#i black out and suddenly there is 10k words

[epiphyllous]

when morning comes (Astarion/Reader) [1]

With your bleeding heart and altruistic bravery, it is almost too easy for Astarion to come to the conclusion that his best plan of action is to seduce you. All he has to do is not fall for you-- a feat easier said than done.

-or-

(Where were you ten, fifty, hundreds of years ago when he needed you? How dare you come now, the knight in shining armor for the less fortunate, when he has been waiting centuries for someone like you to save him? How dare you come to him now when he is like this?)

Word Count: ~10k Notes: Astarion/Reader, Paladin!Reader, AFAB, gender-neutral "you", a study in Astarion's romance route + added features, [switches to your POV], annoyance to lovers, fall first/fall harder, slight Lae'zel/Shadowheart, Wyll/Lae'zel, Halsin/Reader; may have some descriptors of my Tav but generally no specifics (let me have my brown eyes), NSFW contains Virgin!Reader, trauma related to Astarion's past [Part 2]

[Act I: Druid Groves]

From the start, you and Astarion chafed at each other's presence. Granted, he had threatened you at knife point, quick to suspect you were of the illithid colony, and you had responded in kind with a painful headbutt. But surprisingly enough, that had nearly no consequence to the relationship compared to the vastly different way the two of you engaged with the world.

"Do you always just... do things for other people for no reward?" Astarion asks you disdainfully when you promise Zevlor you would speak to Kagha. It's the third favor you've picked up in the last hour. "Seems very... inefficient."

"Yes?" You reply, confused as though he were the strange one. (In his humblest opinion, you're the lunatic who decides to help everyone who asks despite the arguably more pressing issue of their hostile parasite.) "I mean, helping them is going to help us in the long-run. We need information and supplies, and they have both of that."

A half-truth at best. Astarion has seen you soothe stray animals and children on the beaten road, help wayward allies, and offer up your amenities without hesitation. Helping others happens to align with your goal rather than the other way around. He feels his mouth twist in annoyance.

Astarion sniffs at your answer, and you give him the massive eye roll you habitually do every time the two of you argue. "Would it kill you to help them out a little?" You say, "It's not like it's completely out of our way to do it."

You make it sound so simple, he thinks bitterly. He glances at the sword at your hip and the shield on your back and wonders if you could ever understand how it feels to be powerless. It would explain your naivety, the way you cling onto doing the 'right' thing, your paladin vow to protect the weak no matter how foolhardy it may be. 

(Where were you, he thinks, ten, fifty, hundreds of years ago when he was still surviving on the scraps of whatever Cazador decided to provide for him that night? Where were you when his cruel master carved into his skin, a painter on a screaming canvas? When he was buried underground, no longer alive but still living, until he clawed his way up with bloody hands, only to find out his body and soul belonged to another? When he was compelled by vampiric thrall to lead his first victim of thousands to their death?

And how dare you come now, the knight in shining armor for the less fortunate, when he has been waiting centuries for someone like you to save him? How dare you come to him now when he is like this?)

"It's a matter of principle, darling." Astarion simpers, "I, for one, am not the type to play hero."

He expects a sneer, the silent treatment-- those he knows easily how to respond to. The gauging look you give him, though, and a thin veneer of frustration just underneath before it dissipates gives him pause. "Well," you say mildly, "we can agree to disagree. You're coming along anyways so let's just get going, yeah?"

Astarion follows you then with no comeback in mind, only a question as to how far your patience can go.

.

.

.

It is with great hesitation and no small amount of begrudgement that Astarion admits he has never been one for planning. After all, why hope for a future that will never occur? What future does he have when every move he makes is in accordance to someone else's will, every decision made never his own? 

When Astarion decided to travel with the unfortunate duo (now group) with similar illithid fates, he did not anticipate how difficult it would be to hide his affliction of a vampire. For the brief moment in the sun, he thought perhaps that because he was immune to daylight, his thirst for blood would have also disappeared. Imagine his surprise, nights after, when he finds himself starving and with no inconspicuous way to feed himself. 

There is always someone on the lookout for goblins or other enemies alike. There have been few times he can sneak out without calling attention to himself, especially for such a long absence as hunting for prey would be. Astarion can feel himself grow weak over the course of a few days, and though he briefly thinks about telling you the truth about his identity, he is resistant. 

Good heroes tend to hunt creatures of the night like him. Considering his blatant disregard for those you choose to protect, he isn't sure he will continue to be under your protection if he is outed. Astarion finds traveling as a pack to be too conveniently safe, but he is so, so hungry. In the midst of his hunger, anyone's blood will do, but it is yours that tempt him most: healthy, righteous, and pure-hearted. He has never been allowed to feed on a thinking creature, and at this point, he isn't sure if he should, considering the risks.

But Astarion is tempted by the smell of your blood shed during a particularly fierce battle, and as he feels his hands tremble, he concludes that he must find a way to feed tonight.

You always, without fail, set your tent up near the fire. It is where he finds himself creeping over your bedroll at the dead of night only to find that you have woken up to look up at him in shock. (He has never been one for planning.)

"...Shit," Astarion lets slip out, backing away. You stand at the ready, eyes boring into him as you come to the realization of what he is. "No, no- it's not what it looks like."

 "...And what exactly is it supposed to look like then?" You ask tensely, and Astarion feels the situation quickly run away from him.

"I wasn't going to hurt you!” He puts his hands up and swallows. “I just needed, well, blood."

"You're the reason why that boar on the side of the road had no blood.” You realize, narrowing your eyes. "How many things have you hunted without us knowing?” You accuse, “People?"

"No!" Astarion exclaims, "No people. Never any people. I can sustain myself on animals, kobolds even-- but it is not enough. Not when we're fighting every day like this."

He sees a flicker of sympathy in your eyes and hope builds in his chest. "I feel so weak," he pleads. "If I just had a little bit of blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please."

You don't relax but you don't try to attack him either. Astarion considers that a winning chance. "Have you told anyone that you're a vampire?"

"They're more likely to ram a stake through my ribs than anything," Astarion mutters. "At best– even for you– you'd say no unless you trusted me." He looks up at you and sees the way your eyes look into him for the truth. "And you can trust me. I wouldn't want to harm anyone in this camp." And it is technically the truth, though Gale tests his patience sometimes. Even he cannot promise that he wouldn't betray everyone at the drop of the hat if the situation begs for it, but this is a completely different matter at the moment. 

Your gaze is unfaltering, the silence palpable as the two of you look at each other. Astarion feels his palms sweat as he awaits your judgment and for the proverbial hammer to possibly fall on his head. 

"Okay," you say instead. "Alright. I trust you. As long as you don't try biting me again without permission, it's fine. Can you promise me that at least?"

"Really?" Astarion knows this is what he could ever hope for, but a part of him is baffled that you would ever think to trust him. He supposes your foolhardy compassion has its benefits-- though he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit there was a part of him that was rather... flattered by your trust. "Yes- yes, of course. Thank you."

He presses his lips in thought. If you were so willing to put your faith in him, then perhaps it would not hurt to ask. "If I could ask you to trust me just a little further..." He says, "I just need a little blood. I won't take anything more than I need. Please."

Astarion can see the hesitation in your eyes when he asks. Are you weighing your trust in him, he wonders. Or are you worried about your safety, the benefits versus the risks? It would make sense-- you really shouldn't. But a moment before you respond, he somehow knows that you would. 

[He looks so tired, you think, heart clenching with sympathy. You wonder how you've missed it for this long or if he's that good at pretending otherwise in the presence of others. It could be both-- Astarion has shown to be a great performer, and you are one of his best audiences. You find it difficult to argue against letting him bite you; the anticipated pain, the possible negative effect, the case that his hunger is too much for you to quench all pales in comparison to what good you would do for him. 

You are halfway to being smitten already, and you cannot deny yourself this.

But you are not naive. You are not fearless. For whatever trust you give to Astarion, you are afraid of the fact that if he betrays you in this, you can never go back to how it was before.]

"Promise me you'll stop if I tell you to," you tell him quietly. 

He acquiesces quickly. Of course, he will, he promises, only just enough. You lay back down at his suggestion, body tense in anticipation. He does not let that feeling linger too long, seizing his chance before you decide to change your mind. He buffets your body with his arms before he sinks his teeth into your outstretched neck. 

You taste better than he could possibly have imagined. 

To think he fed solely on mice before-- bog water in comparison to the sweet red of your blood, invigorating and undeniably delicious. Astarion gets another mouthful and groans, feeling strength return, warmth pooling into his belly. If bears and boars were the main course, then you are the mouth-salivating dessert– irresistibly delectable and leaving him wanting for more.

Your body trembles underneath him, your hand clenched into his shirt as a counterweight to the pain. Your pulse bounds underneath his tongue, the small gasps you cannot suppress resounds into his ears. This, too, puts feeding in a different plane than before, an extra level of appeal that can only be experienced with thinking creatures. Perhaps it is you in particular that adds another layer to the pleasure. Having you at his mercy, taking what you so graciously offered with ravenous hunger: power courses through him for more reasons than one.

[Your heart beats as fast as a rabbit's, fear and adrenaline powering you in the same manner. Or, if you were being honest, anticipation and a little bit of excitement fuels it as well as Astarion climbs on top of you, hunger in his eyes. 

It is a more literal type of hunger, but it is an intense look either way that leaves you frozen like a deer in headlights. 

The bite itself is more shocking than it is painful. You barely muffle your exclamation, unused to the feeling of someone so intimately close combined with the instinctive fear that accompanies the loss of blood. You hold onto Astarion without thought, and you squeeze your eyes and bite your lips as he takes your blood in with every suck. 

As scared as you may be, you are undeniably aroused from the feeling of it all-- the numbness that gently overtakes your mind, the light, floaty feeling of pleasure of the bloodloss combined with the intimacy of someone you’ve always been attracted to. The knowledge that he is gorging himself on you, taking pleasure from you, makes your blood run hotter than it has any right to in this situation. 

And then, you feel a switch flip, and the lightness becomes disorienting, and the numbness bleeds into coldness. Panic starts climbing up your throat. You let yourself think for the briefest moment if Astarion will let go on his own, but you know you will not last long enough to wait. Worry gnaws at you at this thought, and you can only hope that Astarion is true to his word when you tell him to stop.

And he does. Perhaps it is the feeling that you have placed your trust in the right person that has felt the best out of everything that has happened tonight.]

"Astarion-" he hears you grit out, "that's enough."

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course.” It takes but a moment for Astarion to register it before removing his fangs from your neck. He sees blood trickle from the punctures and he bemoans the waste as he pulls away. Next time– if there is a next time– he'll be neater, he thinks. He watches as you breathe just as hard as him, eyes slightly glazed over, and he barely resists the urge to lick his lips. 

He stands from you to give you space, and you slowly sit up, looking at him with an emotion he can't quite place. It concerns him little at the moment with the strongest blood he's ever consumed in two millennia coursing through him.

“That was…” Astarion begins, breathless with adrenaline, “Amazing.” He delicately wipes the blood from the side of his mouth, an irrepressible smile on his face.

“Hope that helped,” you say, and he almost laughs at the understatement of two centuries.

“It very much did.” Astarion breathes in deeply. “My mind is finally clear. I feel… strong,” he nearly purrs. Happy.”

“Looking forward to seeing you fight then,” you say, hand at your neck as the punctures gradually close. You sigh, wiping your bloody hands onto the patch of grass. “Going out to hunt?” You ask like any other day.

“I am, darling.” He stands tall, head held high with a confidence he has not felt in ages. To think this is what he's been missing out on… “You're invigorating, but I'll need to get something more… filling,” he tells you, glancing back.

You give him a flippant wave of the hand, and he isn't sure if you are too tired to be wary of him or uncaring of the risk considering what you allowed him to do. “Good hunting,” you say genuinely before yawning. 

“I will. And-” You turn to him then, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but still alert. Astarion pauses for a moment. “This is a gift, you know,” he says. “I won't forget it.”

He walks off into the forest after and finds easy prey to feast on. It's a shame it does not taste as good as you did, but he will make do and ride out the feeling of power for as long as he can. It is when he returns to camp with you fast asleep by the fire that Astarion realizes the emotion on your face was relief: relief that he had stopped when you had asked, and that he kept to his word. 

What a fragile thing trust is, to be put to the breaking point at a single moment in time. What if he had continued to consume and drink you dry? He suspects it would have rather dire consequences to your mortality and even worse effects to his relationship with you. It would be unsalvageable, he realizes, if he had not stopped when you had asked. For some things may be forgiven, but this would be reprehensible. 

Astarion finds that he understands you too well for his liking. How many times has he not been able to give consent? Wanted to say 'no' but forced to say yes? (Not knowing now how to say 'no' at all?)

For the sake of his own livelihood (the camp would kill him for your death), his budding relations with you, and a part of him that yearns for what he should have had, Astarion is glad that he was not greedy tonight-- and, as the day comes, for the following nights to come.

The pitchforks and torches do not come the next morning. Maybe it is because everyone else has their equally dangerous secret to hide or because of your influence on the camp. You are more concerned at how you would help him feed than afraid that he will hurt anyone. 

"Why, isn't it my favorite traveling companion," he says to you when you approach him.

"You mean tastiest,” you say back, and he knows you are truly well and beyond hard feelings if you can joke about it.

"Well, I suppose that as well.” He tells you, “Though you have been the only one I've bitten so there is no competition, really."

And to his surprise, telling you about Cazador, his ill-begot fate as a vampire spawn and its subsequent diet, is easier than he would have expected. You listen with a sympathetic but otherwise neutral ear that makes it easy for him– and he suspects everyone else– to confess their circumstances to you. He's rather surprised he's been able to “resist” for this long. Even Gale has confessed he has a literal living bomb inside him in the little time they've all spent together as a group. 

(It goes to show how much everyone has grown to trust you; even Astarion is starting to see what everyone else sees in you.)

“I don't mind you taking my blood once in a while,” you instruct him, “but you can't just do it to an innocent person.”

“And how about a guilty person?” Astarion asks slyly, gleefully watching as you saddle next to him with a similar smile. 

“Free real estate, I suppose,” you say nonchalantly. “Just ask before you bite me?”

“No more late night surprises, you have my word on that.” He smiles, fangs bared, and you don't even blink at the sight of them. 

.

.

.

In the druid grove, you pick up a few more favors from the locals, though at least you have begun to ask for aid for the road. Not exactly payment, though you are offered a reward anyways. Astarion thinks you are either very lucky people are desperate for help or very charming in that innocent, eager to do good type of way that compels people to be generous. It is not unlike Wyll, who joins your group of illithid-afflicted companions, as the Blade of Frontiers. 

Naturally, the two of you get along as like-minded individuals. Gale, too, gravitates toward you for your compassion, and Shadowheart trusts you for perhaps the same reasons. Even Lae'zel, who you often have problems speaking to without feeling intimidated, has come to begrudgingly accept you as the de facto leader of the group. You are, as Astarion suspected, strong in battle as you are in personality. 

He often forgets both, but he cannot be blamed. After he witnesses you stand up to Lae'zel for the sake of an intimidated tiefling, he sees you lose an argument against a squirrel. Astarion sees you send goblins off rooftops and speak to trolls with confidence, and then he watches as you ask him to unlock a barn door with raunchy sex noises simply out of morbid curiosity. 

It is in these moments-- apart from your heroism and startling sense of morality-- that you and Astarion are often on the same page. As long as it is not from the needy, you don't find it a problem to loot. (He thinks practicality plays a role in disturbing dead bodies for money and items, and your vow says nothing against it.) If it's for the sake of peace, you don't mind spinning half-truths and lies. (The lies he personally thinks you need to work on more but he is a master of deception so perhaps there is no comparison with him.)

Your curiosity knows no bounds, and it is in this, both you and Astarion take cheerful glee in raking chaos. 

"I don't know what I expected!" You say almost cheerily after the group defeats the unlikely couple of bugbear and ogre after purposely interrupting their very loud lovemaking. 

Shadowheart gives you a raised eyebrow that has you sheepishly grin at her, and Astarion lets out a laugh. "Well, I certainly had a guess, but finding out was very interesting indeed."

"Interesting... is certainly a way to describe the scene we just witnessed," Gale says dryly. Astarion catches your eyes before you smile slyly. 

Innocently, you comment, "I wonder how the mechanics worked with the height difference-"

Gleefully, Astarion is quick to join in, watching Gale balk at the topic, “Well, with the way she was on her knees-” 

"Some things need not be pondered!"

That is when Astarion realizes that as long as the world stops begging for your help, the two of you get along quite well. If anything, Astarion finds your presence and comments most amusing out of everyone in camp. Gale is exceedingly verbose and other times awkward. Lae'zel Astarion isn't sure knows the meaning of joking, though her violent tendencies are right up his alley. Shadowheart-- as it turns out and makes total sense-- is a worshiper of Shar and therefore an automatic stick in the mud. 

Wyll waxes far too much about justice, and Karlach, when they find her and proceed to not kill her despite Wyll's initial request, is the next best thing though he is still wary of how hot she burns. You, however, have the humor and wit to match every ridiculous situation they encounter, and if anything, Astarion must give you that. God knows how he'd survive the boredom of camp and not being arms deep in gore without having someone to gossip with. 

The two of you agree the most when it comes to other topics, like Mystra's treatment of Gale, how good Wyll looks with horns, feelings about Gods. It makes for great and easy conversations though the two of you are also quick to snark if there is a disagreement. Astarion admits his words were sharp in the beginning (and you gave it right back until you just mellowed out) but he eventually relaxed when his role in camp solidified after his vampiric reveal.

And what a gift your blood was; Astarion counts his lucky stars that you continue to offer your neck to him as long as it is only yours he bites-- with permission, of course.

He was almost beginning to relax when a gur comes, asking for him.

Luckily enough, it seems this Gandrel has no idea what he looks like, so the two of you can play innocent together. You and Astarion give each other a discrete look before you go back to talking to the monster hunter. It must be Cazador, he seethes. Who else would put a Gur on his tracks acres away from Baldur's Gate? 

"And what did you want to do with this vampire spawn?" You ask innocuously.

"I would like to capture him."

"Capture? Not kill? Does someone want him alive?" You question, and Astarion must give you this: you are an excellent conversationalist, to seek more without giving much at all. Your eyes widen in what can be assumed as surprise, though they remain calculating. "You said so yourself: even vampire spawn are dangerous. Why would you accept a job to capture him?"

The gur shuffles his feet for a moment, chewing on his words. Astarion watches in secretive awe as you urge the hunter to trust you with unbidden information. "Well... It's not a request from an outside source..." He trails off, "We... have questions we were hoping he would answer."

Now that's curious, Astarion thinks. What would a monster hunter need for a spawn besides its demise? He knows you have the same question when he glances over at you as you watch on thoughtfully.

"Were you hoping to capture it to get to the vampire lord or something?" You ask, "Is that something that would even work?"

"We have little leads besides this vampire spawn, if I can be frank." He sighs and Astarion watches as he unravels the truth before you. "It's our children, you see. They've been captured.”

You are ever sympathetic to the Gur's plight--genuinely so. You hold no qualms keeping Astarion's name from your mouth but you speak to the Gur and provide him with advice and information you have received from Astarion. What a cheeky pup you are, playing double agent without batting an eye. Astarion feels like forgiving you for taking away the opportunity to get rid of the monster hunter once and for all just for the show of your wit and guile. 

Though Astarion thinks you could afford to be more ambitious. If you could have perhaps a little creativity in deciding what you want to do with the little tadpole in your brain or the absolutist cult, Astarion is sure the two of you would get along more.

"I don't know how the tadpole will change me," you admit with unexpected vulnerability. "I don't want to give them more power over me, and I don't know if feeding them will let them."

"Well..." Astarion pauses, scoffing at your response before he can accept the fact the two of you have more in common that he would rather believe. He'd rather not lose what he barely got back as well, he thinks. "I suppose there is reason to hesitate so maybe I'll wait until some other brave soul decides to give it a go." He gives you a look before continuing, "Try not to convince the others too much. I'm not too eager to be the first and only one to eat a tadpole."

You shrug noncommittally, promising nothing. Astarion barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. Paladins. 

.

.

.

Considering the dire straits in which you are bound and the rocky start the two of you had, Astarion would not have imagined the relationship with you to progress in this manner. Having you trust him was already beyond what was expected, especially after revealing his vampiric origins. Giving him your blood was a gift that he could hardly believe happened. One can imagine his surprise when he finds out you are charmed by his wits, finding genuine joy in his wry commentary. 

For god knows why, you have grown fond of him-- he can see it in the way you provide him with the best equipment, the way you seek his presence. The way you laugh freely around him and turn your back to him during battle, believing he will defend it. Though arriving at this point was coincidental, it is almost too easy for Astarion to come to the conclusion that his next step is to seduce you. 

Astarion sees your laughter, but he also sees the way you throw him glances when you think the others aren't looking. You instinctively lean closer to him when he is near and when he speaks, your eyes are quick to find him. You are attracted to him– and he means to capitalize on it and make you feel as though you would rather die than have him get hurt.

It's a simple plan, really. The seduction comes easy; all he needs to do is stay unattached, so if things go wrong, he'll find someone else to take cover under. 

(The plan should be simple-- he has learned tactics that would put any to their knees, tricked hundreds of people of his affections. But something about doing this to you-- this performance-- makes him uneasy. 

It's a shame, he finds himself thinking. He thinks he was beginning to like you too.

The thought lingers only for a moment. He is quick to push it from his mind; that too is a learned habit.)

Astarion finds his opportunity after the goblin camp has been slain and the tieflings throw a celebration in thanks. 

The wine is mediocre at best, but there is much of it to be shared, so the party is still in full blast when the moon is overhead. He finds himself a secluded part of camp to sip at the sorry excuse of a liquor, discomfited by the praise they give him for participating in the fight against the goblins. 

You are unused to the praise as well, humble as you are, but you are nearly glowing from the joy you feel as you make merry with those you have befriended. The rest of the party, even companions who were ambivalent at best at the idea of helping the tiefling immigrants, are satisfied with the outcome despite the lack of progress with removing the tadpole. He would say otherwise– the trade of goblin lives for tieflings hardly makes a difference, and surely the goblins would throw a wilder party than this. He says as much to you when, faithfully, you find your way to him to talk.

“All I want,” he tells you, “is a little bit of fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You snort into your drink. “Knowing you, it could be.”

“Don't be so sour,” he croons. “I like a good time as much as anyone.” His eyes fall half-lidded as he looks at you. You raise your brow at him, noticing the change in tone as he continues. "You know, we could always make our own entertainment."

The look you give him is partly apprehensive and the other amused. He knows that glimmer of recognition of what he is asking, though you are quick to hide it for plausible deniability. "...What do you mean by that?"

Astarion, with practiced ease, leans in, watching as you instinctively do the same before he purrs out, "Why, sex, of course. Experiencing a little death, figuratively speaking, is quite fun, wouldn't you agree?"

Your face is already flushed from the alcohol, but your cheeks on high brighten in the dimly lit torches at his tent. It's evident you didn't expect him to suggest something like that, especially to you, though you are not completely unwilling if the lack of immediate denial is of any indication.

You are rendered speechless though; a first for you considering how quick you often are at retorting back at his comments. It makes Astarion think of two conclusions: you are either inexperienced or incredibly shocked at his offer. Both are familiar, though the thought of your naivety extending into sexual relations does, at the very least, give him pause.

It is not as if he has never been someone's first. Virgins are often most eager to lose or prove themselves in someone so willing to offer bliss. If you are one, well– the shy ones are always the ones that are easier to fell.

He prepares himself to drop a few one-liners to convince you to take the offer, but you glance away for a moment before you turn toward him, face unreadable.

"If you're down," you say. You smile.  "I don't mind."

"Until later then," Astarion replies easily. "Wouldn't want the others to interrupt, unless you're interested in that."

At this, you laugh, and he relaxes. "Definitely not. Though, I'm curious." You ask, "Am I your first choice, or am I just the first to say 'yes'?"

Astarion finds the best lies are in truths. "Lae'zel was quite eager to find a partner earlier. Luckily she and Wyll are in quite the agreement for tonight as far as I can hear and I have no desire to get in between whatever the githyanki has in store." He smiles slyly at you. "Besides, I couldn't help but overhear you flirting with our druid earlier so I at least knew you were in the, ah, mood. Never imagined you'd be quite so bold." 

"It's the alcohol," you mutter, rubbing your cheek. You take the wine from his hand and take another swig. "Also, I didn't realize he'd be coming with us so that was a surprise. Almost as much of a surprise as you asking me." You glance at him briefly. "Well, sort of."

Astarion feels a familiar prickle of suspicion as he stares at you, already unamused at whatever dirty truths you have prepared for him. "What is it now?"

You quip a half smile, eyes bright under the torch fire. (Your eyes are brown.) "Nothing," you say teasingly. "Guess you do like me a little bit."

Astarion watches as you walk away, feeling less victorious than he imagined himself to be.

The flirting, the seduction, the fight for survival is familiar. The banter, the bickering, the camaraderie between the two of you is beginning to be just as familiar. Astarion feels just the slightest bit unease at how true your words are. 

.

.

.

Astarion has much to prepare for the night, so it is lucky that you take center stage of the party, as the savior of the grove. You take part in the merriment and make conversations, taking genuine interest in the stories others tell. The tieflings keep you busy for the most part, but Astarion is nothing if not good at building anticipation, putting as much heat into his gaze as possible when you do have time to take a glance at him. 

You are quick to focus your attention elsewhere after giving him a look, but the smile on your face that stays means that at least he is always on your mind. In some ways, he has missed this... coyness, the thrill of the chase. The results of his previous endeavors never fail to unease him, but with you, it is different. The familiarity of seduction comes with a little bit more fun knowing you are not going to be his victim- not like it usually is. 

"Hey, still not joining in on the fun?" You suddenly ask him, your hand gently prying at his arm so you can hook onto him. You have gotten more drunk in the time you were away, the warmth of your skin seeping into him from where you've attached yourself. Your face is almost comically red if not for the carefree smile on your face and the affection that betrays on your face when you look at him.

Something in his chest warms at the sight of you.

"Unfortunately, the tieflings' company has not become any more appealing since you've been gone. Besides," Astarion says slyly, "the only thing I've been thinking of is how you'll taste later when we're alone."

You let out a huff, turning your head away with a half-embarrassed and pleased smile. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"

"Not at all," he replies easily. "It's the truth, after all." 

You look at him as though you don't believe a word, but you are charmed by them anyway if your expression is of any indication. As conscientious as you normally are, the alcohol and the fact you are delving into his territory of seduction puts you at a disadvantage. Even if you are the one that knows him best in the camp, you are not attuned to every secret. Half-truths and lies come easier than anything else, if only because it allows him to keep his distance.

When the camp is cleared and you linger to bid the others farewell, Astarion slips away to the lake to prepare. It is almost ritualistic the way he cleans himself, the cold waters readying himself for what comes next. He thinks of what lines to tell you, how he should appear to you to best whet your appetite. Are you chaste or are you more animalistic? Would you prefer to take a dominant or submissive role? Astarion cannot tell these things about you based on his interactions with you, so he can only rely on his flexibility and years of experience to get him through it. 

(For a brief moment, he wonders if this is something he must do. What if you would protect him regardless of how this night goes? You are compassionate, sympathetic to the plight of others-- goodness flows within your veins like the light that beacons from your holy sword. Could that light not shield him too, without his body as an offering?

But gods are rarely so magnanimous, no matter the sacrifices. Astarion will not take his chances even with you. 

Even then-- even then, he wants this night to be at least a little enjoyable. It is with you, after all. If there is someone who can allow him to feel safe, it is you.)

Moonlight beams above, and Astarion hears your quiet footsteps come closer. His expression masks into something more suitable for seduction and he steps from the shadows of the trees to greet you. 

Upon seeing him, you yelp in surprise and- god, can you blame him?- he jumps as well. 

"What in God's name-"

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't expect to see you half naked all of a sudden!" You stammer, "I mean, not all of a sudden, I guess. Your... state of undress didn't cross my mind as something I'd see right away."

It is reckless when his mark is so close to fruition, but he finds himself dropping the act, hand at his hips in an instinctual indignant huff you seem to invoke from him easily. "Darling, what did you expect after the invitation I gave?" Your sheepish grin is your only answer, and Astarion feels a quick flash of annoyance at how easily you are able to derail his thoughts. 

Quick to redirect the conversation though, Astarion angles his body sensually, lowering his voice in the manner he knows can send shivers down his victims. "Perhaps you'd prefer if you could strip me down yourself?"

Like clockwork, your cheeks flush pink even as you roll your eyes in attempts to salvage your embarrassment. "Only you'd be able to pull those lines out of nowhere," you mutter, and Astarion allows himself the satisfaction when you approach him, eyes looking down at him appreciatively.

Only a small gap lies between the two of you now, your dark eyes meeting his. You are waiting on him; Astarion does not hesitate. 

He takes your face into his hands and brings his lips to yours. Your eyes close almost immediately to the touch as you give into him, face tilting up to align with him and mouth parted to allow him in. Though Astarion knows not how you incline to be normally, he knows that this night, he's the one in control.

Your hands curl into the front of his chest as though you do not know where to touch, so he helps you along and pulls you in until there is nothing separating you. Astarion can see the way your eyes widen when you can feel his arousal beneath his trousers, and recognizes your interest with the way your pupils darken your eyes. 

There is a slight satisfaction in seeing you this way. As stubborn as you are, you are malleable in his touch, opening up to his hands like a flower in bloom. He lifts you up against the tree, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist in response, and your little giggle morphs into a gasp of pleasure when he grinds into you fully. 

It is probably instinctual the way you arch your back and bare your neck to him. It isn't in him to resist the temptation to bury his nose into the crook, nipping at the sensitive skin between your collar bone. And this is when he feels your hands, that were curled into his hair, push him back slightly, and his stomach drops. 

He should be worried that he made a mistake and think about how to put you back on track with him. His safety depends on his success, after all. Despite himself, Astarion feels more hurt at your rejection, your mistrust, than anything. (Since when did that ever matter to him?)

"I wasn't going to bite, you know," he says, hoping nothing in his voice gives anything away.

"No, that's not it," you tell him, and your hand is quick to cup his face reassuringly. He finds himself soothed by your gesture though he wishes he was not in need of it in the first place. "I trust you not to without my say. I mean, you probably could tonight if you wanted..." You trail off. "I just wanted to let you know something before we go any further." 

The offer for blood pleases him more than it should, as does the affirmation of your trust. "Whatever you want to say, darling, I doubt it'll deter me from having my way with you tonight," Astarion says, eyes half-lidded and staying strong despite the undignified huff you give him. 

"Well, alright," you say as you try to save face. You brush over his collarbone with your thumb as you think. You're nervous, he realizes, over whatever you have to say, and he can't begin to guess what you could possibly reveal that would be of such import to leave you in such a state. "I... have never-- this is my first time. Having sex," you say, and Astarion does his utmost not to show any semblance of surprise. 

"I hope," you continue, "that's okay? You'll probably have to show me a lot of things but, you know..."

You are a virgin after all. Astarion had some thoughts on the matter but he never truly took stock in it considering how rare it is to save yourself for this long. You were modest but far from prude, and you had thoughts of debauchery like any other in the camp. But you are of untouched flesh. Inexperienced. And yet you accepted him to be your first? 

You are not so unique that he has never bedded someone like you, but it does tweak his heart in a way it has not for a long while that you are giving yourself to him as a result of his seduction. You feel self conscious about this inexperience, and it would be easy to take advantage of that for his benefit. Typical, even.

The thought does not sit well with him.

"I know you wanted a fun night," you tell him, eyes downcast when he does not respond. "So I get it if you're not interested anymore since I'm probably going to be a lot of work-"

"And what’s to say we cannot have fun while discovering something new?" Astarion interrupts in a momentary panic. He's not on autopilot but he's not stopping the night from happening despite your deference- so what is he doing? "Darling, I'm rather concerned you want to spend your first night with a vampire-" He needs to get back on script.

He recites the words in his mind. Isn't this what you want? To lose yourself in me? And all he has to do is say it-

"No, that's not-" You talk back, frowning. "You being a vampire has nothing to do with it. When you asked, I said yes because I trust you, vampire or not." 

To have and to hold, he thinks, and wonders how you have survived for so long being so willfully trusting when at times you should not. "Then trust me, darling," he says, heat building in his chest. He lifts you up again and growls. "Let's have some fun. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"If that's what you want," you breathe out, and Astarion claims your mouth with his own.

You let out a sigh when he begins to undress you, his dexterous hands easily removing every lace and button to leave you bare. You giggle into his kiss, and Astarion lets himself smile, being pulled along as you roll on top of him playfully, mischief in your eyes. You full on laugh when he rolls you back over, uncaring of the outdoors, bearing your neck for him to bite. 

Astarion doesn't remember the last time he's had fun doing this. And it is fun- always has been with you, he realizes, a type of levity that he has not experienced with anyone else. He takes leisure in biting you, sucking a mouthful of blood that has him moaning into your neck as he rolls his hips into you. Your hand gently cards through his hair as he bites, and true to his word (only taking just enough), he pulls back with blood on his lips before swooping down to share in his bounty. 

He cannot help but laugh when you stick out your tongue at him, nose wrinkling at the metallic taste of blood that is otherwise sweet to him. He pulls his remaining clothes off and smirks when he sees you follow the line of sight down to his hardened cock in compulsive curiosity. 

"Like what you see, darling?" 

You make a noncommittal hum as you sit up, quick as you are unbothered by your nakedness. "Can I?" You ask, gesturing toward him, and he would find it amusing for you to ask if not for how eagerly you grasp his member at his nod.

Astarion hisses in pleasure as you pump his cock, getting into an easy rhythm with your thumb sliding deliciously on the tip of it. He watches as you gather spit to smoothen the pace, hand delicately pushing your hair from your face, and feel arousal melt into his belly like molten lava. 

"Why, it seems you have a little bit of experience in this matter, or are you just talented?" He asks and earns himself a coy look. 

"Just twice," you say, twisting your hand in a way that has him rolling his hips. "Hold my hair, will you?" 

Astarion is quick to follow your orders-- almost instinctively-- and before he has a moment to ponder on that, he is throwing his head back when your mouth swallows his cock in wetness and heat.

Most of his so-called lovers were more eager to be pleased than please; it makes sense that you would be different with the way you are. Your eagerness is quite adorable, as is your earnestness to provide him pleasure. Astarion revels in it, ecstasy climbing up like a tidal wave.

"That's enough, dear," Astarion purrs. He sees you look at him with a protest on your lips, and he continues, "I'd much rather continue this while I'm inside you." 

Based on your expression, you are more than thrilled at the aspect. 

Astarion guides you to lay down as he climbs over, hands carving a path over your curves and into your heat. He is careful to not scrape his fangs over your bosom, though he suspects you would not mind it in the least with how roughly he plays with your nipples to elicit a moan. You are dripping by the time he is done preparing you. 

It does not take much resistance to enter you fully. You let out a short cry, reaching out to him instinctively for comfort as your body adapts to him. True to your words, you are tight beyond measure, squeezing his cock as though you are determined to milk him for what he's worth. You pant into his ears, hands grasping over his shoulders as you ease into the feeling of him. 

The moment you nod, Astarion begins to move steadily. It is easy for the both of you to lose yourself in the pleasure, and it is these moments that he feels himself drift away, and the feeling of dread settles in.

Any type of intimacy takes him acres away, the gasps and moans that was music to his ears fading into numbness. He hardly knows what he's doing, except to know that he's doing well enough, hands playing at your clit as he moves at a persistent rhythm.

Astarion wishes it were different. Sex is fun, especially with you, if only it didn't make him feel as though he were fighting for his life. Every stroke calculated, every climax comes with a price. You are not to be taken back to Cazador, but it still feels like he's going to. 

You tighten around him, and he knows you are about to come just as he is. He lets out a grunt and persists through a rapid pace before feeling your body jolt in pleasure. He soon follows after, head upon your shoulder as he shudders into his climax. 

The night is still young; why don't we go back to my place for more? 

Won't you come home with me? We need so much more time to get to know each other.

His next lines come too easily for him that it makes him sick.

A hand pulls at his cheek rather cheekily and Astarion finds himself coming back from the haze. He lifts his head to look at you, face relaxed from pleasure but still otherwise amused. 

Is it ridiculous to think that the sight of you makes him feel safe?

"That," you begin, "was crazy. Sex is like that, huh?" 

"Be welcomed to the land of the living, darling," Astarion says. "I fear you have been missing out on one of the finer parts of life."

"Well, it's not like I've never orgasmed before," you tell him, "but I guess it is pretty different with someone else." You sigh when Astarion removes himself from you. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

"No need to mention it, darling," he says, finding it easy to relax with the banter, "though I dare say it did not take very long for you to be prepared. Why, I'd even call that a record for getting as wet as you did-"

"Hey!" He avoids your playful slap with ease as you pout at him. "I... I have no comeback to that, except maybe you're welcome."

"I'm welcome? I should be the one saying that to you. I'm rather magical in bed, don't you think?"

"I don't know if your neck could support a head that big if I agree with you." You laugh, flipping your hair away again. For a moment, Astarion has the urge to take it upon himself to brush the stray strands from your face, but he does not. "By the way," you continue, "are you okay?"

Astarion blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you just seemed a little..." You stop before shaking your head. "No, never mind. You seemed a little far away but what would I know."

His heart lurches. "I had to make sure I didn't lose control," he says carefully. He clears his throat and goes for levity. "Who knows if your fragile, virgin body can handle it?"

Astarion is grateful you take the line for how it is, quick to come up with a haughty retort, the banter easy to fall back to. You are adamant on being sturdy enough and not one to waste a chance, he proposes a long night of lovemaking-- if only to cinch the deal with you. After all, he thinks as your legs close around his head, this is all part of his plan: seduce you and win your protection. Nothing more, nothing less.

He tries not to think how sex for once, as he nips playfully at your thigh, has been enjoyable. 

.

.

.

The sun wakes him up before anything else. It is unfamiliar to him, even at least a month beyond the time when his deathly aversion to sunlight has disappeared. The warmth of the morning rays, the light that dawn brings-- Astarion did not realize how much he had missed it until he had felt it again. 

He almost isn't sure if he can ever go back to never feeling it again.

He stands to bask in it fully, glancing over to his side to watch your sleeping figure for a moment. You are curled up in your own clothes-- and his shirt as well, he remembers, having a little play fight over it before you eventually let exhaustion take you. The ache in his body from last night is familiar at least, and he stares at you, waiting for the dread to come-- but it does not. 

How curious. Only good for his plans if everything is more palatable, of course, but it is... unexpected for him to feel so at ease. He decides not to question it, using this moment of strangely acquired peace to face the sun in its entirety.

Your voice filters in after many minutes, a little scratchy from slumber. "You awake already?" 

"It isn't exactly the break of dawn, dear," Astarion replies, and he shoots a glance back expecting your usual deadpan, but you are rubbing your eyes sleepily instead. A thought comes to mind that he has never seen you in your first waking moments: you are rather unguarded, movements leisurely and expression soft still. It's quite... cute. "I'm rather surprised you're awake. I thought you'd be exhausted from last night."

You let out a titter behind your hand at this. "Yeah, well, everything aches in different ways than a fight, so it's not too bad." You yawn. "Still sleepy though," you mumble, looking up at him through the gaps between your fingers as you block the sun from your eyes. 

"Say," you begin, and Astarion realizes belatedly that the reason you were looking so intently at him was because you saw his back. "Can I ask about those markings on your back? Are they scars?"

"A poem from my old master," he replies facetiously. "Or so I assume. He carved it all into my back in one night." His lips purse. "He made a lot of revisions."

"I'm sorry," he hears you say with sympathy in your voice, and he knows he must quickly move on from this topic. 

"It's fine," he says abruptly. "It doesn't matter now. I'm free and far from Baldur's Gate. And he'll never control me ever again."

"Good," you say, and he wonders if putting warmth into your words comes naturally to you.

"Yes, it is." He pauses. "May I have my shirt back? Not that I mind being half nude, by the way- if only to let everyone know exactly what went on last night."

"Don't even joke," you sputter, tossing his shirt- miraculously clean- to him. "I don't kiss and tell! And they'll definitely know, but not the details!”

.

.

.

In the morning glow, nothing much has changed. As predicted, the entire camp is in-the-know of whomever slept with who. Astarion is quick to inquire Lae'zel about her tryst with Wyll, only to find, to the mutual disappointment, that he spent most of the time talking about his feelings. Shadowheart, on the other hand, was more than happy to share her wine last night. 

"Shadowheart mates like she fights," Lae'zel says. "Precisely and aggressively."

"Which is a good thing, I assume."

"Immensely." Lae'zel pauses then in breaking down her tent to look at him intently, which, for the githyanki, is as terrifying as anything. "I see you and our paladin decided to explore each other's bodies last night."

"Why, yes, thank you for noticing. It was quite the exploration," he responds, opening his mouth to elaborate.

"I suppose even you have your charms," she tells him instead, and the conversation ends there.

(Astarion hopes to glean more conversation elsewhere to no luck. Your talk with Shadowheart this morning is brief ("Lae'zel, huh."/"Astarion."/"Yep."), and Karlach's put-out expression is enough to give sympathy and a wide berth. Astarion sees Gale gazing upon the visage of his goddess again and turns the other way.)

The camp dynamic stays strangely the same. It is to Astarion's benefit, for he was comfortable with how the way things were, though he is more generous with the pet names for you. Halsin joins the fray, and they make their way to the mountains upon Lae'zel's insistence. 

In the midst of adventure, Astarion finds that you seek his presence more often. His night invitation seemed to open an avenue up for you to be more comfortable in doing so. Astarion finds he doesn't mind it; your camaraderie is most enjoyable in the too quiet camp and as far as "seducing" goes, you are doing half the work for him. 

Your gaze holds some heat for him once in a while when the moon is high and the fire burns low, but you have not asked him for another night. He is neither pleased nor displeased at the notion, because your affections for him are as clear as day. He knows you would say yes in a heartbeat if he did propose another night together, but he rather likes the late-night conversations he often has with you, a type of intimacy that borders on his comfort zone-- exciting and enjoyable without the unnecessary reminders of his past. 

Still, he sometimes finds himself recalling his night with you fondly. It's strange: he's gotten on his back ten thousand times or more and forgotten half of them, but his time with you, he knows he will remember. 

Astarion puts the thoughts of "why" (why you? Why are you different? What makes you special?) behind him for now. A treasure hunt for the Blood of Lathander (as if you needed to shine even brighter), a stolen githyanki egg (Lae'zel keeps it safe in her backpack), and an escape from a créche later, Astarion is more than happy to find refuge in the underdark, which proves to be more beautiful than any of them could imagine.

Something makes him look over to you then, and he watches as you take in the sights with wonder in your eyes, the gentle darkness cradling your face in its dreamy blue glow.

[lovelivision]

‎‎‎‎THE PRACTICE OF KISSING .𖥔 ݁ ˖

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎𐔌.pairing — geto suguru / reader

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎── word count: 10k

✿ summary... after getting asked on a date you feel insecure over your inexperience regarding kissing someone. telling your bestfriend geto about your concerns results in an offer from him you didn't expect

warnings.ᐟ ── 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, hickeys, biting, (light) nipple play, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, orgasm denial (once), bsf!geto, virgin!reader, return of tease!geto, afab!reader, no use of pronouns !!

The state of your mind is currently a mess, feeling overwhelmed and staring off into space as you think about how a guy asked you on a date earlier today. You'd turned him down but only because you have a particular hang up you can't get over, hence the feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never gone out on a date before and you feel like you’re missing out, so you definitely would’ve said yes if you weren’t so unsure of yourself.

Geto's hand waves in front of your face, breaking you from your trance, "Are you even listening to me?"

Has he been talking? Damn, you really spaced out, "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Not even a little bit," his gaze unamused.

You look away from him and to the poster behind his head on the wall, feeling sheepish, "Then no... sorry."

His frown deepens, legs uncrossing and scooting closer to the edge of his bed, "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Not telling," you answer, spinning around in his office chair so that you’re facing away from him.

His desk is neat, everything organised and probably put exactly where it should be. Beside his monitor sits a little black cat figurine, one you had bought him not too long ago because it reminded you of him. Seeing it displayed makes you smile; he must like it.

Geto’s voice cuts through your small reverie, "So, you're not only going to ignore me, you're also not going to tell me what's wrong?"

Not even glancing back, you hum at him, "That would be a correct assessment... yes."

"Have I told you that you're annoying yet today?" He exasperates.

Shrugging, "I don't think so?"

"Oh? In that case, you're annoying."

"You're so mean to me; this is why I don't want to tell you what's wrong," you’re being dramatic but so is he.

A sigh leaves him, "If I promise to be nice will you tell me what's wrong?"

Your head flops onto the chairs headrest, jabbing at him jokingly, "I don't know if you're capable of kindness, Suguru."

"Now who's being mean? I'm nice all the time."

"Maybe to strangers..." You mumble out.

There’s no reply from him and for a second you think he’s going to leave the issue alone… that is until you’re suddenly spinning. His footsteps are always so light, you didn’t even hear him come up behind you. You’re facing him now, his hands holding himself up by the arm rests of his office chair. He’d spun you around just to lean down into your space and pointedly look at you.

Geto squints, “I’m nice to you all the time.”

“I don’t think this constitutes as ‘nice’.”

He groans your name, “Come on, you always talk to me when something’s wrong.”

“Maybe this is awkward for me to talk to you about,” you pout back at him.

His tongue clicks in realisation, “So, it’s about your love life?”

The immediate correct guess stumps you, causing you to sputter out, “What!? You have no way of–”

“–You never talk to me about your dates and you also got defensive so I’m guessing I’m right,” his gaze is even, unconcerned.

You huff at him and echo his earlier question, “Have I told you that you’re annoying yet today?”

“Yes, earlier when you almost fell over and I smiled,” he reminds.

Your response is a grimace and a matter-of-fact tone when saying, “I don’t tell you about my dates because I don’t go on them.”

“Ever?” Geto’s eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by your confession.

Cementing back, “Ever.”

“People have definitely asked you out though.”

“Yeah but not that often because they always think we’re together,” you glare back at him.

A hand reaches for your face and squishes your cheeks between his fingers, “Don’t look at me like that, that’s not my fault.”

Your voice comes out all mumbled and difficult to understand, “It so is.” He rolls his eyes at you and you slap his hand away, “Stop squishing my face!”

Letting go, he sighs and takes a step back, sitting on the edge of the bed again, “Something about your love life is bothering you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest and looking to the side, you complain, “You’re so nosy.”

“Am not.”

What a liar, he’s always in your business. Though, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t think he’s usually in other people’s business this bad. He does like hearing about the gossip you collect though, always ready to hear it while acting as though he doesn’t care.

There’s no reply you can think to give, so you give him the silent treatment. Still looking away from him and silently pouting, you can feel his eyes watching you, waiting for you to break. It’s a frequent game you start that he finishes, silently ignoring him while he watches and waits until you can’t take it anymore and tell him what’s on your mind.

A few more moments pass by and you already feel ready to give in, you hate how much more effective his silence is. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your gazes meet and you feel yourself folding all at once.

Large and exasperated groan leaving you as your shoulders slump back into the chair, “Fine!”

He perks up at your concession, a self-satisfied look on his face that irks you.

Looking at him properly to say, “I was asked on a date earlier today.”

The expression on his face changes to one of annoyance, like he’s not happy to hear that, “Who?”

“Some guy, you don’t know him,” you wave off, not really understanding why it matters to him.

Geto prods for more information, “…And what did you say?”

“…I said no.”

“Oh?” His reaction is indecipherable to you, “Why?”

This question is exactly why you didn’t want to talk about this, “I don’t know…” You’re lying, trying to avoid talking about this in more depth.

“Did you like him?”

“I didn’t not like him,” you shrug, “I would’ve liked to go out with him at least once but…”

“But…” He pushes.

“I don’t know, Suguru,” you scowl at your own reasoning, “I’ve never been on a proper date before, I don’t know what to expect or what’s expected of me. What if he wanted to kiss me or something?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making you antsy while you wait for him to talk, “…Would you want to kiss him back?”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think I’m understanding the issue,” his brows are pinched with his confusion.

You’re exhausted with him, like you aren’t the one being purposefully cryptic, “Am I gonna have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh!” You kick your legs in a mini tantrum, “I’ve never properly kissed someone… it’s always been like… a peck, I don’t know? But what if he expected more of me?”

You can see the way he’s actively fighting against the smile threatening to break out on his face, “Is that–” he bites down an amused sound, “Is that why you always say no to dates?”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” you were already feeling silly and embarrassed and his clear joy from this is not helping that.

He pouts at you mockingly, “Don’t be like that, I can help.”

“How could you possibly help me with this?”

A smile comfortable on his face when he states, “I could teach you.”

“You want to teach me how to kiss?” You scrutinise him, “Have you gone insane?”

“You’re the one all hung up on this and I’m offering to help you,” he puts his hands up, “But if you’d rather be a dateless loser for the rest of your life–”

“–Hey!” You point at him, “Uncalled for… and rude!”

A very signature and very annoying, polite smile sits on his pretty features. Unbothered by your outburst at his very clear bait. He simply raises his arm and grabs the hand you had pointed at him, tugging you from the chair and into him on the bed. You’re taken aback by his bold move, so close to him so quickly. Falling into his lap less than gracefully, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady as you sit sideways between his legs.

You stutter out at him, “Wha– what are you doing?”

Letting go of your hand; he reaches for your face. His thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone, “Do you want my help or not?”

“What you’re basically asking me is if I want to kiss you,” you correct… because that is what he’s asking right now.

Geto’s head drops back slightly as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at you dramatically, hand resting on your outer thigh now, “Don’t be so pedantic. You have a problem and I’m offering to help fix it.”

A sound of disapproval slips from you at his wording, “I know the theory behind kissing someone, Suguru. What you’re offering is making out with me.”

“So?”

Your expression is dumbfounded, you know he’s not this dense, “You want to stick your tongue in my mouth and then go back to the usual?”

He leans in again, dodging your question with his own, “Do you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?”

“Geto–”

“–Ouch–”

“–Shut up.” You cut him off, “If! We did this and I do mean if. Would you be able to look at me the same?”

“The same as I always have? Sure,” there’s no hesitation from him.

He seems so sure, like he’s not worried about what this might mean for your friendship at all. The easy-going look on his face is both pissing you off and relaxing you, emotions he’s always been able to pull from you.

His hand is large on your thigh and the way it makes you feel is not how you should feel for him. Mumbling out a small, “You’re annoying.”

An amused breath leaves him, “You’ve already told me that today.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you look up at him through your lashes.

“That’s kind of the point of this.”

“Right…” You can’t help but find yourself feeling nervous, embarrassed that you won’t be good enough. For some reason… you really want him to think you’re a good kisser.

He must take your silence as rejection because his tone is gentle when he says, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I know, I just…” You frown while looking at him, trying to figure out exactly what steps to take next, “I don’t know what to do now…” Geto’s face relaxes and a smile replaces his concern causing you to chastise him, “Don’t smile, it’s not funny!”

“No,” he agrees, “But it is a little cute.”

“Whatever, can we just kiss now?”

“Desperate?” He asks teasingly.

You deny it, “I just want you to stop talking.”

“Sure.” It’s all dragged out and has a teasing lilt to it. Damn him and his need to have the last word. You don’t reply to that and instead try to shuffle off him, thinking sitting like this would be awkward. His hold becomes firmer on you, “What are you doing?”

You’re confused, “Isn’t this position weird?”

“Makes it easier,” is all he says in reply.

Being sat between his spread legs, your own draping over one of them while he holds you doesn’t seem ideal. To you, this couldn’t be a more awkward position to be in for this. Instead of telling him that though, you settle back, “Alright…”

When you look back up at him properly, he’s already looking at you. There’s a funny feeling that runs through you at the look in his eyes. The hand on your thigh moves to your face again, cradling you as he leans in. Murmuring a soft, “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

Just as he’s about to move all the way in, your hand covers his mouth, “Wait.” You stop him, your nerves getting the better of you, “What if… what if you don’t like kissing me?” He looks a little frustrated so you pull your hand away, giving him a chance to speak.

“Do you want me to like kissing you?”

You feel flustered by his question, “Why do you always answer my questions with a question?”

“Because your questions are interesting…” he pauses, “…And also, I like teasing you.”

“If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

“Fine,” he indulges you, “I’m not gonna dislike kissing you so your question is dumb.”

“But you can’t know–”

He tuts you, interrupting what you were saying, “–You gotta answer my question now.”

You groan at him, “Well… yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ what?”

He’s such a smug bastard, “Yeah! Yeah I want you to like kissing me, Suguru.”

You’re huffy but he seems so pleased by your response. A serene and happy look on his face despite the tone you used. You find yourself waiting for him to say something more, something to tease you further but he doesn’t. He simply leans in again, taking you by surprise when his lips are softly pressing to yours. It’s short and sweet, more akin to a peck than anything else. Continuing to plant gentle kisses to your lips until you return them and then he lets them linger.

The feelings that run through you have you all tingly and hot, kissing your best friend for practice probably shouldn’t feel this good… right? You still don’t really know what you’re doing though, more just letting him kiss you than anything. When you part again, you murmur, “Suguru, I still don’t know what I’m meant to be doing.”

“Just follow my lead,” his eyes stay on your lips, now shiny from the shared kisses, “That’s all you gotta do.”

“But–”

His eyes roll when you go to argue more, “–Stop thinking so hard about it and let me kiss you.”

You can’t help but squirm slightly at that, “Okay.”

Satisfaction rolls off him in waves but thankfully for you he doesn’t comment any further, choosing to kiss you again. Instinctually, your hand reaches for his chest and grips onto his shirt, you need something to ground you.

Geto is taking this slow, he’s trying his best to be patient to savour this moment with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far too soon and have you stop whatever this is. If he were more sure of himself and where he stands with you, he’d have just asked you out like a sane person but he’s not sure and he didn’t want to pass on this opportunity.

He can feel this becoming something he covets, your soft lips on his, uncertain in your movements but so ready to be kissed by him. His heart pulls with a kind of possessiveness that’s not completely unfamiliar to him regarding you. The desire to not want anyone else to ever have this side of you overwhelming him.

It’s addictive, his kisses, his hold on you… him. You can feel yourself falling into him more, the longer you do this dance. You want more, you want him to kiss you more but you have no idea how to ask for that. Following his lead is good, it’s helpful but it’s starting to feel like he’s depriving you.

Pulling back, you force yourself to voice, “I want more…”

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” He sounds strained.

“You said you would teach me,” you remind. “So, teach me.”

His thumb presses into your jaw, “Open your mouth more then.”

Doing as he asks; he angles you just slightly before pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss fuller, his tongue licking into your mouth. It has a shiver running down your spine, the sensation new and mind numbing. It’s messier than before and so much more dizzying, you can’t even really keep up with his movements. Just letting him kiss you to his hearts content, feeling yourself getting drunk on his lips in the process.

You can’t even be sure if you’re doing this right but it doesn’t really feel like it matters, not when you’re this lost in it. Lips gliding against his, a small involuntary sound pulling from your chest at how he grips you tighter. Feeling like he gets impossibly closer, his kisses growing desperate the moment you whine into him.

Geto’s restraint is wearing thin, his desire for you growing tenfold at how you moan for him. He wants to touch you so much more, to put his hands on every part of you. The fear of ruining this moment keeps his hands planted firmly to your hip and cheek though and it’s killing him to not touch you more, more, more.

When you tentatively lick against his tongue he almost all but folds in that single moment, he feels so pathetically weak for you. So unsure of yourself and still trying to kiss him just as deeply as he is you. A guttural groan leaves him, a sound he’d be almost ashamed of if he didn’t notice the way you squirm at it.

You pull back from him and he can’t help but chase your lips, he doesn’t want to stop. An amused breath leaves you, “Hold on.”

He doesn’t understand what you need a moment for until you’re pulling his hands from you and moving to straddle him.  Your thighs resting beside him, he feels dizzy with need, the need to touch you, to undress you. To have you naked and straddling his lap just like this could make his whole year. His hands are on your hips, tugging you up his lap just slightly further, encouraging.

