making her quicken her steps toward the parking lot where her car waited. The campus was quiet at this hour, with only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of streetlights breaking the stillness.

Reaching her car, she unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat. The familiar quiet of the vehicle wrapped around her, a welcome reprieve after the unexpected emotional weight of the evening. She gripped the steering wheel loosely, taking a moment to sit there and reflect.

Her conversation with Beomgyu replayed in her mind. The way he smiled at her, the patience in his tone, and his genuine curiosity about her notebook—it was all so… different. Not many people had ever taken the time to truly try and understand her. But Beomgyu had, and he hadn’t made her feel strange for the way she communicated. If anything, he made her feel seen.

A small smile crept onto her lips. For once, she didn’t feel consumed by guilt or regret for how she handled things. Tonight had been a good step—one she could feel proud of. She had opened up, even just a little, and it hadn’t been as terrifying as she expected.

The thought of Beomgyu’s parting words warmed her chest. “I like talking to you—however you want to do it.” He meant it, didn’t he? It was hard to believe someone like him, so outgoing and confident, could be so patient with someone like her. And yet, he had been.

Her thoughts shifted to home, where her dad was likely waiting up for her, as he often did when she worked late or stayed out studying. She hated making him worry, but she also felt the need to take a moment for herself. Her fingers brushed against the strap of her bag, and she smiled again, this time a little wider.

Starting the car, Y/N let out a soft sigh as she pulled out of the parking lot. Tonight felt like the start of something new, something different—and for the first time, the thought didn’t completely terrify her.

The walk back to his dorm was a blur for Beomgyu, his mind still lingering on the evening. Their conversation had been so easy, yet so different from what he was used to. He had been surprised by how comfortable it felt to talk to her, even with the silence and the notebook. It made him think about her in ways he hadn’t before.

As he got back to his room, he pulled out his phone and immediately searched for: “How to help my shy friend,” “What do I do when my friend doesn’t talk,” “Social anxiety help,” “Friend doesn’t talk but I want to help.” His search was filled with questions that might seem silly to anyone else, but Beomgyu was determined to understand. He didn’t know exactly what Y/N’s situation was yet, but he could tell there was more to it than just being shy. He wanted to be the kind of friend who didn’t make things worse, the kind of person who could make her feel comfortable enough to open up without pressure.

He clicked on a few links and began reading, more focused than he had been in a while. He wasn’t sure where the research would lead him, but for the first time, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to make sure he did things the right way.

As time went on, Beomgyu ended up sprawled out on his bed, his laptop perched precariously on his knees. The bright screen was filled with open tabs, each one boasting headlines like "Understanding Social Anxiety" and "How to Support a Shy Friend Without Overstepping." He had even clicked on a thread titled "What to Do If Someone Doesn't Talk to You," though he quickly closed it after realizing it was mostly people venting about awkward first dates.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why is this so complicated?” he muttered to himself, scrolling through yet another article that felt more clinical than helpful.

Frustrated, he grabbed his phone and opened his messages. His thumb hovered over Taehyun’s contact for a second before he typed out a text:

Beomgyu: Hypothetically, if you had a really shy friend who doesn’t talk much, how would you make them feel comfortable? Trying to do some research.

It didn’t take long for Taehyun to reply.

Taehyun: Hypothetically? Or are we talking about an actual person here? Are you asking for yourself or writing an essay?

Beomgyu rolled his eyes and quickly typed back.

Beomgyu: Just answer the question, dude Taehyun: Depends. How shy are they? Beomgyu: Like… doesn’t talk. At all. Writes instead

Taehyun: Oh. That’s… different. Is this about someone you know?

Beomgyu hesitated before replying.

Beomgyu: Yeah. I just don’t want to do or say something wrong. I feel like they’re nervous around people, and I don’t want to make it worse

Taehyun’s response took a bit longer this time.

Taehyun: Alright, here’s the deal: don’t overthink it. Just treat them the way you already are. If they’re comfortable enough to communicate with you, that means you’re doing something right Beomgyu: What if I accidentally say something that upsets them? Taehyun: Then apologize. Seriously, Beomgyu, it’s not rocket science. You don’t need to handle them like glass. Just listen and don’t push them. Let them come to you at their own pace

Beomgyu frowned at the screen, rereading the messages. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Taehyun’s advice—it was good advice—but he still felt like there was more he should be doing.

Beomgyu: I guess that makes sense… I just don’t want them to feel like I don’t care Taehyun: You’re literally researching how to be a better friend to them. If they don’t see you care, they’re blind Beomgyu: Fair. Taehyun: Wait. Hold up. This wouldn’t happen to be a girl, would it?

Beomgyu’s stomach flipped as he read the text.

Beomgyu: What does that have to do with anything? Taehyun: Everything, bro. You don’t even put this much effort into group projects. If this isn’t a crush, I’ll eat my textbooks

Beomgyu groaned, his face heating up.

Beomgyu: It’s not like that! Taehyun: Sure. Keep telling yourself that

Despite the teasing, Beomgyu felt a little better. Taehyun had a way of grounding him while still making him feel like a complete idiot, and somehow, it always worked.

Beomgyu: Thanks, I guess Taehyun: Anytime. Now go to bed before you fry your brain. Your girl deserves better than a sleep-deprived Beomgyu Beomgyu: She’s NOT—ugh. Goodnight.

Beomgyu dropped his phone onto his chest with a sigh, Taehyun’s words replaying in his mind. It wasn’t like that… was it?

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Other Side - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.6k+

Summary: 

I shot back, then she told me I should speak up "I can't even hear you through the speaker"

Alternatively, 

No matter how much Yoongi had been trying to compile his focus and pour it all on Gyuri, his mind kept reeling back to you.

Warnings: angst, yoongi is a dilemma, he is suffering quite a lot too.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

A/N: Very first Yoongi's POV.

Taglist requests are closed for now

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It is a human instinct to seek for what we don’t have and try to get our hands on it. 

Be it tangible or intangible - human beings will always run after what they don’t own and what they think they need. 

Yoongi is a human. 

So he, too, ran after everything he is not, everything he thought would fill the gaps of his soul, fit like a missing piece of a puzzle and make him whole. 

Hence, he fell in love with Lee Gyuri. 

Given the fact that Gyuri is everything he is not, he thought she would make him a perfect sphere. He thought his imperfectly titled earth would stand straight and spin round.

However, alarms of his mind set off very loudly whenever Gyuri brought forth the topic of marriage and kids and living together. 

He himself came from a broken family. He witnessed how his father and mother were once so in love but then suddenly they were drifting apart. 

A part of him believes that marriage ruins love. And he wanted to stay in love, without having to exchange vows and reproduce another life. 

But to his dismay, Gyuri thought his idea of love was absolutely absurd and it doesn’t make any sense. In the end, she decided to leave him, saying that his cold shoulders are hard to take, his distant persona hurt her beyond measure and that she thinks she’s the only one who is keeping this relationship alive. 

Hence, his four year old relationship came to an end just like that. 

Gyuri walked away and she took the larger part of yoongi with her. The part that was left, was unable to fall in love, unable to feel anything concrete, just unable to process human connection anymore. 

If Gyuri thought he never loved her properly, she should have seen him after her departure. Yoongi was devastated, broken, shattered beyond repair - and you only fall too hard when you climb too high, you only break too much when you love too hard. 

Yoongi wished Gyuri knew.  

For once Yoongi wished to be seen. 

And Yoongi felt seen. 

Yoongi felt the feeling of being seen in every corner of his skin, deep in his bones each and every time you looked at him with those knowing eyes. 

Ever since that night you picked him up, you have always looked at him with kindness. There was no pity, no curiosity in your eyes to unsettle him. 

If he dares to add then he has perceived affection in those eyes of yours. And by some magical force, you made him open up - something even Gyuri couldn’t do. 

If he is honest enough to admit then he would say that he was afraid of opening up to his former girlfriend, what if she ran away (which she did regardless).

But somehow you felt like a safe space - he could show the real him, the one that is scared and weak, and you wouldn’t judge him, you would embrace him (which you did every single time). 

And that is what kept him coming back to you again and again. 

Those quiet nights of shared understandings soon turned into something more - skin on skin, hands on body, mouth on mouth. Yoongi hated none of it. 

Yoongi started liking it all way too much. 

Soon enough he realized, it’s not always important to fill up each gap, to seek for a person who is everything we are not. 

Sometimes peace comes from alikeness. 

Sometimes peace comes from someone very much like you. 

And you are very much like him. 

Just like him you, too, belong to a broken family, prone to close yourself up around people, you don’t laugh too loud, talk too loud, you don’t say things you don’t mean. 

You like maintaining a distance. 

You like to hide behind a facade. 

Again, you are just like him. 

Even after knowing his views towards commitment, you never questioned him once. You never asked why he thinks what he thinks. You never once asked for anything more than what he could offer. You never demanded recognition from him. 

You never said anything but still Yoongi knew that you were falling in love with him. 

And right on that moment he knew - you would have been the one for him. Only if you two could travel to a parallel universe, where he wasn’t so pathetically in love with Gyuri, he would allow himself to fall for you. 