Going to sit on him, you notice his erection and gasp. Heat rising to your face, suddenly so conscious of how heated this exchange has gotten, “Maybe we should stop…”

It’s almost like it hurts him to hear those words, “Do you want to stop?”

You wish you weren’t so certain, so quick to immediately know that, “… No, I don’t.”

“That’s good…” he smiles, “Cause I’m not done teaching yet.”

And then you’re kissing again, wet and sloppy. He’s holding back less, depraved in how he sucks your tongue into his mouth, bolder now. Revelling in every twitch you make against him, every mumbled whine you let out.

Mindlessly, your hips lightly roll downwards and his resulting grip holds you so still against him. A debauched moan leaving him at your unexpected movements, parting his mouth from yours with it. Geto’s head tucks into your chest, controlling his breathing, like he might snap at any moment.

You feel a little frantic, like you might’ve hurt him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“–Don’t– fuck– don’t apologise,” he can feel how warm you are through your pants and it’s making him feel feral.

Your fingers run through his hair, to comfort him, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He huffs an unamused sound, “The only thing hurting me is how badly I wanna stuff you full.”

“Sugu–”

“–I know you can feel just how hard I am,” he pulls his head back to look at you, eyes blown wide and dark, “I’m practically aching for you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “Suguru… are you some kind of closeted perv?”

The question makes him laugh, “Wanna find out?”

“You were only supposed to teach me how to kiss…”

“Mhm, and you’re doing great,” his nose traces along your neck, inhaling you, “I still have so much more knowledge to give though.”

“Don’t be so– hah!” He licks at your skin before latching his mouth to the side of your throat, the pressure making you fidget in his lap. You feel so sensitive, so much more than what you thought you would.

When Geto pulls back from the mark he’s made, he blows softly on it, enjoying the way you shudder on top of him. “‘Don’t be so’ what?”

That’s right you were going to say something, he looks really nice right now though… eyes lidded and cheeks just slightly pink, lips slick. What were you going to say to him? His grin only grows, taking satisfaction in your glazed eyes and struggle to think. Averting your gaze, you try to remember what you wanted to say. The break in eye contact short lived since he grabs your chin and pulls you back.

“Come on, pretty, what were you gonna say?”

The effect he’s having on you is becoming too much, “I was gonna tell you to not be so depraved!”

“Hmm…” His head quirks at you, “You seem to like it though?”

How presumptuous of him, “You can’t know that!”

“You know… the human body is really interesting, for example…” he looks down to where you’re sitting over his prominent erection, “You’re so incredibly hot against me that I feel like I’m going insane,” smiling back up at you evilly, “Just how wet are you?”

The possibility of fainting is very real all of a sudden, his question has you hot everywhere. “I jus– I just told you to not be so depraved.”

“Yeah and I ignored you,” he deadpans, ignoring your indignant sounds. “Do you want me to stop?”

Again, you hate how badly you don’t want to stop. Right now, you think you’d let him do just about whatever he wanted to you. “Promise not to tease me later?”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

You pout back at him, “Then I’m not gonna say what I was thinking.”

His curiosity is sufficiently piqued, “Fine, I promise to try not to tease you later.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He tries again, “I promise.” You both stay looking at one another for a moment before he adds, “That’s as good as you’re getting.” And you know it to be true.

How to say this without embarrassing yourself, “You can… you can touch me… however you want, Suguru…”

He feels like he’s gone into shock, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?”

“No… I heard you,” he can’t help the way his cock jumps in excitement, “I’m just double checking I heard you right.” He leans in to taunt, “You’re gonna let me touch you however I want?”

“You said you had more knowledge to share,” It’s a dangerous game that you’re both playing.

He breathes out, “And if I wanna touch you in a depraved manner?”

So certain in yourself when you reply, “I want to be touched in a depraved manner… by you.”

Ah, so you’re trying to kill him, is the conclusion that Geto has come to. A breathless laugh leaves him, “For practice?”

“Sure,” you give him the answer you think he wants, in reality you just want to desperately be touched by him. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life and it’s all his fault.

An amused sound leaves him, “Hah– Don’t know if I believe your answer there…” his hands are on your hips, slowly dragging you over his dick. Biting his lip at the feeling, cock jumping when your breath stutters.

“Wait– wait,” your hands hold onto his and he stops moving you. Realising now that he might’ve gotten carried away, that he should’ve double checked again.

When you get off his lap and onto shaky legs Geto feels his heart drop, only for it to suddenly pick up speed when you’re shuffling your pants down and off. Crawling back onto him in your panties, he – shamefully – has to put so much focus into keeping calm, so worked up he could cum from this alone.

“Yeah…” you murmur back at him, placing yourself right over his erection again, gasping at how hard he is, at how much more you can feel even through the layers left on, “I lied just now.”

He wants to ask more; he wants to know what you lied about but if he thought you were hot before then he’s melting now. You’re sitting on his dick in the cutest little panties, already so drenched from making out with him that the affection he feels for you fills up his chest. He’s way too distracted right now to ask what he wants.

“Be honest,” it feels like a chore to rip his gaze away from your pussy, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Geto’s eyes are all glassy and blown, cheeks flushed as he implores you, like he’s worried you’re actually trying to kill him. He’s making you feel shy, “It’s your fault I’m acting like this.”

That has him feeling a little prideful, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“In that case,” he’s slowly dragging your heated core over his erection again, “Should I fix it?”

You nod your head at him, “…Yeah”

The shivers that run through you make you gasp, the drag over Geto’s dick feeling so much better without your pants on. And yet you can’t help but feel so greedy, a kind of need in your bones that you’ve not experienced before.

He takes his hands away from your hips and you stop moving, whining pathetically at him, “Why–”

“–Keep doing it yourself,” he encourages.

“But–”

“Just do it how it feels good, use me for a bit,” he grins, “I wanna watch you pleasure yourself on me.”

“You really are a perv,” you mutter back at him.

His retort is quick, “Say that to me when your pussy’s not drooling all over my pants.”

Your cunt jumps at his words, “Are you gonna be this crude the whole time?”

“I can be worse if you want?”

“I can’t stand you.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he looks pointedly down to where your cunt is pulsing hot against him. “Now do us both a favour and move,” he hisses out through clenched teeth, apparently nearing his limit.

“You’re so bossy,” you frown, “I’ve never…” You’re at a loss for how to phrase it.

“Dry humped someone before?” He finishes for you, “Though with how wet you are–”

“Shh!” You cover his mouth with your palm, “Stop… talking about how wet I am.”

He pulls your hand away, “You know, I’m not surprised you’ve never–”

“–You don’t have to say it again,” you cut him off.

He rolls his eyes, “You hadn’t even made out with someone, I’m just saying that I didn’t ask you to use me without knowing.” He holds the side of your face gently, “Stop worrying about it so much, I know already… that you’re a huge virgin.”

His gentle touch greatly contrasts his teasing words. He’s so evil to you, “This is why I say you’re not nice.”

“Do you want me to be nice? To tell you how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing?” The reaction you have is almost visceral, skin heating and looking away from him. Even more embarrassed when he chuckles at you, “Got a bit of a praise kink, hmm?”

“You’re making this difficult for me.”

“You should’ve just done what I asked then,” he shrugs easily.

If you thought holding out would punish him more than you, then maybe you’d just get off him and go home to get yourself off but you want him to make you feel good. So instead, you’ll just give in and hope he shows you mercy, though by how this is going, he doesn’t seem to be the type.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down into Geto and he huffs out a breath like he wasn’t expecting it. Your hands move to his shoulders for purchase, using the leverage you have there to grind down into him harder.

He holds onto your waist. Not moving you, just resting his hands there, “Oh fuck– no– hah– no warning?”

You shake your head at him, brows pinched as you focus on seeking your own pleasure, “You– hnn– wanted me to– hah– to do as you asked.”

His head falls back slightly at the pleasure, a lazy smile on his face, “That’s true.”

The longer you do this, the slicker his pants get, you’re so unbelievably wet that it’s coating the material obscenely. Geto is in awe of it, eyes fixed on where you’re rutting down into him, marvelling at the damp spot on his pants, at how drenched your panties are. So soaked that they’re practically a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination with how it’s sticking to you.

He holds you still suddenly and the whine you let out is endearing, “Wait for a second,” he huffs.

Moving his hands to his belt to undo it, shuffling his pants down his legs. You lean up on your knees for a moment for him to drop them to his feet but before you can sit back down, his hand is holding you there. He runs the fingers of his other hand through your covered folds, a groan coming from the back of Geto’s throat.

“Seriously, you’re so fucking wet,” he reminds you.

“Sorry…”

He almost chokes, “‘Sorry?’” His fingers draw up to your clit, pressing into it, “Don’t be fucking sorry… I’m nearly salivating because of how drenched you are.”

That catches you off guard, “Sugu–”

He doesn’t let you speak, “–This wet because of me? It’s my fault you said?”

You bite your lip, his fingers circling your clit deliciously, “Mhm.”

His eyes brighten, “Perfect. Aren’t you just perfect for me?”

Your legs start shaking and he lets you drop back to his lap, one less layer between the two of you now. He’s so warm and hard and if you weren’t straddling him, you’d be clenching your thighs together for relief.  

“You are doing such a good job for me,” he whispers low against your ear, “Having the most perfect reactions.”

You whine at his praise, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yeah,” he licks against your ear, “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

His size is honestly daunting, large and thick as you sit on it, throbbing underneath you. “Suguru?”

He noses at your cheekbone, “Mmm?”

“I’m worried…”

“About?”

“What if you don’t fit…” you look down to his lap, “I just mean, you feel…big.”

“I don’t have to put it in you,” he comforts but he can’t help the way he twitches at your genuine concern over taking him.

“But you want to?”

“What sort of a question is that?” he holds you down while he grind up into you, “Does it feel like I want to?”

“I was jus– ah!– I was just checking,” you sulk back.

Your mind melts, getting away from you. He’s rutting up into you in a way that has you shaking and your breaths stuttering. On edge for so long while sat in his lap, you want to meet his grinds, you want to move your hips into him but his grip is firm and steady.

It’s honestly a little pitiful how quickly he’s building you up, your insides clenching with the pleasure. The drag back and forth on his clothed cock driving you slowly to insanity. His boxers almost as ruined as your panties, your slick coating his covered dick. The glide much smoother than what you’d expect. It’s like you can feel him throbbing for you and it makes you want to fully take him even more.

Your own thoughts riling you up, the idea of him sitting so heavily inside you makes you huff out a whine. A sound that Geto relishes in, in fact, he’s relishing in all of this. You’re so malleable to his will, he thinks in this state, you’d let him do whatever he pleases. The thought alone nearly has his eyes rolling.

He needs you to cum like this, he needs to see it. How you shake and writhe on top of him, the expression you make. He wants to make you cum in so many different ways just to see how your expressions might differ each time.

It’s relentless, how he humps up into you, how he pulls you down into him. Your clit catching on the tip of his dick making you jump each time, shocks of pleasure running through you. You never thought something like this would feel so damn good.

Fingers grappling at the material of his shirt, pleasure wracking your body as he draws you closer and closer, “Stop– ah!– if you keep going I’ll– hnn–”

“–So soon?” he hums, “I don’t know if– hah– I believe you… you’re gonna have to prove it,” he leers back at you.

His eyes on you feel so consuming, calm and watching but so hungry that it’s driving you to the edge. It feels like you’re melting, so warm and unbelievably close. Body twitching on top of him with your impending orgasm. You don’t even get to try and warn him again, sounds you’ve never heard yourself make falling from your mouth before you can think to stop them. Trembling with the force of your orgasm, feeling so weak as you slump into him, eyes wet and bleary.

Geto feels like he’s vibrating, watching you come undone on top of him making him feel too much at once. His arms wrap around you and hold you close, hands smoothing up and down your back. Lips close to your ear when he speaks, “You know… you make some really cute noises when you cum.”

Lazily, you look up at him through your lashes. Feeling a stupid kind of pleasure running through your body, still jolting slightly with the come down. “Stop trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m only being honest,” his hands slip under your shirt, groping your waist, “You getting embarrassed is just a bonus.”

“Have you always been this sadistic?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Who knows?” He smiles.

Turning, you catch his mouth with yours. Kissing him properly, hands tickling the back of his neck as you try to kiss him like he did you earlier. His hands on your waist grip you, lips imploring. So needy in how he returns your kiss, all but whining when you part. A string of saliva connects your mouths and he wipes your lower lip with his thumb, pressing it to your lips like he might push it inside.

Eyes lost as he dances his digit over your plush lips, “You’re beautiful,” is all he says, gazing at you with so much affection.

Opening your mouth, you gently take his thumb between your teeth. Biting so very lightly before flicking your tongue over the tip of it. Geto looks like he blushes at the action, pulling his hand back.

“Seems as though I’m not the only tease,” he accuses.

You mutter back at him, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His compliment had made you feel so soft and tingly that you didn’t know what to say or how to react. It’s not like he’s never complimented you before, you just weren’t expecting him to call you beautiful so earnestly. Being given compliments by someone has never made your insides flutter as much as they did just now.

He hums at you, redirecting his attention. Pulling at the hem of your shirt to show what he wants; you lift your arms up so he can remove it from you properly. Feeling so bare on top of him but not really minding, still too blissed on your orgasm to care.

Geto doesn’t waste any time, groping your tits in his large hands. Rolling your nipples experimentally and grinning wide at how you twitch and bite back moans at it. “My, you’re sensitive.”

Teeth digging into your lower lip to stop the pitiful noises he’s threatening to pull from you, “Try not to sound so pleased about that.” Your blood is still thumping through your ears, pleasure fresh in your bones.

“Would you rather I be upset?”

“I’d rather you not make– ah!–”

His wet mouth wrapping around your nipple has your words cutting off suddenly, back arching into him. Huffing out breaths at how he flicks his tongue over your sensitive skin, dizzy from the heat he’s making you feel. Pulling back with an obscene pop, licking at you a final time while keeping eye contact before swapping to your neglected tit.

He’s playing with you, or he’s waiting for you to say you’re ready for more… no he’s definitely just playing with you. Taking his time leaving marks all over your tits, even biting some places. Neglecting himself in favour of teasing you to insanity, though it can’t be that painful for him considering how he’s enjoying this immensely.

Whining at him, “You– hah!– You’re gonna leave too many marks,” he ignores you in favour of making a new mark to the top of your breast, “Suguru!”

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull him back with a tug. You’re frowning at him but your eyes are so wet and dazed and you’re nearly completely naked on top of him. Covered in hickeys and his saliva, despite your pulled brows you look so euphoric.

Feigning ignorance, he simpers, “What’s wrong with that?” A finger trails over the marks he’s left, grazing a sensitive nipple in his journey, “You seemed to liked it.”

Swallowing your pride, you tell him directly, “I want more.”

“You want to cum again?” He muses, “Greedy.”

Taking offence at his accurate guess, you add, “I want… you to as well.”

Geto ignores the thumping of his heart, “Take off your panties then.”

“But…”

A brow raises at you, “‘But’ what?”

You don’t really want to tell him about how shaky your legs are, you’re a little concerned they’ll give out as soon as you try to stand. He really doesn’t need the ego boost right now, “Nothing.”

Moving off him so so carefully, you keep your hands on his shoulders as you stand between his spread legs. With the way your knees are wobbling and fingers gripping to him so harshly, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that you’ve not really got a great sense of balance right now. A smug smile gracing his lips when he sees you fight to figure out how you’re going to take off your panties with your hands on him.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” You quickly answer.

“Then take them off,” a finger pulls at the waistline of your underwear only to let it snap back to you. At your continued struggle he adds, “Or do you want me to take them off for you?”

You look to him, eyes hopeful for mercy, “Please?”

“Sure,” his tone polite but you’re not sure you’re that trusting of him.

Thankfully, his hands slide them delicately down your legs, brushing against your thighs. Though, he’s an opportunist and he uses this chance to grip at your thighs, pulling at your skin further and further up your legs. Humming low to himself at the slick coating your inner thighs, unable to help himself when he drags his fingers through your folds, touching your pussy directly.

“Fuck, alright–” He bites out, pulling you to his lap suddenly, “I’ve reached my limit.”

“Wait,” he stops his frantic movements and you pull at his shirt, “Take it off.”

He doesn’t even tease, just immediately does as you asked, hastily tugging his shirt off. It’s dropped less than gracefully onto the floor. Your fingers dance along his shoulders, down his chest. You want to take it all in a bit more but he’s flopping onto his back and shucking his boxers down enough to pull his cock free.

The size of him almost has your eyes bulging, you wonder how he’s been so patient when he’s this hard and achy looking. Tip flushed deep pink and already smothered in his own leaky precum, your cunt throbs while looking at him. Caught between concern over his size and a desperate need to be full of him.

“You don’t have to take it but please just–” He grabs and moves you until you’re hovering over it, “Sit on it at least.”

Lowering yourself cautiously, you sit on him lightly. He can feel your heat and it makes him shiver, “I don’t need you to be gentle with me,” he snickers, “Split your pussy open on my dick.”

Geto doesn’t even give you the chance to do it yourself, hands tugging you down onto him with more force. A gasp ripping from you when he immediately starts dragging you back and forth on his whole length. Stifled groans leave him from under you, his chest vibrating under your palm.

“Sugu–”

“–Sorry,” his brows are knitted together, “I got– nnh– impatient.”

It’s so wet, slipping over him repeatedly, the head of his cock nudging your clit over every pass. Your teeth dig into your lower lip to fight the whines bubbling inside you but eventually you give up and just let yourself moan. He seems to like it anyways, cock jerking at the soft breaths and whimpers leaving you.

He’s on the brink of stupidity, you’re so soft and unbelievably warm and his tip keeps catching on your hole and it makes him shudder each time. Looking down, he watches the way you’re coating his cock in more of your slick, cock shiny with how wet you are. Lewd sounds of your pussy grinding over him fill the room and now he’s thinking about you creaming around him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life.

“Sugu,” you call out to him and he dopily pulls his eyes to yours, “Do you think I could just…” when his cockhead catches on your hole again, you press down, not even taking him in any real way and yet still stretching slightly for it.

His grip hardens on you, holding you completely still, “There’s no ��just’ anything.” He struggles to breath out evenly, “Not with how tight you are.”

“I wanna feel full though,” you try wiggling down into him but he’s truly got you in a vice like hold.

His cock twitches as excitement rushes through him, “You asking me to take your virginity, pretty?”

Shy when you ask, “Would you?”

He’s not passing on the chance to pick on you a little bit, “How bad do you want it?”

He can feel the way your hole flutters when you think about his question, your answer seemingly downplaying how you feel, “Pretty bad.”

“Hmm,” He pretends to think about his answer.

You’re taking issue with his faux deep thought, “Sugu, stop acting like you’re not…”

“Go on,” he encourages, “‘Like I’m not’ what?”

“Like you’re not…” you look away from him, mumbling out, “Aching for it…”

“Oh? You aching for it?” The smile he’s wearing can be heard in his words.

He sounds way too gleeful over this and it’s ticking you off, “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ as you lift yourself off him.

“Don’t be like that,” he sits up, “I’m not letting you go anywhere… not when I know you’re aching for my cock.”

“I did not say that.”

“That’s what I heard you say,” he shrugs.

Geto’s arms wrap around you only to throw you down onto the bed, gone from you for a second while he shoves his boxers off quickly. And then he’s crawling over you, hands tracing up your body, relishing in your reactions to him.

“You really are so sensitive,” he mutters, trailing a finger up your thigh and watching your skin break out in goosebumps.

He’s being so unbearable, the need you feel is so loud and he’s here taunting you, “You’re so frustrating.”

“You’re just a needy little thing,” he returns, “So desperate to be filled even though you’re not prepared in the slightest.”

“Then prepare me,” you whine back.

He finds this about you cute, your insatiable greed, your back and forth between shy and so horny that you’re getting pissy at him. “I should teach you some manners,” he grumbles.

You spread your legs for him obscenely, growing even more impatient. “Please, touch me,” you pull his hand towards your pussy, “please.”

If he ever gets the chance to touch you like this again he’s going to torture you because right now you’re playing so completely unfairly that he can’t even think to deny you. His brows pull up as he flushes, finding himself doing exactly what you wanted, fingers gliding through your folds.

The way you keen at his touch almost makes it worth it. “You don’t play fair,” he complains.

“Someone lead by– hah!– po– poor example, I guess,” you shudder when he slips a single finger inside you.

Geto groans at the snug heat of your cunt, closing his eyes to take a quick breath at just how you feel wrapped around his digit. The fear or cumming the minute he gets inside you is real; he’s going to have to develop an insane amount of self-restraint between then and now.

“You’re hilarious,” he leans down to whisper in your hear, “Now shhh…” He draws his finger back before fucking it back in, lewd wet sounds of your pussy filling the silence, “Hear that?” He keeps repeating his movements, taking immense joy in how you writhe under him, “I think… pretty things that are this wet and begging to get fucked… don’t get to mock me.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, eyes glassy when you look up at him, “Don’t– nnh– be sooo mean.”

“You haven’t seen me be mean,” he pulls his finger back just to stuff another inside you, grinning when you arch your back at it, “I’ve only been nice to you today.”

“Be nicer,” you pout.

“Don’t wanna be,” he smiles graciously back at you.

The fingers he has in you scissor to spread you open, pleased hums leaving him at your responses. Your mouth drops open and legs shake, fighting to close but unable to with how he’s in-between them. He’s hitting all the perfect spots inside you, crooking his digits to rub against your inner walls in a way you’re never able to reach.

He’s getting you so close to cumming that you want to hide from him, somehow feeling so much more vulnerable like this than when you were sitting in his lap earlier. Slowly, he works you to the point of taking another of his fingers, fucked open on three of them now. Your toes curl and your thighs hoist themselves on either side of his waist. Hips grinding into his hand, meeting his movements.

Geto finds the frenzied and desperate grinds into his hand adorable, satisfied with just how much more greedy you get when you’re this turned on. He already knows you must be close, your sudden drive to fuck down onto his fingers a dead giveaway to him.

He adds his thumb, rubbing circles into your clit. You jerk at it, tits bouncing in a way that has him drooling. To be honest, if you weren’t practically begging to get dicked down earlier he would’ve put his mouth on you. Maybe if he weren’t also desperate to put his cock in you he’d do it anyways but for now, he’ll settle for fingerfucking you to insanity and then shoving you full of his dick.

Your voice comes out smaller than you want, “Sugu, I think–”

“–I know,” his eyes are bright, fully aware of how close you are.

He can feel the way you twitch and clench down on him, back arching off the bed. Speeding up his movements just to get you there that much quicker and when you’re about to cum all over his fingers… he pulls them from you. Leaving you without your orgasm but so high that he could blow on your clit and you might cum.

You whine at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Expression dopey and angry, sexually frustrated from the cruel and unexpected edging he just put you through. “What the hell, Suguru?!”

His grin is wolfish, merciless expression painted over with faux pity, “I’m so sorry, pretty. Were you close?” A hand cradles your face, soothing you for something that is completely his fault.

“Why would you do that?” All he’s succeeded in is making you needier than before, squirming under him with no way to find relief.

His answer is simple, “Just to see how you’d react.”

“I shouldn’t have hung out with you today.”

“Don’t be like that,” he guides his dick to your cunt, “I’m ‘bout to treat you so good.”

“If you don’t let me cum we’re not friends anymore,” you warn.

He snickers at how genuine you’re being, “Alright.”

“I mean it, Suguru.”

“I know you do,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “That’s why it’s a little tempting.”

You whine at him, “Can you stop being so cruel for a moment?”

He blinks at you, “What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be the first person you go on a date with.”

His request confuses you, “What? Why?”

He doesn’t answer you, “Those are my terms,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay! Fine, yes, whatever you want,” you nod at him.

He smiles and starts pushing into you, the stretch is a lot and it aches more than his fingers. You’re trying to breathe through it but it seems like he is too. His thumb is on your clit, trying to get you to relax for him. “St– stop– hah– fuck!– stop clenching so tight,” he hisses through his teeth.

“I can’t– nnh– help it,” your nails dig into his skin.

His lashes flutter when he gets his tip inside you, groan leaving him. “Wh– when I s–say date I mean– hnnn– a real date. A ‘I take you out and then try kissing you at the end of it’ date.”

For some reason, that makes your insides twist and you squirm. “Wh– whatever you– nnh– want, Sugu.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna– hah– dress up and let me take you out for your first ever date?” His fingers grip at his blanket below.

Your eyes roll as he slips further inside you, babbling out, “If you– hnn– let me cum? I’ll date only you.”

Geto sputters at that, hips driving forwards on their own making you both moan. His upper body drops down to you, lips ghosting over your neck and cheek before taking yours in a sweet kiss. He knows you’re out of your mind horny and probably not even sure of what you just said but he’s going to live in this moment while he fucks you.

He’s kissing your breath away while he slowly fills you to the hilt, trying so hard to be careful with you. His lips successfully distract you from the ache you were feeling, melting into him as he licks at your tongue.

Parting from you only when he’s balls deep inside you, head flopping to your shoulder as he moans. Struggling to keep it together, you’re wrapped so snug and hot around him, pulsing so tightly around his aching cock that he feels like he might cum at any second.

“Sugu?” When he hums, you continue, “Move please?”

You wiggle your hips into him but he’s quick to stop you with a firm hand, “If you don’t want this ending right now then you need to give me a moment.”

“Hmm, that’s awfully cute of you, Suguru,” you tease him.

“That’s bold,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “I’m going to ruin you.”

“More than you already have?”

He agrees, “So much more.”

It feels like an eternity before he’s finally dragging his hips back, that alone has your breath stuttering. He wants to set a punishing pace so bad; he wants to fuck you until you’re mad but he starts slow. Thrusting back into you at a languid pace, still carefully opening you up on his fat dick. It’s your first time and as much as he loves torturing you, he also loves pleasing you.

You’re scrabbling for purchase at his leisurely pace anyways, not expecting the heavy drag of his cock to feel this mind numbing. He chuckles lowly at the way you’re already weak for him, though it’s completely his fault considering all he’s put you through up until now.

“I think you may be the awfully cute one,” he smirks at you.

Your insides tug at his tone, “You can– hnn– be quiet.”

Leaning up, he rest on his knees, pushing your leg back and up. He has a great view of you taking him like this, able to see all your reactions. “I can but your pussy really likes when I talk.”

He’s so smug and he gets to be too because he’s right, his lightly mocking tone and that polite smile he wears is a deadly combo that has your cunt seizing around him. “I like it– hah– better when you’re nice to me.”

“You’re taking me all so well, pretty,” he praises, “Pussy sucking me right back in, so greedily.”

Your eyes roll back at how he thrusts into you, new angle hitting deeper than before, “That’s not– hnn– being nice!”

“Really?” He watches the way your hole clenches and feels how much wetter you get around him, “‘Cause you seemed to like it a lot.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, silently asking for him to fuck you.

He looks down his nose at you, “What are you asking for?”

Sulking, “I want you to– hah– move more.”

“You should’ve just said that then,” he crooks his head to the side at you.

The slow drag out is the same as always until he’s fucking himself back into you sharply, a gasped moan stumbling from you as your hands seek stability in the mattress below. Your whine is dragged out when he repeats it over and over, brows knitted together in your pleasure.

“That’s a nice reaction,” he comments smugly.

You only hum at him, too consumed by the feeling of him shoving his dick in and out over and over in such a relentless pace that you’re seeing stars. Either you’ve closed your eyes or they’ve rolled to the back of your head because you’re not seeing much of anything right now.

Your eyes are welling with tears, chest heaving with your breaths. The stretch in your leg increasing when Geto pushes down into you further, pushing back on your leg with it. He’s basically folded it over his shoulder, you had no idea you were capable of bending this much. You’re so dazed and fucked stupid when you look to him lazily, he looks so pretty like this. Hunched over you and driving his cock in and out of your tight heat, his hair hanging messily over his shoulders and face as his expression twists in bliss.

Reaching a hand up, you tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, “You’re pretty.”

You say it so dopily that he wonders if you know what you’ve just said, “I’m fucking you to the point you’re cock drunk and you think I’m pretty?”

A shudder runs through you at his voice, “Mhm, and– ah!– you have– hnn– have a pretty voice.”

God help him, he’s about to cum from you calling him pretty. “St– stop– hnn– talking.”

“Sugu, you feel so–”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, he has a feeling that whatever you were about to say would have him cumming inside you. “You’re so cute but I need you to shut up before I cum.”

From behind his hand, you look ruined. Tears slipping from your eyes, he can feel the way you’re drooling against his skin. The only sounds in the room his grunts, your muffled moans and the slick squelching of you swallowing his cock.

You want to keep telling him how pretty he is and how good he’s making you feel but even without him hindering you, you feel as though you may be beyond words now. Brain not able to form very cohesive thoughts as of this moment let alone speak them. He has you feeling so full, his cock throbbing against your walls in a way that has your skin thrumming.

Geto’s eyes lock down on where he’s stuffing himself into your little cunt, he feels himself short circuiting at the sight. Pussy bulging around him, struggling to take him all, dick so shiny with your slick. White creamy ring at the base of himself, it’s messy and lewd and it has him feeling so unbelievably obsessed with your cunt.

Thinking distantly that he’s going to do his best to impress you on your date so he can have you again, next time he’s definitely licking your pussy. Debauched groans vibrate in his chest at the thought, he’s going to make this so unforgettable for you, he needs you to be as obsessed with him as he is you. He’s going to be so much worse after this and he was already down pretty bad.

Your hand grabs at his wrist, trying to tug it away so you can speak. He pulls back out of curiosity, “I– hnn– I’m– ah!–” Giving up trying to warn him after a particular thrust has you crying out, there’s no real point in warning him anyways.

He grins at your inability to say anything meaningful, “I’ve gotcha, go ahead and cum for me.”

Of course he knew exactly what you were trying to say, how does he already know your body so perfectly. He leans down to you, impossibly close, just to kiss your cheek and say, “Come on, pretty, I wanna feel you squeeze me tight before I cum in you.”

Crude and obscene and effective because his words make you shudder as you suddenly cum around him. A little frantic in how you squirm under him, eyes rolling as your hips fight to fuck yourself onto his thrusts. Pitiful whimpers of his name leaving you repeatedly, the only really comprehensive thing you’re able to utter out.

Geto’s orgasm is immediately triggered by yours, he was hoping he’d get to play with you a little more but as soon as he felt the sinful way you gripped him while you came, he was done for. Your cunt pulsating around him milking him for all he’s worth, he’s cumming so much so deeply. His hips flush to yours as he only grinds into you to ride out both your highs.

He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that much in his life and he’s unsure if it’s because it’s you or because he held back for so long. His weight drops to you as he catches his breath, feeling spent and so drunk on your pussy that if he thought too hard about you he’d get hard again.

Your hand taps lightly at his shoulder, words all garbled when you speak, “Sugu, too heavy.”

Shoving his arms under you, he rolls until you’re on top of him. Cock slipping from you in the process and it has you letting out a cute whine.

“It’s leaking out of me,” you warn him.

He groans, “Don’t say that.”

You rest your check to his collarbone, “Why not?”

“I’ll get turned on again.”

Rolling your eyes at him, “You’re an insatiable pervert.”

“You’re not much better.”

His hands tickle up your sides, repeating the motion over, it’s making you feel sleepy. “You’re still worse.”

He just hums at you, apparently not caring to argue back. “You gonna be okay to shower?”

“In a bit… and only if you carry me the whole time.”

He laughs at that, “Sure.”

You draw mindless patterns on his chest with your finger, “So… where are you taking me on my first date?”

𝒂.𝒏. this was actually a request that i got carried away with,, my requests aren't even open i just fucked with the idea that hard hehe.... i hope you all enjoyed and thank you very much for reading !!!

(i recently made a discord for my followers so if you guys are interested in that please check out the pinned page on my blog :3)

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[taeghi]

let's collab | (m)

⇰ summary : you've always vied for the top spot on onlyfans but "hluvsbabes" makes it tough with his undeniable charm and looks. when you unexpectedly meet him you realize he's even more captivating up close. despite the competition, you find yourself unable to turn down his one request.

⇰ pairing : camboy!heeseung x camgirl!y/n

⇰ genre : smut!! masturbation, vibrators lol, dirty talk, oral, throat fucking, unprotected sex, degrading, praise, sir kink, spanking, brief spitting and hair pulling lol.

⇰ word count : 10k (8k of it is just pure, filthy smut) !!!

⇰ taglist : @criminalyun @princeseung @seokseokjinkim @loveydoveyhee @immelissaaa @iselltulips @strxwbloody @ensaz008 @loavibeycipoosan @liwugy @starfallia @you-make-skz-stay @ineedsomezzz @heeshlove @niniissus @mirramirra @skzenhalove @fandom-freak-geek @lilifiedeans @woahhhhaw @cchangli @enhabooks @heelovesmeknot @fakeuwus @soobinsnovia101 @river-demon-slayer @jjklvr9 @hanjisunginc @iamliacamila @jaylaxies

mdni

you started ‘darlingdove01’ when you needed some extra cash in your second year of college. at first you didn’t show your face at all and you were nervous that someone you knew was going to find out. godforbid your parents found out about your sex work. 

over time, you started to get more comfortable in front of the camera and started to show your face. though you never said your real name. you had started to get a close following and were at the top of the creators of the week every week. the way it worked was that the longer you were number one, the more increase of pay you got. though, you had never been number 1 for more than one week at a time. 

all thanks to hluvsbabes. 

it seemed that every week you and hluvsbabes would alternate who was number one. no matter what new things you tried to increase your audience and views, the next week you were back at number two. 

the day that you were fed up with always being put back to second was the day that you would very soon regret. 

you were lazily scrolling through the app when you noticed hluvsbabes had just started streaming, so, you clicked onto the livestream. 

and there he was. hluvsbabes shirtless with his hard cock pulled out of his pants and sitting in between his fist. his pale skin gleamed against his computer screen light, showing off his abs. he had a black mask covering the lower part of his face. his bangs fell into his squinted eyes as he casually pumped his cock up and down in his fist. 

you couldn’t stop your jaw from going slack as you took in the sight before you. you could tell his mouth was in a playful smirk as he watched the comments fly. suddenly a tip of 20$ flew in the corner of the screen : “take ur pants off pls”. 

you could hear his dark chuckle through your speakers, “mmm, only because you said please.” 

you watched him do as the viewer asks. he dug his thumbs into his pants and boxers and pulled them down to reveal his pale legs that matched the rest of his body. 

he seemed so confident and casual as he sat in his chair fully nude, as if 8,000 people weren’t watching him right now. 

“is that better for you?” his voice asked with a tone of amusement. you watched him laugh as all the comments immediately filled with variations of “yes”. “what else do you want me to do? tell me.” the comments were instantly filled with nasty things that you have to admit you also wanted him to do. 

you had figured hluvsbabes was hot since he was always top one or two, but you didn’t think he would look like this. and that his voice would be so seductive. 

“i won’t be taking off my mask, guys.” hluvsbabes shakes his head with a chuckle, he’s just so amused with his fans. along with his fans you also wished he took off his mask. you would love to see the mouth that formed such seductive words. 

suddenly, a tip came up in the corner of the screen of 100$, “start jerking ur cock, baby”. your jaw dropped at the amount of the tip. you had only ever received 100$ worth a few times in the past two years. hluvsbabes didn’t even seem that shocked by the amount as he did as he was told. 

his hand started to move faster up and down his hard cock. the tip of his cock looked so red and swollen in the light of his computer screen. 

“will you spit on it for me, baby?” hluvsbabes whines out and you instantly shut your legs together. 

the comments are gradually picking up pace, commenting demands and praises, asking questions for him to answer. you can hear his deep grunts through your speakers as he keeps his bang covered eyes on the comments. 

a 15$ tip pops up in the corner again; “tell me i’m ur good girl pls”. 

hluvsbabes amusingly shakes his head, “of course you're my good girl. do you have your fingers in your panties? how wet are you? tell me how wet you are, good girl.” 

you’re in shock from his words, the comments, the amount of tips and from how hot hluvsbabes is. 

his deep laugh distracts you from your thoughts. he throws his head back on the chair’s headrest, making his bangs reveal his forehead. even with his mask on, you can tell that his mouth is open agape from the pleasure he’s feeling. 

“fuck, guys. i’ve been thinking about this– about you all day. my dick has been hard since my morning class.” 

the thought of him having to walk around with a hard cock all day because he thought of getting off in front of thousands of people only turns you on more. he continues to move his hand up and down his cock, his grunts getting louder and louder. 

“i-i’m getting close. i wish you were here to taste my cum, shit.” 

it was getting to the point where you couldn’t ignore the tingly feeling starting to increasingly grow in the pit of your stomach. you felt entranced by him, not being able to take your eyes off of your screen. you had only planned to watch a couple of minutes just to see what the hype was about, but now you’ve been watching him for close to twenty minutes. you lean onto your desk uncaringly over your keyboard and your heart stops when you see : 

darlingdove01 : ghj

your eyes widen at your username in the comment section, praying to god none of his 15k viewers notices. 

“oh, darlingdove is in here,” hluvsbabes’s voice speaks suddenly, making you jolt away from your computer screen and grab the handles of your chair. he tilts his head and looks directly into the camera as he continues, “how are you, darling? do you like the show? do you like watching me get off?” 

you are in shock and you can’t think of what to do. you never thought you would be in a situation like this. you notice all the comments start filling up with your name as hluvsbabes is still stroking his cock and groaning. 

“maybe she’s too busy with her hands to type right now.” hluvsbabes jokes in a grunted laugh. you cover your mouth with your hands in shock. and you read one comment that says “who can blame her?”. 

and with that, you immediately leave the one and only hluvsbabes livestream you have ever watched, the embarrassment being almost too much.

a few days and a lot of thoughts of hluvsbabes later, you know you have to get back to livestreaming. you had planned a few things for your next live stream despite being busy with college and being distracted by the memories of hluvsbabes. 

the way ‘darling’ slipped from his mouth so casually and sensual. 

usually, people only referred to you as ‘dove’. you didn’t anticipate for darling to be so efficacious. but maybe it was only because hluvsbabes had said it. the way it sounded in his smooth, mischievous tone. it kept you up at night. 

tonight, you had to live stream on your account. 

you started at your usual time; 10pm, in your usual setting; your bedroom. your nightside lamp was lit behind you, being your only source of light besides your computer screen. your body was covered by an oversized hoodie which covered your panties and the top of your bare thighs. 

“hi everyone,” you spoke into your microphone, looking at the rising amount of viewers on your live stream. the comments started piling in, regular questions about yourself mixed with sexual ones that made you laugh to yourself. “my week was good, thank you. how has your week been, guys?” 

you read some of the comments, recognizing some of the usernames that comment. and when you notice a steady amount of viewers and when the comments start teasing you and begging you to start, you begin. 

“tonight,” you start, and sit back in your computer chair, “i think i’ll have some fun with my new toy.” you reach out of the camera’s view and grab the toy you had bought earlier in the week. it was a long, white vibrator. you take your time to show the camera the entire toy, smiling proud of it. “what should we name him?” you giggle out, reading the comments as they flood with names and praises and begging. 

you sit back in your chair, “he has three settings, should i start with the lowest? see how wet he can get me?” you ask, your voice teasing. tips start to come in, telling you to turn it on, telling you that they want to see you cum. 

with a flick of your thumb you turn it onto the lowest setting. a low buzzing sound fills your bedroom, entering the mic for your audience to hear. you lift your feet so they rest on the chair, your knees up in the air. your hoodie bunches at your waist for your panties and bare legs to be revealed. you press the vibrator against your clit over top of your panties, testing it. 

“oh god,” you moan, “even the lowest setting is good.” you inform your audience, keeping your eyes on the camera and comments. you giggle when you read a tip that tells you to move it in circles. “want me to move it? want to watch me pleasure myself?” the comments flood with yes’s. 

you start to move the vibrator in slow, small circles around your clit. wanting to tease yourself and the audience for as long as possible. you would be lying if you said it didn’t feel good. the feeling of the vibrator against your pulsing clit and the eyes of hundreds of people watching you in real time. 

a tip catches your eye; 

heesacc tipped 50$! : that looks like it feels good, darling. why don’t you move up a setting.

your eyes linger on the word darling and the large tip they gave you. 

“okay, let’s put it up to the medium setting.” you agree, your finger flicking the button up. the buzzing becomes louder as the toy starts moving faster. your hand still moves the vibrator in slow, small circles over your panties. “fuck, this is even better, baby.” 

you read comments that compliment you, that tell you they wanna see you cum right now, that you should remove your clothes. 

“want me to take my clothes off?” you tease the camera, your free hand playing with hem of your oversized sweater. “tell me what you want me to take off.” the comments tell you that they want you naked, that your sweater should come off, that everything should come off. 

heesacc tipped 50$! : take your sweater off and play with your tits, darling. rub your nipples and pretend it’s me.

“wanna see my tits? wanna see me play with them just for you?” you bite your lip at the tip, but do as they said, putting down the vibrator for a second as you pull the sweater off your core. your breasts being revealed to the audience. you look at yourself in the mirror, noticing the large wet stain on your panties from your juices and the vibrator. “oh my god, look wet i am.” you wiggle so your panties can be seen better on camera. the large wet stain evident in the computer screen’s light. “this is how good you make me feel.” 

you read the comments that say they wish they were there beside you, that they want to rip your panties off. 

you pick up the vibrator again, still on the medium setting. your one hand holds the vibrator steady against your covered clit, as your free hand comes up and starts to tweak your nipples. your forefinger and thumb hook your nipple, rolling it. you let out moans at the feeling, your back arching off your chair naturally. 

“fuck, i love playing with my nipples, it turns me on so much.” you state honestly, switching between nipples with your fingers. 

heesacc tipped 70$! : let’s see how swollen your pretty pussy is, darling. 

you gulped as you read the tip come through. just reading the words sent a shiver straight to your core. you swore your pussy got so much wetter as you finished reading it. 

you set the vibrator down again, “you wanna see my pussy, baby? wanna see how wet and swollen you got it?” you tease the camera, your hand dragging across your panties. with the multiple “yes”’s commenting, you start to slowly slide your panties off your legs, showing the camera the larger wet stain on them. 

you lean back in your chair again, the same position with your feet on the chair and knees up, but this time your pussy was visible to the camera. your hand glides down between your legs. you keep your eyes on the camera as your fingers slide through your lips so easily. you whine when your fingers rub over your sensitive clit. “i’m so wet, fuck. you could slip right in. stretch out my tight pussy. god, i need that so bad. need to be stretched out.” 

you reach for the vibrator again, “let’s see how long i can last on the high setting. i’m so close already.” you giggle out to your audience. 

you turn the vibrator to the highest setting, the toy buzzing in your hand as you bring it to your bare pussy. instantly you throw your head back, crying out at the pleasure. your other hand massaging your breast. 

heesacc tipped 100$! : cum like a good girl, darling. 

“oh god!” your eyebrows pull together from the pleasure. your knees start to buckle as the pleasure starts to take over you. “i’m gonna cum! fuck, i’m cumming.” you nod your head and try to keep your eyes on the camera as you hit your high. your bare chest heaves as your orgasm washes through your body, struggling to keep the vibrator on your clit from oversensitivity. 

when your head clears and your body relaxes, you manage to say goodbye to your audience, that you’ll see them again next time. you end the livestream, your eyes reading the tips, resting on the username ‘heesacc’. you had never seen them before, but they tip generously throughout the entire livestream. 

and they kept calling you darling.

you always had to get coffee before class. but your usual coffee shop had a line out the door today, so you had to go to one on campus that you’ve never been to before. though you knew you’d probably be late to class now, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sit through the two hour lecture without your daily coffee. 

you’re distracted by the menu of unfamiliar drinks that you don’t hear the barista question if you’re ready to order until the third time he says it. 

“oh sorry,” you tell him, shaking your head to wake up, “uh, could i get the blonde vanilla latte, please?” you tell the barista. you start to dig through your backpack for some money. 

“darlingdove01?” his voice questions, recognition definite in his voice. 

your head snaps up to look at the barista properly for the first time. your username making your ears and cheeks paint red. “uhh, yeah!” you’ve only been recognized in public a few times, and they’ve usually been at parties or get together, never in a public public place before. 

the barista has dark brown hair that’s covering his forehead. his eyes are big, doe-like and expressive. his features are sharp and delicate at the same time. his complexion is so smooth in the harsh coffee shop lights. “oh, cool.” his voice is smooth as he shrugs, almost impressed. “that’ll be 5.49$, please.” 

so shocked, you scramble to pile some change on the counter, dropping it for him to pick it up. you smile with a faint nod before you walk away for the next person behind you to order. 

you take deep breaths as you wait for your order, telling yourself that it’s okay, that that could’ve gone a lot worse. you weren’t used to people looking at you in public, that’s why you chose to stay behind a screen. 

“blonde vanilla latte!” the barista calls out a few minutes later. you go up and take the cup from him. “have a good day.” he’s polite, and his eyes tell you something that you don’t quite pick up. 

you turn away from the counter, ready to get the hell out of his coffee shop. you glance down at your drink, noticing words written in black on the side. 

let’s collab, hluvsbabes

with his number written underneath.  you turn your head to look back at the barista, but find a woman working the cashier instead. the brown haired boy disappeared from sight. you think back from the one and only hluvsbabes stream you had seen of his. he had kept his bangs over his eyes, hiding how doe-eyed they really were. his mask covered the entirety of his lower face. there was no way to know if the barista was really the hluvsbabes, but his eyes seemed to tell you that he was. that he knew who you were, too.

your fingers hover over your phone’s keyboard. the apparent hluvsbabes’s phone number typed in above, but the message box left empty. you decide to bite the bullet, even if it wasn’t him, all you had to do was block him after and then act like this never, ever happened. 

youhi, uh hluvsbabes? 

only a few minutes pass before you get a response. 

(123) - ***-**** hahaha yeah but you can call me heeseung

(123) - ***-****

hi, darlingdove01!

you

how’d you know it’s me? my name’s y/n btw

heeseung

bc you’re the only one i’ve given my number out to lately

heeseung

and bc i knew you’d text me sooner rather than later ;)

you smile, rolling over onto your back, your phone in the air as you text hluvs- heeseung back. 

you

damn, i knew i should’ve waited a month

heeseung

noooo i’m glad you texted me

heeseung 

i wanted you to text me 

you

righttt, you said something about a collab? 

heeseung

yeahh, i think you should come over sometime soon 

you could hear your heart strumming against your chest at his text. the hluvsbabes wanted to collab with you. you had only been competing against each other on onlyfans for months. and neither of you had done a collab before, solely solo stuff. you wondered if it’d be a good idea or not. 

heeseung

c’mon, you know i can make you feel good ;)

you were leaning towards it being a good one.

later in the week you found yourself outside of hluvsbabes apparent apartment. he had only lived a quick bus ride away from you, both of you living close to your university campus. you were biting your fresh manicure the whole bus ride there. 

heeseung had texted you to make sure you knew he wasn’t expecting anything from you. that he just wanted to get to know you, and hey, if a collab happened then it happened! 

though he was very polite and tried his best to reassure you and make you comfortable, you were still nervous to go to a guy’s house that you had seen masturbate before. you had heard what he sounds like when he masturbates. you had thought about his voice and his moans so many times since the “incident”. you were going to a boy’s house that you had cursed at so many times when you saw that he had passed you yet again in subscribers every few weeks. 

you knock on the apartment number’s door that he had given you. you waited a few quick heartbeats until the door opened. 

there stood the barista you had seen a few days ago. his doe-eyes the same and his long bangs covering his forehead. 

“y/n?” he spoke, a smile on his lips that made him seem even prettier than you remembered. 

you tried to picture what hluvsbabes would look like so many times, and now that you finally got a chance to see him, standing in front of you, letting you in his apartment, you were in shock. 

he was so much hotter than you could have ever imagined– now that you weren’t embarrassed in public when someone said your username outloud. 

“wanna come in or stand in the hall all day?” he spoke again, his eyebrow propped up. 

“oh!” you jolted, “sorry, sorry– i’ll come in.” you tell him, smiling at him as he held the door for you and closed once you were in. 

a quick glance around the apartment and you noticed how clean and home-y it looked. a regular couch, coffee table and tv took up one side of the apartment. and on the other side was a small island in the small kitchen. there was a hall on the far side of the room from you– which you figured led to his bedroom. (the room where he masturbates online for money– oh god!) 

“you can sit down on the couch if you want,” heeseung gestures to the couch, wiping his sweaty palms on his gray sweatpants, “do you want a drink or anything?” 

“uh no, i’m good thanks,” you reply, sitting down on the couch, your hands clasping together in your lap. 

as he sits down beside you on the couch, you think about how after you had texted him the other day you had seen he was live on onlyfans– and how you made sure to not press it. the thought of him seeing you watching his livestream again made you physically cringe. 

“so uh,” heeseung starts, a casual smile on his face as he looks at you, “have you thought? about my offer? about the collab?” 

you nod, “i have,” 

“right, well, we don’t have to do it if you don’t want– like i said. we can just hang out– i just saw you and i needed to give you my number i couldn’t just–,” 

“i wanna do it.” 

heeseung’s eyes widen at your answer, “really? only if you’re comfortable.” 

you nod, “yeah, i want to.” 

heeseung’s body relaxes at your words, “okay, when?” 

“right now?” you shrug at him, “i mean you usually stream soon anyways, right?” 

heeseung thought his mind was gonna explode. the hot girl that he’s competed with for top creator was sitting in front of him on his couch, telling him that she wants to collab with him. she could collab with anyone, but she wanted to collab with him. he couldn’t believe what was happening. 

“o-kay,” heeseung stutters and clears his throat, “uh, is there anything you're specifically into– or not into? i mean i’ve seen your streams so i know some things but i-,” 

“you’ve seen my streams?” you ask him confused and intrigued. 

heeseung fights the urge to slap himself, “i mean, yeah. you’re always top creator right?” 

“right, i just didn’t think that you’d watch them, i don’t know.” 

“why wouldn’t i watch them? you’re hot and you know how to engage with the audience.” heeseung admits honestly. 

you squirm at his compliment. “you’re hot, too.” 

heeseung seemingly relaxes completely at this, finally being able to comprehend what’s happening and what you’re thinking. “thank you, i mean i know you’ve seen my streams before, you commented once.” 

you cover your face with your hands, “oh god.” you groan out. 

heeseung laughs at you, “what? is it bad that you’ve watched me masturbate?” 

“no!” you shake your head quickly, eyes wide, “it’s just– i didn’t mean to comment that time– i didn’t even mean to press it! it’s just, just…” 

“i’m just that hot?” heeseung teases you, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“oh my god, shut up!” you laugh, shoving his shoulder. it’s then that you realize how close you’ve gotten on his couch. 

heeseung laughs harder, his face turning serious again when he speaks, “okay but seriously, anything you are or aren’t into?” 

you settle into your spot on the couch and think, “uh, i think i’m okay with anything.” you shrug, “but no anal though. and i’m more into, it being rough.” 

heeseung smirks and asks, “okay no anal. how about choking?” you nod in response, “slapping?” another nod from you, “how about degrading?” you blush and nod. 

“i’m okay with everything but anal, heeseung.” 

“okay, and if you wanna stop, should we come up with a safe word?” 

you ponder for a second and think, “how about, latte?”

heeseung smirks at you, “latte it is, then.” 

both of you stare at each other, lust and playfulness filling your expressions. somehow, your faces are only mere inches apart now as both of you take in the other’s features. you had only seen each other through a computer screen before. had only read each other's usernames on the top creators list– without even knowing your real names. and now you were about to give each other everything– including your first collab. 

your breath quiets as you look into heeseung’s eyes, scanning the brown in them before glancing down at his pretty lips. your lips are just centimeters away from his when he speaks again, “let’s start.” 

heeseung grabs your hand and pulls you up, guiding you down the hall and into his bedroom. he leans over his computer, setting up his account and livestream. you take the time to look around his room. 

his room is definitely the same one you’ve seen on live steam. the multiple monitors on his computer desk. a basic bed with a black and white comforter. and you recognized the few posters on his walls that he allowed to be seen in his lives. 

“okay, it’s ready.” heeseung tells you, “are you sure you wanna do this? we can stop whene–”

“i’m sure, heeseung.” 

“okay, i’ll press start live then,” 

“wait!” you reach for his shoulder, “what about your mask?” you know he’s never gone live without his mask– it’s the one thing that helps keep his identity unknown.

heeseung simply shrugs at you, “i mean, i can’t really eat you out with a mask on, can i?” 

your mouth drops open, but before you can say anything, the camera light flicks on, signaling that you’re live. the camera is pointed towards heeseung’s bed behind you as heeseung ushers you to sit on his usual gaming chair, he stands beside it. 

“hi guys,” heeseung says cooly to the camera. he lowly chuckles to himself as the comments start pouring in. there seems to be hundreds of comments in a second about “darlingdove01” and heeseung’s face. a lot of the comments are talking about how hot heeseung is and that they “always knew he’d be hot!”.  

“today we have a very special guest, darlingdove01 is here,” heeseung gestures to you. you wave at the camera, watching the viewer numbers grow higher and higher as the introduction continues. “and she told me that she likes anything… but anal.” 

“hey!” you shove him playfully with your shoulder. 

he only chuckles before continuing, resting his arm over the back of his gaming chair behind your head, “so today, i’m gonna do anything to please her.” he takes his other hand and cups your chin so you’re forced to look at him, “does that sound alright, darling?”

“yes,” you tell him, watching his warm brown eyes turn darker as you make eye contact. you can tell he’s no longer heeseung, but instead he’s “hluvsbabes”. 

“yes what?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“good girl,” heeseung leans down and presses his lips onto yours. you don’t have time to register that you are kissing the hluvsbabes. his lips are soft against yours, but their movements are deep and rough. just from the kiss you can tell what direction this live stream is going in. he pulls away too soon for your liking, “pull up your shirt.” 

your hands reach for the bottom hem of your shirt and lift them so your bare breasts are visible to heeseung and the audience. 

“fuck,” heeseung groans, his hands cupping both of them. both of you mentally note how perfectly they fit in his warm hands. he turns to the camera, “doesn’t she have the most beautiful tits?” 

heeseung starts to tweak both your nipples in between his thumbs and forefingers. your hand flies to grip the handle of the chair, your back arches into his touch. 

“that feel good?” he asks you with a smirk, obviously amused by your reaction. 

“yes, sir. they’re sensitive,” you admit. 

“are they?” heeseung tilts his head, “keep playing with them, then.” 

your hands replace heeseung’s. your hands are definitely not as big and as warm as heeseung’s. but you massage your breasts, your fingers playing with your nipples like he told you to. 

meanwhile, heeseung starts to kiss down your revealed torso, his hands unzipping and pulling down your shorts so fast. you watch him get down on his knees in between your legs, his hot breath against your panties. heeseung groans once he’s eye level with your core and can see the faint wet strip on them. he could always see how wet you were on livestream, but now he gets to see in person. 

“i wanna make you feel good,” heeseung says against your skin, pressing kisses on your inner thighs, your legs spread wide for the camera to see. “are you gonna do whatever i say?” 

“yes, sir.” you nod down at him, watching his tongue lick his lips so close to your pussy. ‘i wanna be your slut.” 

heeseung chuckles against your skin, his fingers slip inside your panties as he speaks, “let me feel my slut’s pussy then.” 

you take a deep breath as his fingers start to massage your clit, exploring your pussy for the first time. he’s thought about his fingers touching you so many times before. he could hardly believe that you were actually in front of him right now. 

“you want me to taste your pussy, darling?” 

“please,” your voice sounds so breathy when you speak again, his fingers pressing hard. 

“ask me to.” 

“please taste my pussy, sir.” 

with that heeseung slides his middle finger into your core. it feels so long as it reaches right to your g spot immediately, as if he knew it’d be there. your jaw drops open as he pushes his finger in and out. a whine leaving your mouth as you start to move your hips to meet his finger. his palm is massaging your clit as he moves his fingers in and out of your core. 

heeseung then pulls his finger out of you, “take off your panties, show everyone your pussy.” heeseung leans more to the side as you do what he says. your panties drop to the floor and your legs are on either side of his gaming chair. “fuck, doesn’t she have the most perfect pussy, everyone?” heeseung is staring at the camera as he massages your thighs. 

heeseung’s lips meet your core before you can comprehend. he’s making out with your clit, the sloppy sounds fill your ears and the audience’s as he sucks your clit into his mouth. he reaches his finger up to slide into your core again, so easily. 