That day when Gyuri came back, when she gracefully stepped into his life again as if nothing happened - he didn’t know what to feel or what he was feeling. 

He didn’t know what if he was more happy or more regretful that the sand castle he built with you was about to tumble down sooner than he expected. 

He always feared waves but Gyuri in the shape of a wave - he both feared and loathed it. 

His sense of fear and resentment heightened when he felt you touching his knee under the table. You are just too kind, way too kind for your own good. 

You stayed in this arrangement even after knowing Yoongi wouldn’t be able to return your feelings and you were still trying to comfort him when you yourself knew things were coming to an inevitable end. 

At that moment Yoongi wished he never loved Gyuri to begin with. 

“I will not force you to do anything you don’t want, Yoongi. I promise, I will not fight. Let’s give each other another chance please. I- I have been missing you terribly.” Gyuri had said standing behind the closed wooden door of the meeting room. 

Yoongi’s heart lurched inside his chest a bit. 

But it’s not the flattering kind. 

When he looked into her eyes, he found sincerity but he couldn’t see himself reflecting in them. 

That is why he said, “I don’t know, Gyuri. I don’t think it will be ideal for us -” 

“I know the damage is done. But please please let’s try once more. Three months, let’s try for three months, for the sake of old times, our memories, for our love. I love you, Yoongi. And I know you love me too. So, please.” Gyuri had cut him off desperately. 

Yoongi thought then. Getting into this trial with Gyuri would mean leaving you behind. Leaving you behind would mean setting you free from his grasps. 

If Yoongi sets you free, you can move on and find everything that he can’t provide you with - love, a lover, maybe even a home. 

So he had said yes.

“I love you so much.” Gyuri murmured on his chest. 

“I love you too.” Yoongi didn’t mean it. 

“.... but the lyrics just won’t come out. I have been trying to write ….” 

For a fleeting moment, Yoongi heard Gyuri saying something about the lyrics but his brain didn’t register anything solid. 

He had been zoning out, staring at the door, waiting for you to come in with your notebook and ipad, give everyone a tight-lipped smile and a muffled greeting and settle somewhere near him. But you were nowhere to be found.  

When the door creaked open, his heart creaked too, only to be disappointed when Namjoon slipped in. 

A moment later his heart creaked and cracked even more when Namjoon announced you had withdrawn from the project. 

He should have felt relieved then. This is what he wanted, he wanted to set you free from his painful grip. 

But that didn't mean he wouldn’t feel an unexplainable pain in his chest. 

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel something important sliding through his fingers. 

At that moment Yoongi realized, he did the forbidden. 

He got attached to you. 

Every pore in Yoongi’s body oozed relief when he saw you for the first time in a month. 

You look distressed but you look beautiful regardless. 

He tried his best to appear nonchalant, stoic so that you don’t get a hint of the tempest that had been raging inside of him. 

No matter how much he had been trying to compile his focus and pour it all on Gyuri, his mind kept reeling back to you - how you silently cried with him that night, how you didn’t hold him back when he left, how you didn’t object when he ended it all. 

For once he wished you wouldn’t be so much like him. 

For once he wished for you to ask something more from him. 

“I can take care of it myself, Yoongi. You have a life to lead, you have better days ahead now, why would you even care about me? I was just a fleeting chapter anyway. Please- please don’t act like our time together meant anything to you. Please, I beg.” you broke down right before his eyes. 

If he is reading between the lines properly then is that animosity? 

Are you angry with him? 

If he riles you up more will you confess? Will you ask for more?

Will you… will you ask him to come back? His thoughts swirled inside him making him feel dizzy.

“wasn’t it a given? A silent agreement that our time together wouldn’t mean much to any of us?” he pushed you more, even though he knew it wasn’t the right thing to say but he tried to pull the truth or the demand or whatever might it be, out of you. 

And he didn’t even know why? 

What does he even want? 

Does he want you? Even the thought of wanting someone other than Gyuri scared him to death. 

You nodded, “Yeah. You are right. Forget I have said anything. Bye.” 

And with that you were gone. 

For the second time in life Yoongi faced a loss. 

However, unlike the first time, this time it was his fault. This time, he knew, a second chance would probably never come by. 

He should have felt relief. 

He felt a prospect of quiet, peaceful love sliding through his fingers instead.

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[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Office hours.

Pairing: modern!Javier Peña x f!reader Words count: 3059 Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI

Summary: You should concentrate on work. But you can't do that with the charming bastard you share the office with in front of you. Why not find a more fun way to spend your office hours? Tags: porn with very little plot, modern setting (they have computers and chats), POV second person, reader is described wearing a skirt, blouse and heels & having pussy and breasts, no other description of her is given, Javier is an unhinged menace and has a filthy mouth but so is reader, dirty talk, teasing, improper use of office chat, cockwarming, masturbation (f!receiving), pet names, slurs, pussy pronouns, mention of a sex toy, no Spanish because I don't really want to butcher another language since I am doing this extensively with English 💀, squirting, sexual activities in a public place, no age gap, age unspecified so it’s up to you (they’re both in their 30s in my head), the work they do is not specified so you can imagine what you want. I think it’s all? If I realized that I forgot something I’ll add it right away.

A/N: This is the second time I've tried to write Javi P and I'm terrified but because it came out on its own in a frenzy: here we gooo. I'm ovulating and I'm horny af. LOL It probably doesn't make sense, I don't have a beta reader, I reread it myself but my eyes are tired, English is not my first language so I ask your forgiveness if you find mistakes. I hope you like the dirty talk of this thing, I feel like it came out particularly well…fingers crossed.

You should really focus on your work, you have a deadline to meet tomorrow and you're still behind. And you certainly can't focus with a certain coworker in front of you. When they decided that you had to share a big office you secretly decided that your boss was an idiot. How productive could you have been with Javier Peña sitting at the desk in front of you? Obviously your boss expected you both to be adults, capable of controlling your own instincts. What you thought instead was that it would be the hell that it actually is. Because Javier is a charming bastard and you have had a crush on him since day one and he's definitely the type to flirt with all the women in the office.

You hate his guts and you fight practically all the time over any little inconvenience, but the creeping attraction between you, that feeling of always being on the edge of a cliff, that constant urge to provoke him to see which one of you would crack first never left. 

And today, when he showed up in yet another shirt that left his chest partially exposed-because the bastard in question wasn't the least bit interested in buttoning the last few buttons-and those damn skinny jeans straight from the ‘70 that on anyone would have looked silly and anachronistic but on him did nothing but send you into a frenzy of desire, you felt it might be the last straw.

Appropriate office attire does not exist for him, he only wears a tie for meetings with your boss but the rest of the time he dresses as he wants and apparently no one says anything to him. Fucking great, just what you need, seeing his chest displayed right in front of your eyes all the damn time.

You never even liked mustaches but now you couldn't help thinking how much you wished they would rub against your folds as he lapped at your cunt. You dreamed of him carrying your scent on him for the rest of the day, dreamed of kissing him and tasting you on his tongue.

You dreamed of getting up and going to sit on his lap as you continued to type the report you promised your boss and his cock rubbed against your thighs, your panties, and even better your bare pussy. You thought about it practically all morning and got so wet that you risked wetting your office chair, so much so that on your lunch break you had to hide in one of the bathroom stalls and take them off, to store them in a bag inside your purse. 

But now you are naked under your skirt. Which is even worse and makes things even harder for you. You jotted down in your mind that it was time to think about bringing a change of underwear with you. Now the fact that Javi was on the other side of the room was even more unbearable than before, setting you on fire. The temptation to do something stupid and make yourself a needy fool was eating you up. 

Javi looks up for a moment from the documents he is working on, casting one of his typical glances at you, big brown captivating eyes that stare at you many times during the day, only for a few seconds at a time. Minutes of each day flow so slowly when he is in front of you. You really shouldn't think about him; you're here to work. In theory. And you need this damn salary if you don't want to live without electricity or run out of food. The selfish asshole in front of you however doesn't seem to care that you will probably be fired soon and end up under a bridge, because he continues to tease you in any way he can. One day it's a quip about your nail polish, the next about your overly revealing blouse, the next about the length of your skirt. And then there are those glances, sometimes accompanied by a wink, mischievous smirks, a tilt of his head, little things that no one ever notices but you. He never pushes the envelope, but oh, by now you know he wants to. A week ago he asked you if you wanted to have a drink after work, and you said no, absolutely not, never mix business and pleasure, it was a very strict policy in your department. 

You regretted it right away, but what else could you have done? He's not someone you can trust.

He didn't push further, of course, which made you even more impatient, nervous, incredibly horny.

It's a challenge now, you have to have him. And you have to have him before your female colleagues, at least the ones on your floor. You always notice how they look at him, languid and sweet eyes, lip licks and lower lip nibbled, hair moved behind their ear, every time he walks down the hallway of your floor, there is no lady who doesn’t stop working at least for a moment to marvel at him.

It’s late now, the sun has long since gone down, almost everyone around you has been gone for at least 30 minutes, but you have been distracted all morning and now you have to catch up. You hoped he would leave with the others but he stayed here. You’re doomed at this point, you can’t even think straight anymore. You know there’s some other colleagues three offices ahead, down the hall, whom you saw five minutes ago when you got up to get a cup of coffee. As you reread what you wrote, with your eyes fixed on the computer screen, you can't get him out of your mind, feeling his eyes on you, heat blazing under your skin. You turn toward the door in a clumsy attempt to avoid his gaze, realizing that you have closed it.

And well, after all, you've been working hours, maybe you can take a little break. Just five minutes. And what better to do in those five minutes than tease Javi? 

You don't mind playing and playing with him seems almost natural and physiological given his constant attempts to sabotage your self-control; perhaps you could try to sabotage his a little without risking too much.

So you open your legs. Just a little bit, just enough to show him that you're not wearing panties. 

And you look at him, without saying anything. Javi licks his lips, you know his eyes have caught in full what you wanted him to see. His jaw tenses, his hand clenches into a fist over the papers he is examining. Little imperceptible reactions that you crave like water in the middle of a desert. 

Until the chat banner you use to communicate with colleagues lights up on your desktop. 

“I can smell you from here.” it says. The sender is obviously that bastard you share an office with. 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you quietly type. 

After a few seconds another message appears.

"Your delicious pussy, of course, you tempting little slut." You turn to look at him who is totally deadpan.  

You click your tongue and type, “You should be thinking about your work, not my pussy, you know? Highly unprofessional. I should go straight to someone in HR and report you”

“Oh yeah? And so you want everyone to know that you come to work without underwear. Typical greedy slut behavior." 

You lean against the desk, pretending to be shocked at first, looking at him with disappointment. A small smile creases the corners of his mouth, a hint of teeth between his lips, his eyes fiercely twinkling, he is convinced he has made you uncomfortable. 

Smiling in turn, savoring the taste of victory, you lower a hand between your legs, grazing your now totally soaked folds.

His eyebrows rises slightly, his eyes fixed on your fingers moving slowly over your outer lips. 

You type “I think you like what you see” With your other hand. 

He swallows, lowering a hand to his jeans in turn. You lean against the back of the chair to get a better look and clearly catch the tent that is growing under the crotch. He bites his lower lip, one hand moving up and down over his bulge and the other typing on the computer keyboard. 

“I bet you don't have the guts to come over here and make my cock feel that tight pussy of yours.”

Okay, you think, if you want to play dirty that's what you're going to get. 

You look around, listening to every little noise from the other rooms, the office seems empty and quiet. 

You close your eyes, just a moment, before grabbing some papers from your desk, getting up and walking toward him, swaying on your heels. 

What you've been dreaming of doing all morning is about to happen, you feel yourself floating like in a bubble.

He unbuckles his belt and pulls down the zipper of his jeans, freeing his huge shaft as he stares at you.

He turns his wheeled office chair toward you and you straddle him. 

He grabs your hips gently pushing you down on his cock, the tip grazing at your folds “such a slut” 

“If anyone here is a whore it's you. Do you think I don't know that you're getting off with half the accounting department?”

“Mh, maybe you should inform your pussy, she seems to have lost the memo judging by how much she's dripping on me.”

He holds his cock with one hand as you lower yourself onto him, looking down to where your pussy and his cock are coming into conjunction.

“Oh please shut up, I don't give a shit about your office banter.” 

You drag this out for months, days upon days of longing and teasing and nights spent in bed imagining that he was the one sucking you off instead of your toy.

You lean down holding his shoulders and whisper in his ear, “Stuff it all in.’” and you start rubbing yourself against him, feeling his huge dripping cock all inside your cunt. He stays still. 

You moan lightly and he shushes you "you have to be quiet honey, do you want us to be caught? Do you want them to notice that you are cockwarming me instead of working?”He places one of his hands on your mouth, your stifled moans vibrating on his fingers as you grind until your cream is leaking down his balls, his jeans, making a mess on his chair.

“Christ, you’re so fucking wet” he murmurs thrusting a little and starting to hump his whole dick inside, he reaches your clit with two fingers and starts moving them slowly in circles over it “she’s squeezing me so right, baby, I can go on for hours just like that, stuffing you full with my cock” His other hand is resting on your hip, just above the waistband your skirt and he holds you close to him. 

He pulls out a little and pounds it back in, making you writhe and moan “Fuck yeah, you hear it? Your noisy sticky little cunt gushing for me? It’s like a fucking symphony” he whispers 

Your whines vibrate on his fingers “oh baby, you really have to learn your manners. I said keep quiet.” He removes his hand from in front of your lips and sticks two fingers in your mouth “suck these. Maybe you'll learn to be quiet with your mouth full. Or should I fill that one with my cock too?”

You suck them greedily, feeling the taste of your pussy spread over your tongue. “That’s right, baby, just like that”

You hear the main floor door slam, the last people have also left, you are now alone and his cock is buried inside you.

“Jesus, look at the mess you’ve made on me, sucking my cock in like the desperate little slut you are… you wanna come, huh?” 

You nod, as your tongue swirls on his digits, licking and sucking enraptured by your taste and his gaze locked on yours. 

“Yeah, I bet you want this cock to pound you senseless, am I right?” 

You nod again, feeling your heart raging behind your ribcage. 

You never felt so desperate for anyone, the way he’s torturing you, his cock deep down inside you without moving an inch, your pussy drenched, his precum smearing all over your walls mixing with your fluids. 

You feel delirious. 

“I know baby but not here.” He whispers mischievously and your eyes are almost on the verge of tears “you can come tho, let me help but you have to be very quiet for me, okay?” 

You think the office is empty, but you can't be sure, there are so many rooms and someone could still be inside.

He slides his fingers out of your mouth and puts them back on your clit, starting to rub it gently. They are coated in your saliva and slide pleasantly over it, sending you almost over the edge. 

“Look how swollen she is, poor little cunt, she wants to come so badly, isn’t she?” his low hoarse voice gravels in your ears as he pinches your clit and begins to jerk it off faster. 

You writhe trying to stand up a little to ease your numbed legs but he pins you down on his cock digging his fingers in your hip “nah, you stay where you are, honey, gonna come full of me and at the pace of my fingers” 

You bite your lower lip hiding your face in the crook of his neck “no, look me in the eyes, I want to see that pretty face while you come like a whore for me”

One of your hands wraps around the back of his neck as you force yourself to look in his eyes. They are black with lust and desire, pupils dilated and fixed on yours in a frenzy.

His fingers move faster and faster, his cock throbs inside you.

“Come apart for me, babe, let me feel your greedy cunt squirting for me, come on” 

His words are enough to send you over the edge, you come copiously squirting on top of him as he doesn't stop rubbing your clit.

“Yeah, baby, just like that, you’re so fucking beautiful right now” 

You strive to keep your eyes on him but eventually throw your head back overwhelmed by the heat spreading inside you, enveloping every cell in your body and pulsing uncontrollably in your veins. 

It’s too much, it’s all too much and he didn’t even fuck you properly yet. 

You collapse onto his shoulder, holding onto his neck, panting against his skin “Fuck” 

“Yeah, baby, I know, that’s what you wanted huh? Coming full of me like a bitch in heat?” 

You look into his eyes and whisper, “Oh, no, I want so much more.” 

“Oh yeah? What else do you want?” He grins.

“Take me home. Now.” 

“Ask nicely, baby” 

You huff “Take me home, Javi, please” 

He chuckles “Hungry little thing, what do you want me to do for you once we get home?” 

You sigh and then looking into his eyes defiantly whisper “I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me so hard that I scream, I want the whole neighborhood to hear me. I want your cock pounding inside me all night”

He clicks his tongue and replies, “So cheeky asking me to take you home and fuck you while my cock is still inside you.”

“That’s what I want, do you think you can do that for me?” You ask, raising your eyebrow. 

“Of course. You chose the right man for the job.” 

He slaps your ass before you stand up and fix your clothes as best you can. His jeans are completely covered in your juices and his cock still rock hard, you hope that no one is really there or they will notice what you have done.

“Here, put this around your waist,” you say, handing him your black cardigan. 

He looks down at his jeans, laughing. “Damn, you made a real mess. I think I’ll have to get rid of that chair, too.”

He wraps your cardigan around his waist so that the sleeves hang down the front, almost completely covering the dark, wet stain.

“Let’s get out of here” 

You take a deep breath, turning the doorknob down and looking out into the hallway, you look left and right and there doesn’t seem to be anyone “come on, let’s hurry” you say waving and he chuckles behind you. You walk out the door in silence, walking down the hallway to the front door.

You press the elevator button while he pinches your ass “stop it” you hiss. 

You enter the elevator, side by side, and as the doors are about to close, a hand reaches between them, stopping them. 

Your boss enters and looks at you in surprise. “Oh, you’re still here?” 

You’re screaming internally as you struggle to keep a poker face and reply calmly “Yes, of course. I had to work on that report and Javier offered to help me out.” 

Your boss nods, completely unaware. “Good, I expect it to be on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

You nod, lying, “yeah sure, definitely, it's practically over.” as you hear Javier stifle a laugh. 