“my finger barely fits in there,” heeseung smirks. 

his mouth continues to lick and suck on every part of your pussy. his tongue circles your clit in his mouth. your hand is gripping the chair arm as you watch him, unable to contain your moans. 

“fuck yes, sir.” you cry out, throwing your head back from pleasure. you don’t think anyone has been able to make you feel this good with their mouth before. your ex’s could never make you cum at all. 

heeseung is moaning against your core, letting you and the audience know that he is also enjoying this, “god this pussy tastes so good, tastes better than i’d ever imagined before.” your stomach tightens at his words, feeling high on the pleasure heeseung’s mouth and fingers is giving you so easily and the audience watching you both. “keep playing with those tits, darling.” 

your hands fly up to your sensitive nipples, almost forgotten by how pretty heeseung looks while he makes out with your pussy. your body’s whole senses are heightened. heeseung can start to feel you clench around his fingers as your hips start to buck up to his mouth, wanting more of him. 

“fuck that feels so good.” you whine out, your eyebrows furrowing together at the pleasure. 

“are you gonna cum?” heeseung asks lowly. he watches you nod at him, unable to form words. 

then, heeseung rips away from you. his mouth and finger gone and before you can realize, he’s standing again beside you. his hand wrapped around your neck gently– forcing you to look at him with your legs spread. 

“you have to ask for permission if you want to cum,” heeseung’s voice is stern as he looks you in the eyes, “understand?” 

“yes, sir.” 

heeseung’s smile returns as his hand leaves your neck, “here, taste yourself.” your mouth opens for heeseung to slide his finger inside your mouth. your lips close around his finger, sucking it into your mouth as your tongue swirls around it, wanting to taste yourself. “good girl.” heeseung removes his finger, and instead presses a kiss to your lips, softly, passionately, as if to check in on you. but you’re so hungry for an orgasm that you really would do anything right now. “are you ready to make me feel good?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“get on your knees.” 

you sit up, closing your legs for the first time and feeling how wet your inner thighs were. heeseung pushes his chair to the side as he stands, looking down at you as you kneel before him. “you wanna suck my cock?” heeseung questions you, noticing how you tighten your thighs at his question. his hand slides down on your chin for you to look up at him. you nod in response to him. “ask me.” 

“can i suck your cock, sir?” 

“good girl, take it out.” 

your hands work to unbutton his pants, pulling them down to his upper thigh to release his cock. you just have to stop and marvel at it. there in front of you is hluvsbabes huge cock that you had thought about stretching you out for weeks. it’s much bigger in person you think. it’s hard, and the tip is so pink as some veins swirl down it. 

“open your mouth.” heeseung starts to glide his dick into your mouth. your hand coming up to grip the base of it as your lips close around the tip. “god, keep those eyes on me.” heeseung groans out as you start to such his cock. heeseung keeps his hand on your head, hsi fingers meshing with your hair. 

you do keep your eyes on him with as much of his cock as you can manage in your mouth. your hand jerks what you can’t fit as you moan against his dick. 

“god you’re so big sir,” 

“yeah? think it’ll fit inside your pussy? think it’ll stretch you out so good?” heeseung retorts, watching your mouth work on his cock. he’d be lying if he said you weren’t making him close to his orgasm already, your innocent eyes looking at him as your mouth sucks his soul out. 

“yes, sir, please– want your cock so bad.” you speak before going back to sucking his cock. your tongue circles the hot, pink tip of it before tracing the delicious veins. your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth. 

“are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth?” 

you nod at him with his cock still fully in your mouth. heeseung moves both of his hands to grip your head as your own hand drops to your thighs, so tempted to play with your clit, but you know sir wouldn’t approve. 

heeseung starts to slowly move his hips so his cock moves in and out of your mouth. he stops when the tip is at your throat– feeling your throat tighten against the tip. he almost pulls out fully everytime, just so that the tip is at your swollen lips before he pushes back in again. 

“oh, my fucking god,” heeseung moans out, looking at the camera monitor to see him fucking your pretty mouth. your mouth feels too good for him to even notice that the viewer count is at 16,000. “play with my balls like a good girl.” 

heeseung continues to fuck your mouth as your hand reaches fro his balls. they are heavy in your palm as you start to massage them gently. tugging on them and moving them around easily with your salvia that has dripped down. 

heeseung pulls his dick fully out of your mouth, letting you breathe for a moment. you could feel your pussy drip down onto his carpet– you hoped it wouldn’t stain. 

“open your mouth,” heeseung tells you. your jaw drops open, revealing your used tongue and mouth. heeseung leans over you and let’s a drop of his spit lands right onto your tongue before he starts to hit his dick against your tongue. he mixes your spit with his on his cock and both of you groan out at that the thought of it. 

heeseung goes back to fucking your mouth. his grip on your head tight as he’s picked up the pace of his hips. his cock sliding so quickly in and out of your mouth. the sounds of your saliva and gurgling against his cock fill the room and microphone. 

“that’s it, like that, like that like a good girl,” heeseung groans out his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his own pleasure boiling. probably boiling too much if he wants this to last any longer. 

heeseung pulls away from you and pulls you with him for you to sit on the floor while he moves back to sit on the edge of his bed, his feet on the ground for you to sit in between them. your chest is heaving from excitement and lack of air. you watch as heeseung pulls down his pants fully and throws them on the floor beside his bed. 

heeseung’s hand wraps around your neck as he looks down at you, “you ready to get fucked, darling?” 

“yes, please.”

“ask me to fuck you.” 

“can you please fuck me, sir.” 

“get up on the bed and turn around.” 

heeseung’s voice is demanding as you scramble to stand up, your knees tired from kneeling for so long. you get up on his bed for the first time. you turn around so your ass is towards him in the air, your face pressed into his bed. 

heeseung pushes your chest further into his bed by placing his hand on your back, “stay like this like a good girl, okay?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“i’m gonna fuck this little pussy just like the slut you are.” heeseung grunts, spreading your ass cheeks more for him to slide his cock right inside of you.

the stretch of his cock is just what you imagined it would be. it’s almost blissful once he’s fully inside. you can feel the tip of his cock basically reaching your cervix. once he’s bottomed out completely, both of you groan out into his bedroom, pleasure taking over both of you. 

“there we go, darling,” heeseung grunts through his teeth as he starts to slide back out of you. both of you feel each and every vein of his cock sliding against your oh, so wet walls. “let sir fuck you like a slut.”

heeseung’s one hand grips your waist as the other one stays on your back. his hips quickly pick up pace, his cock easily going in and out of you due to his saliva and your juices mixing together. your hands grip the blanket on his bed, crying out into the bed as you finally get what you want. 

“oh my god it’s so big!” you whine out, your eyes trying to focus on the camera. 

“yeah? it’s so big and full just for you, it’s all just for you.” heeseung grunts out, his bangs covering his forehead like usual, his eyes entranced only on you. he watches as your entire body jerks forward everytime he slams his cock into you. his hands run down and grab your ass, wanting to finally feel it after he’s seen it so many times on your livestreams. 

heeseung slaps your ass, making you cry out a curse. the pain of it turning you on even more. you can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs as heeseung fucks you even rougher. heeseung’s balls are soaked from your juices. 

“reach down and rub your clit for me.” heeseung demands you, trying to keep his voice steady when he speaks.

you manage to sneak your arm under your body to start rubbing circles on your clit with your index and middle fingers. you instantly cry out. with your fingers on your clit and heeseung managing to hit your g spot with every single thrust the pleasure starts to boil up more and more in your tummy. 

“oh shit!” 

“you better not cum unless i tell you to,” heeseung smacks your ass again, harder, a warning. “you hear me?” 

“fu-fuck yes, sir.” 

heeseung suddenly grabs you up from the bed from under your arms, mumbling a “come here” before he turns you to face the camera. both of you standing now with his cock still lunged inside of you. 

“let everyone see this fucking slut’s body.” heeseung grunts out, staring directly at the camera as he continues to thrust up into you from the back. he reaches over your front, rubbing your clit for you now. your head is thrown back onto his shoulder, trying to keep standing upwards. “you like everyone seeing me use you like this? like using you to get off?” 

“f-fuck sir, can i cum? please?” you whine out, barely being able to keep your eyes open as you look at him. 

“yeah? you wanna cum, darling?” heeseung voice is almost teasing as he doesn’t stop his movements. 

“please let me cum, sir. please i’m so close.” 

“ok, cum for me, do it.” heeseung nods, his grunts loud in your ear as he manages to fuck you faster and faster. 

you can’t lift your head from being thrown back onto heeseung’s shoulder. your body feels weak as heeseung fucks you infront of the camera, probably hundreds of people watching you come undone on hluvsbabes’ cock. you’ve been so close to orgasming for which feels like hours at this point. 

“i’m cumming! i-i’m cumming!” you manage to cry out. your moans get higher in pitch as you finally reach your high. 

if heeseung wasn't holding your body up with his arms, then you wouldn’t fell straight to the floor. the pleasure was almost over consuming. your body was on high sensitivity everywhere. to be honest, it had been awhile since anyone besides yourself or your vibrator had made you cum. that probably not getting any dick for a while and then fucking the hluvsbabes would probably make you feel as lightheaded as you do now. 

heeseung gently pulls his cock from you, his hands slowing down on your clit before pulling away from it. he leads you to lay down on his bed. your head is on his pillow as he crawls on top of you. your bodies are still very visible to the camera from the way his bed is positioned. 

heeseung starts to press soft, gentle kisses into your neck and jaw, letting you calm down from your very obvious, hard climax. 

you hear heeseung chuckle into your ear before he speaks, “is this a bad time to tell you that i donated to you on your livestream before?” 

through your post-nut haze, your eyes widen as you process the information, “what? when?” 

heeseung laughs before he moves down your body, kissing every (sweaty) inch that he could, “a few days ago i guess, darling. i’ve watched your streams quite a lot to be honest.” 

the way the nickname rolls off his tongue so easily makes it click in your head. “oh my god, you were the person who donated like 200$ the other day!” you also start laughing at the realization. who could not believe that hluvsbabes not only watched multiple of your streams, but also donated to you. your competitor for top creator was also boosting your content. 

“yeah, i didn’t know how or if i should tell you that. but i guess now is the better time.” heeseung pulls away from your body so he’s on his knees hovering over you. “now put those legs up, let me see your swollen pussy again.” 

heeseung helps guide you to hook your arms around your knees, holding your legs up, pressed against your chest. your entire core is exposed for not only heeseung’s eyes, but the camera’s and all of the audience’s. 

“god please but your cock back inside of me, sir.” 

heeseung drags his cock through your folds teasingly, “yeah? the slut wants to be stretched out again?” 

“yes! sir, yes!” 

heeseung guides his cock back inside of you with his hand, bottoming out completely in one thrust. your arms stay hooked around your knees, your hands resting on your ankles to keep yourself from squirming from the pleasure. 

heeseung leans over you, his hand coming down to choke you again. his grip on your neck tight as he starts the previous pace he had. rough and hard. your whole body moves with every thrust, his headboard hitting his wall. 

“oh fuck oh fuck!” you cry out, your pussy so sensitive from being overstimulated. 

heeseung could feel your walls flutter around his cock, “you better not cum.” he pulls his cock out again, his hand slaps the tip of his cock over your clit, making you jerk up into his pillows. “tell me you won’t cum without permission, slut.” 

“i-i won’t cum without permission, sir.” 

heeseung slides back into you, his pace rough. the banging of his headboard in rhythm with his thrusts. your cries of pleasure mixing with his grunts. heeseung keeps both of his hands on your waist as he hovers over you. his main focus is to fuck you so good that you forget everything else. and by the way your eyes start to haze over with pleasure he can tell that he isn’t too far from it. 

“keep your legs up,” heeseung grunts to you, reminding you to keep your knees by your face. your swollen pussy is visible to him now. he has clear access to see his cock fucking into you. your lips are so puffy that he can’t help his thumb rubbing your also swollen clit. your head is thrown back into the pillow, his hard, circles on your clit mixing with his hard thrusts are overpowering you completely. 

heeseung leans over you, his hand gripping your neck again. his face is inches from you, his lips almost on yours. his thrusts don’t stop as he chokes you. 

“you like being a good girl for me?” heeseung asks you more quietly, loosening his grip on your neck for a moment to let you speak. 

“y-yes sir, i love it.” you nod up to him, completely submissive to him. 

“turn around for me again, then.” 

although your body felt weak from the pleasure, your adrenaline was rushing enough for you to be able to get up and turn over quite quickly. your ass up in the air as you grip onto the pillow in front of you. you feel heeseung behind you, lining up his hard, soaked cock with your soaked pussy. 

“push back on it, darling.” 

you let your knees push back, feeling his cock insert inside of you, filling you up yet again. this angle made him feel even bigger. his cock pressing into your cervix is only when you stop pushing back. heeseung’s hands land palm down on your ass when you bottom out. the pain makes you jut forward. the moan that escapes your lips as the pain settles on your ass is sinful. 

“god, i love your ass,” heeseung smacks it again, watching it start to turn red, turning him on more he thought his cock was going to explode any minute now. 

with that thought, heeseung starts sliding in and out of you again. his hand reaching over your back to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your upper half backward. the pain from his pulling makes you cry out in the best way. all of your senses seem to be overcome by heeseung. your grip on his pillow that smelt like him, tightened. 

“you like being fucked like this? like being used?” heeseung grunts out to you, his own eyebrows furrowing together as your walls clench around him. 

“ye-yeah, sir.” 

“say it.” 

“i like being used, sir.” 

“look at me while i fuck you.” 

with his hand still pulling your hair, you turn your head to look at him. his face is flushed, his lips are swollen from probably biting them so much. there’s sweat dripping down his line of abs that you just want to lick off. his bangs are sweaty and stuck to his forehead. he looks so hot. 

heeseung continues to fuck you until his thrusts get sloppy, his grunts get softer and his headboard isn’t banging against his wall. you turn to look at him, “let me ride you.” 

his hand smacks against one of your ass cheeks, making you cry out, “ask me.” 

“can i please ride you, sir?” 

heeseung pulls out of you, both of you switching places so now heeseung’s head is in the pillow that you were gripping. his legs are flat out against the bed as you crawl over him. both of your knees are on either side of him as you look down at him now. 

slowly, you start to sink down onto his cock. you close your eyes as he bottoms out in you once again. this angle felt entirely different. you could feel how hard and big he was inside of you. heeseung’s hands run up and down your bare thighs, letting you get use to the angle. 

“you good?” he asks from below you, concern on his face. 

“yeah, just sensitive -is all.” you shrug to him and start to move slowly. you start out slow, wanting to build both of your orgasms again. your knees lift your body up and down with the help of heeseung’s hands on your waist, he helps lift you. 

your hands grip your tits, massaging them again. your sensitive nipples hard against your palm. you start to bounce down on his harder, his tip hitting your g spot everytime now. you cry out in pleasure again. 

“fuck just like that,” you tell him, your eyes closed as you nod to him. 

“like that?” heeseung teases you, his cock hitting your g spot again. 

“y-yes,” you tell him, bouncing harder. 

“fuck, i love his pussy,” heeseung grunts to you, “so warm and tight around my cock.” 

“oh my god,” your body falls forward, your hands resting on either side of his head as heeseung takes over the thrusts completely. his hands on your waist as he thrusts his hips upwards into your pussy. “fuck, sir.” 

heeseungs grip on you leaves you to go nowhere. just stay on top of him as he fucks into you. your knees feel weak against his mattress. you can feel his balls slapping your ass every time he bottoms out in you. heeseung can feel your juices dripping down onto his lower stomach. 

“okay turn around, slut, let the audience see you.” heeseung gently pushes your core up and off of him. your mind feels dazed as heeseung has to literally, physically flip you over on him. 

now that you’re in reverse cowgirl, you can see yourself in the camera’s monitor. heeseung lays underneath you still, so just your bare body can be seen completely. you look so different you usually do, you’re glowing. 

your feet and arms hold your body up over heeseung, his hands on your waist as he slides himself up into you. 

“oh fuck!” you cry out, watching heeseung dick disappear inside of you in the camera. you start to bounce up and down on his cock again, though you keep your eyes open to watch yourself. 

“shit, keep going, baby.” heeseung grunts below you, “just like that.” 

with every thrust heeseung’s balls are hitting your clit. you can hear a wet squelch between your bodies everytime you move. your pussy is so wet around his cock. heeseung wraps his arm around your body, massaging your clit with his fingers in a circle once again. 

“yes, sir! rub my clit, sir please!” you cry out to him. your hands sturdy yourself on his chest behind you as you continue to bounce on him. his cock filling you up every time. his hard balls slapping against your pussy. his fingers keep moving against your clit. “i’m so close, sir, so close!” 

suddenly, heeseung’s fingers stop and he’s pushing you off of him. your chest is heaving as you look back on him. your pussy is clamping around nothing, so desperate to cum. 

“lay down,” heeseung is also out of breath when he speaks, “wanna see your face when you cum.” heeseung grabs your forearm and helps you lay down again. he puts your one leg up to your face, allowing him access to slide into your fucking soak pussy again. 

heeseung holds your leg up, while the other starts to rub your clit again. his thrusts continue to stretch you out, to hit your cervix over and over again. you aren’t sure how much longer you can last with this much pleasure he continuously gives you. you’ve never had sex this good before. 

“want me to fill up your little pussy?” heeseung grunts above you. 

“yes, sir.” 

“ask me.” 

“please cum inside of me!” you cry out, heeseung’s hand smacks your thigh before returning to hold your leg up, “own this pussy, fucking own it it’s yours!” 

“oh fuck!” heeseung grunts out, your words making him closer to his own orgasm so quickly. 

“oh my god i wanna feel you fill me up so bad, sir.” you were becoming so desperate, so needy. you wanted to cum so bad. you wanted heeseung to cum so bad. 

“fuck me, keep talking, keep talking, darling.” 

“please cum inside of me! i want it so bad!” you tell him honestly. his thrusts making your whole body move with each thrust. you can feel his cock start to twitch inside of you. his moans getting higher, mixing with your own. 

“fuck, baby, i’m gonna fucken cum,” heeseung tells you, his fingers rubbing your clit faster and harder. 

“me too, me too.” you cry out, your eyes closing as the pleasure takes over you. 

heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed together as the pleasure became too much for him, too. curses and moans fill up his bedroom– entertain the audience that’s watching you through the camera. he feels your walls clench harder around him than ever before as his cock starts to spurt his white sperm. 

heeseung paints your walls with his cum as you grip his forearms tight. your second orgasm making your body feel numb from how good you feel. his thrusts finally stop as his grunts slow down. his cock rests inside of you as he lays on top of you. both of you catching your breaths and coming down from your highs for one second. 

“fuck,” heeseung curses in your ear, his chest heaving against yours. he finally pulls out of you, both of you watching his cum slowly trickle out of your pussy. “god that’s so hot.”  heeseung reaches down to swipe some of his cum. 

you immediately open your mouth, wanting a taste of it. heeseung rests his fingers on your tongue, letting you taste his salty sperm. you moan around his fingers, sucking them dry of his cum. 

“you’re such a good girl.” heeseung grunts out, “you’re gonna make me hard again.” 

you laugh around his fingers, “i wouldn’t be opposed to that.” 

heeseung smirks at you and kisses you deeply. both of your eyes closing as you welcome the other’s lips. the taste of heeseung’s cum not bothering either of you. 

heeseung pulls away from you and is the first to stand up. he reaches over and tosses you his shirt to slip on before he heads back to his computer desk. 

you easily slip on his shirt and pull his sheets and blanket over top of your bare legs. 

“holy shit.” heeseung exclaims, pure shock and what almost sounds like fear in his voice. 

“what?” you sit up in his bed properly, trying to look at his computer screen. 

“there’s 30,000 viewers right now.” 

“holy shit.” you cover your mouth. you had never had that many viewers before in your life. 30,000 viewers, it’s literally like yours and heeseung’s fan bases came together to view your live stream. 

heeseung clears his throat, “uh, thank you guys so much, really. we hope you enjoyed, right?” he looks over at you from his shoulder. 

“right, we’ll see you next time, hopefully. thank you.” 

“right, because there definitely needs to be a next time.” heeseung winks and with a final wave he ends the stream. you notice the red light on the camera turns off. 

you lay back in heeseung’s pillows, feeling tired as your legs gain back their strength. you hear heeseung hum gently as he fixes things on his computer, on his hluvsbabes account. you feel relaxed as you lay in his bed, wanting to sleep so bad. 

“holy shit!” heeseung yells louder suddenly, his humming stopping as he pushes his chair back, standing up in only his boxers. 

“what?” your heart races, concerned from his yelling. “what happened?”

“y/n,” heeseung turns to you with a silly grin on his face, “do you know how much money we made off of that?” 

you sit up straight, leaning closer to him though he’s meters away, “how much, heeseung.” 

heeseung can’t contain his excitement when he states, “15k.” 

“oh my god!” you cover your mouth, not believing what you’re hearing. “you’re fucking lying.” 

“no i’m not! come look!” 

you stand up, legs wobbling a bit, but heeseung catches your arm nonchalantly. bringing you over to sit in his chair again. there, on the computer screen, is the number 15,000$ in tips connected to the livestream you had finished. 

“oh my god, heeseung!” you turn to him, your excitement meeting his. both of you wrap your arms around each other, your squeals filling the room as you rock side to side with excitement. “15k!” 

“15k!” heeseung shouts back as he pulls away slightly, his hands still on your waist. 

“now we definitely have to do it again.” you tease him. 

heeseung smiles, but you notice his shoulders tense, “yeah, but before that,” heeseung swallows harshly, “could we go on a date?’ 

you sit up in his chair, wearing his shirt and nothing else, “wow, the hluvsbabes wants to go on a date with me.” 

“of course, i mean, i recently got a lot of money. so, i can spend it all on you.” 

you shove his shoulder with your hand, “of course i’ll go on a date with you, heeseung.” 

“really?” heeseung asks, his face lighting up so prettily. 

“yeah, but only if you fuck me really good after.” 

“that, i can definitely promise.”

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

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

stay safe everyone :)

[miaoua3]

Stay The Night?

Pairing: CEO! Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: shamless smut (MDNI), piv sex, oral (both receiving), mentions of the ex (ew), hickeys and scratches, no protection (don’t be silly wrap the willy guys, don’t make me smack you all),marking in general, possessive choi seungcheol, smallest amount of spanking, squirting

Description: after spending the night with the CEO and (unsuccessfully) trying to sneak away, Choi Seungcheol asks you to stay the whole day and later on, even the night. Will you say yes?

Or

Basically part 2 to “Stay The Morning?”

Note: late present from me to you for 1000 followers on tumblr and 10k on tiktok🥰🫶 and also because i had the chance of smelling creed aventus aka the perfume cheol uses more regularly than the one i smelled that inspired part one of this and i got the urge to suck this mans dick so….bon appetit🥰

Warnings: yet again barely proofread lol im sorry i just hate doing that

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“take that dress off and get back in here, i want cuddles…and maybe something more.”

and who were you to deny him anything?

well, you were you, and so naturally you cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head to the side as a playful smile spreads on your face, in a mockingly offended voice you said “i’m not taking anything off or letting you anywhere near me until you brush your teeth and feed me something. what, you thought the last night was completely free? you’re a businessman, you should know better honey.”

cheol chuckles deeply as he stretches, the blanket slowly sliding down his bare torso, giving you a delicious view of his chest, ribs becoming more prominent the further he reaches with his hands above his head.

groaning in satisfaction, he then throws the whole blanket off of him before sitting on the edge of the bed, softly messing with his bed hair. looking at you with the cutest smile, he then gets up.

in only his boxers. the muscles all over his body softly flexing. his thighs looking deliciously big as he takes the slow steps towards you.

sweet baby jesus.

the moment he’s standing right in front of you in his naked glory, you feel your throat go dry with need and desire.

well i’ll be damned, i already got my christmas present, and it’s not even december.

almost as if he can sense your thoughts, cheol chuckles deeply before quickly dipping his head lower so he can press a gentle kiss on your neck, his tongue lightly grazing your skin. goosebumps irrupt all over your skin at his action, a shaky breath leaving your mouth as he moves away a little, just enough for his face to end up right in front of your own.

staring at your eyes, his own a deep shade of brown, almost black with desire, cheol slowly exhales, almost like he’s trying to control himself.

stretching to his original height, he then takes ahold of your dress with his fingers, lightly tugging on it.

“you should go take a shower while i make breakfast, this dress must be uncomfortable to wear. i will have someone deliver you some clothes before you’re done in the bathroom.”

you raise an eyebrow, amusement playing in your eyebrows.

“or you could, y’know, give me one of your shirts. like all the normal guys do.”

something dark suddenly appears in his eyes, the little smile that has been tugging on the edges of his lips disappears at your words.

he takes another slow step towards you, so that there’s barely any space left between your warm bodies. looking down on you, he darkly says “i’m not like other men. you should know that until know, baby.”

you swallow hardly, but not out of fear or anything like that.

you swallow because that was so fucking sexy of him.

good lord, i need him again, as soon as possible.

he then slowly kisses your cheek, like a gentleman that he is, before he takes ahold of your hand and starts pulling you out of the bedroom.

“c’mon, i’ll show you where the bathroom is and how everything works. any special wishes for breakfast? anything you prefer or not? allergies? would you like coffee or tea maybe?”

you chuckle at his questions, quickly stopping him to gently kiss his cheek before looking at him with your doe eyes.

“coffee is fine, i’m not that big on breakfast but you have spent all of my energy last night, so maybe something light but filling would be good. and i’m not allergic to anything, not that i know at least. now, before you start to terrorise the kitchen, brush your teeth, romeo.”

you push him through the entrance of the bathroom door, his skin soft and gentle to the touch as you do so.

cheol just chuckles before he starts rummaging through his drawers, finally finding you a spare toothbrush so you both can get rid of the morning breath.

as you stand side by side, dutifully brushing your teeth, you both sneak glances of each other in the mirror.

you eyes focus on his bare chest and how they move with every little movement, how his soft stomach jiggles a bit too, as well as the dark happy trail on his lower stomach. the way his biceps pops put by him holding his arms so high is just as delicious as the rest of him.

his own eyes are trained on your face, how beautiful it looks with barely any makeup from last night left. but also because he’s only a man after all, he lets his eyes also travel down your body, lingering on how your boobs jiggle as you continue brushing your teeth.

what can he say, he’s a weak man.

after you’re done, you kick him out of the bathroom in order to take a quick shower, almost letting a “wanna join me?” slip out of your mouth, but he leaves before you can do as much.

the warm water feels amazing on your aching muscles, relaxing you so much so that you almost fall asleep while standing.

after a few minutes, you finish up in the shower, looking around for the clothes that he promised you, but to no avail.

just as you open the door to yell for help, you notice a bag waiting for you on the doorstep.

opening it, your jaw drops at what you find inside.

white lingerie. with a white slip on and a white silky robe, accompanied by white house slippers.

this sneaky little-

“so, is this what the big-shot and ceo of the prestigious company, choi seungcheol, dreams at night? what he lusts for and what he desires?”, you say as you walk in the kitchen, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him as you wait for an answer, signaling to your outfit with your head.

cheol just smiles innocently, his eyes just two lines from how wide he’s smiling.

“no, this is what a simple man who you have wrapped around your finger, cheol, dreams of.”

you roll your eyes with a smile at the smoothness of his answer, failing to add anything else to his answer.

he then pulls out a chair and points with his hand for you to sit on it. not used to this type of treatment from men, you almost giggle as you sit down.

he sits right beside you, taking your plate in his hand and slowly filling it with all the food that he made (which is way too much amount of food for two people, or so you think until you see him devour everything like he hasn’t eaten in months.)

you chat lightly as you eat, laughing at some of his very badly made jokes-is the laugh out of pity or because he’s just so cute? you will never tell know.

“so, any plans for today?”, he suddenly asks you.

you look up, pondering for a moment if you had anything planned, but nothings comes to mind.

“no, not really. maybe clean my apartment a bit? haven’t done that in a minute, understandably so.”, you chuckle emotionlessly, thinking about how your heartbreak prevented you from functioning normally.

cheol just gives you a weird look, not understanding why you would say that.

it is in that moment that you realise that he doesn’t know anything that has happened with your ex three weeks ago.

you reluctantly sigh, looking him directly in the eyes. “not to be party pooper, but i actually broke with my ex just a few weeks ago, because i found him cheating on me. with his coworker. in my bed. in my apartment. in my silk sheets. that i paid for. with my money.”

for a second there’s no sound coming from either of you, when you suddenly starts giggling a bit, wiping away a little imaginary tear, you continue “you could say that i’m a bit bitter-“, and then you take a look at him.

cheol just looks at you, or rather somewhere past you, his eyes murderous, hand gripping his fork so tightly it could snap in two any second.

your breath catches in your throat, an unfamiliar emotion overcoming you.

finally looking you directly in the eyes, still with the same look in them, he asks darkly “what’s his name?”

you gulp, looking away as you quietly say “it’s not important, I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

sensing that your mood has changed for the worse, cheol breathes in deeply and then out as a way to calm himself down before taking your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as he quietly says “for the record, he doesn’t realise just what hell of a woman he lost. and that his loss is somebody else’s gain, so. he’s stupid, who in their right mind would cheat on you?”.

your eyes move to look at him, his eyebrows scrunched a bit as if this is hurting himself.

you can’t remember the last time that a man went out of his way to make you feel so seen and appreciated. it makes your heart do this weird thing. like it stops beating for a moment but also like it sped up by a big notch.

you smile gently at him before you lean towards him and, for the first time since you two woke up, gently kiss his lips for a moment.

pulling away, you just respond “let’s finish eating before it cools off.”

seungcheol, as if in a daze from your kiss, just nods a bit, a dopey smile taking up half of his face.

you quickly finish up, helping him put the dishes into the washer before he leads you to the humongous leather couch that is right in front of even more humongous tv.

he sits down first, right in the middle of it before he pulls you down. seemingly he had a vision for everything that is happening right now, because before you can even get comfortable, he pulls your legs over his thighs, letting a hand rest on the bare thigh, massaging it lightly as he wraps his other arm around your shoulders, your head falling on his shoulder as he does.

well, okay then you think to yourself as you wrap your own arm around his bare stomach, rubbing his hip gently.

he turns on the tv, more so as a background noise, before he starts asking you all sorts of questions- what your hobbies are, who the two friends from last night were, where you are from as in like the city, you favourite colour and many other questions, the weirdest one being “have you ever thought how the dogs think? like are they barking in their mind, or is it maybe english or korean? or whatever the language of the country they’re in is? what about deaf dogs?”

you spend hours talking and laughing, for the most part you. he tells you the stories of his childhood, stories of his brother and how he accidentally smacked him with a baseball bat on the hand which inevitably ended up being broken, how he fell from the tree, stories about his friends who he met in college and still talks to on the daily, calling them “his kids”, all while he traces the hickeys and bite marks on your neck and shoulders.

you two talk until your mouth gets dry and he fetches you a glass of water for it.

deciding that he should take a shower, he says that you can put whatever you want on the tv and watch it while he does so, saying he won’t take long before he disappears behind the door.

you turn something random on, a documentary you think??? when you suddenly realise that you haven’t been on your phone the entire time, just like you haven’t heard from your friends since the last night.

looking around for it, you find it on the little table in front of the large window, the one you stood in front of as seungcheol kissed you for the first time.

you turn it on to see hundreds of messages and missed calls from jihyo and sana.

the last message from your group chat read “that’s it, if she doesn’t answer in the next 10 minutes, i’m calling the police.”

the message was sent 7 minutes ago.

lucky.

you sheepishly reply with an “heyyy guys haha what’s up”

you immediately get spammed with the messages, variating from “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN” to “WAS THE DICK GOOD”.

i think it’s pretty clear which one of them sent which message.

you respond that you are still at cheol’s to jihyo’s message and that you probably will be home later tonight and that you can meet up then for the detailed story time of your escapades, and you respond with a photo of your collarbones and neck full of hickeys to sana’s message, sending a little wink emoji.

you can see that both of them are losing their minds, writing messages all in cap locks. just as you were about to read them all, you hear the door of the bathroom unlock.

you write a quick “gotta go, the man of the hour is back from his shower, gotta go and make him sweaty again ;)” before turning your phone off and focusing on him.

the sight makes you want get down on your knees and send a quick thank-you prayer to the god.

because there stood cheol, in all his naked and wet glory, black wet hair messily falling on his forehead.

and he only had a towel wrapped around his hips.

you unconsciously bite your lip as you watch him, sitting up straight as you see him walk towards you.

he finally stops right in front of you, his hips on the same level as your face. you go from looking at his happy trail to slowly raising your eyes to look him the eyes, his bulky form towering over you.

his dark eyes are trained on your face, his eyes as dark as midnight as he watches your teeth bite your lips in need.

his hand comes to your face, before his thumb slowly pulls on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

you don’t put any effort in closing your lips, letting them stay agape.

the same thumb starts to rub your lip, lightly dipping inside your mouth, your tongue poking it unconsciously.

suddenly, in the deepest voice ever, he says two words that make you completely lose all your self control.

“pretty girl.”

you grab his arm and pull him down towards you. he gasps in shock as he starts falling down. luckily, he has fast reflexes, so he quickly grabs the backrest of the couch, so he’s bent over you.

you loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer so you can kiss him.

cheol groans the moment he feels your lips on his, tongue prodding, asking for entrance to his own mouth. he obviously grants it, making your tongues meet in a battle for dominance.

you try pulling him even closer, making him kneel with one knee between your own legs. it is a wonder that the towel still stayed on up until this point. adamant on changing that, you use one hand to harshly pull it away, making his half hard on spring free.

like a woman possessed, you quickly use your hold on his neck to pull him to the side, making him fall on the couch.

just as he adjusts so he’s sitting comfortably on it, you slowly stand up in front of him.

eyes trained on you, unblinking, cheol’s mouth fall open when he sees you taking off the white robe, proceeding to take the white slip off too.

cheol never believed in heaven, but as you stood in front of him, in white matching lacy lingerie, with all of his marks on your body from last night, looking like an angel, he truly started to believe that this is the closest to the heaven that he will get.

reaching with his hands towards you, so he can pull you on his lap, you lightly redirect them, holding them in your own.

you are apparently set on giving this man a heart attack at ripe age of 29, because you then proceed to drop to your knees.

right in front of him, between his legs.

with his hard dick right in front of your face.

his dark eyes, pupils blown with desire, trace every movement you make.

you first adjust your hair a bit, so it’s not getting in your way, looking at him with what he can only describe as hunger of a lioness.

keeping the eye contact, you slowly lick the whole palm of your hand, making sure that it’s extra wet with saliva.

cheol gulps.

the moment that that very same hand wraps around his dick, he’s throwing his head back, a loud gasp escaping him at how sensitive it feels. his back comes off the couch, hand looking for anything to grasp on, only finding his towel instead.

you pump him a few times, looking at him, focused solely on his face, to see how he’s reacting to your touch-to you.

his eyes flutter shut, a groan rumbling somewhere from the depths of his chest, his torso expanding with every deep breath he has to take in order to control himself and not cum on your face this very second.

god, that last thought didn’t help him, at all.

you pump his dick some more, your hand not even being able to wrap itself around his dick fully, making you shiver at the thought of having the very same dick inside of you later.

deciding that enough is enough, you slowly lower your face when he’s not paying attention, until your lips wrap themselves around the head of his cock.

cheol moans the second he feels your wet mouth on him.

his eyes barely open themselves, he basically forces himself to keep them open, watching as you slowly push your head down more and more, until half of his dick is inside your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you pull back up.

you repeat the motion a few times just as slowly as you did the first time, enjoying his moans and groans every time the head of his dick hits the back of your throat.

deciding that you want him to be a complete mess, you start bobbing your head faster, hand wrapping itself around the base that your mouth can reach.

god, do you love the fact that his dick is so big you can’t even suck it fully.

something you certainly couldn’t say about your ex.

your mouth engulfs him, the wetness of it making him see stars. and when your tongue does that little things where it first wraps around the head, before sliding along his slit, right where he’s the most sensitive?

cheol sends a prayer up in hopes that he won’t cum right this second.

a strand of hair falls into your face, making you scrunch your face in mild annoyance.

seungcheol jumping to opportunity, quickly gathers all of your hair in his hand, making a ponytail out of it.

and as you go on, bobbing your head up and down his dick, saliva sliding down til it reaches his balls. cheol uses his grip on your hair to control your movements, moving your head in fast pace. you choke repeatedly as his dick hits the back of your throat, and seungcheol seems to like that very much, letting out a groan every time he feels your throat close around the tip of his dick.

as tears stream down your face, you feel yourself being so wet, you fear you might start dripping all over his carpet.

god, you truly hope you aren’t, because that is one dry cleaners you cannot afford.

you watch his beautiful face, head thrown back, long and black eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, lips red from him biting on them to suppress his moans.

he’s so beautiful, if you could, you would stay right here, between his legs, just so you can watch his face in pleasure.

“fuck, baby, that mouth. you’re gonna make me cum, ah, shit. look so pretty on your knees for me, sucking on this cock.”, he raps out, every few words interrupted either by a moan or a groan.

you feel him move your head even faster, as well as his hips buckling upwards, a clear sign that he’s close.

“shit, gonna cum in that mouth of yours, ah fuck, baby- you gotta- gotta stop if you don’t want to swallow it- i- ah-.” he continues to blab, but you don’t pay him any mind, focusing on sucking the head every time he moves your head upwards, and tracing the little vein with your tongue every time he pushes it back downwards.

his moans get louder, his hold on your hair gets tighter, hips stuttering as he’s right there, on the brink of cumming.

you remove your mouth completely away from his dick, immediately replacing it with your hand. looking him directly in the eyes, you say the words that finally push him over the edge.

“cum for me baby, all over my face.”

and that does it for him, spurts of pearly white cum falling on your cheeks, nose and lips. the last few drops you catch with your mouth, wrapping your lips around his sensitive head again in favour of swallowing every last drop of his cum, making sure that nothing is wasted and that he’s as clean as possible.

he moans loudly at your action, pulling your head away because he can’t endure the delicious torture.

you both pant, his chest moving up and down fast, beads of sweat gathered around the crown of his head.

you take the opportunity to finally take a deep breath in, feeling a little bit lightheaded due to being deprived of real oxygen for this long.

cheol slowly opens his mouth, looking at the artwork that is your beautiful face decorated with his cum. with a thumb, he swipes a bit of it away, holding it in front of your mouth as an offer.

you don’t hesitate a second before you wrap your lips around his finger, sucking on it like it’s the most delicious thing you have ever tasted.

cheol groans at the sight, quickly using the same hand to wrap it around the back of your neck, pulling you upwards so that he can kiss you. his tongue invades your mouth, massaging your own in such an erotic way it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

with the other hand, he reaches for your thigh, wrapping around the back of it and pulling on it. you gasp at the sheer strength of this man, because he lifts you up from the floor solely by the hold he has on your leg. for a second, you fly through the air, until your knee finds the couch.

you quickly straddle him, careless sitting down on his lap, his dick rubbing against the lacy material of your panties. he gasps at the sensation, still sensitive from the best head he has ever gotten from a woman.

in order to save his dignity, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you against him so your hips lift a bit from his dick, his lips still eagerly kissing, biting and sucking on your lips as he does so.

your hands find their home on his cheeks, holding his handsome face as you kiss him back just as enthusiastically.

at some point, after a few minutes, your lips naturally separate, but they stay close. panting in each others mouth, you use your hold on his cheeks to lightly brush your thumbs against them in comfort.

he takes a deep breath before he says in a hoarse voice “fuck baby, even though you look like an angel, that mouth of yours is so devilish.”

a giggle escapes you, leaving a quick peck on the corner of his lips. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

he takes the towel to wipe the remains of his cum off your face before he directs your head so it’s resting on his shoulder, leaving a fleeting kiss on your neck.

“gimme a few minutes baby, i will eat you out then so good, you’re gonna cry.”

and your only response is the shiver that runs down your spine.

for a few moments you just sit there on his lap, playing with his hair while his hands rub your back, lips leaving kisses every few seconds across your shoulders and neck.

you breathe in the smell of his shower gel and his natural smell, mixing in a way that it makes your eyes flutter shut on their own.

that’s another thing, you never found anyone to smell so good like you find cheol does. something about his natural smell is just so…him, and manly, and makes you feel safe and protected.

you wish you could stay here forever.

suddenly cheol’s kisses on your neck start to linger a bit longer, a bit wetter, and his hands start to stray a little bit more on your ass than usual.

you shift slightly just to get more comfortable as your legs started cramping, when you feel his half hard on. your mouth fall open upon realising that it’s showtime.

ever so slowly, you move your hips back, almost dragging your clothed pussy over his bare dick, making him inhale deeply at your action.

he lightly nibbles on the shell of your ear, before whispering directly against it “you little devil.”

you turn your head towards him, looking all innocent and coy as you say “but i thought i was an angel according to your previous statement?”

cheol narrows his eyes, before taking your thighs in his hand and picking you up slightly so he can basically slam you against the couch.

you gasp at the action, adrenaline filling your veins more so than the blood does.

he hovers over you, his hands caging you as he leans on them right beside your head.

you look at each other for a second, waiting to see who will play the first move, when suddenly, cheol rolls his hips right into your own, his dick catching on the lace of your panties.

you gasp at the action, nails immediately imbedding themselves into his back, eyes rolling so far back in your head you can see your thoughts.

“bad, bad girl. trying to play all innocent…”, he pauses before he leans even more in, so his lips are right against your ear again “…when just a few minutes ago you were choking on my dick, so prettily and desperately.”

unconsciously you inhale deeply, making him smirk a bit.

“what, don’t tell me you’re still thinking about it? still not satisfied? cumming down your throat wasn’t enough for you?”, and the condescending voice, the smirk, the satisfaction in his voice.

it pissed you off a bit.

harshly grabbing the back of his head, your nails digging into his scalp as you pull him in a harsh kiss, your other hand purposefully dragging your nails down his back, which makes him shiver.

you break the kiss off just as harshly before you answer to his question “no, i’m still not satisfied, so you better get to it, before i found somebody who is willing to do it.”

his eyes turn black with jealousy, fire lighting up in them. within milliseconds, he’s grabbing your neck and kissing you just as harshly as you kissed him, teeth biting harshly on your lips.

you moan as he continues to kiss you, almost like he wants to prove a point to you. teeth clashing, hands clawing at each other, his hand around your neck squeezing tighter and tighter, making you wrap your legs around his hips tighter and pull him into yourself as he does so.

he pulls away aggressively, and his next words sounding like a fact, like it’s written in the stars, linger in the air for a second.

“even if you wanted to, you could never find somebody who would fuck you as good as i do.”

eyes laser focused on each other, you just utter two words as a response.

“prove it.”

getting right to it, his mouth attaches itself on your neck, sucking even more hickeys to the pre-existing ones from last night. while his mouth is busy with marking your skin, his hand wiggles under your back, fishing for the bra clasp. once he finds it, he quickly undoes it, pulling it down your arms before throwing it somewhere over his shoulder with no care whatsoever, even when it sounds like it crashed into what suspiciously sounds like the vase he got from one of his business partners.

choosing not to care, he lets his lips travel from your neck, to your collarbones, over the navel of your breast, straying to one side so he can suck on one of your tits, softly biting your nipple that causes you to moan loudly and grasp his hair in your hands.

he does it for a few more seconds, letting his hand massage the tit that isn’t getting the same attention as the one in his mouth, before resumes kissing a trail down your body.

once he gets down to you hips, he looks up to you over his short bangs that are getting in his eyes. the said eyes look at you like a hawk, preying on you, excited to see your anticipation and shiny eyes looking back at him.

he just lets his lips and nose travel of the skin of your lower belly, making it flex from the tickling sensation. once they reach your left hip, he lets his lips envelope the skin there and suck on it, a hickey forming on its place.

letting his lips pop, he looks up at you as he lets his head move even lower, until his lips are hovering right over the lacy panties you are wearing.

you hold your breath as you wait to see what he next move will be.

god, you hope to god that he will just-

just as the thought crossed your mind, cheol puts his opened mouth over your clothed pussy, prodding at the covered slit with his tongue, paying the special attention to your clit. the fabric that is still on you makes his action all that more stimulating, making you throw your head back as you moan.

hands fly to his still wet hair, pulling on it harshly, maybe in hopes that you can pull him in deeper, make his tongue finally enter your hole.

almost as if he can read your mind, he pushes your underwear to the side with the two of his fingers. the moment he sees your pussy, glistening with wetness, his lips are on you, parting your lips with his tongue, entering your pussy. he swirls his tongue around the entrance, gathering all your precum before swallowing it all, moaning at the taste.

quickly he starts pulling on your underwear, mumbling something along the lines off “off, off, i need these off now.”, before he throws them over his shoulder too.

placing your legs so they are resting on his shoulders, he immediately prods with one of his fingers at your whole, letting your walls swallow it whole. his lips wrap themselves around your clit, sucking on it just the right way.

you close your eyes in pleasure, your desires finally being fulfilled just like you dreamed of them to be.

not only was choi seungcheol a walking dream, sex appeal on legs.

he was also between your legs.

he continues to fuck his finger in you, twisting his hand when he’s pushing it in and un-twisting it when pulling out.

after a minute or so, he pulls the finger completely out in favour of pushing two back in. you squeeze your thighs around his head as he does so, moaning his name.

“cheol…”

choosing to ignore you, he just speeds up his movements, tongue still playing with your clit.

you taste so good on his tongue, it makes cheol close his eyes and groan every time he swallows.

the longer he eats you out, the more careless and messy he gets. he lets saliva cover your whole pussy, almost dripping on his leather couch. he lets his fingers push in and out of you at merciless speed, the fingertips grazing your sweet spot every time he tries to reach deeper inside of your pussy.

it all makes you feel lightheaded, moaning mess, your back arch, so much so that your whole upper body almost lifts off the couch.

“ah! cheol, more, ple-please!”

cheol never one to deny his lady anything, just speeds up his motion, sucking on your clit while his tongue pries at your entrance along with his fingers.

just as you feel yourself on the brink of cumming, your moans getting so loud they ring inside of cheol’s ears, he pulls completely away, slowly getting on his knees to admire the mess that he made of you.

tears streaming down your cheeks, your hair making it look like you have a halo around your head.

your chest heave up and down as you try to regain some of the air, nipples rock hard under his gaze.

your skin so prettily lathered with the hickeys, marking what’s his.

cheol just then realises that he started calling you his inside his head, no other reason other than the fact that you earlier mentioned the possibility of going to other men to get what you want.

he will be damned before he lets that happen.

and then your pussy. god, it looks so pretty, glistening under the light, his spit mixed with your juices, smeared all around your lips and thighs.

cheol was never that interested in art that much, but he’s pretty sure that this-you, is what a masterpiece is supposed to look like.

he suddenly realises that you have been calling his name the entire time, whining and almost crying in frustration-in need.

“cheollie please just-just fuck me already.”, you say as you pull on him with the hold of your legs that have wrapped themselves around his hips.

he immediately leans down over you, caging you with his arms around your head, his lips immediately finding yours in a hungry kiss.

just as his hand reaches down to take his dick so he can finally push it inside your gaping pussy, he suddenly remembers.

fuck, he forgot the condom.

humming in your mouth, he mumbles against them “wait baby, I forgot the condom, let me just get it from the-“, but he feels your legs just tighten around his waist, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, preventing him from getting up.

you mumble through a kiss “if you get up now, i will cry and make myself cum, all without you.”

well, alright then.

cheol just groans at the thought of having his dick in your pussy, with no condom to get in the way of truly feeling the wetness of your pussy.

little to excitedly, he takes his dick in his hand, and for a second just teases your folds with his tip, sliding it up and down, catching on your clit as he pulls it down.

as you start whining softly in desperation, telling him “hurry up” in a soft voice, cheol decides that it’s time.

and then he’s pushing in.

you both gasp at the feeling- you at the mere girth of his cock, and he because of how wet it feels to have his dick in your pussy.

he pushes a bit more in, but once he feels resistance due to you clamping on him almost painfully, he just kisses your cheeks in comfort, mumbling against them “relax baby or i won’t be able to give you all of my cock.”

you breathe in and out in hopes that it will help you relax, and it does, with help of his kisses and his hand rubbing your waist in comfort.

after a minute or so, you nod as a way to tell him that it’s okay for him to move. he continues to pepper little kisses on your face as he pushes his dick more in, groaning every so often at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him.

when he finally bottoms out, cheol lets a big breath out, relieved that he didn’t cum, which he felt multiple times almost happen due to your tight little pussy milking him so much.

i can’t, not yet, she has to cum first before i do.

with that thought, he starts to slowly rock his hips, making a fluid motion out of it. he feels his tip grazing your sweet spot, which makes you gasp and moan lightly, as well as rocking your hips into his a little bit.

you turn your face towards him, your eyes telling him clearly what you want from him.

he immediately kisses you, tongues dancing a beautiful and harmonious dance for a second and then pulling away just to do the same not even a second later.

he continues with the slow pace, rolling hips so professionally it makes you second-guess his profession.

but once you breathlessly whisper “more” against his lips, he’s doubling his pace, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs.

you stop kissing him in favour of moaning directly in his face, which seungcheol seems to enjoy just as much as your kisses.

“feels good, baby? yeah? fuck, you moan so prettily, all for me, only for me, hm? nobody fucks you as good as i do right? the same way nobody begs for my dick as beautifully as you do.”

you try to focus on his words and to answer him, you truly do, but his cock filling your pussy, sliding in and out of you, and hitting your spot repeatedly makes you forget all and every thought, only being able to respond “yes yes yes” over and over.

he groans as your pussy pulses around him, making him quicken his pace even more, his hips and balls slapping almost violently against your skin.

the words keep leaving from his mouth, but you’re just too focused on enjoy him fucking you like nobody has ever before, that you don’t even answer a question he asked you.

seungcheol doesn’t like that.

he stops his hips from moving, and as you open your mouth to complain, he quickly leaves a strong spank on the side of your ass, a gasp leaving your mouth instead.

“i said- is this my pussy, pretty girl? nobody can fuck you the way i do, hm?”

his eyes as black as obsidian, looking for an answer in your tear filled ones.

you nod your head, moaning as you try to rock your hips into his.

cheol doesn’t like that either.

he spanks you one more time, just as hard, a little scream escapes you as he does. “use your words baby, or i won’t make you cum.”

you nod as you respond “yes, yes, only you can, nobody ever fucked me so good as you.”

he kisses you quickly, tongue teasing your lips for a second before pulling away to ask “who does this pussy belong to baby? remind me again.”, he finishes with another spank to your cheek.

you moan as you desperately respond “yours, belongs to you, only you, p-please stop teasing me-“.

before you can continue, he starts fucking you again, hips slamming into you that you feel yourself move upwards on the couch from the mere force.

you scream as he rocks his hips, tears freely falling from your eyes now. you don’t even realise just how tight your nails have imbedded themselves into his back, pretty sure that you are drawing blood from them.

not that cheol seems to mind, he just groans at every little thing you give him, groaning “yes baby, just like that” in your ear.

still, deciding to spare him an ER visit, you switch to pulling on his hair instead.

which seems to be an even better thing, because he in return moans so loudly, eyes scrunched up in pleasure as you do so.

“fuck baby, don’t do that or i’ll cum right now right inside you.”

the thought makes you bite your lips, as well as clam your walls even tighter around him.

he notices this, causing a little smirk to play on the edge of his lips. “oh? would my pretty girl like that? for me to cum inside you? to cream your walls? hm?”

he looks carefully for your reaction, hoping that he isn’t crossing any lines with what he’s saying. but as you nod your head quickly, desperately saying “please! please please please please cum, cum inside of me-“, he just groans, the thought of cumming inside you, painting your walls white while your pussy takes in every last drop makes him almost cum right there and there.

seeing that he can’t go on for much longer, he lets his fingers find your clit, rubbing it just as fast as he’s fucking you, putting on just the littlest of pressure on it, knowing that it’s enough to make you finish.

your scream echoes through the room, hands pulling on his soft but wet hair like a maniac, feeling your end nearing at rapid pace.

“i need you to cum for me princess, now, fuck, cream on it baby, lemme feel you-“

and it’s done, with a cry, you throw your head back, your thighs squeeze his hips and you cum. you cum so hard that you squirt a little all over his thighs, making a mess out of him.

he, seemingly also almost there, just needs a little bit of your help, mainly just you saying “cum, please, cum inside me, need it so bad cheollie-“, he thrusts once, twice before he’s cumming inside of you, moaning in your face as he does so.

rocking his hips for a bit, to make sure that every last drop of his cum is fucked deeply inside of your pussy, he then drops his whole dead body onto your own, his legs shaking from how hard his orgasm hit him.

although he is a bit heavy, you don’t complain at all, instead hugging him even closer, welcoming his bulky body to squish you. it’s almost like it makes you feel grounded, as well as helping you clear up your mind, haziness due to your own finish clearing up the longer he lays there on you.

you two just breathe heavily for a minute, trying to regain your breaths as you rub his back, while his lips softly kiss your neck and cheeks.

he turns your face to his own so that he can kiss you gently, rubbing his thumb on your cheek in comfort.

he breaks the kiss off, his boba eyes looking at you as he gently asks “are you okay baby?”

you just nod your head with a tired smile.

“i didn’t overdo it, right? everything was okay? wasn’t too much?”

your smile spreads a big wider as you whisper “it was perfect…you are perfect.”

he smiles a little before softly pecking your lips, stopping only at one kiss in favour of whispering back “you are the one that’s perfect…my baby.”

you just loop your hands around his neck to pull him towards you, kissing him deeply and slowly, letting all your feelings and words you don’t trust to say out loud speak for themselves through that kiss.

after a minute or so, you feel his dick slowly get hard again, making you realise that he hasn’t pulled out the entire time.

you softly say “sorry about the mess i made on your couch.”

cheol just chuckles as he responds “i could care less about the couch, especially not after i just had you squirt all over it.”

you shyly hide your face in his neck, groaning in embarrassment as he chuckles some more.

suddenly, he grabs your thighs before going to slowly stand up, all while still holding your body wrapped around his.

you gasp as you get picked up, clamping onto his dick as you feel the shift in the angle.

cheol just groans as he starts carrying you towards his room, spanking your ass one more time as he walks.

“i’m not done with you yet.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

after two more rounds of wild and fast sex, you two lay there on his bed, both on your sides as you face each other, a thin blanket covering your bodies as the sweat on your bodies starts to slowly cool off.

seungcheol just looks at your face, almost like he’s in awe that a woman like you is truly in his bed and that has given him a chance, running the back of his finger up and down your cheek as you two quietly talk in what now has turned a dark room. the night slowly crept on you two, which you didn’t even realise until you fell onto the bed after you had just finished riding him into oblivion.

night, which reminds you…

you should slowly go home now.

you push his silky black hair back, looking at his youthful face and small smile.

god he’s so beautiful, I want to see him again.

you smile small, a little bit of bittersweetness visible in it, as you say quietly“i should probably go home soon.”

his mood sours immediately, a pout replacing the smile on his cherry red lips.

the arm that has been wrapped around your waist under the blanket tightens, pulling you closer to his body, almost likes he’s trying to prevent you from getting up.

ever so quietly, he whispers in the mostly dark room “do you have to?”.

the lamp that is turned on and is your only source of light illuminates his handsome face, eyes sparkling from the said light, begging you not to go.

you smile sadly as you respond “i should.”

he stays quiet for a second, teeth gnawing on his lip as he thinks about your words.

you just lean in to leave one last kiss on his lips, letting your presence and smell linger for a bit before you pull away and start to get up.

as you are sitting on the edge of the bed, looking for your things, you hear him shuffle behind you, but don’t pay him any attention, thinking that he’s probably just going to walk you out.

which quickly changes once you feel his arms wrap around your hips from behind, face nuzzling in your neck.

you turn your head to look at him surprised, the top his head only greeting you in return.

he tightens his hug around your waist, his legs spread so that you’re basically sitting between them.

and then, in the quietest and most unsure voice he asks you.