You turn to give him a disapproving look as he covers his mouth and looks down to quell his giggles.

You arrive at the lobby in the longest elevator ride of your life.

“See you tomorrow then, have a good evening” Your boss says as soon as you three come out. 

“Good evening” you babble thanking God he didn't notice anything.

“Oh shit, that was a close call!” Javier laughs as soon as your boss gets in the car.

You slap him on his shoulder “does that sound funny to you? Come on, take me home and make me forget that I just risked losing my job”

“I can’t wait, honey,” he puts his arm around your waist as he walks you to his car. 

Sure, you don’t know what’s going to happen and you don’t know if it’s worth it but you can’t wait to ride him on a bed and forget your name too.

general tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @thundermartini @harriedandharassed @almostempty @lovely-vamp-princess @pedrostories 🌹

[mysunshinetemptress]

Smarter

Smarter

Insight 1 Insight 2

Leah Williamson x ??

Warnings: family argument, rushed writing it’s 1am

Leah hadn’t seen any of her family in weeks, not since her granny had come to the house demanding her ring back but today was importation, today was Jacob’s day and she had promised to be there, you had promised to be there and so she found herself stood on the sidelines of her brothers champion ship final with his team. Her family stood on the other side, with no sign of you.

The match is a blur for everyone, for Leah, her family and her brother whose playing, her brother whose playing his championship match but all he can focus on is the tension between his family and his sister.

His sister who he has idolised since he was a little kid, who he wanted to be just like when he grew up.

Leah had walked down to the sidelines when the match had finished Jacob’s team coming out on top, “Jacob, Jacob, Oye Jacob.” Leah yelled across the field trying to get her younger brother’s attention only he ignored her, he couldn’t look at her, he felt sick to his stomach every time he did.

But it was Leah, and so he found him self stopping momentarily meters away from everyone else. That was all Leah needed to race towards him running up to the younger boy “Hey mate I’m talking to you.” Jacob rolled her “what do you want.” Leah can’t say she’s surprised by his reaction but it hurts her none the less “I just-well I wanted to see you-see how you were, to eh to congratulate you-it was great game mate.” Jacob shakes his head before turning.

Leah grabs his arm panic flaring within her at the thought of losing her younger brother too, “Jacob please.” Jacob harshly tugs his arm away from staring at her like she has caused him harm “no Leah, I-why-how could you” Leah shakes her head her mind racing “I-i don’t know, I can’t lie to you-I don’t know.”

Jacob scoffs “Bullshit, of course you know, this isn’t some one night mistake Leah, this has been going on for ages, and you-you have the nerve to say you don’t know, you don’t know why you cheated on a woman who loves you more than anything, a woman who has given you everything been there for everything, for everyone and asked for nothing in return, the woman you married” Jacob’s squared up to her now, taller now than he was when they first started to have arguments.

Leah feels her throat closing “ it-I made a mistake, but I don’t love her-it’s Y/n.” Jacob hates the way his heart breaks at the sight of tears welling in Leah’s eyes but he doesn’t stop “no it was, you’ve fucked it up, you cheated on your wife, your pregnant wife might I add.” Leah shakes her head “I-I didn’t know.” Jacob lets out a humourless laugh “why cause you would have stopped then.” Leah doesn’t say anything “oh my god, you would have stopped cheating on her, you wouldn’t have said anything, you would-you would have dumped that slag and gone on like you had done nothing wrong.” Leah tries to grab his hand as he begins to walk away again.

“Jacob please.” Jacob keeps walking as Leah chases him “Have you stopped seeing her.” Jacob hates that he’s asked such a question but he needs to know, and the silence is all it takes “She-she’s helping me get through this I-i have no one.” Jacob scoffs “I wonder why.”

Amanda watch’s from a distance her heart breaking at the sight of her kids fighting, at the sight of her youngest slowly starting to hate his favourite person in the world.

“I used to idolise you, I -I wanted to be you.” Jacob’s voice is quite as he admits it all to Leah, leah who wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, to put her out of her misery. “I used to sit and watch you both, watch how soft she made you, how loved up you both were and I used to wish to have that, I used to wish to be you.” Jacob shakes his head “I can’t believe I wasted all that time wishing, when you’ve become such an asshole so far up her own arse that she has destroyed the only thing she’s ever wanted, or at least the old version of her ever wanted.” Leah can’t say anything else can’t move as her heart breaks again like it has so many times recently.

But her phone lights up in her hand as the screen shows HER name and Jacob shakes his head, he’s not angry anymore just sad, disappointed and sad “She hasn’t stopped crying, I-I’m starting to think she might never stop, even-even when the baby comes.” Jacob doesn’t say anything else instead he just leaves her there standing in the middle of the pitch as he walks over to Amanda head, Leah doesn’t try anymore, she’s tired and soaked and her stupid phone won’t stop buzzing and all she wishes for in that moment is for you. But she’s lost you, lost them, lost everyone.

[f1goat]

regret + lando norris (one shot)

In which Lando breaks up with you, but starts to regret it even more when he sees you back on the racetrack. Can he still fix things?

lando norris x fem!y/n tw: small mentions of a panic attack & not proof read requested: yes

masterlist - playlist

“Y/N?”

This is exactly something you hoped that wouldn’t happen this weekend. Since your breakup with Lando, you haven’t seen him anymore. You also didn’t went to any races anymore. Until today. During your relationship with Lando you spent a lot of time on the different race tracks. You were with him almost every race. That resulted into getting to know a lot of the drivers personally, you quickly became great friends with Alex and his girlfriend Lily, but also with others like Daniel, Oscar, Max, Charles and Carlos. It took them a while before they could convince you, but they are exactly why you’re here right now.

And that makes them also the reason behind your unwanted meet up with Lando himself. 

“Hey,” you say with a soft tone. What if Lando will get mad that you’re here? Fuck. The first free practice didn’t even start yet and you already ran into Lando. Where are your friends when you need them? Now that you think about it, weren’t you walking here with Daniel? Where has he gone off to?

“What are you doing here?” Lando asks you confused. He doesn’t mind you being here, at least he thinks so now, but he wonders how you have gotten here. Normally he was the one who took you with him to a Grand Prix. He’s quick to wonder if someone else on the grid is dating you and took you here with him.

“Uh, a few friends invited me,” you explain, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No!” Lando is quick to reply, “uh no of course not, you’re free to come here,” he adds awkwardly.

“Great,” you say even more awkward then Lando’s earlier words.

“Who uh invited you?” Lando continues to ask.

“Uh you know that one group text right? With the boys we always did the most things with?” You ask Lando. He nods. “It comes from them. So uh Alex, Max, Charles, Carlos, Daniel and Oscar,” you tell him.

“Oh uh nice,” Lando replies.

Before Lando or you can make another awkward statement, Daniel is already reappearing next to you. You’re thankful that he has showed up again. Hopefully he will save you from this awkward conversation. Of course you knew you would see Lando somewhere this weekend, but you didn’t expect it to happen on the first hour you were around. 

There isn’t any bad blood between Lando and you. At least you think so. Lando broke things off a couple weeks ago after the two of you almost dated for a year. He didn’t gave a great reason, he just told you he needed to regain his focus on racing and that he couldn’t manage that with you around. At first you didn’t understand, but later you heard from mutual friends that things were a bit different. It seems like Zak had a bit more influence in Lando his decision then you thought at first. But still, Lando chose this himself. 

You can safely say that you miss Lando and everything you two had together. Even now when you see him again, it pains you that you can’t hug or kiss him. While Daniel makes conversation with Lando, you focus yourself on him as well. You take a good look at him. Lando doesn’t look good. His face seems white and his eyes are puffy. He seems tired. You almost ask him how he’s feeling, but Daniel is quick to walk away with you from Lando.

“Let him feel bad,” Daniel tells you, “remember this is his own fault. He chose to broke up.”

You sigh. “I know Dan,” you reply, “but you can’t blame me for caring about him. He looks bad.”

“He should.”

Lando can’t shake off his negative thoughts when he sees Daniel walking away with you. He keeps wondering about what Daniel is doing here with you. Is it possible that you already forgot about him and moved on with someone else? Someone like Daniel maybe? Lando didn’t want to break things off with you, but he felt like he had no choice. 

Now he knew that he should have talked about it with you, but it’s already too late. His friends have told him about his mistake and how he should have handled things. But it’s still too late. He can’t change what he did anymore. He can only life with the consequences. 

It wasn’t his own idea to break up with you. Zak came to him after the race in Qatar. The weekend was already shitty, but after talking with Zak it became even worse. You weren’t there that weekend. You had a birthday that you couldn’t miss and Lando had lied to you that he would be fine without you for a weekend when you told him you could fly in later. His whole weekend was about you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much he missed you that weekend. He almost bought plane tickets so you could still come.

Then there was the qualifications in which he lost his fastest lap to track limits.

Then there was the sprint race, where his rookie teammate was better then him.

Then there was the actual race, where he wasn’t allowed to overtake his rookie teammate.

He doesn’t blame Oscar, but he does blame himself. The weekend was bad. You weren’t there to talk to about everything. Of course you texted and called him, but every time you asked how he was he lied and told you that he was fine. 

Then Zak came to him after the race. He didn’t say much, only that Lando should think about his priorities if he ever wanted to win a race. That was the last drop for him. Instead of getting mad at Zak for even suggesting something that ridiculous, he became mad at himself. Zak was right. He wasn’t focused lately. He only thought about you. This weekend was the perfect example. Without even giving it a second thought he called you on FaceTime. He broke up with you without giving you an explanation. 

He’s a dick.

And now you’re here with his friends. He told a few of them what really happened. They told him they would try to help him to fix things. But now he only thinks that they were lying. It seems like they have chosen your side. Something he can’t blame them for.

Fuuuuuck. He hates himself.

And he misses you.

In the mean time Daniel brought you back to Lily. It’s time for the boy to get into their cars and start the first practice. Together with Lily you spend some time at the Williams motorhome. You can’t help yourself and start to inform Lily about your encounter with Lando. 

“Is it bad that I still want him back?” You ask Lily softly. You almost feel ashamed for your question. What’s wrong with you to want someone back who broke up with you over FaceTime? 

“No,” Lily is quick to reply with a firm answer, “and to be honest with you, I get it.”

“You get it?”

“Girl, you were so happy with him,” Lily sighs, “of course I get it. I don’t know if it’s right, but I really get it. If you can keep a secret, I can tell you exactly why I get it.”

“Of course,” you quickly react. You’re already glad that Lily gets the way your feeling. Earlier today you tried to tell Daniel, but he didn’t get it. 

“Alex and I had a similar experience,” Lily confesses, “When he was still with RedBull a similar thing happened to us. Alex had a massive fall out that he wasn’t focused enough and that is was because of me, that he was going to lose his seat if he didn’t fix it. We took a break then.”

“How did you fix that?”

“His focus became worse,” Lily laughs, “after five weeks he came crawling back. It pained me, don’t get me wrong, but I have had similar conversations with some coaches. So I knew what he was hearing and how bad the timing was, so I forgave him. We’re stronger since that break then ever before.”

“Do you think there’s hope for Lando and me?” You ask Lily hopefully.

“If you can forgive him then there is,” Lily answers directly. 

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

“Believe me girl, he is already a mess,” Lily laughs, “Maybe he just needs a final push, but he won’t last long anymore. Look at his results from the last week, he’s even more unfocused since the break up.”

“Final push?” You ask a bit confused.

“Lando is a bit more unsure then Alex, you know? I think he needs a final push to make him snap and confess. Otherwise he won’t stop sulking. But don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of that push.”

“Thanks Lily.”

+++

You don’t know if Lily has already thought of something, but you notice that Lando is surprisingly close to you during the weekend. It seems like he’s always around. He isn’t speaking to you, but you feel his eyes on you everywhere you go. 

It’s already Saturday, the weekend is going by fast. It’s almost time for qualifications. You’re walking with Daniel. You have spend a lot of time with him the last days. He can easily distract you from your thoughts about Lando. He’s fun to be around, mainly because he’s always joking. But still, he’s not Lando. Fuck. 

It doesn’t surprise you when you notice Lando again. This time he’s walking towards Daniel and you. You wonder if he’s going to say something. It seems like he’s getting ready to say something to Daniel, you or the both of you.

“Can I talk to you Daniel?” Lando asks when he’s standing in front of you. Daniel nods and walks away from you with Lando. He quickly says that Lily is already waiting for you at the Williams garage to watch the session together. You wish him good luck and turn around as well. 

Lando doesn’t know where to start when Daniel is standing in front of him. He wants to say many things and ask even more things. 

“What is it Lando?” Daniel asks him a bit annoyed. It’s clear that he took your side, it’s written all over his face. Lando gets it. Of course he does.

“Are you seeing Y/N?” He asks at first.

“Seeing Y/N?” Daniel asks confused.

“Yeah, are you dating her on something?” Lando asks further.

Daniel laughs loudly. “You’re joking right?”

“No? You’re spending a lot of time with her,” Lando continues.

“And so what Lando? You broke up with her,” Daniel says mad, “On fucking FaceTime. You don’t have the right to ask every boy around her about his intentions with her. She isn’t yours anymore!”

“Fuck, sorry,” Lando mutters before he quickly walks away from Daniel.

He’s glad when he’s sitting in his car a couple minutes later. This should help him to focus on something else then you. Right? But even when he’s driving as fast as he can manage, he can’t stop thinking about you. He only thinks about you. He can’t focus on where to brake or when to increase or decrease his speed. 

It doesn’t even surprise him when his board radio tells him he wasn’t fast enough for the next session. He’s out. 

Fuck.

“I told you, he isn’t more focused,” Lily states while watching the session on the big screen. Together you watch and hear Lando his disappointed reaction to hearing he’s out. You feel bad for him. 

“Should I go to him?” You ask Lily.

“I don’t know,” Lily answers honestly, “I get it that you want to, but maybe he needs to get a bit more frustrated with his choice.”

“But he’s probably really mad at himself now,” you say, “and he must be so disappointed. What if Zak tells him more bad things?” 

“I understand you, I just don’t know if it’s smart. If I were you, I would wait until tomorrow. Let him be mad at himself for a bit, it won’t hurt him.”

+++

“You need to help me,” Lando states, “All of you.”

In front of him are Daniel, Max and Oscar. He found them and brought them all together. After his qualification session he realized that he really needs you back. He already knew that after the horrible words left his mouth during that awful FaceTime call, but now he needs to take action. This can’t last longer. He can’t last any longer without you.

“I want Y/N back,” Lando confesses, “It was a fucking mistake and I hate myself for it. How can I deserve another shot with her?”

Daniel laughs. Max and Oscar don’t know what to say.

“That’s rich,” Daniel laughs, “You think you still deserve her after this?”

“Daniel,” Max warns his friend, “Don’t be too hard on him.”

“What? It’s true, he did it himself,” Daniel continues, “If he thought about it, he would have known directly that it was stupid.”

Lando sighs. “I know,” he says, “and I really regret everything I did. But I need to know if I have a chance to win her back.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it,” Daniel replies, “but I’ll try to help. But only because she’s pretty miserable as well.”

Max and Oscar both nod as well showing their agreement with Daniel. Lando lets out a relieved sigh. He knows they mean it well and he’s even glad with the honesty of his friends. He deserves this. 

“To be fair mate, I think you just need to talk to her and explain everything,” Max suggests. 

“Yeah and apologize a lot of course,” Oscar adds.

“I’ll ask her if she wants to talk to you,” Daniel says eventually, “I’ll text you her answer, then you can do the rest.”

“Thanks guys,” Lando says, “Thank you so much.”

+++

Daniel: She is up for it. Ask her to talk with you after the race.

Daniel: And don’t let the outcome of the rest influence you!

Lando: thank you so much

Lando is nervous when he sits in his car. It’s not the race he’s nervous about, he knows it’s already a lost cause. He won’t score any points from his starting position, he’s starting eighteenth for fucks sake. And even if his strategy is good, he’s way too unfocused for the race. He won’t manage anything successful before talking to you. He can only think about all the things he needs to say to you.

How can he find the right words to excuse to you? He has to make so many apologies, he doesn’t even know where to start. He sees the start sign and tries to focus on the race again. He drives away from his spot as fast as he can manage. In the mean time he focusses on the cars around him. 

He overtakes the first car in front of him. Even if he says it himself, it was a nice move. He starts to feel a bit more confident. 

“Good move,” his board radio tells him, “Let’s try to get some points.”

Lando focusses on the next car in front of him. He tries to remember which Williams qualified as worst from the two. He guesses it’s Sergeant. As fast as his car can manage he drives towards the Williams car. He positions himself and makes himself ready to overtake him as well. At first he tries to overtake him on the outside. He misses a bit of speed. The next DRS zone he tries again, this time he’s on the inside.

Right when he’s sure that he’s past the Williams, he feels himself losing the control of his car. Before he knows it he’s spinning off the track. Fucking hell. 

Only minutes later he’s walking back towards his motorhome. That was a shitty race. He sighs. When he’s back at his motorhome he’s surprised to notice that you’re standing in front of it. He must be hallucinating, right? Maybe he hit his head harder then he thought. 

“Lan,” you quickly say when he’s standing in front of you, “Are you okay?” 

“What are you doing here?” Lando asks confused.

“I’m worried about you!” You exclaim, “It looked scary when you went off the track like that.”

“You’re worried about me?” Lando asks even more confused, “Why?”

“You can break up with me, but you can’t expect me to lose all my feelings for you,” you say bitterly.

“You still have feelings for me?” Lando asks you.

“It hasn’t been that long since the breakup,” you tell Lando, “Of course I still have feelings for you Lan. Or did you already lose all your feelings for me?” You feel yourself getting nervous after your last question. Fuck. What if he already feels nothing for you anymore?

“No of course not,” Lando quickly says, “I haven’t lost even a tiny bit of them.”

“You wanted to talk to me said Daniel,” you continue, “Maybe we can talk now?”

“Yes, yes,” Lando replies, “Let’s go to my drivers room.”