“stay? please? tomorrow is sunday after all…and-and I don’t want you to leave… i don’t want this to be over yet…”

you unconsciously start pouting yourself at his voice, heart breaking at how sad he sounds that you have to go.

you fish with your point finger for his chin, saying a little “cheollie, look at me, please baby.”

after a second or two, he lifts his head from your shoulder, face red from the lack of oxygen.

you smile a little at him before you say “okay, i’ll stay, but tomorrow i really need to go, because i have work on monday and i can’t miss it.”

you pause for a second to gulp your nervousness down before continuing “and…”

he just looks at you with puppy eyes, seeing you get flustered in real time, but doesn’t say anything to interrupt you.

you just look at him a bit embarrassed as you finish “…who says that this has to end?”

cheol just blinks for a second before the implication of your words finally delivers in his head, making a big smile explode on his face.

quickly kissing you, he lets your bodies fall back on the bed, his arms still tightly wrapped around you, making it hard for you to turn around so you can kiss him properly.

god, choi seungcheol, what are you doing to me?

[killerplink]

DEVOTION

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Plot: A fight with Jason gets heated—sharp words, stubborn tempers, neither of you backing down. But when the tension snaps, it turns into something else entirely. Something raw, desperate, and messy.

Words: 10k

CW: established relationship, 18+, smut, argument, angry/make-up sex, oral sex (m+f receiving), praise, teasing, rough sex, squirting, creampie, aftercare, domestic fluff, a bit of angst

The apartment door slams behind you both, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet space. Your heels clack against the hardwood as you stalk toward the bedroom, too pissed to even look at him right now. Jason follows, his heavy boots thudding after you, that cocky swagger in every step even though you're very clearly fuming.

"Are you really gonna be mad all night?" he asks, tone half lazy, half exasperated.

You whip around so fast your hair flies over your shoulder, finger already pointed at his chest. "Yes! Jason, I swear to God, you're fucking impossible!"

His brows shoot up, that infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth. "What'd I do now, doll?"

"What'd you do? Are you serious?" You step closer, eyes flashing, and jab a finger into his chest. "You almost started a fight at the restaurant! Over nothing! Just—someone bumped into me, and suddenly you're ready to crack skulls like you're still some street kid with nothing to lose, except you have everything to lose, Jason! I have everything to lose!"

That softens his smirk, just a little. But it doesn't disappear, not entirely. "Baby, I had it under control."

"No, you didn't!" Your voice breaks on the words, frustration and fear tangled up too tight in your chest. "You never have it under control when you get like that. You stop thinking. It's like you don't even care what happens to you."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You're bein' dramatic."

"Oh, fuck you." You turn away, arms crossed tight, nails digging into your own skin like you can hold yourself together if you just squeeze hard enough. "I'm not being dramatic, Jay. I'm scared. Every time you act like your life doesn't matter, it scares the shit out of me because your life does matter. To me."

That knocks some of the wind out of his cocky sails, but true to form, Jason Todd never backs down that easily. "I can handle myself, baby. I've been in worse fights before you even knew me."

"And maybe that's the problem!" You spin around again, hands flung wide. "You're so used to throwing yourself into danger like you've got a death wish, you don't even think about the people who love you, who have to watch you do it. Who have to fucking wait and hope you come home in one piece."

His jaw clenches, that sharp edge of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. "I came home tonight, didn't I?"

"Barely! If Dick hadn't dragged you out of there—"

"—I would've walked out just fine on my own," he cuts in, voice hard, like he's this close to losing his temper too.

You both stand there, breathing hard, anger seeping through every pore. Your heart is hammering against your ribs, anger and fear and love all tangled into a knot you can't untie. And goddamn him, even now, with his blood still running hot from almost throwing down, with that cocky little glint still in his eye—he looks good. Messy hair, jaw clenched tight, that black shirt stretched over his broad chest, his hands flexing like he still has adrenaline to burn.

You want to shake him. You want to kiss him. You want to scream until your throat hurts.

Jason exhales, slow and heavy, like he's trying to ease some of that heat out of his chest before you both say something you can't take back.

"Baby," he says, quieter now, "I'm fine."

Your throat closes up. "For now."

He takes a step closer, hands sliding to your waist, fingers curling into your dress. "I'm not goin' anywhere, pretty girl."

You shake your head, eyes stinging. "You can't promise that."

Jason sighs as he leans down, forehead tipping against yours. "What do you want me to say, huh? That I'll never lose my temper again? That I'll play nice and walk away every time some asshole gets in my face? That's not who I am."

"I know," you whisper. "But it's who I wish you could be. Just for me."

That hits somewhere deep, somewhere tender he doesn't let many people see. But instead of softening, Jason leans into the heat instead because that's how he knows to handle fear, with fire.

"C'mere," he mutters, dragging you into him, arms wrapping tight around your waist. "You wanna fight with me? Do it right here, baby. Get it out of your system."

You shove at his chest, and he catches your wrist, twisting you into him like a dance, his breath warm against your ear.

"Or," he says low, voice all gravel and heat, "you can find a better way to work out all that attitude."

"Fuck off," you snap, but it's weaker now, your anger unraveling into something messier, hotter.

He chuckles, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "C'mon, pretty girl. You're pissed, I'm pissed, and you're standin' here looking like that." His hands slide down, grabbing your ass hard through your dress. "We both know exactly how this night's gonna end."

Your breath catches, nails curling into his chest again, not pushing this time, just holding on.

"Still mad at me, baby?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He grins against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. "Let me make it up to you."

Your hands land flat on his chest, shoving him back, catching him off guard enough that he stumbles two steps out of the bedroom. And before he can say a damn word, you slam the door right in his stupid, handsome, reckless face. Not locked, just shut, because locking it feels too final, too mean, and you're pissed, but not that pissed.

Jason stares at the door for half a second, then his forehead drops against it with a low thud, and he knocks his head against it once, twice, just hard enough to feel it.

"Fuck."

He didn't mean to ruin the night. He never means to ruin shit when it comes to you. But the moment that asshole's hand brushed against your ass—innocent or not—it flipped a fucking switch in him. And maybe that's fucked up, maybe he's got a million unresolved issues tied to losing everyone he's ever given a shit about, but you?

You're his. His girl, his future, his everything, and seeing someone else's hand anywhere near you sends him spiraling into that ugly, possessive part of himself that only you've ever managed to soften.

And yeah, maybe the guy didn't mean it, maybe it was just a crowded restaurant and accidents happen, but Jason's not the kind of man who plays it cool. Not when it comes to you. Not when he loves you so much it hurts sometimes, sitting right there under his ribs like a bruise he can't stop poking.

He presses his palms to the door, wishing he could just rewind the whole night—go back to you looking so pretty at the restaurant, all smiles and soft touches, letting him steal kisses between courses. You'd been happy. And then he fucked it up. Again.

Inside the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the sheets, trying to hold back the sting in your eyes. You won't cry—you won't—but your throat's tight, and your chest aches, and the night feels like it's unraveling right between your fingers.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. It's Tim's fucking birthday, for God's sake. The restaurant had been beautiful, the food actually good for once, the atmosphere soft and warm with all your friends laughing and talking and teasing each other.

And then some random guy brushed past you on his way to the bathroom, bumping your hip, and Jason went feral. You love that he's protective—God, you do—but Gotham is full of crazy assholes, and you don't want him starting a fight with someone who might pull out a gun and blow his brains out over a misunderstanding.

The thought makes your stomach churn, fear sliding ice cold down your spine, and you have to shake it off before it eats you alive. You stand, fingers reaching behind you to unzip your dress, and it slides off your body in a whisper of fabric, pooling at your feet. And that's when you catch your reflection in the mirror, and yeah, no wonder he couldn't keep his hands off you all night.

The lingerie underneath? It's not the kind you wear every day. This is the good shit—black lace and thin straps, sheer panels teasing the curves of your tits, a matching thong barely covering anything, thin enough to show just how wet you already are.

Because for all the shit he's pulling tonight, Jason's still your hot ass, broad shouldered, cocky as hell boyfriend, and your pussy? She does not hold grudges.

You're still mad. You still wanna shake him until his teeth rattle. But you also want him to fuck you so hard you forget why you were even mad to begin with.

You sigh, tug open the bedroom door, and march straight into the living room, chin high, steps confident even though your knees are still a little weak from all that adrenaline. And, yeah, maybe from how fucking good he made you cum this morning.

Jason's slouched on the couch, head tipped back, hands dragging down his face, and when he hears your footsteps, he looks up, and freezes.

His eyes rake over you, slow and dark, tongue darting out to wet his lips like his mouth's gone dry. "Jesus Christ."

You cross your arms under your tits, pushing them up just a little higher. "What? Cat got your tongue, big guy?"

His gaze flicks from your face to your tits to the sheer lace stretched over your hips, and the way the thin strip of fabric between your legs is already dark with how wet you are.

"You're tryin' to fuckin' kill me," he mutters, half to himself, half to you.

You cock a hip, all attitude, even though your pulse is hammering. "Thought you liked a challenge."

Jason pushes up from the couch, moving slow, shoulders broad and tense, every line of him saying he's holding himself back—barely. "You're still mad at me."

"Furious," you agree.

"And you're standin' there looking like that."

You glance down at yourself, trailing a finger over the top of your bra, down the center of your stomach. "Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?"

He's on you in two steps, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other grabbing a handful of your ass, yanking you flush against him. "Gonna fuck the attitude right outta you, baby."

"Promises, promises."

He kisses you hard enough to steal your breath, hands already roaming, already tugging at the straps of your bra, already ready to tear you apart and put you back together again, but you're faster. You grab two handfuls of his shirt, spinning him around and shoving him back onto the couch. He goes down without a fight, grinning like the cocky bastard he is, because you both know you can't actually budge him unless he lets you.

But fuck, does it turn him on when you try.

Jason sprawls into the cushions, legs spread, hands braced on his thighs like he's daring you to climb on top of him, but instead, you drop to your knees between his legs. His whole body tenses, chest rising slower, breath catching because you—all pissed off, all attitude, all tits spilling out of that black lace bra—are kneeling right there, looking up at him like you're about to ruin his fucking life.

And for once, Jason Todd has nothing to say.

You reach for his belt, slow and deliberate, dragging the leather free of the loops with a sharp tug, and you swear you see his fingers twitch. He's already getting hard, already pressing against the front of his jeans, already so fucking easy for you.

The buckle clinks as you undo it, popping the button next, tugging the zipper down with a sound that seems louder than it should be. And then you pull his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free his dick, and—fuck.

He's so fucking big, already thick and flushed, veins standing out along his length, and a bead of precum clings to the slit, catching the low light. Your pussy throbs on sight alone, clenching around nothing, still sore from the last time he was inside you.

Jason's hand lifts, fingers reaching for the back of your head—because of course he wants to grab your hair, guide your mouth, fuck your throat—but you slap his hand away, sharp and quick.

"No touching."

He freezes like you've just short-circuited every thought in his head. "What?"

"No. Touching." You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, giving him one slow, punishing stroke, twisting your wrist just the way he likes. "You wanna act reckless? You wanna scare the shit outta me? You wanna start fights over shit that doesn't matter? Then you can sit there with your hands to yourself while I handle this."

Jason's jaw clenches, shoulders tight, every muscle in his thighs twitching, but he obeys. Barely. His hands grip the edge of the couch so tight his knuckles go white.

You lean in, licking up the underside of his cock in one slow, wet drag, ending with a kiss to the tip that leaves your lips shiny with precum. "You're such a fucking idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah, baby," he rasps, voice already rougher. "I know."

You pump him slow, fingers squeezing just right, thumb swiping through the slick at his tip before you slide down again.

"What if you got yourself shot tonight, huh? What the fuck am I supposed to do if you get yourself killed because you can't stand someone breathing in my direction?"

"Fuck." His head tips back, throat flexing, cock leaking even more into your palm.

"Who's gonna love me the way you do? Who's gonna fuck me if you're dead, Jason?" You squeeze his dick just to see his hips jerk. "Who else knows how to ruin me like you do?"

"Baby—"

"No. Don't talk." You flick your tongue against the tip, barely a taste, before you sit back on your heels, jerking him slow and mean. "You don't get to talk, you reckless, possessive, stupid fucking man."

His abs tighten, hands still white-knuckling the couch, and his cock twitches in your grip, a fresh bead of precum sliding down the side. "You love that I'm possessive."

You glare up at him, lips curling. "I do. But not when it puts you in danger, asshole." You kiss the tip again, softer this time. "Not when it makes me scared I'm gonna lose you."

Jason's breath stutters, and you see it. That crack in his tough guy armor, the one only you ever get to see. But you don't let him soften.

Not yet. Instead, you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock again, pumping him faster, twisting your wrist just right, watching his thighs tense and his hips fight not to thrust up into your mouth.

"Keep your hands there," you murmur, voice all sweet and mean at once. "And maybe—maybe—I'll let you cum down my throat."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ."

His head falls back, a bead of sweat sliding down his neck, and you know you've got him right where you want him.

Jason yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, not even bothering with unbuttoning it, because if you're gonna make him suffer, the least he can do is give you something to look at. And fuck, do you look.

Your hands rest on his thick thighs for a second, gaze dragging over every inked inch of him—the dark ink across his chest, the jagged lines along his ribs, the script down his arms that you've traced with your tongue a hundred times before. He's so fucking hot, all muscle and attitude, sprawled out, dick rock hard in your grip, glistening with spit and precum.

"Enjoyin' the view?"

His voice is pure gravel, but there's a waver in it, like he's already hanging by a thread.

"Shut up."

You lean in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock again, tracing that thick vein with the tip of your tongue until you reach the head, circling it slowly before you take him into your mouth, lips stretching, jaw aching already, but you don't stop. You never stop.

He's too fucking big, he always is, but you try anyway, sinking lower, feeling the weight of him press against your tongue, the blunt head nudging the back of your throat.

"Greedy little thing," Jason mutters, hands twitching, and you see it. The instinct, the need to grab your hair and fuck your throat until you're crying.

But you slap his thigh sharply. "I said no touching."

"Baby—"

"No."

You sink back down, hollowing your cheeks, sucking him deep until your throat spasms around the fat tip, gagging. Tears prick your eyes, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but you fucking love it. Love the way his thighs tense, love the way his dick jumps on your tongue, love how fucking desperate he looks.

Jason's chest heaves, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "You're evil."

You hum around him, the vibration making him swear under his breath, and you pull off with a filthy pop, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock before you drag your tongue up the side again.

"Yeah? And what's that make you for loving it?"

"Completely fucked."

You grin, all teeth, and take him back into your mouth, bobbing your head faster, sucking him down until you gag again, drool dripping down your chin, slicking his cock even more. Your thighs press together, your pussy throbbing, panties soaked through. You can feel it, the sticky mess between your legs, the ache in your cunt, the way your body needs him, no matter how mad you are.

Jason groans, deep and low, and you glance up at him through wet lashes, seeing the flush on his chest, the tension in his jaw, the muscles jumping in his stomach. He's so fucking close already, you can tell, and every time he tries to lift a hand, you slap it back down, keeping him helpless beneath you, all that strength and power completely useless unless you let him use it.

"Baby, please." His voice cracks, and it's the hottest fucking thing you've ever heard.

You pull off one more time, stroking him fast and messy, your spit slick hand gliding easily along his length. "Please what?"

"Please lemme touch you."

You shake your head, licking up the underside again, tongue teasing his slit before you suck the head back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks until his hips buck, just once, just enough to choke you again. You swallow hard, tears sliding down your cheeks, and his dick throbs so hard you can feel it on your tongue.

"Be good," you murmur around him, voice muffled and obscene, "and I'll let you cum."

Jason's head falls back, a broken groan ripping from his throat, and you know you've got him. You sink back down, taking him as deep as you can, lips stretched tight around the fat width of his cock, spit and precum slicking your chin as you work him with all the devotion you can muster. What you can't fit—and there's always part of him you can't fit—you stroke with your hand, fingers gliding over the thick base, your palm sticky with drool and his slick.

Your tongue works the head, lapping up every drop of precum he leaks, tasting that salty, addictive tease of what's coming, and you fucking love it. You flick your tongue against his slit, suck gently on the sensitive tip before you sink down again, sucking hard, cheeks hollowed so tight your jaw aches, but you don't fucking care.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Jason groans, his voice wrecked, head tipped back against the couch, muscles tight like he's holding himself together with sheer fucking will. "You're perfect, baby. Mouth so goddamn good—fuck, you always know how to suck me just right."

The praise makes your pussy clench hard, heat flooding your belly, and you double down, bobbing your head faster, working him with both your mouth and hand until your throat burns and your jaw trembles. Every time you pull back, you leave a messy trail of spit and precum glistening along his length, but you dive right back in, tongue swirling around the head before you take him deep again.

"Look at you," Jason breathes, his voice low and rough. "So fuckin' pretty like this. My perfect girl. You love this dick, don't you?"

You hum around him, the vibration making his whole body twitch, and he groans so low it vibrates in your chest. You pull back just enough to gasp, "Love it, Jay. Best fucking dick I've ever had."

"Yeah?" His grin is sharp, dangerous. "Then show me, baby. Show me how much you love it."

Challenge fucking accepted. You take him deep again, swallowing around the head, ignoring the gag reflex that flares up as you press lower, working him into your throat until your nose brushes the skin at the base of his cock. You gag again, spit bubbling past your lips, but you don't stop. You fucking love how heavy he feels on your tongue, how thick and hot and perfect he is, filling your mouth like he was made for it.

Jason's fists clench at his sides, his whole body trembling with restraint. "So good for me, baby," he mutters, voice cracking with it. "So fuckin' good. My pretty, filthy fucking girl. Takin' me so deep—fuck, 'm gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill that perfect mouth."

You moan around him, and that's it. His hips jerk, cock swelling, and then he's cumming, thick ropes of cum spilling across your tongue, hot and salty and so much, it makes you whimper as you swallow, throat working hard to take it all.

He always cums a lot, his balls emptying in pulse after pulse, and you keep sucking, milking him through it, letting every drop slide down your throat until your belly feels warm with it. His cock throbs against your tongue, so sensitive it makes his hips twitch every time your tongue flicks over the head, but you don't stop until you know he's completely spent.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice rough and almost shaky. "Gonna kill me one of these days."

You pull back slowly, licking your swollen lips, wiping the mess from your chin with the back of your hand, and grin up at him, all fucked-out satisfaction. Jason pulls you right into his lap, and you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself.

His hands slide down to grab your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, grinding you down against his cock, still hard and slick with your spit, and you moan when you feel the thick length press up against your soaked lace panties.

"Fuck," Jason mutters, dragging you along his cock again, feeling how drenched you are even through the lace. "That pretty pussy misses me already, huh?"

"Jay," you murmur, voice soft, needy, and when you lean in, he catches your mouth in a kiss—hot, messy, all tongue and teeth, licking into you like he's starving for your taste.

He groans low when he tastes himself on your tongue, dirty and possessive, and you whimper into his mouth, hips moving on their own, grinding down against him, chasing friction.

You break the kiss to breathe, forehead resting against his, and your fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck as you whisper, "Do you love me?"

Jason's hands flex on your ass, holding you tighter, and his voice is low, earnest when he says, "You know I do, baby. Love you so fuckin' much."

You lick your lips, eyes dark with want. "Then fuck me like you mean it."

His eyes flash—something feral, something wild, and before you can say anything else, he's moving, standing up with you in his arms like you weigh nothing before he lays you down on the couch, his jeans and boxers kicked off in one rough move. He kneels over you, hands already tugging your bra down until your tits spill out, and he doesn't even bother unclasping it before he's on you.

"Love these tits," he mutters between kisses, licking over one nipple, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go with a wet pop. His tongue flicks over the other, sharp and teasing, before he closes his lips around it, sucking hard until you gasp and arch into him. "So fuckin' pretty, baby. Could spend all day suckin' on these."

You tug at his hair, breathless, moaning when he drags his teeth over your nipple, just the right amount of rough. He leaves a trail of messy hickeys down the curve of your tits, marking you like the possessive asshole he is, and you swear your pussy gets even wetter from it.

He kisses down your stomach, hands already hooking into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to get access to you. "Love this body," he murmurs, licking over the waistband before kissing your hipbone. "Love this pussy. Love you, baby."

You whimper, spreading your legs instinctively, and he groans at the sight of your panties clinging to your soaked folds, the lace darkened with how wet you are. His fingers trace along the edge of the fabric, barely touching you, just enough to make your thighs twitch in frustration.

Then his tongue flicks out, teasing you through the fabric, just the lightest drag of warmth over your clit, and you jolt, hips twitching up, chasing more.

Jason hums, amused, as he pulls back, blowing cool air against the damp spot where his tongue just was. "So fuckin' wet for me already," he mutters, voice wrecked, his breath hot against your cunt.

His fingers slide down, pressing against the soaked lace, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit, just enough to make you ache but not enough to satisfy.

Your hips stutter, desperate for more friction, but he doesn't give it to you. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his scruff scratching at your sensitive skin, and then, another flick of his tongue, this time firmer, tracing over your clit through the thin barrier of lace.

"Jay—" Your fingers tighten in his hair, trying to pull him closer, but he only chuckles, the vibrations making you tremble.

"You love this, don't you?" His voice is thick with hunger, fingers still rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit. "Love bein' all messy for me, panties soaked, beggin' for my mouth..."

He leans in again, dragging his tongue over you, pressing the fabric against your cunt, making it cling to every swollen, aching inch of you. Then his teeth close around the lace, tugging just enough to make you feel it before letting go.

Your thighs tremble, your body desperate for more, but he just keeps playing with you, running his tongue along the slick fabric, soaking it even more, his fingers pressing right against your entrance, but never giving you what you need.

"Jason—" you whimper, pushing up against his mouth, but he only smirks, pressing another teasing, barely-there kiss over your clit.

"Patience, pretty girl," he murmurs, eyes dark, voice rough.

He finally hooks a finger into the crotch of your panties, pulling them aside to bare you to him, and then his mouth is on you. Hot, wet, tongue sliding through your folds before fucking into you, slow and deep, licking you open like he's savoring every drop.

You moan his name, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his big hands grab your thighs and hold you open, spreading you wide like he's got all the time in the world to devour you.

"Keep 'em open, baby," he growls, voice muffled between your thighs. "Wanna see this pussy when I eat you."

He fucks you with his tongue, nose brushing against your clit, and every time you try to roll your hips or squirm away from the intensity, he holds you down and just keeps going, messy and obscene, spit and slick dripping down to the couch beneath you.

Jason groans into your pussy, the sound vibrating against your clit, and he sucks. Soft at first, just enough to make you gasp, before he latches on and really sucks, lips wrapped around that sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue flicking against it, over and over, relentless.

"F-Fuck—Jay—" Your voice is all breathy, wrecked, your fingers pulling at his hair, but it only spurs him on.

He hums again, mouth still latched to your clit, and then drags his tongue down, lapping at your folds, hot and messy and so deep you feel it in your gut. He groans like he's starving for you, like he could live off this alone, tongue pushing inside again, fucking you slow and deep before dragging up to swirl around your clit.

And then he does it again. And again. And again.

His hands squeeze at your thighs, holding you open, keeping you spread, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into your trembling skin, soothing even as his mouth drives you insane.

"You taste so fuckin' good, pretty girl," he rasps against your soaked cunt, his lips slick, his chin glistening with your arousal. "Could eat you for hours."

He presses a soft kiss right against your clit before flattening his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy, gathering every drop of slick before pushing his tongue back inside you.

You keen, legs twitching, and he groans into you, hands tightening, like he can feel you dripping for him.

"Goddamn, look at you," he mutters, breath hot against your cunt as he pulls back just enough to admire the mess he's making of you. "Drippin' down my fuckin' chin, baby—"

The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you echo in the room, filthy and desperate, and all you can do is whimper and take it.

When he pulls back just enough to suck your clit into his mouth again your whole body jolts, and he hums in satisfaction, eyes locked on you as your mouth falls open on a gasp.

"C'mon, baby," he murmurs against you, every word vibrating against your skin. "Cum for me. Wanna taste you."

It hits you hard, your back arching, thighs trembling in his grip as you cry out, body clenching tight before it melts into pleasure. You swear you see stars, the intensity making your head spin, and he groans low in his throat as he licks you through it, sucking every drop you give him, cleaning you up with his tongue like a man fucking starving.

He doesn't stop until you're trembling, oversensitive and gasping for breath, your hands tugging weakly at his hair, begging for a break. When he finally pulls back, his mouth and chin are glistening, and he wipes his face with the back of his hand, grinning down at you like the devil himself.

"Goddamn, baby," he mutters. "Tastes even better when you're mad at me."

Jason flips you onto your stomach like you weigh nothing, handling you exactly the way you love—rough enough to remind you how much stronger he is, gentle enough to show he'll never actually hurt you. And you already know what he wants, so you arch your back, pushing up onto your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder with a bratty little smirk that makes his jaw clench.

His hands slide down your sides, slow, deliberate, before they settle on your hips, fingers digging in just to hear you gasp. Then he grabs the lace of your panties, tugging them down over your ass, baring your soaked cunt and the mess he already made between your thighs.

"Fuck," he mutters, palming your ass, squeezing and spreading you open to get a better look. "Always so fuckin' pretty back here."

The first slap lands sharp, making you jolt forward, your slick thighs trembling. The sting blooms hot across your skin, and you whimper, but it only makes you arch deeper, pushing your hips back toward him.

Jason watches, transfixed, as your pussy clenches around nothing, dripping slick onto his cock when he presses the thick head between your legs. He's still hard, precum leaking from the swollen tip, and you rock your hips, rubbing your soaked folds against him until he curses under his breath.

"Needy little thing," he grits out, guiding his cock to your entrance. "Can't even pretend you're not desperate for me."

He starts pushing in, splitting you open slow, and the stretch knocks the air from your lungs, leaving you trembling under him. "Oh, fuck—"

"Always so fuckin' tight for me," Jason groans, one hand stroking down your stomach, feeling the way your body stretches to take him. His fingers slip lower, over your clit, slick and swollen, and you shiver all over when he rubs slow circles over it. "Goddamn, baby."

You rock back, taking him deeper, moaning as your pussy clenches down hard around him. He curses, leaning over you, chest pressed to your back, and murmurs low in your ear, "You want me to fuck you like I mean it, huh?"

You nod frantically, words catching in your throat, and Jason groans, pulling back just enough to grab your hips, steadying you before sliding in deeper, bottoming out with one slow, brutal thrust.

He gives you a second, like he always does, letting you adjust because he knows he's big, knows he's a lot, and he loves you too much to hurt you.

But you're impatient, your body burning with need, so you glance back over your shoulder, panting, "Thought you said you loved me."

His jaw tightens, a flush spreading down his chest, and he growls, "I do."

"Then fucking prove it," you challenge, and that's it, the last frayed thread of his self-control snaps.

Jason's hips slam into yours, driving his cock so deep you see stars, and you cry out, fingers scrambling for purchase against the cushions. His hands grip your waist, holding you still so all you can do is take it, body jerking with each brutal thrust, wet sounds filling the room every time his cock splits you open.

Your cunt grips him like a vice, soaked and clenching around him, dragging him back in every time he pulls out, and the slick slide is so obscene, so messy, it only makes him fuck you harder. His hips snap against your ass, the slap of skin on skin echoing, and you bury your face in your arms, moaning his name like a prayer.

"Still wanna fucking die, you idiot?" you gasp between moans, glaring at him over your shoulder, and Jason groans, dropping one hand to slap your ass again.

"Shut up," he pants, driving in deep enough to knock the air out of you. "God, baby—you're so fuckin' wet for me."

"Because you're—you're so fucking stupid," you sob, half-scolding, half-moan. "What if—what if you get yourself killed, and who the fuck's gonna fuck me like this?"

"Jesus Christ," Jason groans, the filthy confession sending a sharp pulse of heat straight to his cock, making it throb inside you. "No one, baby, no one else is ever gonna touch this pussy."

He fucks you harder, deeper, grinding into you until you're shaking under him, toes curling, nails clawing at the couch. Every thrust punches little gasps from your throat, and you can't stop talking, can't stop scolding him even as he's fucking you stupid.

"You love me?" you pant, voice high and breathless.

"Love you so much, baby," he groans, leaning over you, lips against your ear. "Love you, love this body, love this perfect fuckin' pussy. All mine, baby. All fuckin' mine."

"Show me," you whisper, voice shaking. "Show me how much."

Jason's hips snap forward, hard enough to drive you into the couch, and you moan his name, cunt squeezing tight around him. "I'll show you, doll," he pants, sweat dripping down his back. "I'll show you exactly how much."

His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, spreading your ass, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks tomorrow, and you'll love every fucking one of them. Each thrust is brutal, his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy, so slick with arousal and his precum that it drips down your thighs, making a mess.

"Look at this greedy fuckin' pussy," he groans, thumbs spreading you open wider just so he can watch. "Suckin' me in like you missed this dick."

"I did," you gasp, fingers clutching at the couch cushions. "But you're still a fucking idiot."

Jason grits his teeth, hips snapping forward hard enough to shove you up the couch, your knees scraping against the fabric. Your slick little cunt grips him tight, soft and warm and soaked inside, milking his cock every time he drags back just to slam back in. Precum leaks from the swollen tip, mixing with your slick, and every thrust pushes it deeper, making you feel so full you can barely breathe.

The couch creaks under both of you, the whole thing rocking with the force of his thrusts, and Jason can't tear his eyes away from the way your ass bounces every time his hips smack into you. Your skin glows, sweat-slick and gorgeous, and he can see the way his dick stretches you open, disappearing into your perfect pussy over and over again.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, almost to himself. "You're perfect. This pussy's fuckin' perfect."

"Damn right it is," you pant, pushing back against him until you're stuffed full all over again. "And if you get yourself killed, who the fuck is supposed to fuck me like this?"

That ticks him off just right this time. His hand shoots out, grabbing the back of your neck, not to hurt, but to hold, to control, and he hauls you upright, your back pressed flush to his broad chest. You gasp, legs shaking, the stretch of his cock inside you deeper, hitting that sweet spot that makes you cry out.

"Who said I was goin' anywhere?" he growls against your ear, hand sliding up from your neck to wrap gently around your throat. "You think I'd leave you, baby? Fuck no."

His other hand finds your tits, fingers tugging at the bra you still hadn't taken off, yanking the cups down completely so your soft skin spills into his hand. He palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, and you moan loud, head tipping back onto his shoulder.

"You love me?" you whisper, breath hitching with every thrust.

"You know I do," he pants, fucking up into you, hips rolling slow but deep, stuffing you so full you swear you can feel him in your throat.

"Then fucking show me," you challenge, rocking your hips down to meet him.

Jason groans, fingers tightening on your throat just a little, enough to make your cunt flutter around him. "I am," he mutters, mouth hot on your neck. "Fuckin' you so good no one else could ever touch you— no one else could make you this wet, this fuckin' messy."

He shoves you back down, face to the cushions, ass in the air, spreading you wide so he can see everything. Especially the way your slick pussy stretches around him, sucking him back in every time he pulls out, shiny with your wetness and his precum.

"Fuckin' shit, baby," he groans, watching his cock slide in and out of your perfect little pussy. "You're fuckin' drippin'."

"Because you're that good, asshole," you snap back, voice muffled by the cushions.

Jason slaps your ass hard enough to make you jolt, cunt squeezing down on him so tight his vision blurs for a second. "Yeah? Then why the fuck you talkin' so much?"

"Because you're a fucking idiot," you sob, back arching when he drives in deep. "You don't—you don't need to start shit every time someone looks at me, Jay. You're the only one who gets to fuck me like this, don't you know that?"

Jason groans, hands tightening on your hips as he slams into you harder, hips snapping, driving you into the couch so deep your knees nearly buckle.

"I know, doll," he pants, voice wrecked. "I know, fuck—I just love you so much, I can't stand anyone else even lookin' at you."

"Then—then fuck me harder," you gasp, tears in your eyes from how good he feels, how perfectly his thick cock fills you up, dragging against every sweet spot inside you. "Fuck me so good I can't even think about anyone else."

Jason yanks you up again, your back flush to his sweat-slick chest, his cock buried so deep you swear you feel him in your fucking lungs. His big hand cups your jaw, turning your face toward him, and he kisses you messy, tongue sliding between your parted lips like he's starving for the taste of you. It's sloppy, wet, both of you panting into each other's mouths, sucking on tongues, biting at lips.

You moan into his mouth when his free hand finds your clit, two fingers rubbing sharp, relentless circles over the sensitive little bud. It's too much, too fast, your cunt already stretched wide and soaked around him, every rub of his fingers making you clench down tighter.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, breath hot against your cheek, hips snapping up into you so hard you bounce. "You're so fuckin' wet—you're drippin' all over my dick."

His fingers don't slow down, and you can't do anything but take it, legs shaking, cunt squeezing around him, your swollen clit throbbing under his ruthless touch. The heat coils low in your belly, sharp and fast, climbing so high so fast it almost scares you.

"Jay—fuck—wait, I—"

Your hand flies down, grabbing at his wrist, trying to ease him off your overstimulated clit, but he's not budging, the muscle in his forearm flexing as he presses down harder.

"No," he growls into your ear, voice wrecked. "You wanted me to fuck you like I mean it? This is what that fuckin' means, baby."

His dick pounds into you mercilessly, every thrust dragging against your sweetest spot, thick and hot and leaking inside you, smearing precum along your fluttering walls. You're soaking him, so slick you can hear the obscene squelch every time he sinks in to the hilt as he rubs your puffy little clit.

Your whole body locks up, spine arching, mouth falling open as you cum so hard it knocks the breath out of you, that sharp edge of pleasure tipping you into freefall. Your pussy clamps down on his cock, tight and trembling, and Jason fucking moans, jaw clenched, hips stuttering as you soak his dick with wave after wave of hot, slick arousal.

But he doesn't stop.

"Gimme more," he pants, fingers ruthless on your clit. "C'mon, baby, you can do it, show me how messy you can get."

"Jason, I—fuck—fuck—"

Your thighs quake, eyes rolling back, and when he starts to slap over your clit lightly, it hits like a live wire—your whole body seizes, cunt pulsing around him, and then it happens.

You fucking squirt, hot and sudden, a slick rush spilling from your cunt, drenching both of you in a messy gush that soaks the couch, his thighs, your thighs—every inch of skin that's pressed together—leaving your pussy glistening, clenching around his dick as your juices drip down to the cushions. It's a mess you didn't even know you could make, and Jason loses it.

You both knew you could squirt when you were drunk off your ass, but this? This was all him. And you're both wrecked with it—you, boneless and trembling, him, harder than fucking steel inside you, completely gone for you.

"Holy fuck, baby," he groans, voice somewhere between awe and pure hunger.

Your whole body shakes, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer intensity, overstimulated to the point of pain-tinged pleasure, and Jason kisses you through it, swallowing your sobs and moans right from your tongue.

It's still so messy—hot, wet, open-mouthed, tongues licking into each other's mouths, tasting sweat and spit and you, and he groans deep in his chest like you're the best thing he's ever had.

His cock keeps sliding into your soaked, fluttering cunt, so slick it's almost effortless, but you're still so tight, sucking him in greedily. His fingers finally ease off your clit, stroking instead of circling, soothing instead of torturing, but his kiss stays just as hungry. Desperate like he's trying to memorize your taste, the way you moan into his mouth when you can barely even catch your breath.

"Baby," he murmurs between kisses, breathless and tender and filthy all at once. "You're so fuckin' good for me. Love this pussy—love you."

Jason's lips break from yours, sliding down your jaw, over the curve of your throat, hot breath ghosting over your pulse before his mouth seals against your neck. He sucks hard, tongue flicking over the skin, leaving a bruising, sloppy mark.

And the whole time, his hips keep working, dragging his thick cock in and out of your soaked, swollen cunt, slow but deep, hitting every spot that makes your toes curl.

"Fuck, Jay—" you whimper, head tilting to give him more of your neck, hands clutching at his wrists, his arms, anywhere you can reach to steady yourself.

He hums low in his throat, all smug and wicked, and you can feel him smirk against your skin. "You want my cum, baby?"

You moan loud, nodding so fast it makes him chuckle.

"Of course you do," he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, kissing his way up to your ear. "This needy little pussy loves my cum, huh?"

"Yes," you gasp, writhing against him, trying to push back and take him deeper, to make him give it to you.

But he just teases, slowing his thrusts, dragging every inch out before pushing back in so slowly, letting you feel just how thick and hot he is inside you. "Thought you were mad at me, pretty girl."

"I am," you snap, but it's breathless, your earlier fire softened by the way he's fucking you so deep and slow, pulling every sound he loves right out of your throat.

"Yeah?" he smirks, tongue licking over your racing pulse. "Then why should I cum inside this perfect little pussy if you're still so fuckin' mad?"

"Jason—" you whine, pushing back harder, but his hand holds you steady, thumb pressing into your hip, controlling the pace no matter how desperate you are.

"Gotta convince me, baby," he taunts, voice all low and syrupy-sweet, fingers sliding down to your clit just to flick it, making you jolt and clench down hard on his cock. "Why should I fill you up, huh? Gimme one good reason."

"Because I need it," you gasp, fingers clawing at the couch cushions. "Need you to cum inside me, need to feel it—fuck—please, Jay."

"Need it?" He grins against your neck, biting just hard enough to make you yelp. "Sounds like my girl's not so mad after all."

"I am—"

"No, you're not," he cuts you off, fucking into you a little faster, just to hear the pitch of your voice climb. "You just like actin' tough until you're full of my dick, huh?"

You nod frantically, pride shredded, nothing left but raw, aching need. "Yes—yes—God, yes—please, Jay."

"Please, what?" His cock drags against your sweet spot with every thrust, his fingers circling your clit again, faster this time. "Say it, baby. Tell me exactly what you want."

"Want you to cum inside me," you sob, back arching, thighs trembling. "Want to feel it dripping out—want to be so fucking full of you, Jay, please—"

That does it. His grip tightens as he snaps his hips forward, fucking you deep, no more teasing, just hard, filthy thrusts, skin slapping skin, his cock driving into your slick little cunt until the wet noises echo louder than your breathless moans.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, forehead pressing to your shoulder. "Gonna give it to you— gonna fill this perfect pussy up."

You moan his name like a prayer, clenching down so hard it makes him stutter, and then he's gone, hips jerking, cock throbbing deep inside you as he spills, hot and thick, cum flooding your pussy in pulse after pulse after pulse.

It's so much—the heat of it, the way his dick twitches inside you with every spurt, and fuck, you feel everything. The way his cock pulses, the way his cum paints your insides, so deep, so full, your body reacts before you even realize, pleasure slamming through you again, white-hot and all-consuming.

"Oh—fuck—fuck—"

Your whole body trembles, seizing up as you arch, as your walls clamp down hard around his dick, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge again, even sharper this time.

Jason groans, choked and wrecked, because he feels it. The way your pussy flutters, grips him like a vice, milking him, dragging out his orgasm as another thick pulse of cum spurts deep inside you.

"Shit, pretty girl—fuck—"

His voice is hoarse, breathless, hands locking onto your hips as he bucks up, rutting into you with slow, desperate rolls, like he's trying to fuck his cum deeper.

You're soaking him, your release gushing around his dick, slick dripping down to his balls, making everything filthy as you keen, breath hitching, body trembling. The pleasure is so much you can't stop shaking, can't stop gasping, every little twitch of his cock sending more sparks crackling through your limbs.

Jason groans again, deep and raw, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you right where he wants you, his cock still buried inside, still throbbing, even as his hips slow, his whole body shuddering against yours.

"Jesus Christ, baby—" He swallows hard, head falling forward against your shoulder, voice thick, half-slurred. "Damn near killed me."

But he doesn't let go. He won't. His arms curl around you, holding you close, keeping you locked against him, cock still nestled deep, even as his cum drips out, thick and hot, making a mess between your thighs.

You both shudder, your pussy milking him for everything, his cock twitching, still so sensitive it makes him groan low in his throat as he grinds against you, lazy and slow. You're so full you leak around him, creamy slick dripping down his balls, sticky and hot, smearing where your thighs press together.

It's messy, obscene, perfect, and he loves every second of it.

He kisses your shoulder, still panting, his hand sliding up your stomach to cup your tits, lazy fingers playing with one nipple. "Still mad, baby?"

"Maybe," you mumble, face buried in the crook of his neck, completely fucked stupid.

Jason's laugh rumbles low in his chest, warm and rough and just so him, his lips pressing to your temple in a lazy, affectionate kiss. "You're a terrible liar, doll."

His cock slips free from your fluttering cunt with a slick, obscene noise, your pussy clenching reflexively at the sudden emptiness, already missing him even with his cum still leaking from your swollen slit. It smears down your inner thighs, dripping onto the couch cushion below, and Jason watches it like a man obsessed, fingers tracing over the slick mess he made of you before finally easing you down against him.

You whine, soft and spent, but you don't fight it when he turns you gently, pulling your smaller body right on top of his, the perfect little puzzle piece to his broad, muscular frame. Your skin feels like it's buzzing, every inch of you overstimulated and tender, but his hands are so gentle.

Big palms soothing up and down your back, warm fingers tracing lazy circles along your spine. His lips find your temple again, softer this time, and the two of you just breathe, hearts still pounding, somehow falling into the same steady rhythm.

You nuzzle into his neck, breath warm against his skin, and for a while, the only sound is both of you catching your breath, bodies molding together.

After a long, quiet moment, Jason's voice breaks the silence—rough, hesitant. "I'm sorry."

You blink up at him, your face blissed-out and sleepy, limbs heavy, but you still reach up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing gently over the scar there. His hand comes up to cover yours, his palm dwarfing yours as he lifts it to his mouth, kissing your palm, his lips warm and soft.

"I'm sorry too," you murmur, voice soft, but Jason just shakes his head.

"Nah," he says, eyes flicking up to the ceiling like it's easier to talk to that than to you. "It was my fault. I just..." he trails off, breath hitching slightly, and for a rare moment, Jason Todd looks nervous.

You wait, patient and quiet, until he finally sighs, his grip on your hand tightening just a bit. "I never had this kind of love before," he says, voice so low you almost miss it. "Ever."

Your heart aches, and you squeeze his hand back, silently urging him to keep going.

"And yeah, I don't—I don't know how to behave sometimes," he admits, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "I know it's wrong to be so fuckin' possessive. To assume you're mine just because I want you to be."

"Baby," you whisper, brow furrowing, but he keeps talking, like he has to get it all out before he loses his nerve.

"It's selfish and stupid," he says, frustrated with himself. "But I just... I never felt this way about anyone before. And it's fuckin' terrifyin', but it's also the best goddamn thing that's ever happened to me."

Your chest aches, soft and warm and so full of love for this man who's only ever known how to fight for what he wants, and now he's fighting himself, just to figure out how to love you right.

You tilt his chin until he's looking at you again, your eyes wide and soft and just a little stunned, because yeah, Jason's softer with you, you know that. But this? This vulnerability, this naked honesty, this is rare. This is the part of him no one gets to see.

"What are you talking about, baby?" you whisper, thumb tracing his lower lip. "I'm yours. You don't have to doubt that."

His eyes darken, something vulnerable flickering beneath the heat. "Yeah, but—"

"No 'but'," you cut him off, leaning down to kiss him—soft, sweet, no heat this time, just love. "I am yours, Jay. You don't own me, but I belong to you. And that's my choice."

His arms tighten around you, almost crushing you to his chest, but you don't complain. You just melt into it, letting him hold you like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers if he lets go.

And yeah, maybe your pussy's still throbbing, and there's cum dripping down your thighs, and you both reek of sweat and sex, but right now? Right now, all that matters is this.

You shift slightly on top of him, just enough to press your lips to his chest—soft, lingering, right over his heart. It's steady beneath your mouth, a quiet, strong beat that reminds you he's here. And you hold onto that, breathing him in as you kiss him again, even softer this time.

Jason's hand slides up your back, fingers weaving into your hair as he cups the back of your head, guiding you up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. It's so gentle, so sweet, and your chest aches all over again, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

"I'm sorry I said I want you to change for me," you murmur, voice quiet and a little hoarse. "I didn't mean it like that. I just..." you sigh, fingers tracing idle patterns over his ribs. "I knew what I was getting into when we first met. I knew. And I thought that over time, it would be easier to just... I don't know... get used to the idea that one day you might not come home."

His hand tightens slightly in your hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he's listening.

"But it's not," you whisper, voice cracking slightly.

"I know," he says softly, his lips finding your temple again.

You exhale, shaky and uneven, and your voice wavers when you say, "I just want you to promise you'll always come back to me. I can't lose you, Jason. You're the only person in my life I've ever loved like this, and I just... I can't—"

The words catch in your throat, and you almost sniffle, but Jason's already there, tilting your chin up until you meet his gaze. And fuck, the way he looks at you—like you're everything, like you hung the goddamn moon—it almost breaks you.

He can't stand seeing you cry. Not like this. Crying because he fucks you stupid? Sure, any day of the week. But crying because you're scared of losing him? That kills him a little.

His thumb strokes along your cheek, brushing away the tears threatening to spill. "I promise, doll," he says, voice low and steady and so fucking sincere it hurts. "I'll always come back to you."

You nod, swallowing hard before you nuzzle back into the crook of his neck, letting his warmth wrap around you like a shield. His arms tighten around you again, holding you like you're his lifeline. And maybe you are.

And yeah, there's still mess between your thighs, and the couch probably needs to be burned after what you just did to it, but none of that matters right now. All that matters is this. Just you and Jason, skin to skin, hearts pounding in sync, holding onto each other like the world outside doesn't exist.

After a quick cleanup—you both do what you can with the poor couch, but honestly, there's only so much scrubbing that'll save it—you end up in the shower together, lazily soaping each other up with that vanilla body wash you love. Jason grumbles about how it's too sweet and not him, but the second you press your slick, warm body against his under the spray, he shuts up real fast.

Wrapped in clean clothes, smelling like dessert, you curl up on the couch, freshly dressed in one of his worn-out t-shirts that hangs off your shoulder and a pair of cotton panties. Jason settles next to you in his sweats, bare chested, all warm skin and ink as you tangle yourself around him like the needy gremlin you are.

A box of shitty pizza rests between you—a sad, greasy excuse for a meal, but somehow perfect for tonight—and some trash reality show plays in the background, the kind that makes you both question humanity.

Jason glances at you, his arm stretched around your shoulders, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. "So... we good?"

You roll your eyes, groaning dramatically, before leaning over to chomp a massive bite out of his slice, despite the fact you're already holding your own.

"You little brat," he mutters, shaking his head, but there's no real heat in it. If anything, the way he smiles at you—soft, warm, a little exasperated—makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

You just flash him a smug grin, mouth full of stolen pizza, and lean your head on his shoulder, sighing happily. "We're good, Jay."

And yeah, the couch will never be the same, and the pizza's objectively terrible, and the show's giving you both secondhand embarrassment. But with you curled into him, his arm wrapped around your waist, and your bare leg hooked over his thigh, Jason figures he might just be the luckiest motherfucker in Gotham.

[mcrdvcks]

needy pt.2

chapter summary: You're Scott's younger sister and for months you've been secretly dating Logan. How much longer can you and him keep the secret?

word count: 10.9k+ (19.3k+ total)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: don't ask how or why this is so long, it was meant to be be less than 10k words but it just kept going. i was having a lot of fun writing this, and if people want to see a continuation or some other part of the story with these two, don't be afraid to ask! for now, enjoy cause there are like 3 smut scenes

the notes and the tags are the same as part 1! this is the second part!

warnings/tags: smut, unprotected piv, slight exhibitionism, slight pain kink, creampie, age gap (that's obvi), oral (f!receiving), slight praise kink, fingering, secret relationship, jealously, some possessiveness, peter maximoff being a little shit, fluff, slight angst

❀ part 1 ❀

Your shirt was tossed to the floor, your skirt pushed above your waist, and Logan was currently kissing his way down your chest, rough hands gripping your thighs, his stubble scratching against sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.

But every so often, his eyes flicked to the side.

At first, you ignored it, too caught up in the heat of his mouth, the way his fingers kneaded into your skin. But when he stopped—lips hovering just above your stomach, brow furrowed—you huffed out a breath.

“Why do you keep looking over there?”

Logan glanced up at you, then back to the side, exhaling sharply. “…That fuckin’ teddy bear keeps lookin’ at me.”

You blinked before glancing toward your bed—where the massive stuffed bear from the carnival sat propped against your pillows, its black button eyes staring blankly into the room.

You snorted. “Pickles isn’t looking at you.”

Logan pulled back slightly, expression scrunching in absolute bewilderment. “The hell did you just call it?”

You grinned. “Pickles.”

His face was priceless. “You named the goddamn bear Pickles?”

“Yep.”

He shook his head, lips twitching in amusement. “Why the hell would you name a teddy bear that?”

“Because,” you said, smirking, “he’s named after the fried pickles we got after you won him for me.”

Logan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus. That’s terrible.”

“You love it.”

“I really don’t.”

You laughed, but before you could tease him further, Logan suddenly sat up and reached over, grabbing the bear by its soft, oversized head.

Without another word, he turned it around so its face was pressed into the pillow, its back to both of you.

“There.” Logan exhaled, satisfied. “Didn’t want him seein’ what I was gonna do to you.”

You burst out laughing, but it was cut short when Logan pounced, his mouth crashing back against yours, his hands slipping under your skirt with zero hesitation.

Pickles had seen enough. And Logan had work to do.

He pushed a thick finger into you, slow, deliberate. Your head fell back against the mattress, eyes fluttering shut as he moved—one finger, then two, curling just right, dragging moans from your lips with every precise stroke. His calloused palm pressed firm against your aching core, dragging a friction that had your breath stuttering.

"Fuck," you gasped, hips shifting instinctively.

Logan huffed a rough chuckle, his lips ghosting along the inside of your thigh. "That’s it," he murmured, voice low, thick with satisfaction. "Knew you’d be this fuckin’ needy."

Your fingers twisted into the sheets, knuckles white as he set a slow, torturous rhythm, two thick fingers stretching you, filling you. Your legs trembled, thighs twitching with every precise curl.

"Logan," you breathed, half a plea, half a warning.

He hummed against your skin, tongue flicking over your hipbone. "What, sweetheart? S’too much?"

You shook your head, chest rising and falling in ragged motions. "No—just—just stop teasing."

Logan grinned against your stomach, lips rough from his stubble. "You think I’m teasin’?"

And then he pressed in deeper, his thumb brushing over your clit at the same time, sending a sharp jolt through you. Your back arched, a choked moan slipping from your lips.

"That’s what I thought," he said, voice smug, rough.

His fingers worked you over with ruthless precision, stroking that spot inside you that had your toes curling, your body writhing against the mattress. Every slow press, every drag of his thumb over your clit wound you tighter, hotter, until you were gripping his wrist, eyes fluttering.

"You gonna come for me?" Logan murmured, breath hot against your skin.

You clenched around his fingers in response, earning a low, pleased growl from him. He didn’t let up, didn’t stop, watching with dark, hungry eyes as you unraveled beneath him.

And when the tension finally snapped, your whole body tensed—then shattered, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Your cry filled the room, and Logan didn’t stop until you were trembling, until every aftershock had been wrung from you.

Only then did he pull his fingers from you, slow, deliberate, watching as your body shivered from the loss. His gaze met yours, heated, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you again, his mouth crashing against yours, stealing every word, every thought.

His mouth was all heat and hunger, claiming yours in a way that left no room for thought—just sensation. His stubble scraped against your skin, rough and real, and the taste of you was still on his tongue, mingling with the whiskey he’d had earlier. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel owned.

But you weren’t about to let him have all the control.

With a sharp push, you shifted your weight, rolling him onto his back. He grunted in surprise, his grip tightening instinctively before he let you take the lead, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked up at you.

"Bossy tonight, huh?" His voice was low, rough with amusement, but his eyes—dark, hungry—told a different story.

"You don’t mind," you shot back, settling yourself over him, your thighs bracketing his waist.

His smirk widened, hands running up your thighs, thumbs brushing over the sensitive skin there. "Hell no, sweetheart. Knock yourself out."

Your hands found his chest, tracing the solid lines of muscle, the ridges of old scars. Logan was all hard edges, rough hands, and sharp words, but right now, beneath you, there was something else—a quiet patience, a slow-burning restraint that only made you want to push him further.

You shifted, rolling your hips over the hard line of his jeans, feeling the heat of him through the fabric. Logan let out a sharp breath, fingers tightening on your thighs.

"Fuck," he muttered, his head tipping back slightly against the pillows. "You keep doin' that, I ain't gonna be responsible for what happens next."

You grinned, leaning down so your lips barely brushed his. "That a threat or a promise?"

His hands slid up, palms rough against your waist as he pulled you down the rest of the way, closing the distance between you with a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and heat. His hands wandered, slipping beneath your bra, fingers teasing over sensitive skin, thumbs rolling over your nipples in a way that had you arching into him, your breath catching.

"You gonna take this off, or you want me to rip it?" Logan murmured against your lips, voice low, teasing.

You huffed a laugh. "Don’t you dare. I like this one."

"Fine," he said, but he still had that damn smirk on his face as he reached behind you, undoing the clasp in one smooth motion. The second the straps slipped down your arms, Logan's hands were on you, rough and greedy, palming your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples just to watch you shiver.

"Perfect," he muttered, his voice thick, almost reverent.

You rolled your hips again, dragging a groan from him, and the sound sent heat pooling low in your stomach. You could feel him, hard and thick beneath you, the friction between you just enough to tease, not nearly enough to satisfy.

Your hands trailed down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans. You slowly unbuckled his belt before tossing it to the side.

Then, your fingers worked the button of his jeans open, dragging the zipper down with deliberate slowness, teasing. Logan’s breath hitched, his hands gripping your hips just a little tighter, thumbs pressing into your skin.

"You’re playin’ with fire, doll," he muttered, voice thick, rough with impatience.

"Good," you shot back, fingers slipping beneath the waistband, pushing the denim down over his hips.

Logan lifted just enough to help you shove them lower, his cock springing free, thick and heavy against his stomach. Heat coiled in your belly at the sight of him—flushed, hard, already leaking at the tip.

"Fuck," you breathed, running a teasing finger along his length, just enough to watch his jaw tighten. "You’re already this worked up?"

Logan let out a low growl, hands flexing on your thighs. "You been grindin’ on me for ten fuckin’ minutes, what do you think?"

You smirked, shifting so you were straddling him fully, your bare core brushing against the head of his cock, dragging a sharp hiss from his lips.

"Then quit talking," you murmured, reaching between you to guide him to your entrance.

Logan’s breath was ragged as you sank down onto him, slow, deliberate, stretching around the thick length of him. He was big—he always was—but the burn was just right, just enough to make you shudder as he filled you, inch by inch.

"Christ," Logan rasped, his head tipping back against the pillow, fingers digging into your hips. "Tight as fuck—"

You exhaled a shaky breath, adjusting, rolling your hips experimentally. The stretch, the fullness—it sent sparks dancing up your spine, heat pooling low.

Logan groaned, eyes snapping back to you, dark, hungry. "Move, sweetheart."

You did. Slow at first, grinding your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him drag inside you, your clit rubbing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. Logan's grip on your waist tightened, like he was fighting the urge to just flip you over and take control, but you weren’t about to let him.

Your hands planted against his chest for leverage as you lifted yourself up, only to sink back down, setting a rhythm that had both of you panting.

"Fuck, that’s it," Logan groaned, his fingers trailing up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades, keeping you close. "You ride me so fuckin’ good, doll."

You leaned down, biting at his lower lip. "You like watching me fuck myself on your cock?"

His response was a guttural growl, his hips bucking up hard enough to make you gasp.

Your pace quickened, riding him harder, chasing the pleasure curling in your belly. Every drag of his cock inside you hit deep, the friction perfect, the angle just right. Logan was watching you, his eyes locked onto your face, drinking in every moan, every gasp.