Together you walk into the motorhome. A couple mechanics say they’re sorry for Lando and his lost race when you’re walking past them. They greet you as well. One of them even says he’s glad to see you again. You smile at him. You’ve missed this place. Normally you would watch every race here.

“Wait Lando, it’s time for debrief,” you hear someone say, when you look around you notice Zak. You start to feel nervous. You always thought Zak was alright with you. It wasn’t like you were best friends, but you were friendly with each other. Now you think he really dislikes you. If you understand it right, he’s the one who told Lando to break up with you. 

“I don’t have time,” Lando simply states.

“It’s fine Lan, we can talk later,” you quickly interrupt, “You can do your debrief first. I’ll wait.”

“You heard the lady Lando, let’s go,” Zak says.

“No!” Lando almost screams the simple word, “Debrief without me. I don’t have time today. If you didn’t notice it already Zak, I have something more important to do.”

“Real race winner mentality you have here Lando,” Zak mutters annoyed. 

“Fuck off,” Lando sneers. He takes your hand into his own and drags you with him towards his drivers room. You’re thankful when you’re standing inside it. Lando drops your hand and starts to walk around in the tiny space. He seems nervous. 

“What did you want to talk about?” You ask Lando after a while of silence.

“Us,” Lando replies, “but I don’t know where to start.”

You notice the short breaths Lando takes. It reminds you of something. You remember what happened after the first race of this season. Lando had a massive panic attack. The bad team result made him stressed out for the rest of the season. The short breaths were one of the first signs back then. What if this means he will have another panic attack?

With small steps you walk closer to Lando. “Calm down,” you tell him, “let’s sit down together. We can figure it out where to start with this conversation. I’m stressed as well about it.”

Lando nods. He follows you towards the couch. Together you sit down. You move your hand onto his back, slowly you try to comfort him. Lando is still taking short breaths. 

“What.. what if,” Lando stutters, “What if uh, I uh.”

“Talk slowly baby,” you softly interrupt him. 

“What if I can’t fix this?” Lando speaks in one breath. “Fuck, what if I can’t show you that I’m really sorry?” He starts to speak even faster, “What if I lose you for good? Or what if you hate me?” 

“Relax baby,” you say, “I don’t hate you.”

“You should.”

“Lando, please relax before you will stress yourself into a panic attack,” you tell him.

“I can’t lose you,” Lando says. 

“You’re not going to lose me,” you harshly state, “If you were I wouldn’t be here right now. I want to fix things as well Lando.”

That makes him silent for a bit. You notice the tears rolling down onto his face. Softly you sigh. You pull Lando onto yourself. He quickly changes his position and lets his head lay down on your lap. You caress his hair. Lando lets out a soft sob. It pains you to see him like this. How can you fix this?

“I still love you,” you tell Lando.

Lando sobs even louder.

“And I heard from the guys what happened with Zak,” you continue to speak, “We can fix this Lando, it wasn’t only your fault. Lily told me that something similar happened to her and Alex as well and it only made their relationship stronger. We can learn from this as well.”

“You ssst. You still want me?” Lando asks you while sobbing.

“Yes,” you reply firmly, “I always want you Lando.”

You feel how Lando his tense body starts to relax a bit more. You continue to tell him about how everything will be alright between the two of you. That you will forgive him for this and that you still love him. You even tell him things about the future you’re imagining with him.

“You won’t get rid of me this easily,” you eventually say. 

“I love you,” Lando says a lot more relaxed then before. He sits up straight again and looks at you. “I love you too,” you tell him. Lando presses his lips against yours. You taste the saltiness of his tears on his lips, but you don’t focus on that thought. You can only think about how much you missed this.

Of course, there are still plenty things to talk about but Lando and you will manage. The two of you will fix this. Things will be alright again.

[luvsickbugs]

TRENCH COAT

Character: Remy 'Gambit' Lebeau x male reader

Plot: What happens in vegas stays in vegas.

Warnings: Smut, Top Remy, Bottom male reader, Mentions of riding, Mentions of rogue, hair pulling, vibrating hands (idk honestly, i think i saw it in a tweet once.) Dick size gets mentioned and there is alot of teasing, kinda actually has a plot. (I think that's it, I wrote his accent like mine is and how people around me sound, i tried to even add extra twang hopefully its good!!)

The bathroom door pushes open and Remy's snores come to a halt as the light shined across his face, He groans and rub his face. He leans up on his elbows and squints his eyes, His face quickly heats up when his eyes focus on the man in the doorway.

His eyes dart up and down at the clothes you were wearing-- You were only wearing two pieces of clothes but the sight of them was making everything on him go warm.

You were wearing those tight white boxers that Rogue had got you as a gag gift for valentines and a trenchcoat- his trenchcoat. It looked perfect on you, It fit you wonderfully, Not too big or too small.

His mouth dried up as his lips stretched into a grin, His eyes faltered for a second on the marks on your collarbones, "Somethin' 'bout you wearing my coat gives me a mighty big feelin' of possessiveness, cher." His eyes finally go back up to your face.

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes, You had just grabbed the first thing you saw to cover yourself to go piss.

When you got closer to the bed, Remy hooked his fingers into the pockets on the side of the coat and tugged you forward till your knees hit the mattress. "Lemme cuddle for a bit." He wanted you against him, He already felt cold even though he had two thick blankets covering him. He wanted your legs between his and your hands in his hair, He wanted you all over him.

When the blankets were lifted, You crawled under the covers. Your legs naturally found Remy's legs and you threw one of your legs around his waist, He was warm. You felt his hand slip under the trenchcoat and laid flatly against your side, His fingers lightly tracing up and down. It felt nice, He felt nice against you.

Remy buried his face into your hair, He kissed your head before leaning back and cupping your jaw to stare at you, "Good mornin'," He grinned, "I feel like I got hit by that motorcycle of yers, Did ya really ride me that hard last night?" He leans down and kisses your forehead.

You laughed and pushed his face away, "Don't be so vulgar."

He leaned into your hand and kissed your palm, "Ain't vulgar if it's true," He kept eye contact with you, He knew eye contact made you squirm. "Besides, Gambit's only askin' a question."

He smirked when he watched you turn your head away from him, His hand that was under the trench coat dragged his fingers down till they grazed the waistband of your boxers. His smirk grew when he felt your hips move up against his fingers. "You usually wear more clothes than just gambits coats an' those tightey whiteys you call boxers."

"They aren't that tight." You mumbled, You felt the flush crawl up your neck and your heart was beating fast and the teasing fingertips dipping in and out of your waistband didn't help.

"They are tight," He hooked the waistband with his index finger, "Don't see why you feel the need to wear 'em so small. You tryin' to show off?"

Remy slipped his index out of the waistband and instead traced your obvious bulge, He felt you twitch under his fingertips, "They're almost indecent." He swallowed, He just wanted to take them off you and make you feel so good. You looked so pretty laying beside him, He could feel your fingers tracing his collarbones and it just made a shiver go down his spine and his own cock pushed against his boxers. "Might as well not even be there."

You wrapped your hand around his wrist-- God, He wants that hand to be wrapped around something else. Fucking your hand would be enough as long as you look up at him with those pretty eyes and talk to him and he'd be set. He just needed you. It has never mattered what way, He'd have you any way you'd let him.

A groan left you and your hand tightened around his wrist, You wanted to jut your hips against his hand for any friction, But you knew as soon you did that he'd pull his hand away. He was a bastard. "It's just the brand Rogue got."

Remy scoffs, He stares down at you and you squeeze his wrist tighter, He laughs softly, "They basically are see-through," He takes his free hand and drags it down your chest, "Can see more comin' out of these than out of those damn shorts on yer suit. Don't take that as complainin' 'cause I ain't."

"You aren't supposed to look at me doing missions."

"And you're not supposed to be fightin' in something so damn small," He murmured, "Can see yer everything, There ain't much left to the imagination."

He moved his free hand down your chest and cupped you, "You expectin' me to ignore a view like that when I know I'm the only one who's allowed to see it?"

Your breath hitched and your grip loosened on his wrist, "and rogue."

He squeezed you, Just to hear the small gasps, "Don't know how the hell she resists you sometimes." He grumbled, He watched as a small wet spot formed on the front of your boxers. He rubbed your tip through the fabric and your hips jutted up against him. He smirked and stopped moving his thumb.

Your hips jutted upwards again, You groaned when he pulled his hand fully away, "She has this nice thing called restraint and control."

Remy chuckles, He moved so he was positioned in between your legs and leaned over you to kiss you on your collarbone and up your neck. "I don't have an ounce of restraint or control, 'specially when it comes to you two, cher."

You leaned your head back and hummed, Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his lips against your skin, "You need to work on that."

He smiled against your skin, His hands grabbed at your sides, "It'd be a boring life if Gambit was on his best behaviour all the time."

A laugh escaped you when his stubble brushed against your jaw, "You drool when we stand close together and if we're in our suits, You melt."

The sound of your laugh made him grin, He closed his eyes and he just wanted to soak all of you in, He was smitten. "I'm only human, darlin', ain't got the same self-discipline as you." He kissed your jaw, He wanted to make you laugh again. "I oughta just start wearin' a bib."