"Touch yourself," he rasped, voice wrecked.

Your breath caught, but you obeyed, fingers slipping between your bodies to circle your clit. The added stimulation made you whimper, your thighs trembling as you rode him faster, harder.

Logan was unraveling beneath you, his muscles taut, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there’d be bruises.

"You gonna come for me?" His voice was strained, hoarse. "Come all over my cock, sweetheart?"

The tension snapped. Your orgasm slammed into you, stealing your breath, your whole body shaking as pleasure tore through you. Your walls clenched around him, dragging a curse from Logan as he thrust up into you, chasing his own release.

A few more erratic thrusts, and he was gone—his hips jerking, a growl tearing from his throat as he spilled deep inside you, fingers flexing against your waist, holding you down as he rode out every last pulse.

Silence hung between you, both of you catching your breath, bodies still tangled.

Finally, Logan exhaled a low, satisfied chuckle. "Pickles better not be lookin’ right now," Logan muttered, still breathless, his hands running idly over your thighs.

You let out a weak laugh, your forehead dropping to his shoulder as your body still hummed with the aftershocks. “I don’t think he’s judging you.”

Logan scoffed, his fingers trailing lazily up your spine. “He better not be. Ain’t gonna have some stuffed bear watchin’ while I wreck you.”

You groaned, shoving at his chest. “Can you not?”

Logan chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you in place. “What? You embarrassed now, sweetheart?”

You huffed, rolling off him and onto your back, still catching your breath. “No, I just think it’s weird you’re this bothered by a stuffed animal.”

Logan turned his head, glaring at the bear like it had personally offended him. “He’s just… there. Starin’.”

You threw an arm over your face, shaking with silent laughter. “Oh my God, you’re impossible.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, a soft thump.

You peeked out from under your arm just in time to see Pickles on the floor, face down, having been very unceremoniously shoved off the bed.

Logan stretched his arms behind his head, looking smug. “Problem solved.”

You snorted. “You are so petty.”

Logan just smirked, rolling onto his side to look at you. “Damn right. Now c’mere.”

You let out a squeak as he pulled you against his chest, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. His body was warm, solid, and you knew you should probably get up—clean up—but right now, wrapped up in Logan, you didn’t want to move.

---

“Hey. Would you mind checking the irrigation system? I just feel like something is wrong with it.” Ororo said, leaning against the counter in the kitchen while you ate a sandwich at the island.

You swallowed your bite and glanced at her. "What's wrong with it?"

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I don’t know exactly, but some of the plants in the greenhouse are drying out too fast. I checked the timers, everything should be working, but something’s off."

You nodded, already pushing your plate aside. "Yeah, I can take a look."

"Thanks." She gave you a small smile. "I’d check myself, but I promised the kids I’d help with their flight training today."

"No problem." You stood, grabbing your water bottle. "I’ll head over now."

As you turned to leave, Logan strolled into the kitchen, looking way too smug for no reason.

"Summers," he greeted casually, nodding at Ororo before his gaze flicked to you. "Goin' somewhere?"

"Irrigation system," you answered, reaching for an apple from the bowl on the counter. "Something’s off with it."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "You callin’ yourself an expert now?"

You smirked. "I literally have a degree for this, Logan."

His lips twitched, but before he could say something smart, Ororo let out a tired sigh. "You know what? Logan, why don’t you go with her? Two pairs of eyes are better than one."

You barely stopped yourself from choking on your water.

Logan blinked. "What?"

"You don’t have anything better to do," Ororo said, giving him a look. "And I’d rather not have to ask Hank to take apart the whole system if it turns out to be something simple."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Logan beat you to it. "Yeah, alright," he said, way too easily, like he wasn’t even remotely bothered. "Guess I could help out."

Ororo smiled. "Great. Let me know if you find anything."

With that, she left the kitchen, completely unaware of the absolute disaster she’d just created.

You turned to Logan, narrowing your eyes. "You are way too happy about this."

Logan smirked, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "What? I can’t enjoy a little quality time with my girl?"

"Not when we’re supposed to be keeping this quiet, you can’t," you muttered, grabbing your jacket. "Scott is literally somewhere in this house right now. You wanna take a wild guess at how bad things will go if he finds out?"

Logan shrugged, twisting the cap off his beer. "Guess we just gotta be real subtle then, huh?"

You groaned. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," he said, smirking as he followed you out the door.

---

The greenhouse was quiet when you got there, the sun filtering through the glass, casting everything in a warm glow. You walked over to the control panel, Logan leaning against the workbench beside you, watching.

"So, what’s the verdict, doc?" he asked, sipping his beer.

You rolled your eyes. "That’s not even remotely the right title."

He smirked. "Still hot, though."

You ignored him, pressing a few buttons on the panel to check the irrigation schedule. Everything looked normal—no skipped cycles, no errors. "Huh," you muttered, frowning.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Bad ‘huh’ or just confused ‘huh’?"

"Confused," you admitted. "The system says it’s running fine, but if the plants are drying out, that means the water’s not getting distributed properly."

Logan tilted his head. "Could be a leak somewhere."

"Yeah, maybe." You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "Looks like we’re gonna have to check the pipes."

Logan smirked. "So, what I’m hearin’ is, you need me to crawl around in the dirt while you stand there lookin’ pretty?"

You shot him a look. "No. What you’re hearing is that we both have to crawl around in the dirt because this system runs through half the property."

His smirk didn’t fade. "Still think you’d look real cute just supervisin’."

"Logan," you warned, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s check your damn pipes."

---

After an hour of checking different lines, you finally found the issue—a cracked section of piping near the east gardens.

"See? Leak," Logan muttered, wiping dirt from his hands. "Told ya."

You huffed, brushing soil off your knees. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll tell Ororo she needs to replace this part of the system."

Logan stretched, rolling his shoulders. "You wanna tell her now, or you wanna take advantage of the fact that we’re conveniently outta sight?"

You turned, giving him a look. "We’re in the middle of the garden."

Logan stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Yeah. And?"

You swallowed, glancing around. The mansion was a good distance away, and the gardens were quiet. Still, it was risky.

"Logan," you started, but before you could finish, he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Relax, doll," he murmured, his fingers trailing down your jaw. "Just sayin’, we got a little privacy."

Your heart pounded. You should’ve shut this down. Should’ve reminded him that literally anyone could walk by.

But then Logan’s hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer, and every ounce of common sense you had went right out the window.

You let out a shaky breath. "You are such a bad influence."

Logan smirked. "And yet, you keep comin’ back."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours—just a tease, just enough to make you chase him. Your hands curled into his shirt, pulling him in for real this time, kissing him like you didn’t care about the risk.

Because right now, you didn’t.

Logan hummed against your mouth, his grip tightening. "Told ya sneakin’ around was fun."

You sighed, pressing your forehead to his. "You’re impossible."

"And you love it," he murmured, kissing you again.

---

It was late at night when Logan snuck in through your window, one you conveniently left unlocked. It was around three in the morning—he knew you wouldn’t be awake at this time. Your room was dark, save for a soft glow from a nightlight in the corner. What stopped him was you curled up next to that damn bear—Pickles.

Logan stared, standing motionless beside your bed.

You were wrapped around the oversized stuffed animal, arms tucked beneath your chin, your face half-buried in the bear’s fuzzy head. One of your legs was thrown over it, keeping it locked against your body like it was an actual person.

Logan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

You shifted slightly at the sound of his voice, mumbling something incoherent. He watched as your fingers curled into the bear’s fur, pulling it even closer.

He narrowed his eyes. Then, with zero hesitation, he reached down and yanked Pickles right out of your arms.

A confused whimper escaped you as your grip slipped, but you didn’t wake up—just frowned in your sleep, instinctively reaching out to grab at something.

Logan smirked, tossing the bear toward the chair in the corner. Pickles landed with a soft thud, face down, abandoned.

“Not tonight, bub,” Logan muttered, sliding into bed beside you.

Without the stuffed barrier in the way, your body naturally curled toward his, your hand finding his chest, your head tucking beneath his chin. Logan huffed out something close to a laugh, wrapping an arm around you, his palm resting warm against your back.

"That’s better," he murmured against your hair.

He expected you to settle, maybe even murmur some sleepy complaint before drifting back off. What he didn’t expect was for you to suddenly mutter—half-asleep, barely audible, “bring him back.”

Logan blinked. “What?”

Your fingers twitched against his shirt, your face scrunching slightly. "Pickles. Give him back."

Logan stared at you like you’d just insulted his entire existence. "Not happenin’, sweetheart."

You let out a sleepy, frustrated sigh, shifting against him. "He’s soft."

Logan scoffed. "So am I."

You made a small, disgruntled noise, but didn’t argue—just burrowed deeper into him, apparently deciding he was an acceptable substitute.

Logan smirked. "That’s what I thought."

A comfortable silence settled, your breathing even, your body warm against his. He let his hand wander up and down your spine, slow, absentminded. Maybe sneaking around was a pain in the ass, but moments like this?

Yeah. Worth it.

---

In the morning, you found yourself still curled around Logan. His arm was slung lazily over your waist, his body warm against yours. His steady breathing tickled the top of your head, and for a second, you just stayed there, soaking in the quiet.

Then—his voice, still rough with sleep. "You know, if you wanted somethin’ to hold onto at night, you could just call me over instead of clingin’ to that damn bear."

You barely cracked an eye open. "Pickles."

Logan huffed. "Not callin’ him that."

You smirked, burying your face against his chest. "You’re just mad he’s softer than you."

"That right?" His hand slid down, fingers squeezing your hip. "You sure about that?"

You let out a soft laugh, shifting against him. "Mmhmm. You’re all muscle and stubble. Pickles is fluffy."

Logan muttered something under his breath, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your back. "Still don’t get why you sleep with that thing."

You hesitated for half a second before mumbling, "’cause he smells like you."

Logan stilled. You felt the way his fingers paused against your skin, the way his breathing slowed just slightly. Then—his voice, quieter this time. "Yeah?"

You swallowed, suddenly regretting saying anything. "Forget it."

His hand slid up, catching your chin and tilting your face toward him. His gaze flickered over yours, something unreadable in his eyes.

"Nah," he murmured. "Say it again."

You rolled your eyes, but your face was warm. "I said forget it."

Logan smirked, but it was softer this time, less teasing. "So what you’re tellin’ me is… every time you curl up with that stupid bear, you’re actually thinkin’ about me?"

"Don’t make it weird."

"Too late." He leaned in, lips brushing your temple. "That’s real fuckin’ sweet, doll."

You groaned, shoving at his chest. "Ugh, never mind. Give Pickles back."

Logan laughed, tightening his hold around you. "Nope. You lost stuffed animal privileges."

"That’s not a thing!"

"It is now."

You huffed, but you didn’t fight him. Not when he was warm and solid against you, not when his fingers were still tracing slow circles against your hip.

After a moment, Logan murmured, "you really don’t gotta wait for a goddamn stuffed bear to smell like me. Y’know that, right?"

You hesitated before answering. "I know."

His grip on you tightened, just slightly. "Good."

And even though he was an ass about it, even though you knew he was gonna bring this up at the worst possible moment just to mess with you—you still let yourself relax against him, letting his warmth, his scent, his presence wrap around you.

Because, yeah, you could’ve just called him over. But right now, he was here.

---

Later that morning, you were in the kitchen, making coffee when Rogue strolled in, looking far too amused for this early in the day.

“So,” she drawled, leaning against the counter. “Have a good night?”

You didn’t look at her. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Rogue smirked. “Uh-huh. Funny, ‘cause I coulda sworn I saw Logan sneakin’ outta your window when I got up.”

You sighed, sipping your coffee. “Mind your business.”

“Oh, sugar,” she grinned, “this is my business.”

You groaned, setting your mug down. “If I tell you to shut up, will you?”

“Nope.”

You gave her a flat look. “Fantastic.”

Rogue chuckled, stealing a piece of toast from your plate. “So, what’s the deal? You two ever gonna stop sneakin’ around?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around your mug. “It’s just easier this way.”

“For who?”

You exhaled, leaning against the counter. “Scott would lose his mind if he found out.”

Rogue raised an eyebrow. “And? He ain’t your keeper, Y/N. You’re a grown-ass woman.”

You shot her a look. “You don’t have a brother like Scott.”

“True,” she admitted. “But Logan’s actin’ like he’s gettin’ real tired of all the sneakin’ around.”

Your stomach twisted. “…He said that?”

“He didn’t have to.” Rogue smirked. “Man’s already borderline feral for you. Pretty sure the only reason he ain’t dragged you away yet is ‘cause he knows you’d feel bad ‘bout it.”

You swallowed. She wasn’t wrong.

Rogue nudged your shoulder. “Just think about it, sugar. Logan ain’t exactly patient.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah. I know.”

She gave you a knowing look before grabbing another piece of toast and walking off.

You sat there, staring into your coffee, Rogue’s words circling in your head. This was getting harder. And you had no idea how much longer you could keep up the lie.

---

Every month you and Scott had a designated night where you would play chess and ‘catch up.’ You weren’t sure when it started, or why the game you played together was chess, but you didn’t have it in you to argue or skip out on it.

You sat across from him in the study, the old wooden chessboard set up between you. A lamp cast a warm glow over the pieces, making long shadows stretch across the table.

Scott studied the board like it held the secrets of the universe. You, on the other hand, were barely paying attention. Because Logan was somewhere in the mansion. And you were painfully aware of it.

“You good?” Scott asked, glancing up from the board.

You blinked, snapping out of it. “Huh?”

Scott frowned. “You seem distracted.”

You forced a casual shrug. “Just tired.”

Scott didn’t look convinced, but he moved his knight anyway. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”

You tensed. “Weird how?”

Scott leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I don’t know. You disappear a lot. You keep missing training or showing up late. Jean said your heart rate spikes randomly during dinner—”

Your stomach dropped. “She what?”

Scott waved a hand. “Not in a weird way. She just notices things.”

Yeah. You were sure she did. You picked up your rook, trying to ignore the way your pulse picked up again. “Scott, I have a life outside of training, you know.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

You gave him a look. “Yes, I do.”

He huffed, moving a pawn. “Fine. Who is he?”

Your hand froze mid-air. “What?”

Scott smirked. “Who’s the guy?”

Your brain short-circuited for a full three seconds. “Why would you assume it’s a guy?”

Scott shrugged. “Because I know you. And the only time you get this distracted is when someone’s involved.”

Your stomach twisted. You scrambled for something, anything, to throw him off. “How do you know it’s not a girl?”

Scott snorted. “Because I know you, and if you were seeing a girl, I’d have noticed by now.”

You moved your rook without thinking, mostly just to keep your hands busy. “Pretty sure you just admitted you haven’t noticed.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not letting this go. “So there is someone.”

Shit. “I didn’t say that,” you said quickly, trying to sound bored, like this conversation wasn’t sending your pulse through the roof.

Scott leaned forward, arms braced on the table. “Then say it now. There’s no one.”

You hesitated for half a second too long.

Scott’s smirk widened. “Gotcha.”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “Scott—”

“No, no, now I have to know,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Who is he?”

“There’s no—”

“Do I know him?”

You exhaled sharply. “Scott.”

Scott ignored you. “Is it one of the new recruits? Someone in town? Oh God, tell me it’s not Warren—”

“Ew, no!” You made a face. “Gross.”

Scott smirked. “That was a strong reaction.”

“Because that’s disgusting.”

Scott chuckled, moving his bishop. “Okay, so not Warren.”

You huffed, leaning back in your chair. “This conversation is ridiculous.”

Scott tilted his head slightly, watching you too closely. “So there is someone.”

You were going to kill Rogue. Somehow, this had to be her fault.

You inhaled through your nose, trying to steady your voice. “Not that it’s any of your business, but if there was someone, it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

Scott frowned, his entire demeanor shifting from teasing to overprotective in record time. “Of course it’s a big deal.”

You groaned. “Scott—”

“I just wanna know who’s dating my little sister.”

You moved your queen, taking his bishop, and shot him a flat look. “And if I don’t tell you?”

Scott didn’t even blink. “Then I find out myself.”

Your stomach clenched. He wasn’t bluffing. And if Scott started looking—really looking—he’d figure it out. Fast. Logan wasn’t exactly subtle, and you were running out of ways to dodge questions. You needed to throw Scott off your trail, fast.

So, you did the first thing you could think of. You rolled your eyes and muttered, “Fine. It’s Peter.”

Scott blinked. Then he stared at you, his expression somewhere between disbelief and outright horror. “…Peter Maximoff?”

You nodded, keeping your face as neutral as possible.

Scott made a strangled noise. “Quicksilver?”

“Yeah.”

Scott recoiled like you’d just told him you were engaged to a war criminal. “No. No way.”

You shrugged, picking up your knight and moving it. “You wanted to know.”

Scott ran a hand over his face. “You cannot be serious.”

You fought the urge to smirk. “Why not? He’s nice.”

Scott groaned, pushing away from the table like the thought alone was physically painful. “He’s annoying.”

“He’s funny,” you corrected.

“He’s reckless.”

“He’s spontaneous.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “He’s immature.”

You shrugged again, making a show of considering it. “I think it’s kind of charming.”

Scott groaned again, rubbing his temples like this conversation was causing him actual pain. “How long?”

You tilted your head. “Hmm?”

“How long have you been…” Scott waved a hand vaguely. “Seeing him?”

You forced a thoughtful look, like you had to think about it. “A couple months?”

Scott let out an exasperated breath, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it,” you said casually, moving your piece. “Check.”

Scott didn’t even look at the board. “We’re not done talking about this.”

You smirked. “Pretty sure we are.”

Scott muttered something under his breath, looking thoroughly unamused, but he didn’t press.

You had successfully dodged the bullet. For now.

---

It had been four days since your little chess game with Scott, and while you’d managed to throw him off your trail with the whole Peter Maximoff thing, you were starting to regret it.

Because now, Scott was watching you and Peter like a hawk.

You knew it had been a bad idea the second Peter found out. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world. He kept winking at you during meals, slinging an arm around your shoulder whenever Scott was around, and making ridiculously suggestive comments just to see your brother’s eye twitch.

And Logan? Logan was not amused.

He’d barely reacted when you first told him, just raised an eyebrow and muttered, “you couldn’t come up with a better lie?”

But as the days passed and Peter continued to mess with Scott, Logan’s patience was wearing very thin.

So, when you walked into the rec room and found Peter sprawled out on the couch, grinning at Logan—who was standing over him with his arms crossed, looking one second away from snapping—yeah, you knew this was about to be a problem.

You sighed, closing the door behind you. “What are you two doing?”

Peter smirked up at you. “Hey, babe.”

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose.

You shot Peter a glare before turning to Logan. “Please tell me you haven’t threatened him.”

Logan’s lips twitched slightly, like he wanted to smirk but was still too pissed. “Didn’t have to.”

Peter propped himself up on one elbow, grinning. “Your boyfriend is jealous.”

Logan’s head snapped toward him so fast Peter actually flinched.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Peter, I swear—”

“What? It’s true!” Peter grinned, looking entirely too entertained by the whole thing. “Big, bad Wolverine doesn’t like that Scotty thinks we’re together.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “You enjoy makin’ my life harder, don’t you?”

Peter gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Me? Never.”

Logan’s fists curled, and you could see the patience draining from his body. Before he could make a very bad decision, you grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. “Alright, enough.”

Peter snickered. “You guys gonna go make out now?”

Logan turned so fast that Peter actually rolled off the couch to avoid him. You yanked Logan out of the room before he could kill him. The second the door shut behind you, you sighed. “You cannot murder Peter, Logan.”

Logan’s teeth were clenched so tight you were surprised they hadn’t cracked. “Give me one good reason.”

You squeezed his arm. “Because Scott cannot find out about us.”

Logan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, well, if that little shit calls you ‘babe’ one more time, I can’t be held responsible.”

You fought back a smirk, but you didn’t entirely succeed. “You are jealous.”

Logan scoffed. “Jealous? Of Maximoff?” He snorted. “You serious?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. That’s why you were about to throw him through a wall.”

Logan didn’t answer, just crossed his arms and looked away.

You stepped closer, tilting your head up to look at him. “You know Scott’s buying it, right? That was the whole point.”

Logan’s jaw ticked, but he still wasn’t looking at you.

You smirked. “Aww. You mad I haven’t kissed you in public?”

Logan’s eyes snapped back to yours, dark and dangerous. “Sweetheart,” he muttered, voice dropping, “you better be real sure you wanna start somethin’ right now.”

Your stomach flipped. You knew that look. You swallowed, pulse picking up. “Maybe I do.”

Logan’s smirk was all teeth. “Then get your ass upstairs.”

Your breath hitched. “Logan—”

“Now,” he growled, stepping closer, his body heat swallowing you whole. “Unless you want your brother to walk by and see me pushin’ you against this wall.”

Your face burned. You turned immediately, heading straight for your room.

Logan’s low chuckle followed you all the way up the stairs.

---

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you’d started the fake dating Peter disaster, and while it had successfully kept Scott off your back, it had come with its own set of problems.

For one, Peter was still milking it for all it was worth. He’d taken to calling you babe and sweetheart in the most obnoxious ways possible, always just within Scott’s earshot. He threw an arm around your shoulder in the halls, made jokes about our song at dinner, and once—just to piss Logan off—winked at him across the room while sliding his hand into yours.

You’d nearly died. Logan had nearly killed him. The second problem? Logan was getting real tired of keeping things quiet.

It wasn’t just the usual sneaking around anymore. It was the way he was getting bolder about it. The way his hands lingered too long when he passed you in the hall. The way his eyes followed you across a room, sharp, hungry, like he didn’t give a shit who noticed.

And then there were moments like this. Logan had you pressed against your bedroom door, one hand braced above your head, the other gripping your waist. His mouth was at your ear, voice rough with frustration.

“This bullshit needs to end.”

You swallowed, your breath coming a little too fast. “Logan—”

He leaned in, his stubble scraping against your jaw as his lips brushed your skin. “Tell me you’re done playin’ pretend with Maximoff.”

You were done. You had been for days. But you still hesitated. “Scott—”

“Fuck Scott.” Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, his voice dropping lower. “You’re mine, Y/N. Not his, not Maximoff’s—mine.”

Your stomach flipped. “Logan…”

His teeth grazed your pulse, just enough to make you shiver. “Say it.”

You clenched your jaw. “We still have to be careful—”

“Sweetheart,” Logan growled, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark, dangerous, “I ain’t ever been careful with things I want.”

Heat coiled in your stomach, your fingers curling into his shirt.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Because Logan wasn’t just some stupid crush. He wasn’t just a fun secret to keep. He was… everything. And the longer you kept this hidden, the harder it was getting to breathe.

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, there was a sharp knock at your door.

Both of you froze.

“Y/N, open up.” Scott.

Logan exhaled sharply, stepping back. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

You shoved at his chest. “Go hide.”

Logan rolled his eyes but moved toward the closet, muttering, “déjà vu,” under his breath.

You smoothed out your shirt, inhaled deeply, and then cracked the door open.

Scott stood there, arms crossed, looking vaguely annoyed. “Why was your door locked?”

You gave him a flat look. “Because I was changing?”

Scott frowned, like he almost believed you, but not quite. “Right.”

You sighed, opening the door more. “What do you want, Scott?”

Scott hesitated, then ran a hand over his face. “Look. I just…” He sighed again. “I need to talk to you about Peter.”

Your stomach dropped. “Peter?”

Scott nodded, his expression tight. “Yeah.”

You felt the blood drain from your face, your heart pounding so loudly you almost didn’t hear what he said next.

“I don’t trust him.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

Scott exhaled, crossing his arms again. “I don’t trust him with you.”

You almost laughed. That’s what this was about?

Scott continued, completely oblivious to the actual disaster happening just a few feet behind you. “He’s too reckless. He jokes about everything. I just… I don’t think he’s taking this seriously.”

You resisted the urge to rub your temples. “Scott—”

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Your stomach twisted. Goddamn it. You might’ve been lying to him, but Scott wasn’t the enemy here. He was just looking out for you. And you hated how guilty that made you feel. You swallowed, forcing a small smile. “I am, Scott. I promise.”

Scott studied you for a second longer before sighing. “Okay. Just… be careful, alright?”

You nodded. “I will.”

Scott exhaled, running a hand through his hair before finally stepping back. “Alright. I’ll see you at dinner.”

You nodded again, waiting until his footsteps faded down the hall before shutting the door and pressing your forehead against it.

“That’s it,” Logan muttered, stepping out of the closet. “I’m ending this.”

You turned, brows furrowing. “What?”

“I’m tellin’ him.”

Your stomach plummeted. “No.”

Logan scoffed. “Y/N—”

“No,” you repeated, stepping in front of him. “We can’t just tell him.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “You really think he’s never gonna find out?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because you didn’t have an answer to that. And Logan knew it.

His expression softened just slightly. “Sweetheart…”

You swallowed, voice quieter. “I just… I don’t want to fight with him. I hate fighting with him. He’s the only family I have left.”

Logan’s gaze softened, but his jaw was still tight, his hands curling into fists like he was holding back every single thing he wanted to say.

“I know, sweetheart,” he muttered. “But lyin’ to him ain’t gonna fix that.”

You swallowed hard, arms crossing over your chest. “And telling him is?”

Logan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s gonna happen sooner or later.”

Your stomach twisted because, yeah, he was right. Scott was already suspicious, and keeping up this stupid fake thing with Peter was exhausting. But every time you thought about actually telling him—about watching his face change, seeing the way he’d probably look at you like you’d betrayed him—you couldn’t do it.

“I just need more time,” you said quietly.

Logan’s expression flickered, something unreadable passing behind his eyes. “Time for what?”

You hesitated. “Time to figure out how to tell him in a way that won’t make him hate me.”

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “You really think he’s gonna hate you?”

You pressed your lips together, looking away.

“Doll,” Logan muttered, stepping closer. “Scott’s a pain in the ass, but he loves you. He’s not gonna stop because of me.”

You exhaled shakily. “You don’t know that.”

Logan reached out, his fingers curling gently under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Yeah, I do.”

You swallowed, staring at him. His hand was warm, his thumb brushing slow against your skin, his grip solid, grounding. But it wasn’t that easy.

“I just…” You shook your head. “I don’t wanna lose him, Logan.”

Logan sighed, his forehead dropping against yours for a second before he pulled back. “You ain’t gonna lose him. But you keep this up, you’re gonna lose your damn mind.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, but it wasn’t really funny.

Logan studied you for a moment, then his fingers traced lightly down your arm before he let go. “You do what you gotta do. But I’m done sneakin’ around like some kid hidin’ from his girlfriend’s old man.”

Your stomach clenched. “So what? You’re just gonna start making out with me in the middle of the kitchen?”

Logan’s smirk was all teeth. “Hell yeah, I am.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Logan, I swear to God—”

“What?” he said, tilting his head. “I already told you, I ain’t sneakin’ around anymore. So if I feel like grabbin’ my girl and kissin’ the hell outta her in the middle of the damn kitchen, I’m gonna do it.”

Your stomach flipped, but you scowled. “You’ll get us caught.”

Logan just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Maybe.”

You threw your hands up. “That’s not a good thing!”

Logan huffed a laugh, stepping closer, backing you up against the edge of your desk. His hands landed on your hips, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “Sweetheart, I ain’t the one lyin’ to your brother. That’s all you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You agreed to this.”

“Yeah, and now I’m un-agreein’.” His hands slid higher, thumbs brushing against your ribs. “Gettin’ real tired of pretendin’ I don’t wanna put my hands on you every time you walk into a room.”

Your pulse spiked, and he definitely noticed. His smirk widened, and you knew you were losing this argument.

You exhaled sharply, putting a hand on his chest. “Just—give me a little more time, okay?”

Logan’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening for half a second before he sighed, stepping back. “Fine. But I ain’t makin’ it easy for you.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan’s eyes gleamed with something downright smug. “Means if I wanna touch you, I’m gonna. If I wanna look at you like I’m thinkin’ about takin’ you apart right then and there, I’m gonna.”

Your mouth went dry. “Logan—”

“And if Summers gets suspicious?” Logan shrugged. “Not my problem.”

You gaped at him. “That’s literally the entire problem!”

Logan just smirked, brushing past you toward the door. “Better start thinkin’ of an exit plan, sweetheart.”

And with that, he strolled out of your room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, brain short-circuiting.

---

You were, in fact, completely screwed. Because Logan wasn’t bluffing.

It started small—little touches, barely noticeable. A hand resting on the small of your back as he walked past, fingers brushing yours when he handed you something, his knee knocking against yours under the table at dinner. Subtle things that could’ve been brushed off if you didn’t know him.

But then he got bolder.

Leaning in close whenever he talked to you, his voice dropping low enough that it sent shivers down your spine. His hand lingering on your waist just a second too long. The way he looked at you across a room—dark, intense, like he was daring you to react.

And Scott? Scott was starting to notice.

He wasn’t outright suspicious yet, but his eyes would narrow every time Logan got too close, every time Logan made some offhand comment that sounded just a little too familiar. It didn’t help that Peter was still being an ass about the whole thing, grinning like he knew Logan was barely keeping it together.

And then came the moment everything almost fell apart.

---

You were in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, minding your own business when Logan walked in. You knew it was him before you even looked up—the scent of cigar smoke and leather, the way the air in the room seemed to shift.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stepped up behind you, real close, one hand bracing on the counter beside yours. “You sleep okay?” he murmured, his voice low.

You swallowed. He wasn’t touching you, not really, but the heat of him at your back had your pulse spiking. “Fine,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Why?”

Logan hummed. “Thought maybe you’d have trouble, seein’ as how I wasn’t there.”

Your stomach flipped. Before you could tell him to knock it off, Scott walked in. Logan didn’t move.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept your expression neutral, forcing yourself to casually step away from the counter and grab a glass from the cabinet. Logan still hadn’t backed up, still standing too close, but at least he wasn’t blatantly touching you.

Scott paused in the doorway, glancing between the two of you. You braced yourself. But instead of questioning anything, Scott’s frown deepened, and then he said, “I need to talk to you.”

Your stomach sank. “Me?”

Scott nodded. “Now.”

You hesitated, then set your glass down. “Okay.” You didn’t look at Logan as you followed Scott out of the kitchen, but you could feel his eyes on you the whole way.

Scott led you to the study, shutting the door behind you. He didn’t say anything at first, just turned and studied you like he was trying to read your mind.

You crossed your arms. “Okay, what’s up?”

Scott exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s about Peter.”

You barely stopped yourself from groaning. “Again?”

Scott’s expression tightened. “You know I don’t trust him.”

You sighed. “Scott—”

“No, listen,” he said, crossing his arms. “I get that you don’t wanna hear it, but I don’t think he’s serious about this. I think he’s just screwing around, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Guilt punched you straight in the chest. Scott thought he was protecting you, looking out for you. And you were standing here, lying to his face. You swallowed hard. “Scott, I told you—I’m fine.”

Scott frowned. “You don’t even look happy when you’re with him. And I don’t mean, like, in some overprotective big brother way—I mean you don’t act like someone in a real relationship. There’s no… I don’t know. No connection. It’s like you’re just going through the motions.”

Your mouth was dry.

Scott exhaled, looking at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “So tell me the truth. What’s really going on?”

Your heart pounded. You could lie again. Dig yourself deeper.

Or—

You took a slow breath. “Scott…” You hesitated, stomach twisting, then forced the words out. “It’s not Peter.”

Scott’s brow furrowed. “What?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m not dating Peter.”

Scott just stared at you. “But—you said—”

“I lied,” you admitted, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “I only said it to get you off my back.”

Scott’s expression darkened. “So there is someone.” You hesitated. Scott took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Who?” You opened your mouth—then shut it. Scott’s gaze flickered, sharp, calculating. And then, like a switch flipping, realization dawned across his face. His jaw clenched. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Your stomach plummeted.

Scott took a sharp breath, hands curling into fists. “It’s Logan.”

Your pulse roared in your ears. He knew. Your heart raced as Scott’s entire body tensed, his face twisting into something between anger and disbelief.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said, voice dangerously low.

You couldn’t. And that silence? That was enough.

Scott exhaled sharply, turning away like he physically couldn’t look at you. His hands went to his hips, his head dropping forward as he took a moment, his breathing tight, controlled. Then he turned back, expression like stone. “How long?”

You swallowed. “Scott—”

“How long?”

You hesitated. “Eight months.”

Scott inhaled through his nose, like he was trying very hard not to explode. “Eight months?” You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. Scott let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

You clenched your fists. “Scott, I—”

“No,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “You don’t get to explain this away.”

Your jaw tightened. “I wasn’t going to explain it away. I was going to tell you the truth.”

Scott scoffed. “Oh, now you wanna tell me the truth?”

You exhaled sharply. “Look, I get it, okay? You’re pissed, and you have every right to be. But I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react exactly like this.”

Scott threw his hands up. “How the hell did you expect me to react?”

“I don’t know, maybe without immediately jumping down my throat?”

Scott’s glare was sharp. “You’re seriously gonna stand there and act like I shouldn’t be pissed that my best friend has been sneaking around with my little sister?”

Your frustration flared. “Logan isn’t just your best friend—he’s mine, too. And I didn’t plan for this to happen, Scott. It just… did.”

Scott ran both hands over his face, pacing. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

You crossed your arms. “I know you don’t like it—”

“You think?”

You groaned. “Scott, I love him.” Scott’s pacing stopped. He turned, staring at you like you’d just said the most impossible thing in the world. You swallowed hard. “I love him,” you repeated, quieter this time.

Scott’s jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, finally, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I need to talk to Logan.”

Your stomach twisted. “Scott—”

“No,” he said firmly, already heading for the door. “He wants to be with you? Fine. Then he can explain himself.”

And just like that, Scott was gone.

Your heart pounded as you stood there, frozen, bracing yourself for what came next. Scott was already storming down the hall, and you knew exactly where he was headed.

Shit.

You forced yourself to move, shoving away from the desk and hurrying after him. “Scott, wait—”

He didn’t. He was on a mission, his jaw clenched, shoulders tense as he turned the corner and entered the kitchen, where Logan was still leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee like he had all the time in the world.

Logan barely had time to look up before Scott was right in front of him. “You and my sister?”

Logan set his coffee down with zero urgency, his expression unreadable. “Guessin’ she told you, huh?”

Scott let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Eight months. Eight months you’ve been sneaking around with my little sister, and you never thought to tell me?”

Logan crossed his arms. “Didn’t think you’d take it well.”

Scott scoffed. “Yeah, no shit.”

You stepped forward, pulse still racing. “Scott, I—”

“No, you stay out of this for a second,” Scott snapped, pointing at you before turning back to Logan. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

Logan’s face remained infuriatingly calm. “And?”

“And you didn’t think that maybe—just maybe—I deserved to know?”

Logan exhaled slowly, like he was thinking very carefully about what he was going to say. “Look, Summers. You’re pissed, I get it. But me not tellin’ you? That was her call.”

Scott turned to you, eyes flashing. “Seriously?”

You squared your shoulders. “I knew you’d react like this.”

Scott threw his hands up. “Like what? Like someone who just found out his best friend has been messing around with his sister behind his back?”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to something more dangerous. “Watch it, Summers.”

Scott’s head snapped back to him. “Or what?”

Logan’s hands flexed at his sides, but he didn’t move, didn’t take the bait. Instead, he just held Scott’s glare, unmoving. “You really think I’d do somethin’ to hurt her?”

Scott clenched his jaw, saying nothing.

“C’mon, man,” Logan continued, his tone lower now, less defensive. “I get why you’re pissed. I do. But I ain’t some asshole just messin’ around.” His gaze flicked to you for half a second before he looked back at Scott. “I love her.”

Your breath caught.

Scott’s shoulders tensed. “You what?”

Logan exhaled sharply, like he hated repeating himself, but he still did. “I love her.”

Scott’s jaw was tight, his whole body still stiff, but for the first time since he walked in, he didn’t immediately fire back. He was processing.

You didn’t wait for him to figure it out. You stepped forward, voice quieter now. “Scott… I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it’s not your decision. I love him.”

Scott closed his eyes for a second, inhaling deeply. When he opened them, some of the sharp anger had faded, replaced with something more complicated. Frustration. Conflict.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I need a minute.”

You hesitated. “Scott—”

“I just—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I just need a second, okay?”

You exchanged a glance with Logan, who gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Scott sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out. The second he was gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, shoulders slumping.

“Well,” Logan muttered, reaching for his coffee, “that coulda gone worse.”

You shot him a look. “Are you kidding?”

Logan smirked. “No punches were thrown. I call that a win.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “He’s so pissed.”

“Yeah,” Logan admitted, taking a sip of his coffee. “But he’ll get over it.”

You exhaled sharply. “You sound real confident about that.”

Logan shrugged. “He’ll come around. Might take a bit, but he will.”

You swallowed, staring at the spot Scott had just been standing. You weren’t so sure.

---

Scott avoided both of you for two days.

Not in a dramatic, storming-out-of-the-room way—more like a tight-lipped, jaw-clenched, very obvious avoidance where he refused to be alone with either of you. If you walked into a room, he’d suddenly have somewhere else to be. If Logan so much as glanced in his direction, Scott’s entire body would tense like he was physically restraining himself from starting a fight.

And when he did speak to you, it was short. Civil, but distant.

It sucked.

Rogue had been the first to break the silence, dropping onto your bed the night after the whole blow-up with an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, sugar, I gotta say, it could be worse.”

You shot her a look. “How?”

She smirked. “He hasn’t tried to kill Logan yet.”

You groaned, rolling onto your side. “Yet.”

Rogue nudged your arm. “He’ll get over it.”

You exhaled sharply. “You sound just like Logan.”

She grinned. “Well, maybe he’s got a point.”

You sighed, staring at the ceiling. “It’s not just that he’s pissed. It’s like… I don’t know. Like he’s disappointed.”

Rogue’s smirk softened. “Scott’s a control freak, Y/N. He likes things a certain way, and you dating Logan? That wasn’t in the plan.”

You didn’t answer.

Rogue tilted her head. “You ever think maybe it’s not just about Logan?”

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Rogue shrugged. “I think Scott’s got it in his head that you’re always gonna be his baby sister. That he can always look out for you, make sure you don’t get hurt.” She gave you a look. “And now? You don’t need him like that anymore.”

You hadn’t thought about it like that.

Rogue sighed, patting your arm before standing. “Just give him time. And maybe don’t rub it in his face too much.”

You huffed. “Tell that to Logan.”

Rogue snorted. “Oh, I did. He just smirked at me and said, ‘Summers already hates me. What’s the worst that could happen?’”

You groaned. “I hate him.”

“No, you don’t,” Rogue said with a grin, already heading for the door. “Night, sugar.”

You sighed, flopping back against your pillows. Time. You just had to wait.

---

It took four days. On the fifth, Scott finally cornered you outside, catching you by the greenhouse just before dinner. “Hey.”

You turned, heart jumping slightly. You hadn’t talked alone since he’d found out. “Hey.”

Scott shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “You got a minute?”

You nodded, following him to one of the benches near the garden. The silence stretched between you, awkward and heavy.

Finally, Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m still not… thrilled about this.”

You swallowed. “I know.”

“But.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I’ve been thinking. And… you’re not a kid.”

Your lips twitched. “Glad you finally noticed.”

Scott huffed, but his expression softened. “I can’t say I like it. And I definitely don’t like Logan.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I got that.”

Scott gave you a look before sighing again. “But I know he’s not just screwing around with you.”

You hesitated. “No. He’s not.”

Scott’s jaw tightened for half a second, but then he nodded. “And I know you wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t really want to.”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t just want to, Scott. I—” You hesitated before finishing, “I love him.”

Scott exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead like the very idea gave him a headache. “Yeah. I know.”

You bit your lip. “So…?”

Scott sighed. “So I’m not gonna fight you on it.”

Your chest tightened. “Really?”

Scott gave you a look. “I still don’t like it.”

“I know.”

“But… if this is what you want, then I’ll deal with it.”

Something in your throat clenched. You hadn’t realized how much you’d needed to hear that.

Scott sighed, shaking his head. “Just—if he does screw this up? I’m kicking his ass.”

You smirked. “I think you’d have to get in line.”

Scott snorted, finally—finally—cracking a small smile.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was enough. And for now? That was all you needed. With a quick dive, before he could push you away, you hugged him.

Scott stiffened for half a second—because, yeah, you weren’t exactly the most affectionate siblings—but then he sighed, relenting, patting your back once. “Okay, okay. That’s enough.”

You grinned, squeezing him tighter just to be annoying before finally letting go. “You’re such a softie.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Yeah, don’t spread that around.”

You smirked. “No promises.”

Scott exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “So… Logan.”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. “Scott—”

“I’m not gonna lecture you,” he interrupted, then paused. “Much.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s reassuring.”

Scott gave you a look. “I’m serious. Just… be careful, okay? Logan’s not exactly the easiest person to be with.”

Your stomach twisted, but you nodded. “I know.”

Scott hesitated, like he wanted to say something else, but then he just sighed. “And if he ever—”

“He won’t.”

Scott frowned. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Yes, I do.” You met his gaze. “And he won’t.”

Scott studied you for a second, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. But if he does screw this up, I’m still kicking his ass.”

You smirked. “You can try.”

Scott scowled, but you could see the reluctant amusement in his eyes. “Alright. We good?”

Your chest loosened. “Yeah. We’re good.”

Scott nodded, then exhaled sharply, muttering, “Can’t believe you made me have this conversation.”

You snorted. “Hey, technically, you cornered me first.”

Scott huffed, shaking his head as he turned away. “Whatever. Just… don’t be weird about it.”

You grinned. “Define weird.”

Scott shot you a glare over his shoulder. “I swear to God, Y/N—”

You laughed, and even though he rolled his eyes, you caught the way his expression softened just a little. Maybe things weren’t completely back to normal, but it was close enough. And that was a hell of a lot better than days of radio silence.

---

Later that night, you were in your room, scrolling through your phone when a quiet knock sounded at your window.

You already knew who it was. Rolling your eyes, you got up and pulled the curtain back. Sure enough, Logan was standing outside, arms crossed, looking way too smug for someone sneaking in like a damn teenager.

You cracked the window open. “You know, we have doors.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, but this is more fun.”

You sighed, but stepped back, letting him climb inside. The second his feet hit the floor, his hands were on your waist, pulling you close. “So?” he murmured, voice low, his breath warm against your temple. “How pissed is he?”

You leaned into him, resting your hands on his chest. “Less than before.”

Logan snorted. “That ain’t sayin’ much.”

You smirked. “Well, he didn’t try to kill you today, so that’s progress.”

Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Guess I’ll take what I can get.”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. “Told you he’d come around.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Logan’s lips skimmed your throat, his hands sliding lower. “You want me to tell you that you were right?”

You grinned. “It would be nice.”

Logan huffed. “Ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

You laughed, threading your fingers into his hair, pulling him down into a kiss. His hands tightened on your hips, his body pressing closer, and suddenly, you weren’t thinking about Scott or the last few days or anything else. Just Logan—his mouth, his hands, the heat between you.

He pushed you down onto your bed, Pickles’ legs separating you from your mattress. Logan froze. You blinked up at him, still breathless from the way he’d kissed you. “What?”

His eyes flicked down, jaw clenching. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

You followed his gaze and nearly lost it. Pickles was wedged between you two, his oversized plush limbs keeping Logan from pressing you fully into the mattress. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “What, is he in the way?”

Logan’s glare could’ve melted steel. “Move him.”

You grinned, making no effort to do so. “I don’t know, Logan. Maybe he wants to chaperone.”

Logan exhaled sharply, sitting back on his heels. “That’s it. He’s gotta go.”

Before you could react, he grabbed Pickles by the torso and chucked him across the room. The bear hit the chair in the corner, flopped onto the floor, and landed face down. You gasped, sitting up. “Logan!”

He just shrugged, completely unapologetic. “He had it comin’.”

“You are so petty,” you said, glaring at him.

Logan smirked, pushing you back down, his weight settling over you again. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, sweetheart?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m getting him back later.”

He chuckled, dipping his head to brush his lips against your jaw. "Not obsessed. Just don’t like sharin’." His teeth scraped against your skin, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "And you—" His hands slid lower, gripping your hips. "—are mine."

Your breath caught. "Yeah?"

Logan hummed against your throat. "Damn right."

You barely had time to register the shift before he had you flipped onto your stomach, your body pressing into the mattress as his weight settled over you. His hands smoothed over your sides, slow, teasing. "This okay?"

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head back slightly before repeating, "yeah."

Logan made a satisfied noise, his lips trailing along the back of your shoulder as his fingers curled around your wrists, pinning them against the sheets. "Good," he muttered. "Now let’s see if I can make you forget about that damn bear."

You barely bit back a laugh—before his teeth sank lightly into the side of your neck, and any smart-ass response you had completely disappeared. You were definitely screwed.

[dazevi]

PROLOGUE: DREAMS

heart to heart series | vi x fem!reader

synopsis: on a quiet afternoon after school, your girlfriend wonders and imagines what the future might look like for the two of you.

content warnings: fluff, impending angst (yikes), established relationship, highschool!vi and reader, eventual 18+ nsfw content in later chapters so MDNI.

wc: 2,294

navigation | series masterlist | ko-fi

note: very excited to share this with u guys! i spent most of january writing the first three chapters—most of them (not including this one) run on for about 10k words!! i also kind of half proofread each chapter so there still might be a few grammar mistakes. but i hope you guys like it!! also lovely fanart by bunimint_ on ig!

YOU ALWAYS LOVED DAYS LIKE THIS.

Days when the late afternoon sun spilled through the open blinds of Vi’s bedroom, yellow rays stretching lazily across her hardwood floor, onto her posters scattered and stuck on the wall. It was just another weekday after school and you found yourself sitting cross-legged on her bed, the worn quilt beneath you with its faded patterns due to years of use. A paperback novel rested in your hands, its pages slightly dog-eared from where you’d paused and flipped back to reread sentences that caught your attention.

Your eyes traced the words, but your thoughts occasionally drifted to the girl sprawled out in front of you.

She was lying on her back, her head resting in your lap, legs dangling off the side of the bed, toes tapping softly to the beat in her head. Her electric guitar—a faded, black and white instrument scuffed and scratched in a few places—rested on her stomach. The amp cord dangled uselessly off the bed, unplugged and forgotten, but she didn’t really seem to mind. Her fingers danced over the strings, plucking out random chords and melodies.

She wasn’t really playing anything in particular, just experimenting, testing things out. Sometimes a particularly sweet combination of chords would make her pause, and she’d strum it again, smiling faintly to herself.

Every now and then, she tilted her head to glance up at you, her light blue eyes softening each time.

You could feel her gaze, even when you pretended not to notice, too focused on the paragraph in front of you. You always found it hard to concentrate with her so close. Her presence filled the room, as it always did. The faint smell of her shampoo mingled with the slightly metallic scent of the guitar strings. You could feel her warmth where her head pressed against your thighs, and her fingers—rough and calloused—moved so delicately now, brushing over the strings like they might break.

“You always look so serious when you read,” Vi murmured suddenly. Her lips curled into a lazy grin as she tilted her head further back, her pink hair splaying across your lap. “What’s this one about? Another tragic love story?”

You glanced down at her, unable to suppress the smile that found its way onto your lips.

“It’s just for class,” you said, holding up the book for her to see the title. “I don’t exactly have a choice.”

Vi squinted at the cover, scrunching her nose. “Is it any good?”

“It’s okay,” you replied with a shrug, running your fingers absentmindedly through her hair. She hummed in approval, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, like a little puppy basking in attention. “The writing’s good, at least. But you wouldn’t care—it’s not exactly your kind of story.”

“Oh, yeah?” Vi opened one eye, her smirk deepening. “What’s my kind of story, then?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart skipped a beat at the way she was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“Something loud, fast, and reckless… full of action, I guess,” you teased. “Like you.”

“Fair enough,” she admitted with a smirk, plucking out a quick riff that sounded vaguely like a punk song you’d heard her play once before letting the guitar fall silent again. “But I think I’d make an exception for something you wrote.”

Your fingers froze in her hair, and you blinked down at her, startled. “Really?”

“Well, yeah. I like your writing. And… because it’d be you,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her voice was quiet now, and she lifted a hand to trace a lazy circle on the back of your knee. “You make everything interesting.”

You smiled again. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all as you brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.

Vi didn’t seem to mind the silence.

She went back to her guitar, strumming softly, her eyes drifting closed. The sunlight caught the curve of her cheek and the faint freckles scattered across her nose, making her look softer than usual. She looked so at peace, so content in your presence.

You never forget moments like these. With her head in your lap, the soft plucks of her guitar, the sunlight wrapping around both of you—it was all so achingly perfect that you wished you could freeze time and stay here forever.

Vi’s fingers slowed on the strings, the melody she had been absentmindedly strumming fading into silence. She tilted her head back further into your lap, the corners of her lips pulling into the softest smile as she gazed up at you. Like she was trying to memorize the way the light danced on your skin, the way your soft lips moved faintly as you read under your breath.

“I love you,” she murmured too quietly.

You paused, caught off guard, and glanced down at her. “What?”

Vi didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she reached up, her calloused fingers brushing gently against yours. She intertwined her fingers with yours, guiding your hand away from her hair. Her touch was uncharacteristically delicate, and before you could say anything, she pressed a featherlight kiss to the back of your hand.

Her lips were warm, slightly chapped, but the kiss was so soft, so tender, that it sent a shiver up your spine. And she didn’t stop there. Slowly, she trailed kisses along your knuckles, your palm, and then your wrist, her breath warm against your skin.

“I was saying,” she whispered between kisses, her voice barely above a whisper. “That you look beautiful.”

Your breath hitched, and your free hand instinctively reached out to touch her face, brushing your thumb along her cheekbone. Vi leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“You’re making me lose my place,” you teased, though it was clear you didn’t mind.

Vi chuckled, and she finally opened her eyes, meeting your gaze.

“Good,” she said with a grin, her voice still carrying that teasing lilt. “I like having your attention on me.”

Her confession made your cheeks flush, and you tried to look away, but Vi wasn’t having it. She tugged on your hand gently, pulling it to her lips once more, kissing your wrist one last time before cradling it against her chest.

She played with your fingers absentmindedly, her calloused thumb brushing over your knuckles, tracing the delicate lines of your skin like it was something sacred. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the pages of your book and the muted sounds of life outside her window—a car passing through the neighborhood, a bird chirping in the distance.

You glanced down at her briefly. She seemed lost in thought, her thumb lingering on your ring finger as if it had found a home there. For a long moment, she said nothing, and you assumed she was simply daydreaming, unfocused on anything. But then, she spoke quietly, like the question wasn’t meant for anyone else—just for you.

“What’d you think we’d be doing in… I dunno, five—maybe ten years?”

The question caught you off guard, pulling you from the pages you’d been engrossed in. You marked your place in the book with a finger and looked down at her. Her gaze was fixed on your hand, her thumb still circling your ring finger, slow and soft. She hadn’t looked up yet, like she was too shy to meet your eyes after that question.

“Ten years?” you echoed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s a long time from now, Vi.”

She finally tilted her head up to meet your gaze, her blue eyes searching yours.

“I know,” she said with a quiet laugh, though there was an unmistakable seriousness beneath her tone. “I just… I think about it sometimes, y’know? Like… where we’ll be. What we’ll be like. Together, I mean.”

Her voice dipped on the last word, almost hesitant, like she was afraid to hope too much.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, brushing your free hand through her soft pink hair. “After I graduate college, I guess I’d want to be writing somewhere—maybe a bookshop owner, too. That’d be nice, I think.”

Vi smiled faintly, the image of you surrounded by books bringing an warmth to her chest.

“That fits,” she murmured, her voice gentle. “You’d have this cute little shop, and you’d always smell like old pages and coffee… maybe you’ll play that old Al Green record I got for you in the background… with flowers your mom brought for you sitting in a tiny pot by the window…” She trailed off, her smile growing wistful.

“Mhm,” you smile, the picture she was painting in your head almost felt tangible. “Maybe, an apartment nearby. With big windows for the sun to come in… A cozy kitchen to cook in with plants everywhere… A study for me to write in…”

“Do I fit anywhere in there?”

“Oh, definitely.” It’s impossible to fight the smile on your face from growing wider, “All your things would be everywhere, because you never clean… Guitar racks in the corner and a keyboard somewhere in the living room…Maybe you’d wanna set up a small bedroom studio. Oh, and you’re definitely hanging a punching bag somewhere.”

Vi let out a soft laugh.

“We’d probably have that karaoke machine you like so much by the TV… or a jukebox… And we’d have mismatching mugs sitting next to each other on the kitchen counter. Oh, and definitely a bed bigger than this one, since you move around too much—”

You pause.

“But, you’d probably be away most of the time.”

“Away?”

“Yeah,” you look at her with a soft nod. “You’d get your big break—music, touring… all that stuff. Heard Ekko’s all excited for this gig you’ve got next month.”

Vi let out a breathy laugh, “Hah, yeah, lots of other big bands are coming in for the musical festival, so… good start to get our name out there… But, band practice is still on hold until Jayce fixes Loris’ bass.”

“Mhm,” The smile on your face stays as you look at her longingly. “I see it y’know… You’re this big rockstar… posters of your band everywhere, big arenas, lots of fans squealing to get your attention…”

She grinned widely, “You think?”

You nodded in response, “Yeah. You’ll travel all around the world, experience a bunch of new things… and lots girls would have a crush on you, I bet… you’d be living your dream.”

“But it wouldn’t mean anything if I didn’t have you to come home to.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you couldn’t say anything. Vi glanced up, her lips quirking into a sheepish grin like she always does when she says something that gets your cheeks to turn the same color as her hair.

“I’m serious,” she added quietly. “I don’t want to think about a future where you’re not there.”

The softness in her voice made your stomach flutter, and without thinking, you leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“I’ll kill you if you use that line on anyone else,” you teased, though the sound of your voice was warm and full of affection.

“I know,” Vi admitted with a small laugh, pulling your hand closer to her lips. She kissed your knuckles softly, her eyes never leaving yours.

Vi didn’t say anything else after that. She just let herself fall into the silence, her guitar forgotten beside her, turning her body to have her arms lazily draped around your waist. She watched you as you shifted back into your book, your fingers idly tracing the edge of the page before turning it, completely unaware of the smile playing on her lips. You were so focused, so peaceful, so beautiful, and Vi couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world to be able to share her space with you.

Her gaze flickered to the faint glint of silver just visible under your collar, and with a careful hand, she reached up to tug gently at the chain around your neck. Her fingers brushed against your skin, and when she pulled the necklace free, her smile grew. Two small rings dangled from the delicate chain, their edges catching the soft light of her room. One was engraved with Roman numerals—she liked it because, well, it had her name on it—while the other glimmered faintly with small, clear stones that sparkled even in the dim glow. They overlapped perfectly, and that’s how Vi wants her relationship with you to be like all the time.

Vi turned the rings over in her fingers, tracing their familiar grooves. She played with the chain gently, letting it slip between her fingers as the rings swayed slightly against your chest.

Her own necklace felt heavy against her, the identical rings resting just beneath her shirt.

Satisfied with the way the rings settled back against your skin, she let the chain fall back into place and smiled at you, her thumb brushing over your collarbone.

Then, you continued to your book, and Vi just sat there, leaning into you, her fingers brushing softly against your thigh as she let herself bask in just being with you.

The future was such a big, hazy thing, full of unknown possibilities she couldn’t understand…. But sitting here with you, your hand still resting in hers, she felt nothing but excitement—hope, even—for whatever the world would throw at her, if it meant living in it with you.

But she didn’t know then how time and space would pull you both in different directions, that the version of forever she dreamed of in that moment would one day feel so far away.

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[shy9-29]

One Kiss Too Far ✮ l.hs pt1

口 — stepdad!heeseung x reader

synopsis: Your life takes an unexpected turn when your mom’s soon-to-be husband, Heeseung, enters the picture. What begins as a simple connection quickly turns into something much more complicated and forbidden. Caught between the undeniable chemistry with him and the overwhelming guilt of betraying your mom, you find yourself tangled in a web of emotions and secrets.

wc: 27.9k (in all parts bc if tumblrs 10k word block)

angst · mdni · smut · masterlist · pt 2

You weren’t exactly thrilled about meeting Heeseung. Sure, your mom had every right to move on after everything that happened with your dad, but the thought of meeting some guy she’d found online made you skeptical. You were still adjusting to the idea of her moving on, and the whole online dating thing felt weird.

Your mom’s voice suddenly filled your thoughts as your phone buzzed with her name on the screen.

“Hey, honey, I’m going to be a bit late tonight,” she said, her tone hurried but warm. “Heeseung is on his way over. Can you let him in when he gets here? Traffic’s a mess.”

You sighed and glanced at the clock. “Yeah, sure,” you muttered, feeling the weight of the situation. “I’ll let him in.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I’ll see you soon!” she said, hanging up before you could protest.

A few minutes later, you heard someone knock on the door. You hesitated, not sure what to expect. You’d seen a couple of pictures of Heeseung before—nothing too revealing, but enough to get an idea of what he looked like. Still, pictures didn’t do justice to the real thing, right?

When you opened the door, you froze for a moment. There he was—Heeseung. And he looked even better in person.

He was taller than you, probably around 6 feet, with fair skin that practically glowed under the dim hallway light. His maroon hair was tousled just enough to make him look effortlessly cool, as well as a casual black zip-up hoodie, paired with baggy jeans that somehow, and a pair of glasses that made him look even more laid-back. There was something about the way he carried himself, a kind of quiet confidence that made him stand out.

“Hi,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your voice came out softer than you expected.

Heeseung smiled, and it was warm—genuine. “Hey, hi,” he replied, his voice calm and smooth.

You both stood there for a second, the silence hanging between you, awkward but not in a bad way. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but you weren’t sure what to do next.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You must be Y/N,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a sort of intensity that made you feel like he was paying more attention than you expected.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you replied, still feeling a little thrown off by how much more… real he was in person.

As he stepped inside, you couldn’t help but notice how much taller he was than you. He was closer to your age than your mom’s, and it hit you all at once—Heeseung was only 25. That made him just a few years older than you, and in a weird way, it made everything feel a little strange. He was closer to you in age than your mom, and that made you look at him in a different light, one you hadn’t expected.

“So, you’re just waiting for my mom, right?” you asked, trying to break the awkward silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah,” he said casually, glancing around the living room. “She told me she’s running a bit late, but I don’t mind waiting.”

You nodded, stepping aside to let him sit down. As you both settled into the room, you couldn’t ignore the electric pull between you two. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there—this subtle tension that made everything feel more… complicated than it should have been.

You weren’t sure what it was about him that made you feel this way, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting him like this—someone closer to your age than your mom’s, someone you never expected to have any connection with—was going to change everything.

The silence between you and Heeseung wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t normal either.

As he sat on the couch, his posture relaxed, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes moved over you. Slowly, subtly—but definitely there. It was obvious he was checking you out. The way his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long before flicking away, the way his fingers tapped lightly against his knee like he was trying to play it cool.

You didn’t say anything about it. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe you were imagining it.

Instead, you sat across from him, keeping some space between you, pretending not to notice the way he kept glancing at you. Heeseung leaned back, draping his arm over the couch like he belonged there, looking completely at ease.

“She talks about you a lot, you know.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. “Huh?”

“Your mom,” he said with a small smirk. “She’s always talking about you.”

You tilted your head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What does she say?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Just how smart you are. How independent. She brags about you a lot, actually.”

You scoffed lightly, leaning back against the armrest. “Sounds like her.”

“She loves you a lot.” His voice softened slightly, as if he was trying to be sincere.

You nodded, ignoring the weird feeling in your chest. You knew your mom loved you—there was never any doubt about that. But it was hard to focus on that when you were sitting across from the guy she was planning to marry… a guy who was only six years older than you.

And you weren’t the only one who noticed.

“So,” you said, watching him closely, “what made you want to get together with my mom?”

Heeseung blinked, as if he hadn’t expected the question. For a second, you swore he looked nervous, but he covered it up quickly, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Straight to the point, huh?” he said, tilting his head slightly.

You shrugged. “Might as well ask.”

He exhaled, thinking for a moment before answering. “I guess… she’s different. She’s kind, she’s mature. She knows what she wants.” His gaze flickered to yours, holding it a little longer than necessary. “It’s refreshing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Refreshing?”

He smirked, but it wasn’t the same playful one he had before. “Yeah. I’ve been around a lot of people who don’t really have their life together. Your mom does.”

You stared at him for a second, something about his answer making your stomach twist.

“Even with that huge ass age gap?”

Heeseung let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his jaw. “I knew you were gonna say something about that.”

“Well, I mean…” You gestured between the two of you. “You’re literally closer to my age than hers.”

Heeseung held your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he said finally, voice quieter now. “I guess I am.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of your words hung in the air, the silence between you thick with something unspoken.

Something you weren’t ready to name yet.

As soon as you could say anything else, the sound of the front door unlocking made you both turn.

Your mom stepped inside, slightly out of breath, her work bag slung over her shoulder. “Sorry, sorry! Traffic was horrible,” she said, barely glancing at you before her eyes landed on Heeseung.

And just like that, she was in front of him, smiling like a lovesick teenager. “Hi,” she breathed.

Heeseung stood up, his face lighting up in a way that made your stomach twist. “Hey.”

Then, before you could even process it, they kissed.

Right there. In front of you.

It wasn’t over-the-top or anything, just a soft, lingering press of lips, but it didn’t matter. It felt so wrong.

Your grip tightened around your phone as you stared, frozen. You knew they were together, obviously. You knew they’d kissed before. But actually seeing it—seeing him, the guy who’d just been sitting with you, talking to you, looking at you like that—now kissing your mom?

Yeah. That felt different.

You looked away, suddenly feeling like you were intruding on something you wanted no part of.

Your mom laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she gazed up at Heeseung. “Wow, it’s so nice to finally see you in person.”

Heeseung smiled, and then, in a tone that was just a little too smooth, he said, “Yeah, and you look even more beautiful in real life.”

You internally gagged.

It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it. His voice was warm, just a little too soft, like he was trying to be charming. And the way he looked at her? Like he was actually flirting? Disgusting.

Your mom giggled like a teenager, resting a hand on his arm. “Oh, stop it.”

Please, yes, stop it.

You focused extra hard on your phone screen, scrolling through random notifications just to avoid looking at them. It was bad enough seeing them kiss, but now you had to sit here and witness this?

“You must be so tired from the trip,” your mom continued, linking her arm through Heeseung’s like they’d been doing this for years.

“A little,” he admitted, but he still looked completely at ease. “But it’s worth it.” His eyes flickered to you for a second—too quick for your mom to notice, but not quick enough for you to miss.

You clenched your jaw and looked away.

“Well,” your mom said cheerfully, grabbing his hand. “I picked up dinner! You must be starving.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Can’t say no to that.”

You watched as she led him toward the dining table, still acting like some lovestruck teenager. Meanwhile, you followed behind them, stomach twisting in ways you didn’t quite understand.

Maybe it was just the weirdness of seeing your mom with someone new. Maybe it was just the age gap.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was something else entirely.

You sat silently at the dinner table, pushing your food around your plate while your mom and Heeseung talked like they were the only two people in the room.

They laughed, shared stories, and acted like they’d known each other forever. Meanwhile, you just sat there, chewing slowly, barely contributing to the conversation.

But even though you weren’t talking, you felt something.

Heeseung’s gaze.

More than once, you caught him glancing at you. It was subtle—quick flickers of his dark eyes in your direction, barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention. But you were. And every time it happened, your skin prickled.

You kept your focus on your plate, pretending not to notice.

“So,” your mom said, turning to Heeseung with a soft smile, “are you still planning on checking out that apartment tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Figured I’d get settled as soon as possible.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “Wait—you’re moving here?”

Your mom looked at you like it was obvious. “Of course. Heeseung’s been wanting to move somewhere new for a while, and now that we’re getting married, it just makes sense for him to be closer.”

Closer.

You swallowed, gripping your fork a little tighter.

Right. So he wasn’t just visiting. He was staying.

“Don’t worry,” Heeseung said, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I won’t be too in your way.”

You scoffed under your breath and took a bite of your food, refusing to acknowledge him.

But you still felt his eyes on you.

And you hated that it made your stomach twist.

Alice kept talking, completely oblivious to the way Heeseung kept stealing glances at you. You focused on your food, trying to tune them out, but every so often, you could feel his eyes on you—like a quiet presence that lingered just a little too long.

It made your skin heat in a way you didn’t like.

“So, what do you think, Y/N?” your mom suddenly asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, looking up. “Huh?”

She laughed lightly. “About Heeseung moving here. Isn’t it exciting?”

Exciting? That wasn’t exactly the word you’d use.

You forced a neutral expression, shrugging. “I mean… sure. If that’s what makes you happy.”

Alice beamed. “Of course it does! It’ll be so nice having him around. Heeseung, you’re gonna love it here.”

“I think I already do,” Heeseung said smoothly, his voice light but with something underneath it. You weren’t sure if your mom caught it, but when you looked up, he was already watching you.

Your stomach twisted.

You quickly looked away, taking another bite just to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

Alice, completely unaware of the weird tension at the table, sighed happily. “Ugh, I can’t wait for you two to get along. It would mean so much to me if you guys became close.”

Heeseung smiled, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, I’d like that too.”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like you’d lost control of something you weren’t even sure why you needed control of in the first place.

Later that night, after a long, exhausting dinner, you changed into something more comfortable—a black cropped tank top and short jean shorts. Your hair, still slightly damp from a quick shower, was pulled into a low ponytail as you flopped onto your bed, phone pressed to your ear.

“I’m telling you, it’s so weird,” you groaned to Yunjin, staring at the ceiling. “Like, I get that my mom deserves to be happy and all, but him? He’s literally twenty-five.”

Yunjin snorted. “Yeah, that’s still insane to me. Your mom is, what, thirty-five? She really went, ‘lemme date a man closer to my daughter’s age than mine.’”

“Right?! It’s actually insane,” you said, shaking your head. “And the worst part is, he’s not even, like, some old-looking dude who just happens to be young. He’s actually—” You stopped mid-sentence, biting your lip.

There was a beat of silence before Yunjin gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. He’s hot, isn’t he?”

You groaned, pressing a hand over your face. “I never said that.”

“But you were going to!” She laughed, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Oh my god, Y/N, you think your mom’s fiancé is hot.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, even though your face was already heating up. “I’m just saying—it doesn’t make sense! Like, how did she even manage to pull him? She’s pretty and all, but come on. He looks like he should be dating a college girl, not—” You stopped yourself, the words catching in your throat.

Not your mom.

Not someone ten years older than him.

Yunjin, ever the instigator, gasped again. “Ohhh, this is juicy. You totally have a thing for him.”

You sat up instantly. “I do not.”

“Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t!” you insisted, but your mind betrayed you, flashing back to dinner. The way Heeseung’s gaze flickered toward you more than once, the way his voice dipped when he spoke to you, the slight smirk he gave when he caught you staring.

No. Nope. Not happening.

Yunjin was still giggling. “Okay, okay, fine. But be honest—if he wasn’t engaged to your mom, would you?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

And that silence said everything.

You sighed, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your feet slightly. “No, of course not! But listen—he kept sneaking glances at me during dinner.”

Yunjin hummed. “Uh-huh. Go on.”

“And I swear he was checking me out earlier when I opened the door for him.” You frowned slightly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your bedspread. “But that’s probably just me overthinking. I mean, he’s obviously in love with my mom.”

There was a pause. Then—

“Yeah… or he’s into you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Yunjin, no.”

“Y/N, yes!” she shot back. “Look, send me a picture of him. I need to see this man with my own eyes.”

You rolled onto your back again, sighing dramatically. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re avoiding the fucking question.”

You hesitated for a second before scrolling through your his social media your mom had shown you. It didn’t take long to find a photo of Heeseung. He was wearing a fitted black sweater, leaning against a railing with his hands in his pockets, sharp jawline and piercing gaze on full display.

You sent it.

The moment Yunjin opened it, she squealed.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” she shrieked through the phone. “Y/N, your mom is actually living my dream—no, your dream—oh my freaking goodness, I’m coming over tomorrow.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I need to see this in person. You’re so blind.”

You groaned, throwing an arm over your face. “There’s nothing to see!”

“Mhm. We’ll see about that.”

After hanging up with Yunjin—who was way too excited about this whole situation—you sighed, tossing your phone onto your bed. You weren’t tired yet, and the house was too quiet, so you decided to grab a drink from the kitchen.

Padding out of your room, your bare feet barely made a sound against the hardwood floors. But as soon as you stepped into the living room, you stopped in your tracks.

There they were.

Your mom and Heeseung were curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over them as some random movie played on the TV. Alice’s head rested against his shoulder, and his arm was lazily wrapped around her waist.

You swallowed. You weren’t sure why seeing them like that made your stomach twist.

Shaking it off, you walked past them toward the kitchen, trying to act normal—except the moment you stepped into their view, you felt it.

His gaze.

And this time, it was different.

Heeseung wasn’t just glancing at you like before. His stare was heavy, lingering longer than it should have.

Maybe it was because of what you were wearing—your black cropped tank top barely covering your stomach, your short jean shorts showing off just enough. Or maybe it was just in your head. You were always care free with what you wore, considering it was always just you and your mom in the house.

Either way, you felt exposed.

But you didn’t look at him. You just kept walking, pretending you didn’t notice, even though your skin was heating under his gaze.

Even though your stomach twisted again.

You quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap off with a little too much force. The longer you stood there, the more suffocating the room felt—his gaze still lingering on you like it had weight.

You needed to get out of there.

Clearing your throat, you turned toward your mom. “Hey, is it cool if Yunjin comes over tomorrow?”

Alice barely looked away from the screen, waving a hand dismissively. “Of course, honey. She’s always welcome.”

“Kay, thanks,” you muttered, already stepping toward the hallway.

But before you could take another step, Heeseung’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Why don’t you sit, y/n?”

Your grip on the water bottle tightened. Slowly, you turned back to find Heeseung looking directly at you, his expression unreadable.

Alice, still snuggled into his side, smiled. “Yeah, sweetie, come watch with us.”

Your eyes flickered between them. You really didn’t want to. You wanted to go back to your room, away from whatever this weird energy was.

But the way Heeseung was watching you—dark eyes waiting, expectant—made it impossible to say no.

“…Sure,” you mumbled, forcing yourself to walk back over.

You sat at the far end of the couch, keeping as much distance as possible.

But even then, you felt him.

And you weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

As you settled onto the couch, trying to focus on the movie, you suddenly felt it—just the slightest touch. His leg against yours.

It wasn’t much, just the faintest brush of denim against your bare skin, but it sent an uncomfortable jolt up your spine. You shifted away, slow and subtle, putting a little more space between you.

If Heeseung noticed, he didn’t say anything.

But when you dared to glance at him, your breath caught in your throat.

The dim glow of the TV flickered across his face, casting soft shadows over his sharp features. His dark maroon hair, slightly tousled, framed his face in a way that made him look even better than earlier—like something out of a dream, or maybe a nightmare.

You swallowed hard, looking away.

Minutes passed, the only sounds filling the room were the low hum of the movie and the slow, steady breathing of your mom—who had now completely fallen asleep against Heeseung’s chest.

He glanced down at her, then let out a quiet chuckle. “She’s out.”

You didn’t respond. You just watched as he carefully shifted, wrapping an arm around her before effortlessly standing up with her still against him.

You clenched your jaw as he carried her down the hall, disappearing into their room. Their shared bedroom.

The thought of them sleeping together, lying in the same bed, doing God knows what behind that closed door—

You wanted to die.

Your stomach twisted, nausea creeping in as you stared blankly at the screen.

You hated this.

You hated him.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The early morning light streamed through your window, stirring you from a restless sleep. You groggily sat up, realizing you were still in the same outfit from last night—your black cropped tank top and jean shorts slightly wrinkled from tossing and turning.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes before something caught your attention.

Your stomach grumbled as the scent of crispy bacon, eggs, and buttery toast filled the air. For a moment, you thought your mom was cooking—until you remembered how deeply she’d fallen asleep last night.

You hesitated before stepping out of your room, following the scent to the kitchen—and there he was.

Heeseung stood by the stove, casually flipping bacon with one hand while the other rested on the counter. Unlike last night, he was wearing a plain white tank top, exposing his toned arms, his hair still a bit messy from sleep. His baggy jeans hung low on his hips, completing his effortlessly relaxed look.

The sight of him like this—so comfortable in your home, in your mother’s home—sent a weird jolt through you.

He must have heard your footsteps because he turned his head, flashing you a small smirk. “Morning.”

You cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly. “Morning…”

He turned back to the stove, moving the bacon onto a plate. “Didn’t think you’d be up this early.”

“I smelled food,” you admitted, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the counter. “Guess I was curious.”

Heeseung chuckled, grabbing a piece of toast and taking a bite. “Fair enough.”

You glanced toward the hallway. “Mom’s still asleep?”

“Yeah,” he said, cracking an egg into the pan. “Figured I’d let her rest.”

You nodded, watching as he moved around the kitchen like he’d been living here forever. It was strange—how easily he fit into this space.

How easily he was fitting into your life.

You hated to admit it, but Heeseung looked good in the kitchen. Too good.

The way his toned arms flexed slightly as he moved, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, the way the white tank top clung to his frame just right—it was almost unfair how effortlessly attractive he was.

It pissed you off.

You shouldn’t be noticing these things.

You shouldn’t be watching the way his jaw tensed slightly as he concentrated on plating the food, or the way his long fingers moved as he sprinkled a pinch of salt over the eggs. But you were.

And the worst part?

He knew it.

As he finished serving breakfast, you walked over to grab a plate—but as you reached for it, you caught it.

Just for a second.

His eyes flickered downward.

Right at your chest.

Your black cropped tank top wasn’t that revealing, but it was fitted, hugging your curves just enough. And for the briefest moment, Heeseung’s gaze lingered—before quickly shifting back up like nothing happened.

Maybe it was just in your head. Maybe you were overthinking it.

But still, your skin felt hotter than before, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the food or because of him.

You grabbed your plate, trying to act like you didn’t just notice that. Like you didn’t just catch your mom’s fiancé checking you out.

Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe you were overthinking it.

Yeah. That had to be it.

You sat down at the kitchen island, poking at your eggs with your fork while Heeseung grabbed his own plate and sat across from you. The silence stretched between you, the only sound being the occasional clink of silverware.

After a moment, Heeseung leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his messy hair. “Sleep okay?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. You?”

He smirked slightly. “Could’ve been better. Your mom moves around a lot in her sleep.”

Your stomach twisted at the reminder that he had spent the night in her bed.

You forced a small, tight-lipped smile. “Yeah… she does that.”

Heeseung hummed, taking a bite of his food. His gaze flickered up to you again, slower this time, like he was really looking at you.

“You always sleep in your clothes from the night before?” he asked, voice casual but laced with something else.

You swallowed, gripping your fork a little tighter. “I was tired. Didn’t feel like changing.”

He nodded, but his smirk deepened just slightly. “Looks comfortable.”

Your skin prickled.

You didn’t respond, just focused on eating, pretending like his words didn’t send a weird rush through you.

You needed Yunjin to get here. Now.

The silence stretched between you again, but this time, it felt heavier.

Your stomach twisted, and not from the food. You needed to change the subject. Anything to break this weird tension.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “What made you wanna move in so fast? You and my mom haven’t even been dating that long.”

Heeseung took his time answering, sipping his coffee before setting the mug down. “It just made sense. Your mom wanted me here, and I figured, why wait?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That simple, huh?”

His lips twitched slightly. “Yeah. Besides, it’s not like I had much keeping me where I was. New city, new start.”

New life—with your mom.

The thought made your stomach churn again.

You scoffed lightly. “Guess my mom really swept you off your feet, huh?”

Heeseung let out a quiet chuckle, swirling his coffee. “Something like that.”

You huffed, breaking eye contact. “Whatever.”

Heeseung just smirked, taking another slow sip of his coffee.

You pushed your plate away, suddenly not hungry anymore.

Before either of you could say anything else, footsteps padded down the hallway.

“Morning, loves,” Alice’s tired voice broke the tension as she walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

You exhaled, standing up quickly. “Morning.”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, greeting her with a soft, “Morning, babe.”

You nearly gagged.

Alice walked over to Heeseung, pressing a sleepy kiss to his cheek before looking at the breakfast he made. “Oh, you’re seriously the best.”

Heeseung just smiled. “Anything for you.”

You clenched your jaw, your fingers twitching at your sides.

You needed to get out of here.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get dressed,” you muttered, already stepping away. “Yunjin’s coming over soon.”

Alice nodded, already too distracted with her perfect fiancé to notice the way you practically bolted out of the kitchen.

But as you left, you could feel it again.

That same heavy gaze.

And this time, you didn’t have to look back to know exactly who it belonged to.

Back in your room, you stood in front of the mirror, running your fingers through your hair as you adjusted the small bow clip you’d just placed. You had styled your hair slightly, just enough to look effortlessly pretty, and paired it with a short-sleeved white top and a white skirt that stopped just above your knees.

You told yourself you were dressing up for Yunjin. It was just a casual hangout, but you wanted to look cute.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the only reason.

A small part of you—one you refused to acknowledge—wanted to look pretty for him.

You shook the thought away quickly, grabbing your phone just as the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.

Finally.

You practically sprinted to the door, opening it to find Yunjin standing there in her usual effortless, laid-back style—a black zip-up hoodie and sweats, her hair pulled up in a messy bun.

She gave you a once-over, eyes narrowing slightly. “Okay, who are you dressed up for?”

You scoffed, stepping aside to let her in. “Shut up.”

Yunjin smirked as she walked in, slipping off her sneakers. “No, seriously. A skirt? A bow? This is giving romantic brunch, not ‘chilling at home with my best friend.’”

You rolled your eyes. “I just wanted to look cute.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, unconvinced. Then, a slow smirk spread across her lips. “Wait… he’s here, isn’t he?”

Your stomach flipped. “Who?”

Yunjin shot you a deadpan look. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

You groaned, shutting the door behind her. “Yes, Heeseung is here. No, I did not dress up for him.”

Yunjin just grinned, nudging you with her elbow. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted.

“Hey, Yunjin.”

You turned, and of course—there Heeseung was, leaning against the kitchen counter with a lazy smirk, his white tank top still showing off just enough of his toned arms to be annoying.

Yunjin’s smirk only widened.

“Oh. Now I get it.”

Yunjin’s smirk widened as she gave Heeseung a slow once-over. She didn’t even try to hide it.

“So you’re Heeseung,” she said, crossing her arms.

Heeseung chuckled, resting against the counter. “That’d be me.”

Yunjin tilted her head, eyeing him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Huh. You look even younger in person.”

You nearly choked. “Yunjin!”

She just shrugged, unfazed. “What? I’m just saying.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Should I be flattered?”

Yunjin grinned. “Depends. You got a thing for older women or something?”

You definitely choked this time. “Oh my god—”

Heeseung actually laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t have a ‘thing’ for anyone. Like I told Y/N earlier, it’s about connection.”

He gave you a brief glance, and for some reason, your stomach twisted.

Yunjin hummed, unconvinced. “Right, right. Classic answer.”

Heeseung leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You seem to know a lot about me already. How’s that?”

Yunjin grinned. “Oh, Y/N told me everything.”

Your eyes widened. “No, I didn’t—”

Heeseung turned his gaze to you, his smirk deepening. “Everything, huh?”

“Nope! We’re done here!” You grabbed Yunjin’s wrist before she could say anything else, dragging her toward your room.

Yunjin barely put up a fight, laughing as she let you pull her away. “Aw, come on, I was just starting to have fun!”

You ignored her, shoving her inside and shutting the door behind you.

The moment the door shut behind you, Yunjin flopped onto your bed, dramatically sighing as she stared at the ceiling.

“Dude,” she breathed out, shaking her head. “He is so fine.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Ew.”

“I’m serious!” She propped herself up on her elbows, looking at you with an exaggerated pout. “Why couldn’t my mom pull a someone like him? This isn’t fair. I should be the one with a hot stepdad.”

You scoffed. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

Yunjin just wiggled her eyebrows. “You’re so lucky.”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “Trust me, I don’t feel lucky.”

Yunjin sat up, crossing her legs. “Okay, okay, but seriously—what’s it like living with him now? You have to have noticed something.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. You weren’t even sure why you were about to tell her this, but it had been eating at you since last night.

You sat down beside her, lowering your voice. “Okay… so, last night, when we were watching the movie…” You swallowed, feeling stupid even saying it. “Our knees touched.”

Yunjin blinked. “…And?”

You exhaled sharply. “And I swear he didn’t move away. Like, I tried to shift, and it felt like he stayed there on purpose.”

Yunjin’s eyes widened slightly, but her smirk was already creeping in. “Oh?”

You shot her a look. “Don’t oh me.”

She grinned. “What else?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “This morning, when he was serving breakfast, I—I think he was staring at my chest.”

Yunjin gasped dramatically. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I could be imagining it,” you said quickly, not even believing your own words.

Yunjin grabbed your arm, eyes practically sparkling. “No, no, no. This is juicy.”

You groaned. “It’s not juicy. It’s weird.”

Yunjin just smirked. “Weird… but interesting.”

You shoved her playfully, trying to ignore the way your stomach was twisting—because you knew, deep down, this wasn’t just in your head.

Yunjin dramatically flopped back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling with a devilish grin. “Okay, so let me get this straight—you two were sitting real close, your knees touched, and he didn’t move? And now you’re catching him staring at your chest?”

You rolled your eyes, lying back beside her with a groan. “It’s not that serious.”

Yunjin turned her head to look at you, her smirk deepening. “Oh, it is that serious.”

You exhaled, rubbing your temples. “Even if he did look, it was probably nothing. Maybe he wasn’t even thinking about it. Guys look at stuff without realizing it sometimes.”

Yunjin scoffed. “Girl, please. You think a grown man—your mom’s fiancé, by the way—is out here accidentally checking you out?”

You groaned again, grabbing a pillow and smacking it over your face. “I hate you.”

She laughed, snatching the pillow from you. “No, you love me. And you love this drama, don’t even lie.”

You sat up, glaring at her. “I don’t love this. It’s uncomfortable. He’s literally about to marry my mom.”

Yunjin hummed, tilting her head. “And yet… you’re dressing all cute today. White skirt, little bow in your hair. You never wear bows.”

Your face burned. “Shut up—I just wanted to look nice!”

“For him.”

“For me!”

Yunjin giggled, clearly enjoying herself way too much. “Mhm. Right. Totally just for you.”

You threw the pillow at her face. “I hate you.”

She caught it, still smirking. “No, you hate that I’m right.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, falling back onto the bed. “I don’t even know what to do.”

Yunjin scooted closer, resting her head on her palm. “Just… keep an eye on him. See if he does it again. If it happens one more time, then we know it’s not in your head.”

You bit your lip, thinking.

You did want to know if you were imagining things.

Or if Heeseung was really that kind of guy.

Just as you were about to say something else, the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted you. The door swung open, and your mom walked in holding a tray of snacks—chips, cookies, and a couple of cans of soda.

“Girls,” she said cheerfully, setting the tray down on your desk. “Thought you might need some snacks. I’ll be downstairs watching a movie with Heeseung if you need me.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at her.

She smiled brightly. “Heeseung’s already got it all set up. He’s such a sweetheart. You two enjoy yourselves, okay? I’ll be back in a little bit.”

You felt your stomach twist at the mention of him, but before you could react, Alice was already heading back out, her footsteps fading down the hallway.

Yunjin waited a beat before raising her eyebrows at you. “Looks like Heeseung is getting comfy in the living room, huh?”

You didn’t even know what to say to that, your mind still stuck on the image of him serving breakfast earlier. It was hard to ignore how his attention seemed to be more focused on you than you were comfortable with.

“Yeah, I guess…” you muttered, not meeting her gaze. You felt your nerves picking up again as the weight of the situation pressed on your chest. You wanted to shake it off, but you couldn’t help it.

Yunjin picked up a chip from the tray, popping it into her mouth. “Listen, I know you’re probably freaking out about this whole thing, but just think about it this way—you’ve got dirt now. You’ve seen him check you out.” Her grin turned mischievous. “That’s gotta be some kind of power, right?”

You frowned, trying to brush it off. “It’s not like that. I don’t want anything to do with him in that way.”

“Sure,” Yunjin said, though her tone clearly didn’t believe you. “But if he’s acting like that… it’s not exactly nothing. I’m just saying.”

You flopped back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in frustration. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Yunjin. I don’t want to make things weird, but I also don’t want to feel uncomfortable every time I see him.”

Yunjin laid back beside you, giving you a knowing look. “Look, all I’m saying is this: if he keeps staring at you like that, or making you feel uneasy, you have to say something. Or at least, make sure you know what’s going on. I mean, yeah, it’s weird that he’s your mom’s fiancé, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to know where his intentions are.”

You swallowed, her words hitting harder than you expected. You weren’t sure you were ready to confront him or your mom about it, but the uncertainty gnawed at you. You wanted to know if it was just your imagination—or if Heeseung was actually crossing some lines.

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted, rolling over to grab a cookie from the tray.

Yunjin gave you a wide grin. “Damn right I’m right. Now, how about we get back to the movie and try to not think about the fact that your soon-to-be stepdad is probably staring at you right now?”

You shot her a deadpan look. “Please don’t remind me.”

But even as you tried to focus on the snacks and the movie, part of you couldn’t shake the thought that Heeseung was lurking somewhere, possibly watching you. And with your mom out of the picture for now, you couldn’t help but feel like this was only just the beginning.

The tension in the room lingered as Yunjin and you snacked on the chips, but the atmosphere was thick with awkwardness. You couldn’t stop thinking about Heeseung downstairs, probably sitting on the couch, just a few rooms away. It was hard to concentrate on anything, let alone the movie.

After a few minutes, Yunjin broke the silence, her tone playful but with a hint of curiosity. “So, are we just gonna sit up here, or are we gonna go hang out with your very fine stepdad?”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Can we not talk about him like that?”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow. “What, like it’s not true? Come on, you know you’re thinking about it. He’s good-looking, Y/N. Even I’m getting a little jealous.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped at her words. “I don’t care how good-looking he is. It’s not about that. It’s… everything else.”

Yunjin clicked her tongue, picking up another chip. “Well, whatever. I’m still going down there to see for myself.” She stood up, stretching, and glanced at you with a grin. “You should come, too. Let’s see how much attention he’s really giving you, huh?”

You hesitated, the thought of confronting him making your stomach churn. But at the same time, there was a strange sense of curiosity about it. You wanted to know if you were reading too much into things, or if there was something more to his behavior.

“Fine, I’ll come,” you muttered, standing up reluctantly.

Yunjin’s grin widened, clearly pleased with herself. “That’s my girl.“

With that, the two of you made your way downstairs, the sound of the TV growing louder as you neared the living room. When you finally reached the doorway, you hesitated, taking in the scene.

Heeseung was sitting on the couch, looking incredibly relaxed in his baggy jeans and that white tank top. His attention was focused on the TV for a moment, but the second you and Yunjin stepped into the room, you could feel his gaze flicker over to you, lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

You couldn’t help but glance away quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But you were pretty sure he had.

Yunjin, on the other hand, had no problem with the silence that stretched between you. “Hey, Heeseung, what’s up?” She plopped herself down next to him casually, her gaze shifting from him to you with a knowing smirk. “What movie are we watching?”

Heeseung gave her a lazy smile, his voice smooth as always. “Just some random action flick. You guys want to join?” His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked back at Yunjin.

You shifted uncomfortably, wondering if Yunjin could tell how tense the situation had become.

“Yeah, I guess we’ll join,” Yunjin said, patting the seat next to her. “Y/N, come sit by me.”

You hesitated before walking over to the couch, settling beside Yunjin, though your eyes flickered towards Heeseung every few seconds. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite place, but it made you uneasy.

Yunjin nudged you, her voice low. “I swear he’s looking at you more than he’s looking at the show?”

You shot her a look, trying not to react too strongly, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “You’re imagining it.”

“Am I?” Yunjin said, her voice filled with teasing disbelief. “He’s totally checking you out, Y/N. You can’t deny it.”

You bit your lip, forcing your gaze back to the screen, but you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that Heeseung was still watching you—his presence somehow even more intense than before.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch next to Yunjin, doing your best to focus on the movie playing on the TV in front of you, but it was nearly impossible with the weight of the situation hanging in the air. Alice was sitting across from you both, wrapped up in the movie, oblivious to the tension simmering between you, Heeseung, and Yunjin.

Heeseung was sitting next to your mom on the other end of the couch, his attention drifting between her and the screen. Every so often, his gaze would slip toward you, and it was hard to ignore how much longer it seemed to linger on you than on anything else. You felt your heart race with every glance, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look back at him. Not with your mom right there, laughing at something on the screen, unaware of what was unfolding under the surface.

Yunjin leaned in closer to you, her voice a whisper. “You feel it too, right?”

You clenched your fists in your lap, trying to look anywhere but at Heeseung. “Please stop,” you muttered, eyes fixed on the screen. You tried to distract yourself with the plot, but it felt like the world was just noise.

But then Heeseung shifted in his seat, and you felt it—a brush of his knee against yours, just enough to make you freeze. You could feel the heat of his body radiating in that small space between you. His eyes flickered over to you for a second, and you could swear there was a knowing glint in them, something that made your stomach twist in a mix of nerves and frustration.

Yunjin wasn’t helping—her gaze was fixed on you, her lips curled into a grin that only made you feel more exposed. “See? I told you. He’s not even trying to hide it anymore.”

Before you could respond, Alice looked over at you both, interrupting the moment. “What are you two whispering about? Focus on the movie, girls.” She smiled brightly, oblivious to the tension in the room.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to force a smile. “Nothing, Mom, just talking.” You hoped she didn’t catch the sharp edge in your voice.

Heeseung, as usual, was calm and collected, his gaze sliding over to you again before returning to the movie. You swore he was taking his time studying you, as if he couldn’t get enough. You wanted to curl up into yourself, but you forced yourself to stay in place, hoping the moment would pass.

Your mom continued to watch the movie, laughing along at a funny scene, but the weight of Heeseung’s presence beside you was becoming suffocating. You could feel his leg slightly grazing yours again, and this time you couldn’t pretend it was accidental. He was definitely doing it on purpose.

Your breath hitched, but you tried to steady yourself, pretending to be unaffected. You hated how much you cared about how he made you feel. How you wanted to push him away but also couldn’t help but feel the pull.

Yunjin, though, wasn’t letting up. Her smirk was practically growing, and she leaned closer to whisper, “You sure you’re not gonna do something about it?”

Before you could snap at her, Heeseung shifted again, and once again, your knees brushed. This time, though, you felt his leg move ever so slightly, as if pressing just a little closer. You were sure he knew what he was doing. You could feel your heart racing, your skin tingling from the contact, and it made you want to crawl out of your skin. You could feel Yunjin’s eyes on you, watching you carefully.

You tried to shift away, subtly, but his knee pressed against yours again, a little firmer this time, and your whole body tensed. You glanced over at him, heart hammering in your chest, and caught him looking at you—his gaze was intense, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Your stomach turned, and for a split second, you almost considered standing up and leaving the room altogether. But then you saw your mom laughing at something on the screen again, completely unaware of the electric tension in the air.

You couldn’t bring yourself to ruin the night for her.

So you stayed there, frozen, pretending to watch the movie while Heeseung’s quiet presence next to you felt like an unbearable weight, one you couldn’t escape.

As the night stretched on, the movie played in the background, but you were no longer paying attention to the screen. Every second felt longer than the last, with the weight of Heeseung’s presence beside you making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. Your mom, Alice, seemed to be enjoying herself, laughing at jokes, talking to Heeseung here and there, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had shifted.

Yunjin, thankfully, was keeping herself occupied with her own thoughts, occasionally teasing you with playful glances and whispers that you didn’t have the energy to entertain anymore.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Yunjin checked the time and stood up, stretching. “Alright, I’m out. Got stuff to do tomorrow,” she said, brushing her hands together dramatically.

You barely looked up from where you were sitting, still trying to ignore the unease building up in your chest. “Thanks for coming over,” you muttered, hoping she would leave quickly so you could get some space.

Yunjin gave you a knowing smile. “Sure thing. You better text me later if he does anything weird again,” she teased, her voice a little too loud for your liking. You shot her a look, but she just grinned. “I’m serious though. If anything happens, you’ve got backup. See you later, Y/N.”

You barely had time to respond before she was out the door, her footsteps fading down the hallway. The room felt suddenly too quiet, and the absence of her teasing presence made everything feel even more uncomfortable.

You were left alone with your mom and Heeseung.

For a moment, the awkward tension hung in the air. Alice was still engaged with the movie, completely oblivious to the strange dynamic that had developed between you and Heeseung. You wanted to leave the room, but something kept you rooted to your spot on the couch.

And then, as if on cue, Heeseung shifted again. This time, his knee brushed against yours so gently that it sent a shiver up your spine. You stiffened instinctively, but he didn’t pull away. His leg stayed there, inches away from yours.

You tried to focus on the movie, but your mind kept drifting back to the way Heeseung was sitting just a little too close to you, the quiet pressure of his knee against yours. You could feel his warmth, the subtle rhythm of his breathing, and the unmistakable tension that seemed to wrap around both of you.

Then, your mom let out a quiet sigh beside you. “Well, it’s getting late. I think I’m going to head to bed.” She stood up and stretched, rubbing her eyes. “Heeseung, are you staying the night?”

Heeseung’s voice was calm, as always, but you could hear the faintest hint of hesitation. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

You clenched your hands together in your lap, trying not to focus on the way he had just casually confirmed he’d be sticking around. The thought of him being in the house, being that close, was starting to make your stomach churn.

Your mom turned to you. “Y/N, I think I’ll head up to bed. You don’t mind if Heeseung stays a little longer, right?”

You swallowed, forcing a smile. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Alice smiled at you, clearly oblivious to the internal battle raging inside you. “Good. Well, I’m off to bed. You two enjoy the movie.” She gave you both a quick kiss on the cheek and disappeared down the hall toward her bedroom.

And just like that, it was just the two of you.

The silence between you and Heeseung felt thicker now, like it was pressing against you from all sides. He didn’t move, didn’t speak at first, and neither did you. But you could feel his presence beside you more than ever.

The seconds stretched on. You could hear the soft hum of the movie in the background, but your attention was on Heeseung. It was impossible not to notice how he was sitting, a little too close, his body angled slightly toward you. The way his eyes flickered to you every few seconds, his gaze dark and unreadable.

Finally, Heeseung spoke, his voice low and smooth. “I didn’t expect tonight to be… like this.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at you, his lips curling into a small smile, though it seemed more like a knowing smirk. “I mean, I didn’t expect us to get so… comfortable so quickly.” He leaned back slightly, the movement casual, but the way his eyes never left you made you feel exposed.

You shifted in your seat, trying to keep your distance. “It’s not like that,” you said, your voice sharper than you meant it to be.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “No? Then why do you look so nervous?”

Your pulse quickened at his words. The way he was reading you so easily made you feel even more exposed, and you wished you could just get up and leave, but something kept you rooted in place.

He took a breath, leaning in slightly, his gaze piercing. “You know… it doesn’t have to be awkward between us, Y/N. You’re not just my future stepdaughter. You’re a grown woman. We can talk, can’t we?”

Your stomach turned, your heart hammering in your chest. You felt trapped. His words felt too close to the line you didn’t want to cross, and yet here he was, pushing against it.

You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice failed you, the words stuck in your throat. You wanted to say something—anything—but the tension between you felt too overwhelming.

Heeseung seemed to notice your discomfort, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

The room felt tense, the quiet stretching between the two of you as the movie continued to play in the background, but neither of you were really paying attention to it anymore. Heeseung’s eyes never left you, his gaze sharp and calculating, as if he was waiting for you to say something—or maybe for him to say something more.

He suddenly hit pause on the remote, and the sound of the TV cut off abruptly, leaving only the sound of your breathing and the heavy silence that hung in the air. You looked up, surprised, catching his eyes for a moment before quickly averting your gaze.

Heeseung leaned back slightly, his posture casual, but you could feel the shift. “So…” he started, his voice low, “what’s going on in that head of yours, Y/N?”

You swallowed, not trusting yourself to speak right away. His question felt too direct, too personal, and you weren’t sure how to respond. Was he really asking you to be open? Or was this some strange way of pushing boundaries?

“Nothing,” you said quickly, your voice betraying the nervousness you were trying to suppress. You glanced at the remote in his hands, but his focus was entirely on you. His eyes were piercing, studying you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. “You sure? You’re acting a little… tense.” His words were casual, but his tone held a deeper edge, one that made your heart race even faster.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to keep your cool. “I’m just tired,” you lied, feeling the weight of his gaze as if it were pressing down on you. The idea of just leaving the room and escaping this uncomfortable situation crossed your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. It was like your body was frozen, trapped by the unspoken tension between you two.

Heeseung didn’t seem convinced. His eyes softened slightly, but the underlying intensity was still there. “It’s okay if you’re not in the mood to talk. I get it. But I’m just wondering… What do you think about all this?” He motioned vaguely around the room, as if referring to the strange situation you were both in.

Your heart beat faster, and you could feel your palms growing clammy. You didn’t know what he meant by “all this,” but it was obvious he wasn’t just referring to the movie or the casual setting. He was talking about you, about him, about the strange dynamic between you two.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you answered, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Heeseung leaned forward a little, the shift in his posture making the space between you two feel smaller. “You don’t have to pretend, Y/N. I’m not here to make things weird… but we both know there’s something different between us.” His voice dropped an octave, quieter but more intense, as if he were daring you to admit it.

Your breath caught in your throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

Heeseung didn’t back down, though. His gaze didn’t waver from you. “You can lie to me if you want, but I can see it. The way you act around me, the way you look at me… You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N.” He sat back, almost as if giving you space to process his words, but the way he stared at you made it impossible to look away.

You felt your heart pound in your chest, the room suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. Everything inside you wanted to run, to get away from him, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t even form the words to challenge him.

Heeseung continued, his voice almost too soft, as though he were coaxing you to admit something you weren’t ready to face. “It’s okay, you know. This doesn’t have to be awkward. We’re just talking.”

The way he said that—like this was normal, like you weren’t crossing some invisible line—made your mind spin. Every instinct in you screamed to stop this, to shut it down, but something else, something you couldn’t control, kept pulling you back to him.

“I—I’m not sure what you want from me, Heeseung,” you finally muttered, your words coming out quieter than you intended.

Heeseung smiled slightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I don’t want anything from you, Y/N. I just want you to stop pretending like this isn’t real.” He paused, letting the words hang between you both. “You don’t have to pretend like you don’t feel it, too.”

Your stomach tightened, your mind racing, trying to process what he meant. You felt like you were trapped in a conversation you couldn’t escape, but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to end it. You couldn’t look away from him.

The silence that followed his words was thick, suffocating. You were staring at him, unsure of what to say, the weight of his gaze making it feel like the room was closing in on you. His eyes held a quiet intensity, as if he were waiting for something from you. A response, an acknowledgment, something that would confirm whatever it was he was feeling.

You tried to push the thoughts away, the conflicting feelings swirling inside of you, but you couldn’t ignore how much his words made you feel exposed. He was right, in some way. You couldn’t pretend that the tension wasn’t there, that it hadn’t been there from the moment you first met. But admitting that would be admitting to something you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said again, but this time, it felt weaker, less convincing.

Heeseung didn’t look angry or frustrated. If anything, he seemed almost amused by your resistance. “You can keep denying it if you want, Y/N. But I see the way you look at me. I see the way you act around me when your mom’s not around.” His voice softened, and for a brief second, you almost thought he was going to smile. “It’s not just in your head.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His words felt like they were cutting through the walls you had built up inside. How could he be so sure? How could he read you like that, so easily?

“I—I don’t know what you want me to say,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady.

Heeseung didn’t immediately respond. He just studied you, his eyes lingering on your face as though searching for something. Finally, after a long pause, he sighed, his posture relaxing just a bit.

“Look, I don’t want to make things harder for you,” he said, his tone softer now, almost apologetic. “I’m not trying to put you on the spot. I just think… I think we both know there’s something between us. Whether we want to admit it or not.”

The words hung in the air, like a challenge you couldn’t quite escape. You felt your chest tighten at the thought of it. The idea of something between you two was too strange to even process, and yet, the connection was undeniable. Your mind was a mess, emotions tangled in a way that made it hard to think clearly.

For a moment, you stayed quiet, unsure of what to do next. His gaze remained on you, waiting, patient, almost as if he were giving you the space to decide whether you wanted to acknowledge what was happening or not.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out at first. Instead, you looked away, unable to keep meeting his eyes. This was all too much. You couldn’t let yourself get drawn into it.

“I—I should probably head to bed,” you said, standing up from the couch a little too quickly. You needed distance. You needed space.

But as you stood, Heeseung’s voice stopped you, soft yet firm. “Y/N, we don’t have to pretend like nothing’s happening here. You’re not the only one feeling this. You know that, right?”

His words stopped you in your tracks. Your heart pounded in your chest. Was it possible? Could he really be feeling the same way you were?

You didn’t turn around to face him, but you could feel his gaze on your back, heavy and constant. “I don’t know what you want from me,” you muttered, still too afraid to face him.

For a long moment, it was just the sound of your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. Heeseung didn’t say anything more. The air between you two was electric, charged with tension, but neither of you moved to break it.

And then, just as you were about to take a step toward the hallway, Heeseung spoke again, his voice softer now.

“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight. But we will have to talk about it sooner or later.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t know how to respond to that. All you could do was nod slowly, feeling like you were floating in a whirlwind of confusion.

With one last look over your shoulder at him, you turned and walked down the hallway, your mind racing, your heart heavy with unspoken questions and feelings that you couldn’t make sense of.

The next morning, you woke up feeling drained, like the weight of last night’s conversation had lingered in your mind all through the night. You tried to shake off the feeling, to move on and ignore it, but as you made your way downstairs, you were met with the sound of your mom and Heeseung in the kitchen.

They were sitting together at the table, casually chatting over coffee, like nothing had happened. Your mom was laughing at something Heeseung had said, and he was grinning that easygoing smile of his. They looked so natural together—too natural. It was hard to imagine that only hours ago, things had been a lot more… complicated.

Heeseung was wearing his usual relaxed outfit, a black hoodie and baggy jeans, his hair tousled as he leaned back in his chair with a cup of coffee in his hand. Your mom, on the other hand, looked effortlessly beautiful in a loose shirt, her hair messily pulled into a ponytail. The two of them seemed so comfortable in each other’s presence, as if the tension from the night before had never even existed.

“Good morning, honey,” your mom greeted you, her smile warm and bright. “Coffee’s fresh, help yourself.”

You didn’t immediately respond. You just stood in the doorway, trying to process how they could be acting so casually when everything still felt so weird to you.

Heeseung, noticing you standing there, flashed a smile your way. “Morning, Y/N,” he said in that calm voice of his, looking at you with an almost knowing expression. “Sleep well?”

You nodded stiffly, not trusting yourself to speak. The words from last night were still in your head, and seeing them together like this made your stomach twist with discomfort. It felt like nothing had changed for them, like the tension from the night before had evaporated the moment they woke up.

“Y/N, you should sit with us,” your mom suggested, motioning to the empty chair beside Heeseung. “We’re just chatting about random stuff. Why don’t you join?”

You hesitated. The thought of sitting down beside Heeseung again made your chest tighten, but you didn’t want to appear rude. So, you reluctantly made your way to the table and took a seat. As you did, Heeseung gave you another smile, the same one that made your heart flutter in a way you couldn’t quite understand.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” your mom asked, picking up her coffee and taking a sip. She was all smiles, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

Heeseung leaned back slightly, glancing at you as he spoke. “I was thinking of heading out to the park later, maybe grab some lunch afterward,” he suggested casually. “Could be a nice way to spend the day.”

You barely heard him. Your mind was still caught in that moment last night, when his leg brushed against yours and his gaze lingered on you just a little too long. It felt like he was acting as though it had all been a dream, a brief awkward moment that was easy to forget. But you couldn’t forget it.

Your mom perked up at the suggestion, her eyes brightening. “That sounds like a great idea, Heeseung. I’m sure Y/N would love that too.”

You didn’t know how to respond, but you could feel Heeseung’s gaze on you again. This time, it felt a little more intense. The way he looked at you, like he was waiting for something—like he knew what was going on behind your eyes.

You forced yourself to smile. “Yeah, sure,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your stomach churned with nerves.

The conversation continued, but it felt distant, like you were watching everything from a place far removed from reality. Your mom and Heeseung chatted about their plans for the day, laughing and enjoying the morning like it was any other day.

But for you, everything had shifted. The tension from last night was still there, like an invisible thread between you and Heeseung. It was impossible to ignore, and yet, it was as if nothing had happened. They were so relaxed with each other, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only one holding onto something from the night before.

The more you tried to focus on the conversation, the more you realized you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed between you and Heeseung. But as far as he and your mom were concerned, the night before had been nothing more than a blip, easily forgotten and brushed off as nothing significant.

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection with a sigh. Your fingers worked to pull your hair up into a loose bun, trying to make it look effortless. You threw on a black knit sweater that hugged your frame just enough to make you feel self-conscious, paired with some jean shorts that were a little shorter than you’d usually wear. You finished the look with a light amount of makeup—just enough to feel somewhat put together, though you couldn’t shake the unease building in your chest.

‘Who am I kidding?’ you thought, staring at yourself in the mirror. This is so stupid, Y/N. You almost laughed at yourself. Why did it matter so much? Why did you care what Heeseung thought? It was just the two of you today. Just a casual trip to the park. Nothing more.

But deep down, you knew why. There was a part of you—one you didn’t want to acknowledge—that felt like maybe, just maybe, you wanted to impress him. Stop it, Y/N, you thought, shaking your head as you grabbed your bag and headed out of your room.

When you walked downstairs, you found Heeseung standing near the door, his casual black hoodie and jeans making him look effortlessly cool. He was holding his car keys, looking like he was ready to head out. Your mom, Alice, was already gone for work—leaving you two alone for the day.

“Ready?” Heeseung asked, glancing up at you as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

You nodded, a little too quickly, and tried to ignore the nerves bubbling in your stomach. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you both stepped outside, the bright morning sun hit your face, but it didn’t do much to ease the tension you felt. The car ride was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the engine. You couldn’t help but steal glances at Heeseung, who was focused on the road ahead but seemed just as aware of you as you were of him. His presence felt almost too close, his leg brushing against yours every time he shifted in the seat. Every time, your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to push the thoughts out of your head.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you pulled up to the park. It was a quiet, peaceful place, perfect for getting away from everything. You both got out of the car, and as you made your way toward the walking trail, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Heeseung was walking just a little too close behind you. You could feel his gaze on your back, like a weight pressing down on you.

“So,” Heeseung started, his voice casual as he walked beside you, “I was thinking we could grab some coffee first. There’s a little cafe nearby.”

You nodded, though you weren’t really listening. You were too busy trying to ignore the tension building between you two. You could feel him glancing at you every now and then, his eyes lingering just a little longer than usual, and it made your heart race. You couldn’t figure out what was going on between you two—everything was a mess of feelings you weren’t prepared to deal with.

“Sounds good,” you replied, hoping your voice didn’t betray how off-balance you felt.

You walked in silence for a few moments, the park unusually quiet around you. You could hear the rustling of leaves in the trees and the distant sound of birds chirping, but all you could focus on was Heeseung’s presence next to you.

As you reached the cafe, you both ordered your drinks, and Heeseung led the way to a quiet bench near the lake. The moment you sat down, you realized just how aware you were of every little movement he made. You could feel the heat of his body beside yours, the way his legs brushed against yours as you both settled into the bench.

He looked over at you, his expression unreadable. “You alright?” he asked, his voice a little quieter now. “You seem a bit distant.”

You paused, not sure how to respond. Your chest tightened. Distant? You weren’t sure how to explain what you were feeling, so you shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, though it didn’t sound convincing even to your own ears.

Heeseung didn’t push you, but you could tell he was watching you closely, trying to figure you out. After a few seconds, he leaned back a little, looking out at the water. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever come here without your mom,” he said, trying to break the tension.

You nodded, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah. She loves this place.”

There was a brief pause, and then, just as you thought the moment would pass, Heeseung’s voice cut through the quiet. “Y/N…” he started, his tone more serious this time. “About last night… I just want you to know that I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

Your heart dropped. You hadn’t expected him to bring it up, and now that he had, it felt like everything was on the verge of spilling over. You didn’t know what to say, so you just stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

He glanced at you, his eyes intense. “But I think you know what I’m talking about, right?”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to deny it, to brush it off, but you couldn’t. You were both too aware of the tension, the unspoken connection that had been there since the first time you met.

“Yeah,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

Heeseung didn’t say anything more. Instead, he took a sip of his coffee, looking out at the water again, as if giving you space to process whatever it was that was happening between you two. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment had shifted, and neither of you were sure how to navigate it.

The walk back to the car felt much longer than it should have. You tried to distract yourself by looking anywhere but at Heeseung, but the weight of the tension between you was almost suffocating. The air felt charged, crackling with a mix of uncertainty and something you couldn’t quite name.

When you reached the car, Heeseung opened the door for you, but neither of you immediately got in. Instead, you both lingered there, by the car, in a strange silence, each lost in your thoughts. The sounds of the park were distant, muffled, as if the world had faded away for just a moment.

Finally, you broke the silence, turning toward him, your voice slightly unsteady. “So… last night, you said, ‘I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.’ What did you mean by that?”

Heeseung’s eyes were locked on you, and he didn’t look away as he leaned slightly against the car, his posture casual but still holding that undeniable intensity. You could see his jaw tense slightly, his lips biting down as if he were carefully choosing his next words. His gaze never wavered from yours, not even for a second, and it made your heart race.

“I meant that I feel it, too,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. He hesitated for a brief moment, as though weighing the effect of his words. Then, he added, “I know you’ve noticed it. The way things are between us. It’s not just you who feels it. You think I’m not bothered by the fact you’re way too comfortable with showing a lot of skin?”

You felt your chest tighten at his admission. Your mind was racing, but you stayed silent, unsure how to respond.

Heeseung’s eyes flickered over your face, studying you carefully, and you could tell he was trying to gauge your reaction. The way he looked at you felt like he could see right through you, and the intensity of his gaze made your breath catch.

“I don’t know what’s happening between us, Y/N, but I can’t ignore it.” His voice dropped even lower, and he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. You could feel his body heat radiating toward you, the closeness making it hard to breathe.

You swallowed, trying to maintain control of yourself, but his words, his closeness, were making it impossible to think clearly. “What about my mom?” you asked, your voice almost trembling as you spoke. “She’s… she’s the one you’re with. You’re supposed to be with her.”

The question hung in the air, and you almost regretted asking it as soon as the words left your mouth. But you had to know. You had to understand what Heeseung’s feelings meant, what they really meant. Was this some kind of mistake? A passing moment? Or was there something more to it, something you weren’t prepared to handle?

Heeseung didn’t break eye contact, not even for a second. He bit down on his lip slightly, like he was suppressing the urge to say something that might make the situation even more complicated than it already was. But he didn’t look away, and the way his gaze lingered on you made your heart race even faster.

“I… I care about your mom, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady but still carrying a note of uncertainty. “I do. But…” He trailed off, the words clearly difficult for him to express.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him as he took a step closer, his breath almost mingling with yours. “But what?” you whispered, barely daring to breathe.

Heeseung’s lips curled into a faint, almost hesitant smile. “But that doesn’t change what’s been building between us,” he said quietly. His voice was so calm, but there was something underneath it—a depth, an unspoken understanding that seemed to draw you closer to him, no matter how much you tried to resist it.

The air between you felt charged, heavier than before. You were caught, trapped between the pull of your own emotions and the knowledge that this—whatever this was—was something you shouldn’t be feeling.

Before you could say anything else, Heeseung stepped back slightly, but he didn’t look away. His expression softened a little, as if giving you the space to process what he had said. But the tension remained. It was there in the way he was still looking at you, in the way you could feel his presence even though he wasn’t touching you.