"Besides," He murmured against your skin, His hand drifting back downwards, "I'm still holdin' up pretty well, All things considered."

Remy kissed every spot on your neck that he had missed last night, He grazed his teeth against your collarbone. He watched as you leaned your head back to give him more room.

"Are you?" Your voice was quiet and your eyes were closed, You were just focusing on him.

"You've currently got my hand in ya underwear," He squeezed against you and a gasp left you, The feeling shooting up your spine and your cock pushed more against his fingers. "My hard on pressin' against ya ass as we speak ... so, yes, I'd say I'm doing pretty well."

You grab onto his shoulders, Your fingers dig into the flesh and you spread your legs to wrap around his waist, You could feel him through his own underwear and it just made you want to whine. But you didn't want to fuel his ego, You physical had to swallow it down.

He grabbed onto your thigh, His fingers couldn't fully wrap around the flesh but just the sight of his slender fingers made you feel empty. "Vous allez me tuer, cher."

You felt yourself twitch, Fuck, You needed him and he obviously needed you.

You grab onto his hair and pull him to your face, "Get the lube," You whispered. "It's in my bedside table."

The response he gave you was a shaky breath as he leaned forward, which just made him push his dick more up against you. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you, It was sloppy. You could hear him fumbling in the drawer with his hand.

You tighten your hand in his hair, It was soft in between your fingers. You tugged the strands to make his head turn and give you more control in the messy kiss.

"Merde-" Remy groaned, He pulled back from the kiss and he was gasping for air. He glanced over to the bedside drawer and he wrapped his hand around the bottle. A shiver ran down his body and straight to his cock when he felt your lips against his jaw. He fumbled with the cap, But he just couldn't focus on opening the damn bottle. "Ya gonna have to let me sit up."

You kissed along his jaw line and whispered, "Just focus." You guided his head to turn the other way, You wanted to kiss every inch of him. You felt him shiver against you and gasp as you kept kissing his neck. Your fingers wrap around his jaw to keep his face still.

"Hard to do that when you keep doin' that." He grumbled, He's got the cap inbetween his teeth now and he's trying to pull it off.

"Condoms." You just remembered that those were needed, You blinked and leaned back and your hand trailed down from his jaw to his collar bone. You felt his throat move as he swallowed. "The large should be in the drawer."

Remy looked towards the drawer, The lube tube hanging from his mouth like a dog toy. You could see lube dripping down his chin from where his teeth pierced the plastic. He grabbed the condoms, Your hand still in his hair and you pulled him back towards you with it.

"Y'know," Remy pulled the lube from his mouth with one hand and the other hand had the whole box of condoms. "Gambit thinks ya got a kink for usin' ol' remy's hair as a damn leash."

"Works doesn't it?"

Remy lets the condoms box fall beside them, A few of them spilled out onto the sheets, "Can't argue with that," He gave your thigh a hard squeeze, "Just might have to return the favor, cher."

You raised a brow and brought your thumb to his chin and wipe off the lube that had dripped onto the skin, "You're just a mess," You mumble, "Is this shit even edible?"

His shoulders lifted then fell and his head dipped a inch to lick the lube off the tip and he tilted his head in mock thought, "It tastes like cherry," He nibbled on your thumb with a grin and he kept his red eyes on your own. "So it must be, no?"

You can't help the laugh that climbs out of your throat, Your lips stretched into a grin, "Give it here," You moved your hand away from his teeth, "Best make sure you won't fall over and die on me."

"I aint gonna die from some cheap lube," He huffed, But he tossed it onto your chest.

You flip the box, "Lucks on your side," You looked back at him, "Its a water based formula."

"Now," Remy smirked, "Let's get back to business, shall we, mon cher?" He placed his hands on each side of your head and leaned down to kiss you, He wanted to part your lips with his tongue, He wanted to taste you so fucking badly but he pulled back a few inches to whisper, "Top or bottom?"

You almost wanted to laugh, but you pursed your lips and answered, "You grabbed your condoms, So ill just bottom."

He immediately dipped his head and kissed your neck, He felt your adams apple move as you swallowed and he felt each breath you took, god, He could die doing this. "Just lemme-" He grabbed the lube and pulled his glove off with his teeth, He left his glove on once while jacking you off and it took forever to get the stains out. "just lemme finish preparin' and i'll give ya exactly what ya need."

He grabbed the underside of you knees and pulled them apart, "Merde," He swallowed as he stared at you with hunger in his pretty eyes, He added a ton of lube on two of his fingers and he dipped his hand in between your thighs. "So pretty." He whispered as he slipped a finger in, He watched as you turned your head away and covered your mouth with the palm of your hand.

Remy tsked, "Cher, We're going to have a word about all that noise that ain't being made." He leaned forward and snatched your hand away before curling his finger inside of you, His fingertip searching for that bundle of nerves.

"Fuck--"

"There it is!" He laughed, He nipped at the inside of your thigh, "Ya get too quiet sometimes."

"You talk too much," You grumble and your hips dug down and took more of his slender finger inside, "and don't do alot."

"You- We both know," He slid another finger in, "that's a damn lie."

He kissed on your thigh, "Don't go forgetting who makes sure ya don't walk normal for days after our little meetups, cher."

"Bit cocky," You gasped as you closed your eyes and you began to fuck yourself on the two fingers.

Remy's fingers move and he pushes against that bundle and then stops just to push everywhere around that spot, "When i'm right, I'm right." He grazed your thigh with his teeth, "You'll be the one walking funny, not gambit."

Your back lifted off the sheets as he taunted you with not pushing that bundle of nerves again, Your hips moved downwards trying to make him brush against it, Your dick was aching and you knew it was weeping precum at this point, You felt it dripping down the side.

Remy pulled out and wiped his fingers on the sheets as he grabbed one of the condoms with his other hand, "Taking that as a compliment," He grinned and he ran a hand through his hair and out of his face, "Though," He pulled the wrapper off, "your about to be able to tell how hot you are and how damn good remy is in--" He slipped the condom on and smirked as he looked down at you, "in thirty seconds or so."

He leaned forward and grabbed a pillow, "Iift up f'me," He shoved the pillow under your hips when you lifted them.

You wrapped your leg around his hip and the other found its place on his shoulder, His hands found their place on your knees again, He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, "Careful," He looked back down, "Might just take this as you wanting it rough, mon cher."

He slowly pushed his hips forward and he felt you swallowing him whole and with a groan and after one pause he was fully in, His head dipped down and he murmured something in french that your ears couldn't catch.

Your hands climbed their way up his neck and back into his hair as your back lifted up and your mouth opened with a groan.

"Ya hellbent on destroying those perfectly styled tresses of mine, aint ya, cher?" He slipped out a few inches before pushing back in, His eyes rolled back in his head at the warm feeling of you around him.

Your hands pull his face down towards your own as your teeth dug into your bottom lip, He shook his head as he looked down at you, "No, no," He poked your cheek with his thumb, "youre gonna keep makin' those damn sweet sounds--"

Your lips met his and he gasped when your teeth sunk into his bottom lip, His hips jutted forward at the sting. You pulled back and he blinked, "oh." He leaned back down to get your lips against his again.

"faster," You murmur as your hand pushed at the back of his head to push him closer to you, You felt him twitch inside of you as he moved a hand down to your thigh, That gave you a wonderful idea. The leg around remy's hip pushed against the small of the red haired's back to push him deeper inside of you.

"Merde--" Remy whines, His lips brush against your chin as his head ducked down to stare at the place you two connect at. He moved his hips in a familiar pace, His hand tightened around your thigh as he tried to ground himself. You were just so warm and good and that fucking mouth of yours, jesus, you were going to kill him. "If ya aint good."

You kissed his forehead and his head shot up which gave you the perfect angle to kiss his jaw, which you gladly did. You placed sloppy kisses all over the flesh.

"Darlin'" His hips move quicker and his voice gets more whiny.

"hm?" Your kisses stop as you get closer to his ear. His dick drug pass that spot and your eyes fluttered as you moaned, Your fingers nails dug into scalp as you started to move your hips to met his and his head dipped down to bury itself against your neck, He kissed your skin, which made your turn your head to give him more room.

Your leg around his waist pushed against his back again which this time made him lurch forward and his stomach brushed against your abandoned cock, That made the feeling in your stomach get worse and your cock weeped even more. You opened your mouth to ask remy to touch you but all that came out was more moans.

"I aint gonna last another goddamn minute if you keep this up," His thrust grows faster and then it stops immediately. A whine escapes your throat as remy gasps for breath above you, "I gotta change the damn position, cher."

He kissed your neck and leaned back up, He looked down at you, He moved his thumb to hook inside of your mouth, "Don't worry," He murmured as he moved his thumb around your mouth covering it in spit, "You won't be empty for too long."

Your brows furrowed for a second but before you could even process a question he pulled out and rolled over so he was laying down beside you, His thumb slipped out of your mouth, now both your holes were empty, how annoying.

Remy pats his thigh, "Come on, darlin'," He beckoned you with a curl of his index finger, "Ride me."