“I don’t know what this is, Y/N,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “But I know it’s real.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your thoughts racing. You didn’t know how to handle this. The weight of what he was saying, the way he was looking at you, was overwhelming. But there was a part of you—a part you couldn’t deny—that felt drawn to him in a way you didn’t understand.

Heeseung’s footsteps were quiet but purposeful as he moved closer to you, the space between you two shrinking with every step he took. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as if everything around you had faded into the background. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat seeming to echo in the silence that surrounded you.

When he was close enough, his body nearly brushing against yours, he reached out slowly, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was warm, tender, but there was an undeniable intensity in it, as if he was holding something back. His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment, and you could feel a shiver run down your spine.

Heeseung leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, sending a wave of heat through your body. His voice was low, almost a whisper, but you heard every word clearly. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I don’t know what this is, but it’s more than I can ignore.”

The way his words slid over you made everything inside you tangle with confusion, desire, and something else you couldn’t quite name. You felt your breath catch in your throat, your heart racing, but the overwhelming sensation was too much to bear. The pull toward him was stronger than ever, and the emotions swirling inside you were too intense to ignore.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe properly with the way he was looking at you, with the heat of his body so close to yours. Without thinking, without even realizing what you were doing, you closed the space between you two completely, your hand reaching up to pull him toward you.

In one swift motion, you pressed your lips to his, kissing him deeply, urgently. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was the culmination of everything you had been feeling, all the tension, the confusion, and the raw desire you couldn’t suppress any longer. His lips were soft, and for a brief second, the world seemed to vanish as he kissed you back just as fiercely, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, if that was even possible.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, like he was waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you melted into it, into him, feeling his warmth, the undeniable connection that had been building since the moment you met him. The intensity of it left you breathless, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the urgency in the way his hands roamed, trying to make sense of everything happening between you both.

It felt like the world had tilted on its axis, and for that moment, there was nothing else but the two of you, the kiss, and the heat that was threatening to consume everything.

When you finally pulled away, your lips tingling, you couldn’t look him in the eye right away. The weight of what had just happened sank in, but you didn’t regret it—not one bit. Heeseung’s gaze was intense, and his lips curled into a small, almost amused smile. But there was something else in his eyes—something deeper, something that said he felt it too.

“I didn’t think you’d do that,” he whispered, his voice low and almost breathless.

Your heart was still racing, your thoughts scattered, but all you could manage was a quiet, breathless laugh. “Neither did I,” you replied, your voice shaky as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension still lingering in the air between you. You were both caught in this strange, electric moment, and you couldn’t help but wonder how things would change from here on out. But for now, you both stood there, silently, feeling the weight of what had just happened—and wondering what would come next.

Heeseung didn’t pull away this time. The moment your lips parted, you could feel him draw closer, his breath mingling with yours as his hand slid around to the back of your neck again, his fingers warm against your skin. You barely had time to catch your breath before his lips found yours again—this time, it was different.

The kiss was deeper, longer, more urgent. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in the way he kissed you. It was as if he was pouring all of the emotions, the tension, the unspoken feelings that had been hanging between you two into that kiss. His lips moved with a purpose, slow and steady, but it was more intense than before.

You couldn’t help but melt into him, your hands coming up to rest on his chest as his other hand slid down, his fingers brushing against your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer. You could feel his heartbeat under your fingertips, and it made your own pulse quicken, matching the rhythm of his kiss. Every inch of space between you was filled with his warmth, his presence. The kiss gets heated as he shoved his tongue inside your mouth, but you flight back for dominance, feeling him smirk against your lips.

His lips moved against yours with a sense of urgency, but there was something tender in it, too—a softness that made your chest tighten with feelings you weren’t sure how to process. You felt the world around you fade into the background, all that mattered was him, the connection you couldn’t seem to deny, even if you wanted to.

As the kiss deepened, you felt his hand shift, gently guiding you closer, his body pressing against yours. The heat was intoxicating, and you could feel every inch of him now, making you let out a soft groan.

When he finally pulled back again, you were breathless, your body slightly trembling from the intensity of it all. His eyes were dark, full of unspoken words, and he was just as shaken as you were, the air between you thick with the weight of what had just happened.

“You…” he breathed, still too close to you, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I can’t stay away. I didn’t expect this… I didn’t expect you.”

You couldn’t find your voice immediately, still trying to make sense of everything happening, the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You swallowed hard, looking up into his eyes, your heart pounding louder than ever.

Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours again, and this time, it felt like both of you had given in to it entirely. You kissed him back with just as much intensity, the world around you no longer mattering.

Two weeks had passed since that moment. Two weeks since everything between you and Heeseung had shifted, since the line between what was appropriate and what was not had blurred beyond recognition. And since then, things had been… awkward.

You couldn’t even look at him without feeling your stomach churn, your heart racing uncomfortably. Every time Heeseung was around, you found an excuse to disappear into your room or go for a walk, anything to avoid being in the same space as him. You hadn’t spoken a word about what happened, to him or to anyone, and the silence was deafening.

You’d started getting good at pretending that everything was fine. You acted as if the tension, the awkwardness, wasn’t eating at you from the inside. But it was. And it was getting harder to keep up the facade.

Whenever you did find yourself in the same room as him, you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting. Heeseung was still… Heeseung, and he was still as effortlessly attractive as before. But it wasn’t just that—there was a knowing in his gaze, something that made you uneasy. He seemed to want to talk, but you avoided him at all costs, always finding a way to slip away before he could corner you.

Your mom, Alice, had noticed the distance. She was confused, of course. She kept asking if you were okay, if everything was fine, and you would just smile and nod, telling her everything was normal. But it wasn’t. Nothing about this was normal.

“Y/N, are you sure everything’s alright?” Alice asked one morning as you helped her prepare breakfast. She eyed you curiously, her brows furrowing slightly as she noticed how you kept avoiding the kitchen when Heeseung was around.

You didn’t meet her gaze, pretending to focus on your plate as you stabbed at your eggs. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just tired, you know?”

She didn’t seem convinced but nodded anyway, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, I don’t know… you’ve been acting a little distant lately. Are you sure it’s not about Heeseung? He’s been kind of quiet around you too.”

The mention of his name made your heart skip a beat, and you felt a sudden, sharp tightness in your chest. But you plastered on that same forced smile, willing the unease away. “It’s nothing,” you said quickly. “Really, Mom, don’t worry about it.”

Alice didn’t press the issue, but the confusion was clear in her eyes. She seemed like she wanted to ask more, but she didn’t, and that made it even worse. You had no idea how to explain this to her—not without making everything worse. How could you even begin to explain to your mother that the man she was about to marry was someone you had kissed? Someone you couldn’t stop thinking about, despite how wrong it was?

The days continued to pass in an uncomfortable blur, with Heeseung and you exchanging occasional glances, but never speaking about what had happened. It was like this unspoken tension was suffocating the air in the house, and no one knew how to address it.

Whenever you did manage to sit in the living room, you could feel Heeseung’s eyes following you, as if waiting for something. But you stayed silent, retreating into yourself as much as possible. Every time your paths crossed, there was this palpable awkwardness between you, and neither of you knew how to break it.

Your mom had no idea what was really going on. She couldn’t understand why you suddenly started avoiding Heeseung, and why he seemed just as distant. She would talk about how excited she was about their upcoming wedding and how happy she was with him, but all you could do was smile and nod, pretending that everything was fine.

But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

“You made out with him?” Yunjin practically shrieked through the phone.

You groaned, pressing the heel of your palm against your forehead. “Keep your voice down,” you hissed, even though she wasn’t physically there. “And like I said, yes.”

“And twice?!”

You flopped onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of the past two weeks pressing down on you. “I don’t know how it happened, Yunjin. It just did.”

“Girl, you do know how it happened,” she said knowingly. “Because he’s fine as hell, and you’ve been feeling things for him. Don’t even try to lie to me.”

You let out a heavy sigh, your free hand fisting the sheets. “I don’t want to feel things for him. He’s my mom’s fiancé. It’s so messed up. I’ve been avoiding him ever since, and it’s making everything worse. My mom’s starting to notice.”

Yunjin hummed. “Well, no shit she’s noticing. You can’t just act normal one day and then treat her future husband like he has the plague the next. She’s bound to get suspicious.”

You shut your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “I don’t know what to do. Every time I see him, I feel sick. Not just because of guilt, but because… I liked it. I liked kissing him, Yunjin. And I hate myself for it.”

“Okay, first of all, don’t say that,” she said, her tone softer now. “It’s not like you planned for this to happen. But you have to talk to him sooner or later.”

You frowned. “Talk to him?”

“Yes, talk to him. You can’t just keep dodging him forever. You need to know where he stands on this. Is he pretending it didn’t happen? Does he regret it? Or does he…” she trailed off, and you knew exactly what she was implying.

Your stomach twisted. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I don’t think he regrets it.”

Yunjin let out a slow exhale. “Then that’s even more reason to talk to him. You can’t just keep walking around your house like a ghost, pretending this isn’t eating you alive.”

You bit your lip, silent for a moment. You knew she was right. But the thought of actually talking to Heeseung about what happened made you want to crawl into a hole. What could you even say?

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, though you both knew that really meant I’ll avoid it as long as I can.

“You better,” Yunjin said. “Because if you don’t, this whole situation is gonna explode in your face.”

Your mom had just finished packing when she called you into the living room, excitement lacing her voice.

“I’ll be gone for three days, but I left everything you need in the fridge,” she said, zipping up her suitcase. “You and Heeseung will be fine here, right?”

Your stomach dropped. Three days? Alone in the house with him?

“Yeah,” you forced out, hoping she wouldn’t notice how stiff you sounded. “We’ll be fine.”

Great. Just great.

The second she walked out the door, you turned and bolted straight to your room, shutting the door behind you like it was your personal safe haven. If you could just stay in here for three days—no interactions, no awkward glances, no memories creeping in—you could survive this.

You threw yourself onto your bed, grabbing your phone to distract yourself, but your mind kept wandering back to him. His hands, his lips, the way he looked at you after it happened. You groaned, burying your face into your pillow.

And then—a knock.

You froze.

Another knock, this time firmer.

“Y/N?”

Heeseung.

Your breath hitched. He hadn’t knocked on your door once in the past two weeks, respecting the way you were avoiding him. But now, with your mom gone, with no way to escape, he was standing right outside.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of your blanket.

“Can we talk?” His voice was steady, but there was something behind it. Something unreadable.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. Every part of you screamed to stay silent, to pretend you weren’t there. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever.

You inhaled sharply, sitting up.

“What do you want, Heeseung?”

You sat on your bed, legs crossed, dressed in a simple white tank top and grey baggy sweats. You hadn’t expected to be seen by him today, much less talk to him, but here you were—trapped.

The door creaked open, and Heeseung stepped inside, his presence immediately shifting the air in the room. His eyes flickered over you, lingering just a second too long before he let out a low chuckle.

“You know,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, “if you keep wearing those, I won’t be able to keep my eyes off you.”

Your body stiffened.

You hated how easily the words rolled off his tongue, how he didn’t even try to hide it anymore. Ever since that night, he hadn’t once pretended that nothing happened. He let it hang in the air between you like an unspoken secret, teasing, testing, taunting you.

And you hated that part of you liked it—that you were flustered.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back slightly. “Don’t say things like that,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“What?” He tilted his head, stepping further inside. “You want me to lie instead?”

You swallowed, your nails digging into the fabric of your sweats. “I want you to act normal.”

His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but close enough to make your stomach twist. “This is normal, isn’t it?”

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “For who?”

“For us.”

The room felt smaller, the air heavier. Heeseung took another slow step forward, and you hated how your breath hitched, how your body reacted before your mind could tell it not to.

“You’re acting like you didn’t feel it too,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

Your heart pounded, but you refused to let him see it. “I didn’t,” you lied, standing up abruptly.

Heeseung just laughed under his breath, shaking his head like he didn’t believe you for a second. “Sure, Y/N.”

The worst part? Neither did you.

You clenched your fists at your sides, frustration bubbling under your skin. Heeseung was too comfortable with this—too casual, too teasing, too honest. Like kissing you hadn’t changed anything for him.

But for you? It had ruined everything.

“You need to stop,” you said, voice sharper than you intended.

“Stop what?” Heeseung asked, feigning innocence as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“This.” You gestured vaguely between you both. “Whatever this is. You’re my mom’s fiancé, Heeseung.”

His jaw tightened for just a second, but the smugness in his expression didn’t waver. “You think I forgot?”

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. “Then act like it.”

A tense silence settled between you. Heeseung studied you, his gaze unreadable now. The teasing glint in his eyes faded, replaced by something darker—something almost serious.

Then, he exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “You really think ignoring me is gonna make this go away?”

You hesitated. “It has to go away.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Right. Because that worked so well these past two weeks.”

You hated how right he was.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you admitted, voice quieter now.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “I don’t know either,” he murmured.

That scared you the most.

The air was thick, suffocating. You had to get out of here before you did something stupid.

“I should go,” you mumbled, moving toward the door.

But Heeseung stepped in your way, blocking your exit with ease.

“Y/N,” he said, low and steady.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

He hesitated, his expression conflicted for the first time. Then, after a long pause—

“You really want me to stop?”

It wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t teasing. It was a genuine question.

And you should’ve said yes.

But the words wouldn’t come out.

A frustrated groan left your lips before you could stop it. Everything about this—about him—was driving you insane. The way he stood there, waiting, like he already knew you wouldn’t push him away. Like he knew you wanted this just as badly as he did.

And maybe that’s what made you snap.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before your mind could scream at you to stop, you grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him down as you pressed your lips onto his.

Heeseung didn’t hesitate.

The second your lips met his, he responded instantly, hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer like he had been waiting for this. Like he knew you’d break sooner or later.

Your heart pounded as heat spread through your body, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. This was so wrong—so incredibly wrong. But the moment his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, all thoughts of stopping disappeared.

Heeseung deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up your spine, making you shiver. He kissed you like he had something to prove, like he wanted you to feel how much he wanted you.

And you did.

You felt it in the way his fingers dug into your waist, in the way his breathing grew heavier, in the way he let out a low groan against your lips, like you were driving him crazy too.

Your mind screamed at you to pull away, but your body didn’t listen. Not when his hands were warm against your skin, not when his lips moved so perfectly against yours, not when you had spent weeks trying to pretend you didn’t want this.

But you did.

And you were completely, utterly screwed.

Heeseung’s lips were just as hot and soft as you remembered. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent jolts of electricity through your body, making it difficult to think straight. The feeling of his hands on your waist, holding you close, made your heart race even faster.

The rational part of your mind was screaming at you to stop, to remember that this was wrong, that he was your mom’s fiancé. But the rest of you—the part that had been thinking about him nonstop for the past two weeks—ignored it.

Your mind was too clouded to protest as Heeseung suddenly gripped your waist and spun you around, pushing your back against the wall. His actions were rough, almost desperate, but you didn’t care. The gasp that left your lips was swallowed by his mouth as he crushed his lips against yours once more.

His kisses were heated, his teeth grazing against your bottom lip, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him. Not when his hands were roaming your body like he owned it, making your skin burn everywhere he touched.

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he lifted you up effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, the movement causing a small gasp to escape your lips.

"Heeseung," you murmured between kisses, "we shouldn’t be doing this."

"Shouldn’t be doing what?" he asked, voice low and breathless against your neck. His lips trailed down your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You inhaled sharply, trying to find the strength to push him away, but your trembling hands seemed to forget their purpose. They found their way to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as his mouth moved lower, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone.

Heeseung’s hands gripped your thighs even tighter, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your collarbone, coaxing out another gasp from your lips. Your body arched against him, the feeling of his hands and mouth against your skin making it hard to think straight.

A soft moan escaped from your lips, and you felt Heeseung’s lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

“Fuck, Heeseung,” I groaned softly as your mouth opens wider. “We really shouldn’t—“

But your protests faded into a soft whine when he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You keep saying that,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “But you’re not pushing me away.”

Heeseung’s mouth moved to your neck, his kisses growing rough and insistent as his hands roamed over your body. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Your mind was a mess, your thoughts blurring together as Heeseung continued kissing your neck. You wanted him to stop, you knew you did, but the words were stuck in your throat. Your body was reacting to his touch, every brush of his lips and his hands setting your skin on fire.

“Heeseung.” Your voice was barely a whisper, a weak attempt to protest, but it sounded more like a moan than anything else. He had you completely at his mercy, and he knew it.

"Answer me," he said, his mouth trailing down the side of your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

You could feel his smirk against your skin as he waited for your response, his breath hot and uneven. Your mind was spinning, your body thrumming with need as his hands gripped your thighs tightly.

“No,” you finally managed to gasp, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt desperately. “Please, don’t stop.”

His lips curled into a smirk as soon as the words left your mouth, and he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, his gaze intense, and it made your breath hitch in your throat.

Heeseung’s smirk widened, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned in even closer. "Beg for it.”

The words were simple, but they sent a shiver down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew how to drive you crazy with just a few words. Your mind was a mess, your body reacting to his touch, and you desperately wanted more.

But he was waiting, his gaze steady and intense as he watched you struggle with your desires.

"Please," you found yourself panting, your voice a desperate whimper. "Just… just give me more."

Heeseung chuckled, the sound low and rough, and his grip on your thighs seemed to tighten. "I want to hear you say it louder."

Your cheeks burned, but his command had sent a rush of heat through your body. You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind was clouded. You were desperate for more of him, desperately wanting to feel his hands and his lips on your skin.

"Please," you gasped out again, your voice a little louder but still strained. "I want more."

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, a feral gleam entering them as he heard your plea. He leaned in, his mouth close to your ear as he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "More of what?"

It was almost a tease, and your body shivered in anticipation, your legs unconsciously tightening around his waist.

"You," you managed to breathe out, your voice a pleading moan. "I want more of you."

He seemed pleased with that answer, his smirk growing. But he didn't move, his body still pressed close to yours, keeping you trapped against the wall.

"Where do you want more of me?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "Here?"

His hand moved up your thigh, his fingers brushing against the inside of your leg, causing you to shiver.

You inhaled sharply, your mind racing as you felt his touch. "Yes," you gasped out. "There, and… and everywhere."

He hummed in response, his hand continuing to move up your thigh, his touch lingering, his fingers grazing you skin. "Everywhere, huh?" he repeated, his voice a deep purr.

Heeseung’s expression suddenly darkened, his smirk growing wider as he looked at you. His grip on your thighs shifted, and before you could even react, he reached down, gripping the fabric of your sweatpants.

With a swift motion, he yanked them down, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. You let out a gasp of surprise, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable beneath his gaze. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every curve and contour, and the intensity in them was nearly overwhelming.

He leaned in, his body pressing closer to yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. His fingers traced patterns on your thighs, his touch both tender and demanding. It was as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin, to imprint it into his memory.

His eyes never left your body, and you felt his gaze burning into you like a brand. You squirmed slightly beneath him, feeling both exposed and excited. The combination of his touch and his gaze was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but surrender to it.

You reached out, your fingers shaking slightly as you unzipped his hoodie, revealing the planes of his stomach. His chest was bare, the defined lines of his abs on display, and you felt your breath catch in your throat at the sight.

Heeseung watched you carefully, his gaze fixed on your face as you took him in, your eyes roaming over his body. There was a moment of tension in the air, the anticipation between you both thick and palpable.

You swallowed hard, your hand hovering over his abs, unable to resist the urge to touch him. Your fingers traced the ridges of his muscles, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. Heeseung let out a low groan, his body tensing in response.

He caught your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. His eyes were fixed on yours, filled with desire and a hint of restraint.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. "You're playing with fire."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but shiver in response. Your mind was hazy, your thoughts a tangled mess, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his abs beneath your fingertips, the way his breath hitched when you brushed against a sensitive spot, the way his eyes darkened with desire.

You nodded, your fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. Heeseung watched you, his gaze intense and hungry, and the air was thick with anticipation.

You could feel your heart racing, your mind buzzing with desire and need. You unbuttoned his jeans, your fingers trembling as you unzipped them, revealing his clothed hardened cock. Heeseung's breathing hitched as you touched him, and he let out a low growl.

You wasted no time, sliding his jeans off his hips, letting them drop to the floor. Your hands moved to his boxers, your fingers tracing the elastic waistband.

Heeseung groaned, his breathing ragged as he watched you. Your eyes were fixed on his face, his expression a mix of desire and restraint. You could see the muscles in his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

You took a slow breath, feeling the tension in the air around you. Without hesitation, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and began to slide them down, your heart racing with anticipation.

You took a moment, your breath hot against his skin, then reaching out, your delicate fingers lightly stroking his leaking cock. Heeseung gasped, his hips involuntarily shifting forward, a low moan escaping his lips.

You leaned in, the tip of your tongue gently brushing across the sensitive head, as you continued taking more of his length each time.

As your lips moved along his length, heeseung reached out, his fingers burying into your hair. There was a moment of anticipation before he gently gripped your head, guiding you back until just the tip of his cock rested against your tongue.

There was a moment of hesitation as he looked down at you with lust. He was still being gentle, but there was a hunger in his eyes that made you shiver. He could barely contain himself any longer. He wanted to make sure this was what he wanted, even as his body cried out for more.

You started bobbing your head up and down his shaft, gagging in the process. “Fucking hell, y/m,” Heeseung groaned, thrusting up deeper into your throat, causing you to choke slightly. “You look so good like this.”

He pulled back, his eyes fixed on your face. “Look at me,” he said, his voice rough with need. You looked up at him, your eyes locking with his. He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly. There was a moment of silence as he looked at you, his expression both tender and possessive.

And with that, Heeseung started brutally fucking your mouth, letting out loud grunts as you continuously gagged on his tip. Slowly, you brought your hand down to your clit and started to touch yourself.

He noticed your hand between your legs, and a feral grin spread across his face. “You’re enjoying this too much,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning both of your wrists above your head.

You whimpered against his grip, wanting the friction back, as he smirked. “No,” he said, his tone firm but teasing. He leaned closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear. “This is all about you pleasing me right now.”

You whimpered again, your body quaking with the desire for more. You could feel the tension building inside you, desperate for release. “Please,” you whined, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was all you could manage as he held you pinned, his eyes fixed on your face.

He scoffed quietly as he fastens his pace. “Y/n,” he groaned loudly, combing his messy, wet hair from his face. “I’m so close- you better take it all.”

He was growing even more impatient, his grip on your wrists growing even more intense. You could tell how close he was, and the thought sent a wave of excitement through you. "I'll take every last bit," you gasped out, your voice trembling with need.

You swallow everything he gave you, relishing the taste. He releases his grip on your wrists, panting softly as he looks down at you with a satisfied smirk. “You did so good.” He praises.

You looked up at Heeseung, trying to catch your breath and regain your bearings. "That was..." You trailed off, unable to find the words to describe what had just happened.

"Yeah, it was," he echoed, a hint of cockiness in his tone as he smirked down at you.

You couldn't deny it - you had enjoyed every moment of it. But the guilt was still there, gnawing at you.

“So are you gonna let me—“ “no,” he cuts you off, placing a finger on your lips. You would have snapped—you really wanted to. But the way he looked at you at that moment stopped you some how. “Maybe if you don’t ignore me from now on, I’ll think about it,” he teased as he got up to put his clothes back on.

You watched him redress with a mix of frustration and desire. He made it sound so simple, as if you could just stop ignoring him and everything would be fine. But you knew it wasn't that easy. You had been avoiding him for a reason—you knew you shouldn't be feeling this way about your mom's fiancé.

But the way he smirked at you, the way he teased you, it made it so hard to resist him.

The next morning, everything felt wrong.

You woke up tangled in your sheets, your body sore, your mind wrecked. The moment your eyes fluttered open, reality came crashing down like a tidal wave.

You and Heeseung,

Your own mom’s fiancé.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that would erase the memory of last night—the way his hands had roamed your body, the way he had groaned your name, the way you had wanted him so desperately it scared you.

But worst of all?

You had liked it.

And now, there was no taking it back.

You hesitated before finally forcing yourself to get up, slipping on the first hoodie and shorts you could find. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears as you opened your bedroom door, stepping cautiously into the hallway.

The house was silent.

You walked toward the kitchen, dreading what was waiting for you. And there he was—Heeseung, sitting at the counter, drinking coffee, looking just as tense as you felt.

The moment your eyes met, the air turned suffocating.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you knew what to say.

Last night had been reckless. It had been insane. The taste of him still lingering in your mouth. And now, with the weight of it sinking in, all that was left was a pit in your stomach and a guilt that felt too heavy to carry.

You swallowed hard, gripping the hem of your hoodie as you finally muttered, “Morning.”

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, setting his mug down. “Morning.”

Another awkward silence.

You couldn’t even look at him properly. Every time you tried, all you could see was last night—his lips, his touch, the way he made you feel things you shouldn’t be feeling.

You needed to leave. You needed to get out of here.

“I—I have plans,” you lied quickly, already turning toward the door.

“Y/N—”

But you didn’t let him finish. You grabbed your phone and rushed out before he could say another word, your heart pounding so hard it hurt.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake.

And now? You had no idea how to fix it.

You didn’t stop walking until you were outside, the cool morning air hitting your skin like a slap. You sucked in a shaky breath, gripping your phone tightly in your hands.

You needed to talk to someone—anyone—before you lost your mind.

Without thinking twice, you dialed Yunjin’s number.

She picked up after two rings. “Damn, you’re up early. What’s up?”

You hesitated for a second, chewing on your lip. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you muttered, “I did something really, really bad.”

There was a pause. Then—

“Oh my god,” Yunjin said flatly. “What did you do?”

You turned onto the sidewalk, walking aimlessly, your chest tightening. “It’s bad, Yunjin. Like actually bad.”

“Okay, well, how bad? On a scale of ‘I stole my mom’s credit card’ to ‘I ran someone over’—where are we at?”

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. “Way worse than the credit card thing, not as bad as murder.”

“…Did you sleep with him?”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

The silence was answer enough.

Yunjin screamed.

“Y/N, WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—”

“Shut up!” you hissed, looking around as if someone could hear her through the phone. “God, do you want the entire neighborhood to know?”

“YES, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE WHAT THE HELL?!”

“I know!” you whisper-yelled, resuming your frantic pacing. “I know, I know, I know, okay?! I fucked up!”

“No, you literally fucked.”

“Yunjin—”

“With your soon to be step dad?!”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Don’t say it like that!”

“HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY IT?”

You slumped onto a bench, heart pounding. “It just… happened.”

Yunjin let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I can’t believe this. My best friend is a homewrecker.”

“I know!”

“Ok but was it good?”

“Yunjin!”

“I thought you were just gonna flirt with him a little, not give him a full on blow j-” She cut herself off. “Okay, how did this even happen?”

You shut your eyes, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know. One second we were talking, and then… I kissed him. And then he kissed me back. And then…”

“And then?”

You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. “You know what happened next.”

Yunjin made a strangled noise. “Okay. So, um… now what?”

You leaned back against the bench, staring up at the sky. “I have no idea. We haven’t even talked about it. I literally ran out of the house this morning because I couldn’t deal with it.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered. “You have to talk to him sooner or later, Y/N.”

You shut your eyes. “I don’t want to.”

“You think avoiding him is gonna fix this?”

“No,” you admitted quietly. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

Yunjin sighed. “Well… you better figure it out fast.”

You already knew that.

You just didn’t know how.

You spent another hour outside, aimlessly walking, trying to clear your head. But no matter how far you went, your thoughts kept dragging you back—back to last night, back to him, back to the way he felt against you.

By the time you finally made it home, your stomach was twisting with dread. You stepped inside cautiously, half-expecting Heeseung to be sitting in the kitchen, waiting for you.

But he wasn’t.

The house was quiet—too quiet.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and made a beeline for your room. Maybe if you just locked yourself inside, you could pretend none of this happened for a little while longer.

But the second you shut your door, a voice stopped you.

“You just gonna keep running away?”

Your body stiffened.

Slowly, you turned around.

Heeseung was standing in your doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was locked right on you—sharp, expectant.

Your throat went dry. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he said simply.

You clenched your jaw, gripping the hem of your hoodie. “I just needed to get out for a bit.”

Heeseung nodded slowly, then stepped into your room, closing the door behind him.

Your pulse jumped.

He was too close.

You took a step back, shaking your head. “Heeseung—”

“We need to talk.”

You hated how calm he sounded. Like this wasn’t the most messed-up, complicated situation you’d ever been in.

“No, we don’t,” you shot back. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re just gonna pretend it never happened?”

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” you snapped, folding your arms. “Because it shouldn’t have happened.”

Heeseung didn’t react right away. He just studied you, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long moment—

“Did it feel like a mistake to you?”

You froze.

Your stomach twisted. “Heeseung—”

“Because it didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve looked him in the eye and lied. But you couldn’t.

Because deep down, you knew the truth.

It hadn’t felt like a mistake at all.

And that was the real problem.

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. “It doesn’t matter how it felt,” you muttered, gripping the edge of your hoodie. “It was wrong.”

Heeseung took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “Was it?”

Your breath hitched. His voice was lower now, softer—dangerously tempting.

“You know it was,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, studying your face. “Then why haven’t you told me to stop?”

Your stomach twisted. He was right there, close enough that you could smell the faint traces of cologne on his skin, close enough that if you moved even an inch, you’d be right back where you were last night.

“I…” You trailed off, your grip tightening on your hoodie.

Heeseung’s eyes flickered over your face, as if searching for something—some kind of answer, some kind of permission.

And then, barely above a whisper, he said, “Say the word, and I’ll walk away.”

You felt trapped.

Because you should say it. You should push him away, tell him to leave, end this now before it got worse.

But you didn’t.

And you hated yourself for it.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Heeseung’s gaze never wavered, his lips parting slightly as he waited—waited for you to do something.

But you couldn’t.

And he knew it.

His hand lifted, fingertips brushing lightly against your cheek. The touch was soft, hesitant—like he was giving you one last chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

And that was all the confirmation he needed.

Heeseung leaned in, his lips ghosting just above yours. Your heart was beating so loud you were sure he could hear it.

But just as his mouth brushed against yours—

The front door clicked open.

Your mom was home.

You jerked away from Heeseung like you had been burned, your heart slamming against your ribs.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, stepping back just as the sound of your mom’s heels echoed through the house.

“Y/N?” her voice called from the front door. “Are you home?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “Y-Yeah! I’m in my room!”

Heeseung ran a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. For a split second, neither of you moved, the tension suffocating.

Then, he turned toward the door.

“I should go,” he murmured, voice low.

You just nodded, unable to say anything.

And just like that, he was gone.

You stood frozen in place, your whole body buzzing with adrenaline. What just happened? What almost happened?

The door creaked open again, and you jumped, but it was just your mom peeking her head in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she smiled, stepping inside. “Did you eat yet? I was thinking we could all have dinner together tonight.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of sitting across from Heeseung like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t almost kissed him again.

Forcing a smile, you shook your head. “I—I’m not really hungry. I think I’ll just stay in my room tonight.”

Your mom frowned slightly. “You’ve been locking yourself away a lot lately. Everything okay?”

No.

“Yeah,” you lied smoothly. “Just tired.”

She studied you for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Get some rest then.”

You nodded stiffly, and with that, she left.

As soon as the door shut behind her, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You needed to get yourself together.

Because this?

This was getting way too dangerous.

You stayed in your room for a while, trying to push everything out of your mind. But the longer you sat there, the more restless you felt. You needed water—or maybe something stronger—to cool down.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to get up and step out into the hallway. You told yourself you’d just grab a drink and go right back to your room, avoid any unnecessary interaction.

But the second you reached the kitchen, you froze.

Heeseung was standing there with your mom, his arm lazily wrapped around her waist as she talked about her day. When she turned to him, smiling, he leaned down and kissed her—just like that.

Like nothing had happened earlier.

Your stomach twisted hard.

You had no right to feel the way you did, but you couldn’t help it. The sight of them together made something ugly curl inside of you, a mix of guilt, frustration, and something else—something you didn’t want to name.

You clenched your jaw, looking away, but Heeseung must have noticed your presence because the second he pulled away from your mom, his eyes flickered toward you.

And just like that, it was back. That tension, that unreadable look in his eyes that made your breath catch.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just watched you.

And for some reason, that only made it worse.

You forced yourself to move, walking stiffly to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. Your hands felt cold against the plastic, but it did nothing to cool down the heat rising in your chest.

Your mom, completely oblivious, turned to you with a warm smile. “Hey, sweetheart. You sure you don’t want to eat something? I was just telling Heeseung about this new place that opened downtown. We should all go together soon.”

You unscrewed the cap, taking a slow sip to buy yourself time. “I’m good,” you muttered, not trusting yourself to say much more.

Heeseung was still watching you. Not obviously—his expression was neutral, his posture relaxed—but you felt it. That same lingering gaze, that same intensity from earlier, hidden just beneath the surface.

Your fingers gripped the water bottle tighter.

“Are you feeling okay?” your mom asked, tilting her head. “You look a little flushed.”

Heeseung’s lips twitched, just barely.

You hated him.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “Just tired.”

Your mom nodded in understanding. “You have been staying in your room a lot. Maybe you should get some fresh air tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, already stepping back toward the hallway. “I think I’m gonna head to bed early.”

Your mom gave you a sympathetic look. “Alright, sweetheart. Get some rest.”

But just as you turned away, Heeseung’s voice stopped you.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched.

You knew it was just two simple words. A normal, polite gesture. But the way he said it—the tone of it—felt anything but innocent.

You swallowed, keeping your face neutral as you nodded. “Night.”

And then, without another glance, you walked back to your room.

The second the door shut behind you, you let out a shaky breath, heart racing.

You were so screwed.

You had barely taken two steps into your room when you felt it—that presence.

The air shifted, the faintest creak of the floorboards behind you sending a chill down your spine.

You knew before even turning around.

Slowly, you glanced over your shoulder.

Heeseung stood in the doorway, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorframe, but his eyes… his eyes were anything but casual.

Your breath caught. “What are you—”

“I just wanted to say goodnight,” he murmured, voice low.

Your stomach twisted.

“You already did,” you said quietly, but even you could hear the slight waver in your voice.

Heeseung stepped closer. Not too much, just enough for you to feel it—that slow, creeping tension that had been building between you for weeks.

“Not like this,” he said softly.

And before you could process his words, he leaned in.

A featherlight touch. The barest press of his lips against your cheek.

It was gentle. Barely there. But it sent a shockwave through your entire body.

By the time you exhaled, he was already pulling back, his lips barely brushing your skin as he whispered.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And then, as if nothing had happened at all, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless, helplessly aware of the ghost of his touch lingering on your skin.

The second Heeseung disappeared down the hallway, you collapsed onto your bed, grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it.

What the hell was that?!

Your heart was pounding, your skin still tingling from where his lips had barely touched you. It was just a kiss on the cheek—so why did it feel like the most dangerous thing in the world?

You groaned, rolling onto your back and staring up at the ceiling. You needed to stop this. You had to stop this.

But how the hell were you supposed to do that when Heeseung kept making it so damn impossible?

Frustrated, you grabbed your phone off the nightstand and checked the time.

12:04 AM.

Great.

How the hell were you supposed to sleep after that?

You sighed, unlocking your phone and pulling up the one contact who might actually talk some sense into you.

You: Are you up?

A response came almost immediately.

Yunjin: Bitch it’s midnight. Of course I’m up

Yunjin: What’s up?

You hesitated for a second. Then, taking a deep breath, you typed:

You: I think I’m actually losing my mindd

Yunjin: LMAO what did he do this time??

You stared at the screen, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you typed:

You: He kissed me. Again.

You barely had a second to process before Yunjin’s reply popped up.

Yunjin: GIRL STFU!

You winced as your phone vibrated non-stop in your hand, Yunjin blowing up your messages.

Yunjin: EXCUSE ME???

Yunjin: ON THE LIPS?????

Yunjin: TELL ME EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW.

You groaned, rubbing your hands down your face before typing back.

You: No, not on the lips. Just on the cheek.

You: But it’s the way he did it. It was so…

You stopped typing, staring at the screen. How the hell were you even supposed to explain this?

Yunjin: …Sensual?

You hesitated, then reluctantly typed:

You: Yeah.

Yunjin: NAH THAT MAN WANTS YOU.

Your stomach flipped.

You: Shut up.

Yunjin: No, you shut up. I TOLD YOU. I KNEW THIS SHIT WAS GONNA HAPPEN.

Yunjin: What did you do after???

You chewed on your bottom lip, replaying the moment in your head.

You: Nothing. I just stood there like an idiot while he walked away.

Yunjin: Girl be honest… you liked it 😨

Your face burned.

You: I DIDN’T SAY THAT.

Yunjin: But you didn’t deny it eitheerr

You groaned, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your feet against the bed like a frustrated child.

You: I hate you.

Yunjin: No you don’t. You hate how much you like your fine ass stepdad.

You slammed your phone down onto the mattress, screaming into your pillow again.

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on your chest like a boulder.

What kind of daughter does this?

What kind of terrible, selfish, disgusting daughter kisses her own mom’s fiancé?

Your stomach twisted with guilt, your throat tightening.

This wasn’t some stupid crush. This wasn’t some random guy. This was Heeseung—the man your mom was supposed to marry. The man she trusted. The man she loved.

And here you were, sneaking around with him like some pathetic, lovesick idiot.

You hated yourself.

How could you let it get this far? How could you keep letting it happen, over and over again?

Your mom had been through enough. After everything she went through with your dad—after all the nights you spent comforting her, reassuring her that she deserved better—you were doing this?

You felt sick.

You sat up quickly, gripping the edge of the bed as nausea rolled through you.

You needed to stop this. You had to stop this.

No more stolen glances. No more lingering touches. No more kisses.

No more Heeseung.

Because if she ever found out…

You didn’t even want to think about it.

The next morning, you woke up feeling exhausted—like you’d barely slept at all. Probably because you hadn’t.

You stayed up the whole night replaying everything in your head, the guilt sinking its claws into you so deep that you almost felt numb to it. Almost.

Still, you got up, threw on a hoodie and leggings, and made your way to the kitchen.

And, of course, he was there.

Heeseung stood by the counter, sipping his coffee, looking way too calm for someone who had kissed his fiancée’s daughter just hours ago.

You hesitated in the doorway, debating if you should turn around—but he had already seen you.

“Morning,” he said, his voice smooth as ever.

You swallowed hard. “Morning.”

You walked past him, heading straight for the fridge, pretending like everything was fine. Like you weren’t completely falling apart inside.

The air was thick between you two.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching as you grabbed a bottle of water and leaned against the counter.

Then, just as you took a sip—

“Avoiding me already?”

pt 2 bcz of tumblrs stupid 10k space block | masterlist

[pdriesta]

BEHIND THE LENS II

pairing — trentxblack!lfc-social media manager

summary — working at the liverpool, willow finds herself falling for one of the players, someone she never expected to develop feelings for. but as trent, an everyday nuisance, takes it upon himself to help her win her crush’s heart, his teasing becomes more than just friendly banter. he pushes her closer to the man she admires, all while battling his own growing feelings. despite knowing it’s his teammate she fell for, trent can’t help but wonder if he’s the one for her.

word count — 10k

an — the wait is finally over

masterlist

trent had texted her earlier that morning asking where they were going and if he needed anything, but willow had been infuriatingly vague

willow: wear gym clothes. like, real athletic stuff. trust me.

so, when he pulled up to her place around ten, dressed in black shorts and a snug compression shirt that outlined every muscle in his torso, he leaned against the side of his car, arms folded, waiting. the english morning was bright and brisk, the kind that made everything look a little more vivid. he glanced up when he heard the sound of her door opening, and whatever he was expecting to see—it wasn’t that.

willow peeked through her window first—just a glance.

and then immediately pulled back like she’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to.

“oh my god,” she mumbled under her breath, pressing a hand to her chest. “i knew i shouldn't have said atheltic wear"

he looked good. way too good. the shirt clung to him like it was custom-made, every line of his abs and chest clear even from a distance. and the shorts—unfair. like gravity only worked harder when it came to him. she had the nerve to feel hot and flustered in her own doorway, suddenly reconsidering her whole plan.

she exhaled sharply, fanned herself once for dramatic effect, then composed her face into something neutral before stepping outside. but her walk slowed as she got closer, her eyes betraying her as they dropped to his torso again.

“damn,” she muttered, barely audible.

he glanced up as soon as he heard the door, and whatever he was expecting to see—it wasn’t that.

she walked out slowly, the soft stretch of baby blue hugging every inch of her frame. a sports bra and high-waisted leggings that clung to her hips and thighs like they were made for her, the fabric catching the sunlight just right. a cropped bolero wrapped over her shoulders, just enough to add to the ensemble without hiding anything.

she was glowing. like, actually glowing. her skin looked golden, warm under the soft morning sun, and she had that effortless, slightly smug smile on her face that made his chest tighten a little.

his eyebrows raised. “wow.”

“what?” she said innocently, adjusting her top as she approached.

“nah, you planned this.”

“planned what?” she said, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile.

“this whole outfit. you said ‘wear gym clothes,’ not ‘pull up looking like a fitness influencer about to ruin my life.’”

“you’re being dramatic.”

he scoffed, running a hand over his mouth. “this was your grand plan, wasn’t it? get me out here in the sun, in tight clothes, and objectify me while looking like that.”

she laughed, eyes rolling as she brushed past him to the car. “oh, shut up.”

“you were staring, willow.”

“i was not.”

“you literally paused mid-step when you saw me,” he said, trailing behind her. “don’t think i didn’t see it.”

“get in the car, trent.”

he stepped ahead and opened the passenger door for her instead. “ladies first. especially the lying ones.”

she climbed in, still laughing under her breath as he rounded the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“so, you gonna tell me where we’re headed?” trent asked, glancing over as he started the engine.

“nope.”

he narrowed his eyes at her. “you really like being mysterious, don’t you?”

���it’s not mysterious. it’s fun,” she said, leaning back in the seat. “a little trust exercise.”

“how do i know you’re not taking me to one of those ‘build-a-bear-for-grownups’ places or something?”

“now that’s an idea,” she murmured. “but no. a friend of mine just opened a new studio. i told her i’d stop by.”

he tilted his head. “studio… like what? a musical studio?”

“not quite,” she said, smile curling at the corner of her lips. “yoga.”

he blinked. “i've literally never been.”

“perfect.”

“you’re evil.”

they pulled up to a sleek building tucked in a quiet street, the kind of place with floor-to-ceiling windows and neutral wood panels. soft lo-fi music drifted out from the open doors, and the air smelled faintly of eucalyptus.

trent looked around as they stepped inside. “this is… suspiciously calm.”

“good,” willow said, scanning the room for her friend. she spotted her at the front desk and waved.

her friend looked up and immediately lit up. “hey, hey! is this the friend?”

“yeah, this is trent,” willow smiled, stepping aside so they could shake hands.

“nice to meet you,” trent said, ever polite.

“so,” her friend began with a gleam in her eye, “the session starts in a few minutes. i'll let you guys get a spot.”

"welcome, everyone," the instructor said with a bright voice. "today's a partner yoga session. everything’s better in pairs, right?”

willow stiffened slightly. trent looked over at her, blinking.

“partner?” he said under his breath.

“i didn’t know,” she muttered quickly, eyes wide. “i swear—i just told her i was bringing someone.”

he raised a brow. “and she just so happened to pick couples class?”

“it’s not that deep—”

“sure it’s not.”

she sighed. “we can leave—”

“nah,” he said smoothly, eyes dropping to her mouth before catching himself. “this is a date, right?”

her throat bobbed. “technically.”

“then technically,” he stepped closer, smirking, “we’re a couple. just for the next hour. you good with that?”

she hesitated, then nodded slowly. “...yeah. i’m good.”

the studio was dimly lit with warm sunlight slanting through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the kind of place that tried to disguise pain as peace. too clean. too quiet.

“this your idea of a good time?” trent asked, glancing around the sleek space as he followed willow inside. his voice echoed low, almost amused. almost suspicious.

“you said you wanted something different,” she replied, toeing off her sneakers and stretching her arms over her head. her sports bra lifted just slightly with the motion, and trent had to drag his eyes back up to her face.

“this is very different.”

“you’ll live.”

she turned her back to him, setting her towel down on the mat. he exhaled. lord have mercy. the baby blue of her leggings fit like a second skin, hugging the curve of her hips and thighs like they were sculpted for him to look at. the matching sports bra didn’t help. neither did the way her skin glowed under the morning light. and she knew it.

he reached for his water bottle, trying to pretend like he wasn’t seconds away from praying

they sat across from each other for the first pose, knees bent, feet together, hands laced. the heat from his palms bled into hers instantly. her grip was firm, but there was something else under it—something unspoken and restless.

"lean forward toward your partner. keep your back straight," the instructor called out.

they leaned in, and it felt like slow motion—her breath brushing against his, their knees nearly touching, palms locked between them like some fragile, electric thread.

trent’s eyes dropped—first to her cheeks, flushed from exertion, then to her mouth. the softness of it. the way her lips were slightly parted, glossy, tempting.

“this feels illegal,” he muttered, voice low, husky from more than just the workout.

“behave,” she whispered, eyes narrowing with a warning she didn’t really mean.

“make me.”

she clenched his hands tighter, jaw ticking. “trent.”

“yeah?”

“stop looking at my mouth.”

“can’t,” he said, gaze still trained on it. “too distracting.”

her breath faltered. something tightened in the space between them. just a breath, just a shift—if she moved forward even an inch, their lips would meet.

and he looked like he might.

but the instructor's voice sliced through the tension like a cold slap. “and now, bridge pose! one partner lies down, the other stands behind the head to offer support.”

willow let go quickly, a little too quickly, and laid back on the mat with a sharp exhale, like she needed to physically escape whatever was about to happen. trent moved slowly, stepping over her, standing behind her head with a casualness that didn’t reach his eyes. his stance was wide, dominant. when she looked up at him—upside down, eyes meeting his—it was dizzying.

“you ready?” she asked, her voice softer now, more careful.

“for you?” he murmured as he crouched low, placing his hands deliberately on her waist. “always.”

the pads of his fingers brushed bare skin where her top had ridden up. it was subtle, but he didn’t move them. didn’t even pretend to.

her hips lifted into the bridge, and he held her steady, letting his thumbs trace slow, grounding circles just above her hip bones. his touch was firm, but... indulgent.

“your hands are... warm,” she said, her breath catching.

“that a complaint?”

she swallowed. “no.”

he leaned in closer, mouth near her temple now. his voice was a breath. “you’re shaking.”

“from you, apparently.”

he didn’t smile this time. just stared at her, jaw locked, lips parted like he wanted to say something more—wanted to do something more.

“and down!” the instructor called.

she lowered herself carefully, and he helped her ease back, but didn’t pull away. his hands stayed on her hips, thumbs still pressed gently against skin. for a moment, neither moved. the air felt too heavy, too warm.

then—

“next—partner plank! face each other, shoulders aligned, and hold.”

they moved, slowly, almost dazed. trent positioned himself across from her on his elbows, forearms parallel, body taut. her face was barely a foot from his. chest to chest. breath to breath. and god, she smelled like vanilla and heat.

“i swear to god, if you look at my boobs—” she began.

“i’m not,” he said immediately, the smirk already playing on his lips. “i’m being respectful.”

“you’re thinking about it.”

“i’m trying not to.”

she bit her lip, the motion so subtle and yet so loud to him.

“you’re failing.”

“miserably,” he whispered.

his eyes swept across her face again. slower this time. sweat beaded at her temple and trailed down her jaw, and he watched it fall like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“you gonna break first?” she breathed.

“never,” he said. “ladies first.”

“chivalry is dead.”

he let out a low, unsteady laugh. “you’re killing me softly right now.”

their bodies trembled, arms shaking—not just from strain, but the sheer tension pushing them to the edge. their noses almost touched. his knee brushed hers beneath them.

“you’re really not gonna look away?” she asked, lips still parted.

“i would but-" he started, " i think i might kiss you,” he murmured, voice so low it made her stomach turn inside out.

she blinked. hard. “this your strategy to distract me?”

“maybe,” he whispered. “maybe i’m serious.”

she looked at his mouth then. really looked. her heart beat somewhere in her throat. they were close—too close—and she wasn’t moving away.

“and rest!” the instructor announced cheerily.

trent collapsed onto his back like he’d just survived war. willow followed, exhaling a deep breath as she covered her face with one hand, trying to suppress the grin that threatened to break.

“this class is actual torture,” he groaned.

“you’re just mad you got turned on during yoga.”

he turned his head toward her, eyes dark and unreadable. “that an admission?”

she looked away fast. “don’t flatter yourself.”

but she couldn’t hide her smile. and he couldn’t stop watching it.

the smoothie place was just around the corner—one of those cozy little hidden gems with wood-paneled walls and plants hanging from the ceiling like they belonged in a greenhouse. it was calm and warm inside, sun streaming through the big front windows and catching the soft sheen of sweat still clinging to willow’s collarbone.

they ordered—her usual mango-pineapple blend and his more basic strawberry-banana—and settled at a the two seats in the corner.

“so…” she said, dragging the straw slowly through her smoothie with a smirk. “turned on during pilates, huh?”

he froze mid-sip. lowered the straw. eyes narrowing.

“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“absolutely not.” she grinned. “you admitted it.”

“i was under duress,” he muttered, frowning like a child denied dessert.

“mm. sure. poor baby.” she leaned back in her chair, smug, arms crossing under her chest. his eyes dropped there, then jerked back up too fast. caught. again.

“look, i’m a man with needs,” he sulked, dragging his straw between his teeth. “you wore that, and made me do freakin’ couple yoga.”

“how was i suppose to know it was couple yoga.”

“it felt like it. we were practically mouth to mouth.” he continued.

“your point?”

he stared at her, then suddenly—casually, intentionally—hooked his foot around the leg of her chair and tugged.

she yelped, half-laughed as her chair slid closer across the tile, until her knees brushed his. until she was practically between his legs, the table the only barrier. “trent—”

his palm found her hip under the table, resting there like it belonged. just enough pressure to make her pulse skip. his thumb moved in slow circles against the fabric of her leggings.

“you did it on purpose,” he murmured.

she blinked. “did what?”

“all of it.” his voice was low, hot. “you wore this—” his hand flexed slightly on her hip—“and dragged me to stupid couple yoga so i’d lose my mind.”

her breath stuttered. “you think i planned your... hormonal meltdown?”

he tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. “i think you like seeing me squirm.”

her pulse thudded loud in her ears. she could still feel his breath from earlier—could hear his voice, that near-whisper: i think i might kiss you.

she stared at his lips now, unconsciously. they were soft, parted slightly, the bottom one plush and glistening with smoothie. tempting.

he saw it.

he always saw it.

his voice dipped even lower. “don’t worry, wils,” he murmured, mouth barely moving. “i won’t kiss you…”

her breath caught.

“…unless you beg me to.”

her stomach twisted. something dark and dizzy bloomed in her chest.

then she shoved him—palm flat against his shoulder—and he burst into laughter, nearly choking on his drink as he leaned back with a wicked grin, straw bobbing between his fingers.

“you’re such an ass,” she muttered, trying to mask her flustered state by focusing too hard on her cup.

“and yet…” he leaned in again, brushing his knee against hers under the table. “you still brought me to pilates.”

she glanced up, meeting his eyes. they were dark. teasing. hungry.

“don’t flatter yourself,” she mumbled, but it lacked bite.

he grinned, victorious. “too late.”

-

the studio buzzed with the usual chatter of the social media team as they gathered for their weekly brainstorming session. today, however, the atmosphere felt lighter, charged with a playful energy.

“so,” the head of social media, lydia began, clapping their hands together. “we’ve had a lot of requests for more fun, interactive content—something with the players and us. the fans want to see some competition between the social media team and the squad.”

groans rippled through the group, with a few scattered chuckles. willow, seated quietly at the back, raised a brow. her job was usually behind the camera, and she liked it that way.

“so, here’s the plan,” the manager continued, ignoring the collective reluctance. “each team will consist of one player and one social media member. there’ll be trivia, challenges, and a few surprises along the way.”

trent, lounging in his chair, perked up immediately. “i call dibs on willow,” he said, sitting up straighter and shooting her a teasing grin.

willow’s eyes widened, her cheeks heating up as everyone turned to look at her. “wait, what? no. absolutely not,” she stammered, shaking her head. “i’m better behind the lens. someone else can do it.”

trent, undeterred, leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “if willow’s not in, i’m not doing it.”

“trent,” she started, her voice edged with exasperation, “don’t be ridiculous—”

“not ridiculous,” he interrupted, grinning. “strategic. i want to win, and you’re my good luck charm.”

the manager raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “well, willow? looks like you’re in high demand.”

she groaned, sinking further into her chair. “fine. but I’m not doing anything crazy.”

trent’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “don’t worry, i’ll carry us. you just look pretty and cheer me on.”

“you’re insufferable,” she muttered under her breath, though a small smile tugged at her lips.

as the competition began, trent was in his element, cracking jokes, throwing mock glares at cody and curtis, and—most notably—sticking close to willow.

“we’re winning this,” he told her as the first round of trivia began, his tone confident. “you just stay close to me.”

“like i have a choice,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.

the trivia questions flew by, with trent answering most of them with surprising speed. whenever he wasn’t sure, he’d nudge willow, whispering, “back me up here,” even if she had no idea.

when they got one wrong, cody couldn’t resist rubbing it in. “looks like mr. confident doesn’t know everything.”

trent threw his arm over willow’s shoulders, pulling her close in an exaggerated show of camaraderie. “we’re just warming up, right, partner?”

willow laughed, trying to push him off. “you’re ridiculous.”

the physical challenges were where trent really came alive, his competitive side shining through. during a football-stacking challenge, he crouched beside her, his hands guiding hers as they balanced the balls.

“steady,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. “you’re doing great.”

her heart fluttered unexpectedly at the proximity, but she focused on the task, determined not to let his energy distract her. when their pyramid stayed upright longer than anyone else’s, trent jumped to his feet, celebrating like they’d just won a trophy.

“that’s my teammate!” he shouted, lifting willow’s hand in victory.

“you’re so over the top,” she said, laughing despite herself.

“and you love it,” he shot back, his grin wide and smug.

as the competition continued, trent’s teasing didn’t let up. whether it was nudging her when she answered correctly or celebrating their victories with an arm slung around her shoulders, he made sure everyone—especially cody—knew they were the team to beat.

but it wasn’t just the teasing. there were quieter moments, too, where his tone softened, his words meant just for her. like when he leaned in close after they won another round, his voice barely above a whisper.

“i always notice you, y’know,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “even when you’re behind the lens.”

willow froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. her cheeks warmed, and she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the next challenge.

but his words lingered, wrapping around her like a secret she didn’t know what to do with.

by the end of the shoot, trent was practically glowing with pride as their team was declared the overall winner. he threw his arms around willow in a celebratory hug, spinning her once before setting her down.

“told you we’d win,” he said, his grin infectious.

“yeah, yeah,” she replied, trying to hide her smile. “you’re lucky i didn’t mess it up.”

“lucky to have you,” he corrected, his tone teasing but his eyes saying something else entirely.

and as they walked off set together, willow couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to trent’s antics than just friendly competition.

-

the week after their tense yoga session passed in a blur, but trent noticed every little thing. it started with cody hanging around her desk more than usual, leaning in too close under the excuse of sharing edits or giving feedback. trent told himself it was none of his business, that it didn’t mean anything—but something about the way cody made her laugh, or how willow leaned back in her chair to look up at him, irritated him more than it should have.

on tuesday morning, she came in with a box of pastries and casually said cody had told her about a bakery he liked near his flat. she smiled as she handed one to trent, her fingers brushing his for a second, and he thanked her with a quiet “cheers,” even though his stomach turned as she walked back toward cody without hesitation. he ended up throwing the pastry out untouched after she left the room, annoyed with himself for how bothered he felt.

he kept it cool on the surface—joking around, showing up to shoots early, hovering more than he should. he offered to help her carry equipment, asked her how her weekend had gone, texted her memes late at night just to keep the conversation alive. sometimes she responded quickly, teasing him the way she always did, and sometimes she left him on read for hours. but it wasn’t the replies that got to him—it was that he’d started to need them.

mid-week, he caught her and cody reviewing footage together, both hunched over her screen, her smile softer, more reserved than usual. it hit him then, how different she looked when she let someone in. not the playful banter she always had with trent, not the tug-of-war of teasing and rolled eyes—just quiet familiarity. trent realized he missed that kind of quiet from her. not just the jokes or competition, but the real, unguarded willow. the version she only let certain people see.

he couldn’t blame cody. willow was easy to fall for, and cody clearly wasn’t immune. neither was trent. the only difference was, cody was doing something about it.

by friday, trent had run out of excuses to hover. he found her packing up equipment after a shoot and offered to walk her back in. she hesitated for a second, then nodded, and they strolled side by side across the training grounds.