"Not even a please?" You whispered. Not that he needed to beg, you would gladly ride him all night long if he so wished.

"Ya know damn well the please is heavily implied." He grumbled, He moved his hands to his side as you climbed onto him. His hands went back to your hips.

"You gonna be good f'me, mon cher?" He leaned back onto the pillows and up at you.

"I feel like that question might be more for you then me," You grabbed his cock in your hand and slipped it back in, It was such a wonderful feeling and your head fell back as you sighed and your eyes closed as you soaked up the feeling of remy becoming one with you.

"Ha, You're real funny," His nails dug into your skin, "How's the view? You enjoying it?"

You tilted your head as you stared down at him, He did look beautiful, his red hair was spewed across the pillowcase and his cheeks were a dusted pink, You could see the marks you left on his chest and neck the night before. You moved your hand to lay flat against his chest and you felt each breath he took as his chest lifted and fell, god, he was so pretty. You could just bite him.

You began moving up and down, His body arched and his neck was bared to you, Something overcame you and your fingers wrapped around his throat as you went faster.

"You really are going to kill me, cher," He whined, His hips began moving up to met you in the middle. It had you groaning and squeezing tighter around his neck.

The sound of flesh hitting each other bounced off the walls and the room was filled with the sounds of both of you groaning and moaning each other's praises.

"A damn kiss would be good f'me right now," Remy moaned, His hips went faster to met your slower movements that made your head swim. "Come on, be a good boy and kiss ya man."

You nodded, he felt so deep inside you, so fucking good. You leaned down to give him a quick peck.

His hips started to go faster, Which made you moan and your back arched, your fingers dug into his shoulders. Your eyelids closed and your mouth opened to let out all the noises that climbed up your throat.

"Mmmmf-" Remy groaned, He pulls you down faster on his cock, you felt so good and warm and there was that squeeze you did ever few seconds that just made him--

You felt the condom swell inside of you and your brows furrowed and you gasped for air, "Did you just...?" you questioned him as his hips slowed down.

His head fell back against the pillows with a groan, "Yeah," He closed his eyes as he took deep breaths and you watched his chest go up and down quite quickly, "I have a damn good excuse, cher."

"Yeah?" Your own cock was still abandoned and weeping as it brushed against the abs in front of you and each brush made your hips lift, You wanted to paint remy's skin in you.

"Shaddup," He swatted your side, "I swear im not this quick, usually."

You nodded and leaned down to place your hands by his head as you started to lift your hips again to chase your own release.

"Oh--" He whined. He stares up at you, his eyes scan every inch of you and he couldn't help but admire you. The small shine that decorated your skin from the lamp on the bedside, Every thing about your body was perfect to him and he wanted to kiss all of it.

"Keep going?"

"Hell yeah," He nodded, "I aint nowhere done with ya, cher." He moves his hand down to grab your weeping cock, His thumb rubbed against the tip. You immediately reacted and thrusted up into his hand you moaned, The feeling of finally being touched was amazing. Your head was feeling light and that knot in your stomach tightened as you fucked his hand.

"Ya just love gambit's hand on ya," His hand squeezed the base of your cock and he slowed down his hips to match the pace of his hand.

You were being drowned in pleasure, You couldn't decide if you wanted to fuck yourself on his dick or fuck his hand, Both felt so good, everything felt so fucking good. You whined and thrusted in his hand, your tip brushed against his stomach and fucking hell--

Your back arched as you grabbed onto his shoulders, He was so deep inside of you and his hand was warm and squeezed you every few seconds, sweet jesus, this man was amazing.

"Not so gentle tonight," He smirked up at you, "are we, mon cher?" His breath hitched at the nails digging into his skin, it was definitely going to leave crescent shapes.

You blinked as his words met your ears and you leaned down to kiss on his collarbones for a silent apology.

"You're not sorry," He laughed, His hand tightened and slowly dragged themselves from the base to the tip.

You kissed the crescent shapes and looked up at him with eyes that you knew made him melt inside and his knees into noodles. Your mind swam at the feeling of his hand, You tried to focus but all you wanted to do was fuck his hand.

"Ya gonna apologize to every mark you'd made," He questioned, His free hand drug its nails against your scalp and through the strands. He watched as you nodded.

"Damn good manners," He looked down and watched you fuck his hand and the way your mouth opened, He wouldn't be surprised if you started drooling. The idea of you doing something that pathetic made him flush, He would have to see if that would be something you'd find hot. "Gambit likes those manners."

You head tilted to the side and laid against his chest, You moaned as your hips kept fucking his hand. Your head was swimming and you only had one thought, like a dog in heat. All you could do was fuck and whimper.

"Ya close, darlin'?" He loosened his hand on your cock, "I know that whimper ya get every time ya get close."

Your hips faltered but he picked up your slack, Your eyes rolled back into your head. "Shit." You whined.

"Ah-ah," He chided, "language."

Your head struggled to process the words because if you did process them you wouldve made a comment about how he uses that language as well, But you couldn't process shit as his hips started to move again with the same fast pace as his hand. Your legs were starting to burn as you moved up and down, you were slowing down now.

You whined when you felt his hands start to vibrate, It was a weird sensation and something that you didn't even know he could do. You looked down to see his hands growing that familiar pink hue that comes from his powers, "When did you learn you could do that?" The vibrations were rushing up your spine and it made you want to release even more, You were getting closer to the edge now and his thumb-- vibrating thumb at that was pushing against your tip and smearing your precum all over your cock, "Ah- fuck- remy-"

"Ya say that like i wasn't doing all sorts of fun with my powers since the beginning." Remy laughs, He drags his thumb down from the tip and down the underside of your cock all the way to your balls, which he cupped in his palm. He tilts his head and watches every little emotion that crosses your face, His eyes dart all over your body watching every reaction that your body makes, like you were his own personal experiment.

Your head fell back and your hips dug down, All your thoughts were mush, You couldn't even think properly right now, All you think about was his cock and his hands and those beautiful eyes of his that seemed to be glued to you.

"Ya like that, don't ya?" His hand moved to wrap itself back around your length and it moved down to the base and sat there, "Ya getting close, cher?"

You nodded, The knot in your stomach was getting tighter and you wanted to unloosen it, You leaned down and buried your face in his shoulders and your mouth opened to bury your teeth in his flesh.

"Gonna make a mess on gambit's chest?" He groaned at the feeling and his hips were starting to falter again.

Your let go of his flesh and turned your head to be buried in his neck instead, "sweet jesus." you whined.

"That a prayer, cher?" He moved his other hand to grasp your balls, "Gonna keep moaning f'me like a pretty little thing?" His hand started to vibrate around your balls as your eyes rolled back into your head, "Make me feel like the lucky one here, cher."

Your teeth sunk back into him as you finally came, The feeling made your head feel fuzzy and your body relaxed into his, God, that felt good.

"ah-ah," He chided, "Watch those damn fangs." His hand grabbed onto your locks and pulled you back, He glanced down at his shoulder and he was sure he could count all your teeth in the mark, "Damn, cher, gonna have a mark for a week."

"Sorry," You swallowed, Your eyes blinked slowly as you stared at him. You felt so good, right now.

"Better be," He smiled at you, He released your hair and patted your cheek, "damn sharp teeth ya got there."

You lifted your hips a little to slip him out and flopped onto the pillows beside him.

"Tired, darlin'?" He leaned up and grabbed a handful of tissues off the bedside, he leaned back on his thighs and began wiping your stomach clean before doing himself.

"What are we gonna tell charles and erik?" The fact that you two weren't supposed to be together this night came rushing back to your mind ruining every good feeling you just had.

"Nothin'?" Remy laughed awkwardly, "We're grown ass adults-" He pulled the condom off his cock and cleaned himself off fully, "They don't need to know."

"I know that," You grumble, You watched every move he made.

"Ya think they're suspicious we're bangin'?" He teased, He tossed the used condom and tissue into the bin beside the bed. He laid down on the pillow beside you.

"Erik will probably think you're corrupting me," You teased.

"Erik has called me worse, cher," He grabbed his cigarette off the bedside and fumbled with the lighter, He took a deep breath once he finally got it lit.

You stared at his lips that were wrapped around the end of the cig, "What time is the flight tomorrow?"

"bout noon," He held the cigarette out for you to take a drag. You shook your head, you didn't want to smoke right now. He brought it back to his lips, "Ya gonna stay up all night?"

"no."

His free hand ran its way through your hair, "Gambit isn't gonna let ya sit here and worry all night about the professor and that metalhead."

You laughed, "Metal head."

"They'll say their piece, We'll tell em a lie, then we'll go back to bangin'" He blew some smoke up towards your face, Which in response you lightly shoved his face away. "Rude."

"Goodnight, remy," You patted his chest before rolling over onto your side and closing your eyes, You tried to ignore as your boss -- erik -- face flicked into your head.

"Night, cher."

Now it was just a waiting game, It was time to see who would leave first. It always happened the same way: one of you would wake up first and leave without waking the other. The one who left would always make sure to leave a stack of cash on the bedside to cover all expenses.

It was just a question on who would it be this time?