“you’ve been quiet this week,” she said casually, glancing up at him.

trent looked ahead, then down at her. “have i?”

“yeah. you usually talk so much i have to put my headphones in to get anything done.”

he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “maybe i’ve been giving you space.”

“that doesn’t sound like you.”

he paused. “maybe i’ve just been watching. trying to figure you out again.”

she gave him a strange look, like she wanted to ask more, but didn’t. instead, she just smiled and bumped her shoulder against his lightly. “you’re always dramatic.”

“nah,” he said, quietly now, eyes fixed ahead. “just honest.”

she didn’t reply, and he didn’t push it. but as they walked back, the air between them felt heavier than it had before. he couldn’t shake the thought that someone else might be learning the parts of her he hadn’t yet, and it gnawed at something in him.

he’d never been the type to chase. not really. but with her, he was starting to wonder if maybe he should’ve run sooner.

-

trent was going to do it. he’d made up his mind, and this time he wasn’t going to back down.

he’d practiced the words in his head, rehearsed different versions of them like he was prepping for a press conference. none of them came out right, not when it mattered. but he couldn’t hold it anymore—not when he saw her every day and had to pretend he didn’t want her in every way a man could want someone.

it wasn’t just the way she looked when she laughed or the way she rolled her eyes when he teased her. it was the way she’d lean into him during their one piece marathons, fully committed to every ridiculous plot twist, always answering his questions even when he already knew the answer. she didn’t gatekeep her joy—she shared it with him. and that did something to him.

or how she always saved him the last piece of candy when they shared a bag, like it was instinct. like she just knew he had a sweet tooth and would never ask for it himself.

and then there was that night she invited him over for dinner. she made grilled salmon with quinoa and greens because she “googled what footballers were supposed to eat,” and when he said it tasted like cardboard, she flicked water at him from the sink and made him wash the dishes. but the whole time, he couldn’t stop watching her. she was soft in a way most people wouldn’t notice. thoughtful in the small things. he wanted that kind of softness in his life. for the rest of his life, actually.

he was gonna tell her today. just walk into her office and tell her he was done pretending this was just banter and competition. he wanted her. full stop.

he turned the corner, heart hammering stupidly in his chest, his palms weirdly damp. and then she appeared—sprinting down the hall toward him, that soft cardigan of hers billowing behind her like she was in a film.

“trent!” she called out, her voice breathless and bright.

and then she was in his arms, colliding into him with such force that his body reacted before his mind did. his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her clean off the ground. he held her there, stunned, her scent clinging to his shirt, her laugh vibrating against his chest.

he chuckled, a little dazed. “looks like someone’s happy to see me.”

but her face tucked into his neck, warm and flushed, and suddenly she went quiet. he kept his arms around her, couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. her lips brushed the shell of his ear as she whispered, voice soft and close enough to bruise him.

“cody asked me out.”

he had no right to be angry, he told himself that, over and over again. cody was his teammate, a genuinely good guy, easy to get along with, polite to everyone, the type of man who never needed to speak loud to be heard. if it had been anyone else, maybe he could’ve made an excuse. but not with cody. not when the smile on her face was that real. not when her eyes had that gleam of something new, something hopeful.

he should’ve been happy for her. this was what he told himself. she deserved someone good. someone kind. someone who saw her and wanted to treat her right.

but deep down, it burned. not with rage—no, that would’ve been easier. it burned slow, steady, like something was slipping through his fingers, something he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding onto until it was already gone. and it made him feel foolish, standing there with all his reasons for loving her, with all the words he had planned to say… all useless now.

so he smiled. he forced it. he tucked everything back where no one could see it and played the part of the supportive friend, the good guy who stepped aside gracefully.

because if there was one thing he was good at—it was hiding what hurt.

his grip loosened slightly, only so she could slide back down to the ground, and he blinked like he didn’t understand the words.

“what?”

she pulled back, eyes wide, like she regretted saying it that way. but her cheeks were glowing and her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, and he knew. he knew that look. it was hope. nervous, excited, innocent hope.

“wait—how did that even happen?” he asked, voice quiet, strained around the edges. “when?”

she gave a small, sheepish laugh, her fingers now twisting at her rings. “monday. after we wrapped filming that challenge video. he caught me in the hallway and just… asked. said he’s wanted to for a while but didn’t think i’d say yes.”

“and you did,” trent said, more a statement than a question.

she nodded, a bit shy. “yeah… i mean, i've liked him for a long time, you know?”

his mind short-circuited. everything he was going to say? gone. every reason he had to tell her how he felt? crushed under the weight of timing.

cody. his teammate. a good guy. kind, funny, polite to everyone. no ego. how could he be mad? how could he not?

but the ache in his chest didn’t care for reason. it screamed. it begged. it clawed at the insides of his ribs like maybe, if he hurt enough, he could kill the part of himself that wanted her.

he cleared his throat, stepping back with the kind of smile that was too smooth, too controlled. “well, then. looks like my job here is done.”

“what?” she asked, brows furrowed.

“told you,” he said with a crooked grin. “i make a great wingman.”

her mouth opened to say something, maybe to argue, but he clapped her gently on the shoulder before she could speak.

“he’s a lucky guy,” he added, voice quiet. sincere. bleeding.

he walked away before she could see through him, before she could see how his jaw clenched and his fists curled in his pockets. and as he turned the corner, all he could think was—

god, why didn’t i tell her sooner?

-

he tried not to watch.

he really did.

but it was like some part of him couldn’t help it. every time cody walked into the room and her face lit up like it was second nature, his chest caved in just a little more. every time cody leaned in to whisper something and she giggled—that soft, breathy sound trent used to look forward to when he was the one making her laugh—he felt his jaw tighten.

it wasn’t just jealousy. it was grief. quiet, suffocating grief for something he never even had.

he noticed things now. how she saved a seat for cody at meetings. how she picked the sour candies out of the mix because she knew cody liked them most. how she leaned into him a little more every day, like she was finally allowing herself to fall.

and it wasn’t like cody wasn’t good to her. he was attentive. sweet. always there with a smile or a dumb inside joke. he wasn’t pretending. he liked her. and she looked happy.

it made everything worse.

trent started avoiding her—not dramatically, but just enough to protect whatever was left of himself. he said no when she asked if he wanted to come over and watch one piece.

“you always come,” she said, confused, her voice dipping in that way that made him want to cave. “you love this arc.”

“i’ve got plans,” he lied. “maybe another time.”

she frowned, but didn’t push. she never did. that’s what made it harder. she gave him space, even when he didn’t ask for it.

but one day, halfway through the week, she found him in the hallway near the physio room. just the two of them. it had been days since they’d actually talked, and she looked like she’d been working up the courage for this one.

“are you mad at me?” she asked, voice soft.

trent looked up from his phone, caught off guard. “what?”

“i don’t know,” she said, arms crossed loosely over her chest, brows knitting together. “you’ve been… distant. since the weekend.”

his stomach twisted. he tried to keep his voice even. “course not. why would you think that?”

she blinked, clearly hurt. “you tell me. you’ve barely looked at me. said no to one piece. i didn’t even know you were allowed to say no to that.”

he almost smiled. almost.

but instead he shrugged, eyes darting anywhere but hers. “just been busy.”

“trent.”

her voice, quiet but certain. she was looking at him the way she used to—gently, like she actually cared what was behind the mask.

and for a second, he wanted to tell her. everything. wanted to confess that he thought about her all the damn time, that he still remembered the way she saved him the last piece of candy like it meant something, that she made him want things he’d never let himself want before. that it wasn’t just a crush.

it was the future. it was her.

but instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “you’re with cody now. i’m just giving you space.”

she blinked. “i didn’t ask for space.”

he bit the inside of his cheek. “yeah, well. figured you’d need it anyway.”

there was silence, thick and aching.

finally, she said, “i miss," you. she almost blurted out."talking to you.”

that was the worst part. because he missed her too. god, he missed her. but she wasn’t his to miss.

so he nodded, offered her a small, hollow smile.

“you’ve got cody now,” he repeated, gently. “you don’t need me.”

and then he walked off before she could say his name again, before the guilt could win.

the next time she found him, it was after training, both of them lingering in the quieter hallway near the back exit. his bag was slung over one shoulder, hoodie damp from the workout, and he didn’t even hear her approach until she called his name.

“trent.”

he turned, blinking as she stepped closer, her brows furrowed like she’d been turning something over in her head for a while.

“can i ask you something?”

he nodded cautiously, already bracing himself.

“is this… about the date?”

he stilled. breath caught. "what?"

“you acting weird,” she added, chewing on the inside of her cheek, “pulling away, avoiding me—it started after i told you about cody. so i just thought…”

her voice was careful, apologetic even. “i get that it might be strange. us being friends and me dating your teammate. i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

trent stared at her, stunned into silence.

not because she was wrong.

because she wasn’t even close to being right.

she thought this was about logistics. about friendship lines and team dynamics. she thought this was him being mature and polite and protective.

not him breaking. not him biting down on the ache in his chest like it wouldn’t scream loud enough to echo in his throat.

he let out a breath—half relief, half despair.

“it’s not that,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “it’s not that at all.”

she looked at him, confused. “then what is it?”

he swallowed, eyes dropping to the floor. his fingers tightened around the strap of his gym bag. the words clawed at the back of his throat.

because it kills me.

because it was supposed to be me.

because i had a whole damn speech ready about how you’re the best thing in my life and i blinked and missed my chance.

but he didn’t say any of that. he couldn’t.

so he just shrugged, expression neutral. “just tired. training’s been long. don’t overthink it.”

she tilted her head slightly. “but i do. i am. i just don’t want this to mess things up with us.”

his heart ached at the way she looked at him—genuine, worried, still so her.

god, she had no idea.

he forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “you’re not messing anything up. promise.”

she gave a hesitant nod, but the concern lingered in her gaze. still, she stepped closer, bumped her shoulder gently against his.

“just… don’t disappear on me, okay?”

he exhaled through his nose, nodding once. “okay.”

but as she walked off, her braid swinging, her voice soft as she called out, “text me when you’re home,” he felt like the biggest coward in the world.

because he was still disappearing.

and she didn’t even know it.

-

it was the night of willow’s date with cody, and trent stood outside her apartment, his heart pounding harder than he could remember. his hand gripped the doorknob as he hesitated for a moment, his nerves threatening to overwhelm him. he had promised himself he wouldn’t do this, that he wouldn’t show up unannounced and risk ruining everything. but he couldn’t ignore the way his chest tightened every time willow’s smile flashed in his mind—especially now, knowing she was about to walk out that door with cody.

with a deep breath, he knocked softly, knowing she’d be ready for her night out. the silence in the hall was deafening, and before he could second-guess himself, the door opened, revealing willow standing there, her eyes wide with surprise. she wore a stunning dress, one he hadn’t seen before, and his breath caught in his throat.

“hey,” willow said, her voice a little cautious but still warm. “what’s up, trent? you okay?”

he couldn’t help but stare at her, his thoughts momentarily lost. beautiful. that was the word that came to mind when he saw her, standing there so effortlessly radiant. it was a stark reminder of how out of his league she was, but more than that, it was a reminder that his feelings for her were anything but casual.

“you look…” his voice trailed off, struggling to form the words. “you look amazing.”

willow smiled, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “thanks, trent. you’re sweet.”

he wanted to say more, wanted to tell her how much he had cared for her, how every moment spent with her had made him realize just how much she meant to him. but the words got stuck in his throat, and all he could do was stand there, fighting back the wave of emotion threatening to drown him.

willow tilted her head, her eyes filled with curiosity. “trent, is something wrong?”

he felt the weight of the moment bearing down on him, and he finally opened his mouth, the words rushing out before he could stop them.

“don’t go,” he said, his voice hoarse.

willow blinked, her expression confused. “what?”

“don’t go out with him,” trent repeated, his heart beating erratically in his chest. “please.”

she took a step back, uncertainty clouding her gaze. “trent, I—”

he cut her off before she could finish. “I can’t stand the thought of you with him,” he confessed, his words raw and vulnerable. “I don’t want you to go on that date. I don’t want to see you with anyone else. I can’t pretend like this is just some casual friendship anymore.”

willow’s breath caught in her throat, and she shook her head, a sad smile playing at the corners of her lips. “trent…”

he stepped forward, desperate to make her understand. “you mean more to me than I’ve ever said. more than I ever thought I could feel. I’ve been fighting it for so long, trying to pretend that I could just be your friend, but I can’t. I want more than that. I want you. I don’t care about anything else but you, willow.”

his heart felt like it was going to explode as he looked at her, waiting for her response, praying that she felt the same way. but instead, she took a deep breath, her eyes clouded with hesitation.

“trent…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I like cody. I’ve been spending time with him, and I feel like… maybe this is what I need right now.”

his chest tightened at her words, a sharp pang of pain settling in his gut. it was like a punch to the stomach, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. this was it. he had finally admitted everything to her, put his heart on the line, only to hear that she was already interested in someone else.

he swallowed hard, his throat dry. “so… you don’t feel the same?”

willow shook her head slowly, her expression soft but firm. “I’m sorry, trent. I really am. I didn’t expect this, but I think I like cody. I’m not sure what this is, but… I think it’s worth exploring.”

his world shattered in that moment, and all he could do was nod, trying to mask the pain he felt. “I get it,” he said, his voice tight. “I just… I needed to tell you how I felt. I guess I thought maybe you’d feel the same.”

willow reached out, her hand gently resting on his arm. “you’ve been a great friend, trent. and I don’t want to lose that. I care about you, I really do. but I think cody and I have something.”

trent stood frozen as willow’s words hung in the air between them, sharp and final. his chest tightened, but he barely registered the ache, the devastation, as his thoughts spiraled. cody. cody. it felt like the world was slipping from beneath him, and he didn’t know how to fight back against it. he had finally gathered the courage to tell her how he felt, and now, all of it was slipping away.

willow’s voice broke the heavy silence, and her words were a fragile apology, as if trying to fix something that couldn’t be fixed.

“trent, I—” she started, but then faltered, her voice trembling just slightly. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know you felt that way. I thought… I thought we were just friends. But now, hearing you say this, it all makes sense, and I feel like such an idiot.”

she paused, biting her lip as she searched his face, her eyes wide with regret. “i never wanted to hurt you. i never meant for this to happen, trent. and i’m sorry. i didn’t realize what this was until now. until i heard you say it.” her hands fidgeted nervously by her sides, and she took a hesitant step toward him. “i’m sorry for not seeing it sooner. for not realizing how much it meant to you.”

trent swallowed, trying to force the words past the lump in his throat, but willow was already speaking again, her voice soft but urgent.

“but trent, this is my chance with cody. this is what i’ve been waiting for. i’ve spent so long watching things pass me by, letting opportunities slip through my fingers, and now—now that he’s asked me out, it feels like everything is finally falling into place.”

her voice cracked as she continued, “i didn’t know how to feel about this… about us… until now. but you deserve to know, to understand that this is a chance I’ve been hoping for. and i… i think i owe it to myself to see where it goes. i never wanted to hurt you.”

her eyes shone with a mix of guilt and sincerity, and trent could see how torn she was. the way she was trying to make it right, to make him understand why she had to choose this, choose cody, even if it broke him. he could see the conflict within her, how much she cared, but also how much she longed for this moment, this chance with cody.

trent felt the sting of her words, felt the way her confession punched him in the chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to show her how deeply it hurt. instead, he forced a smile, a hollow thing that didn’t reach his eyes.

“yeah,” he said, his voice tight. “I get it. you’ve waited for this.”

willow stepped closer, her hands reaching out to touch his arm gently, her touch almost apologetic. “trent… please don’t hate me. i never wanted to hurt you. i just… i had to say yes to him. i couldn’t let this pass me by.”

the words hung in the air, and he realized just how hard it was for her, how much she truly didn’t want to hurt him, but how much she also wanted to take this leap with cody. he looked down at her, at the soft vulnerability in her eyes, and for a moment, all he could do was nod.

“i won’t hate you,” he replied, his voice quieter now, barely audible. “you deserve this. you deserve to be happy, willow. i just thought… i thought maybe we could be something more.” he smiled again, though it felt like his heart was breaking with each passing second. “but i get it. it’s okay. i’ll be alright.”

willow’s expression softened, and she gave him a small, almost reluctant smile. “i really am sorry, trent. i wish things were different. i just… i didn’t realize how much you meant to me until now.”

“yeah,” trent whispered, turning to walk away. “me too.”

as he left, the door shutting softly behind him, he couldn’t shake the image of her standing there, her apologetic eyes watching him as if she wanted to say something more but couldn’t. he was too late. and there was nothing more painful than realizing he’d been too late to tell her how he really felt.

-

and deep down, he knew that was something he’d never truly be okay with

the night had started off well enough. the restaurant was warm and softly lit, the gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses creating the illusion of romance. cody sat across from her, all dimples and warm eyes, and in every way, he was the perfect date.

he was everything willow could’ve wanted—gentle, kind, considerate. his easy smile and the way he listened attentively made her feel at ease. he asked about her day, remembered the tiniest details of conversations they’d had weeks ago. he was the kind of man who made you feel seen. but no matter how hard she tried to focus, her thoughts kept drifting.

“don’t go.”

trent’s voice echoed in her head, low and raw and full of something he usually hid too well. it had caught her off guard—just as much as the look in his eyes when he said it, like it physically hurt him to let her walk away.

she hadn’t picked him.

why hadn’t she?

as cody cut into his steak, willow found herself sinking into the memory of trent’s quiet confidence. the way he’d lean into her during late-night editing sessions at the club, wrapping his arm casually around the back of her chair, so close she could feel his breath when he teased her.

"you know, you never focus when i’m this close,” he’d once whispered, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

back then, she’d rolled her eyes and laughed it off. she hadn’t let herself think too hard about it. not about the way his eyes always seemed to find hers first, or the quiet care in how he checked in with her after long days, or how he always made sure she had her favorite candy tucked in his bag. just in case.

"i’m glad i asked you out," cody’s voice cut through her haze, bringing her back to the present. willow blinked, her gaze returning to him. he looked so genuine, smiling across the table at her with a softness that tugged at her heart.

"me too," she replied, her lips curving, but the warmth didn’t quite reach her eyes.

cody tilted his head. "but if i’m being honest…" he hesitated, sipping his water before continuing, "i would’ve done it sooner. but i thought you and trent were a thing."

willow stiffened. her breath hitched. trent and i?

she stared down at her plate, the words echoing in her head. she hadn’t expected him to bring up trent—not here, not like this. her thoughts scattered, memories flashing too quickly to hold.

"oh," she said, her voice small. "trent and i… no. we’re not—"

"it’s okay, willow" cody’s voice was calm, comforting. he reached across the table, his hand resting gently over hers. not possessive. not expectant. just… kind. "i’m not upset. i just wanted to say it. i’ve been waiting for the right time, but if you’re not ready, that’s fine. i’m here for you, whatever you need."

willow let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. the weight lifted from her chest, replaced by something that felt a little like gratitude.

"cody," she began softly, her fingers tightening around his, "you’ve always been so patient with me. i didn’t even realize you felt like this because you never made me feel pressured. you just let me… figure things out."

he smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "the first day i met you, i didn’t know anyone at the club except virgil. i was anxious and trying to keep my head down. and then i saw this little social media intern—so shy, always tucked behind a camera or your laptop. but you smiled at me, and i swear, that smile made my whole day."

willow laughed gently, blushing a little. "i was so nervous back then. i had no idea what i was doing."

"you were brilliant," cody said simply. but then his voice softened. "but when i left the netherlands, i left someone behind. a woman i loved very much. and… it wouldn’t be fair to you to pursue this when i’m still in love with her."

silence fell for a moment, gentle but profound. willow nodded slowly, her chest full of emotion. "thank you for being honest. and… for being you."

cody gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "you deserve someone who’s all in. someone who doesn’t hesitate."

willow bit her lip, her voice trembling with truth. "i think… i have someone like that. or at least, someone who insists he is." she gave a short laugh, trying to cover the ache in her chest. "he’s my best friend. insists on being the best at everything, even that. he says he can’t take second place, not even to my own thoughts."

cody chuckled knowingly. "sounds like someone we both know."

willow groaned, laughing under her breath. "he’s such a baby when he loses."

"so competitive," cody added, grinning. "especially when it comes to you."

"he gets this pout when he’s not winning. like full-on sulk mode. you’d think the world ended if i don’t text him back fast enough."

"trent," cody said, shaking his head with amusement. "it’s always been him, hasn’t it?"

willow paused, her eyes soft. "maybe i was too scared to see it before. maybe i wasn’t ready. but he… he never gave up on me. not really."

"then i hope he gets the girl," cody said, raising his glass.

"i think he already has," she whispered, clinking her glass with his.

the rest of the dinner flowed more easily after that. they laughed, shared stories, talked about football and movies and the stupid things trent had done that week. there was no pressure, no lingering what-ifs. just two people who respected each other, sitting in mutual peace and understanding.

-

she didn’t expect to feel this restless after dinner.

cody had been sweet. calm. understanding, even. they’d talked, really talked, and both come to the quiet realization that whatever they’d once tried to be had long slipped away. it ended gently. kindly. but still—her chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with him.

no, it ached for someone else.

which was why, after saying goodbye, after hugging cody one last time beneath the glow of city lights, she didn’t go home. not even close. she drove across town, heart in her throat, heels still clicking against the concrete as she climbed the familiar steps to trent’s place.

every breath felt like a dare.

and when he opened the door, hair tousled and damp like he’d just come from a shower, wearing a hoodie that hung low on his frame and grey sweats that sat too perfectly on his hips—she forgot how to breathe entirely.

“willow?”

his voice was low. surprised. guarded.

she smiled, folding her arms to hold herself steady. “what? you’re the only one allowed to show up out of nowhere?”

he blinked. “…weren’t you with cody?”

“i was.”

trent stepped back slightly, but didn’t move aside to let her in. just stood there, a shadow in the doorway, eyes scanning hers like he didn’t know what version of her he was getting tonight. “so why are you here?”

she bit her lip. “because i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

he didn’t say anything. just watched. waiting.

so she stepped forward, carefully, like if she moved too fast it might all shatter. “i’ve been spinning in circles lately. trying to pretend that i didn’t care. that i could keep you close but still keep you out. but i can’t.”

he exhaled, voice rough. “willow, don’t.”

“no. let me talk.”

she looked up at him, voice shaking with how much it held. “you’ve been everything to me. even when i was confused. even when i was trying to want someone else. you were still the one i called. the one i trusted. the one who made me feel like myself when the rest of the world wouldn’t let me.”

he blinked, jaw clenched.

“i tried to push it down. to tell myself it was just timing. or comfort. or convenience. but it’s not. it’s you. and i’m tired of pretending that it’s not.”

she stepped closer again, until her perfume reached him and her voice dipped into a whisper.

“i don’t want cody, trent. i want you. i’ve always wanted you.”

he inhaled sharply, like the words knocked the breath from him. “willow…”

“don’t say i deserve someone else. don’t tell me what’s proper or safe or easy. because i’ve done all that. i’ve been all that. and none of it ever made me feel the way you do.”

her hand brushed his chest, fingers curling gently into the fabric of his hoodie. “you’re loud and dramatic and so annoying sometimes—”

he huffed. “wow, okay—”

“—but you’re also thoughtful. loyal. and when you love someone, you do it with your whole damn heart. i see that now. i feel it every time you look at me like i’m something sacred.”

his expression twisted, eyes burning now. “so you’re saying this is real?”

“yes,” she whispered. “i’m saying i’m all in.”

and just like that, something inside him snapped.

with a quiet curse, he reached for her—hands suddenly on her waist, dragging her into him with no hesitation. he pulled her inside and kicked the door shut behind them in one smooth motion. and then—

he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the floor, pressing her back against the door like he was anchoring her there. like he couldn’t let her go now even if he wanted to.

she gasped, arms flying around his shoulders. “trent—!”

his face was inches from hers, his hands warm and possessive where they held her thighs. “don’t say his name again,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “not when you’re mine.”

her smile curled slow and cheeky, breath catching. “is this the part where i’m supposed to beg?”

trent let out a low, almost sinful sound in his throat, shaking his head as he pressed his forehead against hers. “i could never make you beg, baby.”

his lips ghosted over her jaw, warm breath fanning against her skin as he pressed soft, teasing kisses along her cheek. he hovered just beside her mouth, his lips brushing against the corner of her lips in a way that made her body tremble. “could never,” he repeated, the words low and rough.

before she could even form a response, his lips captured hers—suddenly, urgently, as if he'd been holding himself back for far too long. the kiss was messy and raw, a collision of desire and emotions that neither of them could control. his lips moved against hers with feverish intensity, swallowing every breath she took as his hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer, if that was even possible.

the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against her bottom lip, asking for more. she moaned softly in response, her fingers finding the curls at the back of his neck, tugging him even closer. the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the heat of his lips and the thrum of her pulse as he kissed her like she was the air he breathed.

his grip tightened around her, his body pressing her into the door, and she melted into him, responding eagerly, matching the fire he ignited within her. every brush of his lips felt like it was setting something inside her ablaze, leaving no room for hesitation or doubt. it was raw, it was passionate—so much more than a kiss. it was everything they’d held back, now released in the softness and intensity of that one moment.

and then—he pulled back just enough to look at her, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against hers. his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from the kiss, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. they just stood there, inches apart, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

she swallowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath. "trent..."

his voice was barely a whisper, his thumb grazing her cheek gently. "i’m not letting you go," he murmured, his voice thick with something deeper now. "not ever."

and in that moment, she knew—she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“you’re sure?” he whispered. “because if we do this, i’m not letting you go again. i’m not pretending anymore.”

her voice was steady. sure.

“i don’t want you to.”

he kissed her again, gentler this time. reverent. like she was something holy.

and there, in the quiet of his apartment, with her legs still wrapped around his waist and their foreheads pressed together, it hit her all at once— this was it.

he wasn’t the safe choice. or the easy one. he was the choice.

and she’d never been more certain in her life.

EPILOGUE

it was their one-year anniversary, and willow couldn't stop teasing trent. she couldn't help it—she'd learned long ago how to push his buttons, especially when it came to something as important as getting a cat.

they’d been talking about it for weeks—back and forth, on and off—but never getting anywhere. trent was skeptical, didn’t want the added responsibility, didn't think he could handle another living thing in the apartment. willow, on the other hand, had been begging him for weeks, talking about how she'd always wanted a cat, how it would make their home feel complete. she’d even resorted to bringing it up at work, whispering about it when no one was looking, just to drive him insane.

today, she was being extra bold, though. it was the anniversary, after all.

"trent," she purred, walking up to him as he stood by the coffee machine, his back turned, fingers brushing against the mug. "i’m just saying... a cat would really make this place feel more like home."

he turned, eyebrows raised, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. "oh, really?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "and you think i’m just gonna cave because it’s our anniversary?"

"well," she leaned in, brushing her lips against his ear, "it wouldn’t hurt, would it?"

he stiffened, but only slightly, his pulse quickening despite himself. "willow," he groaned, "you’re not doing this to me, not today. you know we’re not getting a cat."

but willow didn’t back down. instead, she placed her hand on his chest, inching closer. "but think of how cute it would be... me, you, and a little cat to curl up with." she whispered it with a teasing glint in her eyes, her voice low and sultry. "we could have a little family."

his eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and frustration, and he exhaled a shaky breath. "you’re not gonna make me change my mind by looking at me like that."

she tilted her head, grinning. "wanna bet?"

"willow," he warned, stepping away from her slightly, but there was an unmistakable flicker of hesitation in his gaze.

"just think about it," she added, pressing herself closer to him, her body brushing against his. "and maybe tonight, I’ll... let you choose what we do after dinner."

trent tried to act unaffected, but he could feel the heat creeping up his neck. willow knew exactly what she was doing, and he couldn’t help the small part of him that was intrigued. "stop trying to bribe me."

"i’m not trying to bribe you," she said, her lips barely an inch from his. "but... if i were? it would be a good bribe."

trent groaned, frustrated. "you’re impossible."

"i’ll take that as a compliment," she whispered, leaning in for a kiss. she lingered just long enough for him to feel the warmth of her lips, just enough to make his heart skip a beat.

later that day, they were supposed to be working.

supposed to be doing, well, anything productive—but trent was leaning against the doorway of the office with his arms crossed, watching willow work at her desk, reorganizing soome of her pens while humming under her breath. she’d barely acknowledged him when he walked in, which he immediately clocked as her being dramatic. it was the silent treatment—but the fake kind. she was trying to be cute.

he smirked. “you’re mad at me, huh?”

she didn’t even look up. “i’m not mad.”

“you’re not mad,” he repeated, stepping closer. “then why haven’t you looked at me once since i walked in?”

“maybe i’m busy.”

“maybe you’re pouting,” he teased, ducking low enough to nudge her shoulder with his. “all because i said no again to the cat.”

willow let out a little sigh, turning her head so slowly that the look she gave him made him laugh. “i’m not pouting,” she said. “i’m strategizing.”

“strategizing?”

“mmhm.” she stood up, wiping her hands on her joggers and stepping into his space, her voice dropping low and sweet. “you don’t even know how cute i could make this cat. we could dress him up. a little collar. he could have a bowtie.”

“a bowtie,” trent repeated flatly. “now you’re just making things up to tempt me.”

“i’m not. you’re weak for aesthetics. admit it.”

he laughed again, tilting his head like she’d caught him in a trap. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re ridiculous for saying no this long. it’s been a year. we live together now. we need something soft and fluffy and judgmental. something that naps in the sun.”

“i already have you.”

“and you love it,” she said smugly.

just then, footsteps echoed in the hallway. mo peeked his head into the room, squinting suspiciously. “i knew you two were hiding in here.”

“we’re not hiding,” trent said at the same time willow said, “i’m convincing him to let me get a cat.”

mo raised a brow, strolling in with a bottle of water in hand. “a cat? trent, you’re not even allergic. what’s the excuse now?”

trent groaned. “don’t start.”

“nah, mate, i’m genuinely curious. you scared of the cat jumping on your chest in the middle of the night or something?”

willow giggled and leaned into trent’s side, her hand resting right on his stomach. “that’s what i said. he’s afraid the cat’s gonna punk him in his own house.”

“stop,” trent grumbled, tugging at the bottom of his training shirt and glancing away.

mo grinned. “you are scared.”

“i’m not scared,” trent muttered, clearly lying.

“he’s scared,” willow whispered with a fake pout. “he thinks it’s gonna scratch his sneakers or something.”

“nah, he’s scared of commitment. man won’t even commit to a pet.”

trent pointed a finger at mo like he was on trial. “i committed to her, didn’t i?”

“you live together,” mo said, deadpan. “you think that’s enough to keep her from adopting a whole animal when you’re out for away games? bro, if you don’t agree now, you’ll come home and find the cat wearing your chain.”

willow snorted. “don’t tempt me.” she said before walking away.

the morning of their anniversary passed in a blur of stolen moments and shared glances, and as the day stretched on, the debate about the cat still hung over them like a cloud.

by the time they reached home, willow was still hopeful. they had spent their anniversary dinner talking about everything—about their first year together, their highs, their lows, the little moments they cherished—and yet, the subject of the cat remained unaddressed. she was confident, though—she could feel it. tonight, she was going to make it happen.

trent was already acting strange as they walked into their apartment. he was quieter than usual, his steps deliberate as he set down his bag.

"you okay?" willow asked, watching him closely.

he turned to her, a smirk on his face, but his eyes were guarded. "yeah, just… thinking."

"about what?" she pressed, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "still on the cat thing?"

trent looked at her, the slightest bit of doubt in his gaze. "maybe."

she raised an eyebrow. "maybe? what does that mean?"

he crossed the room to her slowly, his eyes not leaving hers. "maybe I’ve been thinking about how hard you’ve been pushing for this... how much you really want it. and how maybe... just maybe... I could be convinced."

willow’s heart fluttered. "wait, you—" her voice caught in her throat. "are you serious?"

but before he could say anything, the sound of a soft meow echoed through the apartment.

willow froze, eyes widening. "did you—?"

trent grinned, taking her hand and leading her toward the living room, where a small, fluffy kitten was sitting in the corner of the room, looking up at her with big, curious eyes.

"no way," she gasped, her voice shaking. "you actually—"

"meet zoro," trent said, his voice soft but full of pride. "he’s yours, babe. happy anniversary."

willow was speechless. her eyes filled with tears as she dropped to her knees beside the little cat, her hands reaching out to pet its soft fur. it purred in response, rubbing up against her hand as she scooped it up gently, cradling it to her chest.

"he’s perfect," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

trent watched her with a smile on his face, his heart swelling. "i knew you’d love him. and yeah… I know, I’ve been stubborn about it, but I’m glad I finally gave in. seeing you like this… it makes it all worth it."

willow laughed, her fingers brushing over the kitten’s tiny ears. "I’m so happy right now, trent. you have no idea."

"yeah, I do," he said, kneeling down beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I’m glad I could make you happy."

she looked up at him, her eyes full of love. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know," he said softly, leaning in to kiss her gently. "happy anniversary, willow."

she smiled against his lips, kissing him back with all the love she had in her heart. "happy anniversary, trent. and thank you... for everything."

they sat together, the sound of zoro purring softly between them as they held each other close, the warmth of the moment wrapping around them like a blanket. it had been a year, and yet, it felt like only the beginning.

© PDRIESTA 2025

[wave2tyun]

cool hot sweet love | ☆

pairing: barista!beomgyu x fem!reader, surfer!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: summer!au, lovetriangle!au, fluff, romance, a tiny bit of angst?

summary: embarking on a journey towards self-discovery, you didn’t expect to also have your heart tangled in an alluring summer romance. but, who’s gonna be the first to win your heart? the sweet barista, beomgyu, or the charming surfer boy, yeonjun? let the love games begin!

warnings : alcohol consumption, a few swear words, minor injury, (almost) drowning

word count: almost 10k + the endings are like 1k each

a/n: i've been feeling super nostalgic about this fic recently (it's one of the very first i've written!! :0), so here it is back again in all it's glory!!!! this is too long for me to search through for any mistakes i'm sorry asbjdha for all my summer enthusiasts, let's hang in there just a little bit more, this one goes out to y'all!!!!😼😼💞

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

at the end of your final year of high school, you found yourself chasing a dream, a dream that was never truly yours to begin with. competitions and grades never seemed to bring you any satisfaction anymore. your parents’ praises didn’t seem enthusiastic either, but rather an automatic response. you felt completely lost. the one thing that seemed to give you the drive to keep on going, suddenly lost its spark. you were living in a greyed out world, having the same exhausting routine over and over again. you wanted a break from it all. for once, you didn’t long for the pressure or the big goals, but simply for living life just as it was. you wanted an escape from the clutches of mundane life, which is why you chose to swallow your pride and opt for a gap year after graduation. you knew your parents well, and you weren’t expecting them to be happy about your decision. they didn’t want to let their “dream daughter” fall down from the top and watch as everybody else around her were working on their way to success. but what they failed to consider was that success is in no way linear, and that your break was in the end substantial for your wellness. you were very lucky to have a friend like yeji in your life though. she did have her own struggles with academic validation as well, yet she never had any pressure coming from her parents. she wanted to be there for you, and made her parents persuade yours about letting you have a gap year with her. to raise the ball even higher, her parents added one condition: should you have a gap year, you weren’t allowed to remain in the city. instead, you were going to stay at their vacation home, at least for the summer, to let you experience the thrill of the unknown, as well as to help you get a breath of fresh air.

you didn’t know what kind of black magic yeji’s family used, but whatever they did, somehow managed to convince your parents to agree to your proposal. finally, you felt like you had found some motivation to keep on pushing through, making your heart fill up with excitement.

as the number of days leading up to your departure shortened, you were meeting up more and more with yeji for your final preparations. your sleepovers consisted of the two of you giggling while packing and making lists, as well as making up scenarios deep into the night about things that could finally “bring some spice” into your lives. even though it was her own family’s house, yeji hasn’t been there in years. she was living under the impression that a holiday there would just be “a distraction from her studies” or “a waste of time”. however, now that you were both free from that brainwashing hell called school, you realised how much you’ve actually been missing out on.

“do you really think that this “project” will finally bring that change we want in our lives?” you asked yeji, breaking the silence after some long moments of tossing and turning in your bed. you found it almost impossible to fall asleep. it was the last night before you were going to leave behind everything in your life so far. the excitement was still there, but you couldn’t deny the fact that there were all sorts of worries and doubts clouding your mind, and you found yourself wondering more and more often whether you were truly making a good decision.

“y/n, are you letting your worries take over your mind again?” she let out a soft laugh, then turned around to face you “i understand though, i’ve been getting that too. but- are those thoughts really worth it? i mean- we’ll never know unless we try, so i think it’s definitely worth a shot.”

you sighed “still- i don’t think i’d be able to face my parents again if i fail this.”

“y/n...this is not a test. there’s nothing to fail here. personally, i would rather try and regret than live my whole life wondering “what if”.”

you hummed. yeji was right. you hugged her tightly, trying to show her how much you appreciated her comforting words. and just like this, you were finally able to let your body drift off into a deep slumber. it was now or never, and you weren’t just gonna sit there and wait forever.

───⋆☆─────────────

the ride to the vacation house turned out to be a challenge in itself. yeji was the only one with a driver’s license, so you had no choice but to stay in the passenger’s seat with both a gps and a map in hand. unfortunately for yeji, you had one flaw: you were absolutely terrible with directions, meaning that the trip that was supposed to be 6 hours long, ended up taking you 9 hours instead. you got lost in some strange forests twice; yeji pulled over the side of the road multiple times, trying to make sense of the directions you were telling her, occasionally getting out to buy a piece of fresh fruit whenever she spotted a merchant. she said that it was helping her brain think, and that she was also helping to keep a business going. you didn’t need any excuses for fresh fruit though. fresh fruit is good food after all.

when you somehow made it to the house, you felt your body refilling with energy, despite having that whole trip take 10 years off your lifespan. sitting right in front of you was a 2-story house with pale blue walls and a white wooden porch.

“i can’t believe we made it out alive” you said after getting out of the car. you weren’t sure how much more you could endure the constant buzzing of the air conditioner, and yeji’s one and only cd playing on replay.

“you can’t believe we made it? what about me, i was the one having to endure all those truck drivers swearing at me for taking wrong turns, because someone, not telling who, is incapable of using any kind of maps”

“whew- i wonder who that is.” you gasped dramatically “must be tough dealing with them. bet they are a lovely person though”

“they sure are” she giggled “now come on, let’s get our luggage out of the trunk before the heat melts everything away.”

“need a hand with that?” you heard an unfamiliar voice shouting from the distance. you turned around and saw a group of 3 young men coming your way. you and yeji looked at each other dumbfounded, unsure what to answer. you nudged her with your elbow.

“do you know them?”

“no idea who they are...” she whispered back.

“you must be yeji and y/n- right? i’m hueningkai, yeji’s parents let us know that you were coming today, so we stopped by to see if you needed any help” the boy with a brown mullet said. “that’s soobin and this is taehyun” he pointed at the other two, both of them giving you a warm smile and a small wave in return. you were almost too stunned to speak. luckily for you, yeji replied while you were busy staring at them with big eyes.

“i think i recall them mentioning you briefly before leaving. actually, weren’t there supposed to be two more people or am i not remembering well?”

“you must be talking about beomgyu and yeonjun.” soobin answered “their shifts haven’t ended yet so they’re still busy at the beach. we can go over there if you want to after you settle in.”

“sounds great.” you said picking up the first luggage.

“that looks heavy- let me handle that” taehyun replaced the luggage in your hand with a bag. “t-thanks.” you were taken aback by their kindness. boys at your school never even spare a glance in your direction, let alone help you carry something. if it weren’t for the boys, you and yeji would have probably passed out on the floor after moving everything inside.

───⋆☆─────────────

the house was only a 5-minute walk away from the beach, during which you got to learn a tiny bit more about each other. hueningkai told you that he’s the one in charge for making playlists and playing music; soobin worked along with beomgyu at the bar, meanwhile taehyun got a small job as a kitchen assistant because of his newly-found passion for cooking. they were all around your age and yet they seemed to have already found their passions, living life without much worry in mind. you wished you could live like that too, and maybe, just maybe, this was your chance to find that out.

“welcome-“ “-to paradise!” soobin exclaimed spreading his arms in the air.

“woah-” both you and yeji said in unison, making everybody else laugh.

“welcome to paradise indeed” you said, placing your feet on the warm golden sand. there was music playing around you, not too loud so that you could still hear the sound of the waves softly crashing against the shore. it was breath-taking.

“and you haven’t seen everything yet” taehyun chuckled, leading you towards the beach bar. “beomgyu- we’re here!” he shouted.

you squinted your eyes trying to see who this “beomgyu” was from afar, but your vision simply failed you. and when you got closer, you were simply not mentally prepared to face the person in front of you.

“guys i told you not to-“ he started off, seemingly irritated “oh- hi.” he scratched his neck, giving you a shy smile. at that very moment, you swore you felt your heart skip a beat.

“y/n, yeji- this is beomgyu. our one and only barista.”

“the best one in town!” beomgyu added cheerfully.

“ah- so humble too.” taehyun teased him, sighing dramatically.

“hey- what are you implying?” beomgyu sulked, but you couldn’t even pay attention to their bickering. your eyes were way too busy going over beomgyu’s features. ripe, cherry red locks of hair framed his eyes, those eyes that resembled two pearls of boba from a brown sugar milk tea, with long, beautiful eyelashes adoring them. you thought he looked just like a honey bear.

“i’m yeji- it’s nice to meet you” she shook his hand “this is y/n.”

beomgyu smiled and you reached your hand out for him to shake it. his soft hands enveloped yours, and you couldn’t help but notice how bigger they were than yours. you felt his hand lingering for just a few seconds more, and you were already missing his warm touch once he let go.

“so- want to have a look over our menu? it’s on the house” beomgyu offered.

“oh cool i’ll have the-“ soobin started talking, instantly getting cut off by beomgyu “not you- the girls!” he jokingly gave him a death stare “you’ve all been profiting too much off my generosity lately, you don’t deserve any free drinks today.”

you and yeji snickered, they all looked really close to each other, like brothers. it was like you were witnessing a petty fight between siblings.

“one strawberry lemonade for me please!” yeji said.

your eyes were still scanning the menu, hands continuously flipping the pages back and forth as you chewed on your bottom lip. beomgyu leaned over to you, the sweet scent of his citrus perfume invading your senses.

“want me to recommend anything?”

“ah- yes please. there are too many drinks here that sound good.” you replied “nothing with alcohol though, the trip here already gave me a headache.” you glared at yeji, who lifted one eyebrow at you.

he chuckled “people usually enjoy the peach smoothie, myself included. does that sound good?” his deep brown eyes peered into yours, never breaking eye contact- not even for one second. “sounds perfect.” you replied, almost completely absorbed by his gaze.

“until that’s done-” hueningkai chimed in “we should go ahead and meet up with yeonjun too.”

“don’t take too long though” beomgyu said “my shift is ending soon.”

“we’ll be fast- have you seen him around by chance?”

“last time i talked to him he was at the surfing board shop. maybe check that out first?” beomgyu replied, before going to the drinks station to get started on your orders.

“oh- i haven’t seen you around here before?”

you almost jumped out of your seat, startled by the new voice that interrupted your conversation.

“yeonjun! perfect timing.” hueningkai said “we were planning to go looking for you.”

“is that so?” he playfully asked, plopping down on the seat between you and yeji. his voice turned out to be much more attractive than you had anticipated, it was smooth, yet slightly husky and deep. you turned your head to look at him for the first time.

“i’m yeji- and this is...” her voice trailed down, expecting you to answer again. you were frozen, being too immersed to take in yeonjun’s appearance. you could notice his muscular form, not hidden away from the tight-fitted swimming shirt he was wearing. his sharp eyes game him a fox-like charm, making you feel inexplicably drawn to him. in contrast, his plump lips make him look adorable, like a sulky duck. what was a man like him even doing on a secluded beach-? yeji coughed, giving you a small nudge.

“y/n.” you managed to blurt out, a stupid smile plastered on your face.

“ah- huening, why didn’t you mention that such pretty girls were coming here today?” you almost dropped the drink’s coaster you had in your hand as he said that.

“it hasn’t even been 5 minutes and he’s already flirting” taehyun groaned, covering his face with his hands.

beomgyu rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics, setting down the drinks for you and yeji on the counter before finding a seat on the bar stools to join you.

“like i’ve said-“ hueningkai intervened “we were about to look for you. are you done with lessons for today?”

“yup. some kid had a sunstroke so i got off work early”

“what kind of lessons do you teach?” you asked curiosity taking over.

“i’m a surfing teacher for kids.” he answered “it’s a small job to make some money. for you, however- i could do it for free, since you’re cute” he winked at you, making your cheeks flush instantly.

“i’m sure y/n would love to try something new” yeji butted in, answering before you could open your mouth to speak. “that’s what we’re here for, after all. right?”

“right...” you squinted your eyes at her, giving her a light kick with your foot.

“it’s decided then.” he chuckled “i’ll be waiting.”

this is how all the conversations during the first day went like; your mind going blank, with yeji either saving you from embarrassment or only digging your hole deeper. still, you enjoyed it, you ended up staying at the beach long after the sun started to set. the chilly breeze coming from around the sea was made you get up from your seats, at long last.

───⋆☆─────────────

the next day, you found yourself back at the beach sometime in the afternoon. you did everything you could to wake up yeji, but to no avail. the drive here must have completely tired her out, as she was sleeping soundly as a rock. in the end, you let her continue to rest, choosing to go out by yourself.

“so, what’s it gonna be for today?” beomgyu asked, leaning his head on the palm of his head. “may i interest you in one of my signature cocktails, perhaps?”

“i’d love that” you smiled.

this time, you watched as beomgyu prepared your drink. he lifted the sleeves of his dress shirt up, revealing the way his forearm muscles tensed up as he picked up the glass bottles full of alcohol. his precise movements could tell you that he must have had plenty of experience as a barista. your eyes wandered off further, focusing on the way his long slender fingers, still slightly dripping with water from having washed fruits earlier, handled the knife with such skill and care. you remembered the moment you held his hands yesterday, how soft his skin was to your touch- you shook your head, trying to get that thought away.

“all done” beomgyu brought you a tall glass, ripe cherry sitting proudly on top, floating on the ice. “it’s a cherry daiquiri.”

you pushed the straw past your lips, a sweet yet tangy taste filling up your mouth. beomgyu looked at you, eyes gleaming with curiosity and anticipation. feeling a bit mischievous, you put on a serious expression.

“well uh-“ you paused, pursing your lips “this was quite-“

 beomgyu gulped, the content look on his face fading away.

“-quite possibly the best cocktail i’ve ever had” you couldn’t help but burst into laughter upon seeing the cute expression he had on his face. he closed his eyes, tilting his head back and breaking into a smile.

“you had me seriously questioning my bartender skills for a moment there”

“sorry- i had to” you giggled “i really mean it though, i’ve never had something that tasted this good before” beomgyu’s dimple appeared as he tried to conceal the big smile taking over his face.

“y/n!” yeji shouted, jogging to reach the bar.

“look who’s finally up”

“i slept through my alarm- sorry” she sighed, sitting down beside you.

‘not just through your alarm’

you hummed as you continued to sip on your drink, admiring the scenery in front of you. it was a peaceful atmosphere, the catchy beats of the music being sometimes interrupted by the squawking of the seagulls in the distance. right at the shore was a small group of kids, with yeonjun in the middle of them, standing on a surfing board. they all seemed to be bursting with energy, like bottles of soda that were about to explode. yeonjun knew how to match their energy well, while still keeping everything under control.

“instead of staring at him so intensely, why don’t you go and take up his offer?”

you snorted, crinkling your nose “me? surfing? no thanks- i’m saving myself from that embarrassment”

“and? if you only worry about embarrassing yourself then you won’t ever end up making a change with your life” yeji wrapped her arms around her body “-and this exactly what we’re here for, something new. don’t just let this opportunity go to waste.”

you frowned, chewing on your straw. even though your brain didn’t like to admit it, she was right. you were so caught up in your own comfort bubble, that it was holding you back.

“looks like he’s getting a break now” yeji muttered “come on- this is your chance!”

“alright- i’m going” you agreed at last, gulping down the rest of the drink before heading towards yeonjun’s spot. you walked with a determined look on your face- and shaky hands.

you tapped yeonjun on the shoulder, breath hitching in your throat. yeji watched your interaction from her seat, wishing she could be closer to hear it.

“who-” he turned around “y/n- everything good?”

“yeah.” you answered shortly, playing with your earrings. you weren’t particularly bad at small talk, but this time your mind went blank the moment he started facing you. you couldn’t even meet his eyes, which were staring back directly at you.

“actually- i’ve been thinking about it and, you know those surfing lessons you talked about? i kinda want to give that a shot” you trailed down, your voice becoming higher in pitch towards the end of your sentence.

yeonjun’s face instantly lit up, his smile reaching his eyes “really? when do you want to start then?”

“well, when is your schedule free?” you scratched your neck “i’ve heard you’re pretty busy, i wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

“don’t worry about it, i was the one who asked after all.” he chuckled “i can give you a text later on after checking.” you tilted your head in confusion

“but you don’t have my phone nu-“

oh. he was smooth.

“you got me.” he said sheepishly “i was hoping to get your phone number” there was a sharp constrast to the way he was behaving before. the cool and flirty persona he had been putting on was starting to crumble “if that’s okay with you as well i mean-“

“yeah i’m okay with that” you reassured him “maybe i wanted yours too” you mumbled, heart almost giving out after getting those words out. he laughed again, handing you his phone. you quickly typed your phone number in, saving the contact as “y/n :)”, then you handed him yours.

“i’ll make sure to let you know by tonight”

“great, i’ll be waiting then” you replied playfully, making your way back to the bar.

yeji kept on pressuring you to spill all the details, but you brushed her off, wanting to save the conversation in private. you didn’t even get a chance to breathe properly once you returned home. after locking the door, yeji dragged you by the arm and sat you down on the couch along with her, forcing you to let it all out.

“see? that wasn’t so bad, was it? i’m sure you’re gonna thank me later-“ yeji’s voice was interrupted by a notification coming from your phone. you sat there, frozen, a million thoughts rushing through your mind.

“are you gonna answer that?”

“i- i guess i should” you took your phone, a river bubbling through your veins and flushing your face at the sight of the new message:

(yeonjun<3)

[10:30 pm]: hi cutie ;) are you free tomorrow at 11 am for our first surfing lesson?

“what are you smiling at?”

“nothing” you giggled, hiding the screen of your phone with your hands.

“you’re definitely not giggling because of nothing- let me see.” yeji got on top of you, trying to pry the phone away from your hands. however, her attempt was unsuccessful, as your grip was way too strong.

“you’re leaving me with no choice” she whispered mischievously. you felt your whole life flash before your eyes. you had one great weakness- and yeji knew that. you couldn’t even stand 3 seconds of tickling, so she was going to use it against you. her fingers inched closer to your stomach and attacked you quickly.

“YEJI- stop please-“ you tried to shout between giggles “i surrender- i promise.” she stopped for a brief moment “you promise?” “yeah- now get off me and i’ll give you my phone.” she squinted her eyes, going back to her place on the couch reluctantly. her eyes widened in disbelief when you revealed the new message.

“no fucking way- after two days?? y/n. this guy’s definitely into you”

“i don’t want to jump to conclusions- what if that’s his way of being friendly?” you argued back, realising how foolish your reason sounded only after you finished your sentence.

“y/n- darling, there’s no way a guy who just wants to become friends would save his name with a heart symbol.” she shook you by the shoulders “he. is. into. you.”

“what if-“ you were about to argue again, but the sound of another notification made you stop midway through your sentence. you unlocked your phone, completely unprepared. you and yeji glanced at the screen, then looked back at each other in disbelief, struggling to contain the urge to scream your lungs out.

(unknown number)

[10:50 pm]: hi, y/n! this is beomgyu :)

[10:51 pm]: i got your phone number from yeonjun, hope you don’t mind ;)

───⋆☆─────────────

from the moment you woke up you could feel your heart hammering in your chest. it was hard to tell whether it was from excitement or anxiety. maybe it was a mix of both. still, you were proud of yourself for choosing to do something out of your comfort zone for once. yeji was probably even more excited than you were. she wasn’t a morning person, but she insisted on coming along to watch your lesson and to ‘check your chemistry’.

“which swimsuit should i take? i packed two with me.” you held up a black one-piece swimsuit and a pale blue two-piece one for yeji to see.

“get the two-piece. you look hotter in it.” she playfully winked at you. you reluctantly looked at the swimsuit she chose, cursing yourself in your head for asking. you opened your mouth to voice out your worries, but yeji got up from the bed and put a finger over your mouth “shush, i don’t want to hear any complaints. just trust me on this one- okay?” you silently put the black one back in the drawer and went to the bathroom to get changed, deciding to go with yeji’s pick. “yeonjun’s heart is gonna melt once he sees you.”

you tried to ignore her “let’s go, i don’t want to be late.”

“can’t leave yeonjun hanging?” yeji joked, faking a pout. you lightly slap her arm. “i’m gonna leave without you if you’re not ready.”

“you wouldn’t do that to me- you love me.”

“i sure do...” you tilted your head back, a laugh escaping your lips.

yeonjun was waiting for you at the exact same spot you watched him teach yesterday, nobody else around him this time. for some reason, the thought of being completely alone with him didn’t cross your mind. you could feel a rush of adrenaline flowing through your body, but it was way too late to back down now.

“ready for-“ yeonjun’s words stopped abruptly as soon as he looked at you. he seemed distressed, eyes rapidly going over between you and the warm sand beneath his feet, the tips of his ears flaming red. was this what yeji meant by his heart melting? he cleared his throat before speaking again “ready for our first lesson?”

“i’m a bit nervous” you admitted “but overall excited i think” you didn’t sound very sure of yourself.

“you’ll be fine with me” he flashed you a gentle smile.

yeonjun clasped his hands together “we’ll go over the basics first”

“you need to catch waves in order to start surfing, and how do you do that? you paddle.” yeonjun put down a surfing board onto the sand. “to paddle, you need to lie and balance on your surfboard. let me demonstrate it for you” yeonjun laid his body on the board, his back now facing you.

“when you do this, make sure that the angle of the board’s nose doesn’t change. it should remain the same as when you weren’t on top of the board, not higher, not lower.”

“got it.”

“you shouldn’t paddle with both arms simultaneously, as this won’t help you maintain a constant speed. alternate between both arms at a steady pace”

you were in awe at yeonjun’s professional aura, he explained things calmy, while still maintaining a firm voice.

“let’s get this board into the water so you can give that a try.”

you looked at yeonjun with wide eyes, your nerves had just started to settle down a bit and now they were going off like fireworks again.

he laughed lightly “no need to worry, i’ll be right beside you.” yeonjun pushed the board into the sea, not too far away from the shore so that the water level wouldn’t be too high. he held on to it so that you could get lie down with ease. “when paddling keep your chin up so that you can look around.”

you tried to do just as he said, mimicking his movements from earlier. you didn’t want to know how goofy you looked from another person’s point of view.

“just like that” yeonjun whispered “see? you’re a natural! i think we can move on to the next step- getting up. we won’t be riding any waves today, we need to make sure you get this technique right”

you turned your head towards his direction, a petrified look on your face.

“come on, i’ll help you” yeonjun held out his hand for you to take, moving the other on your waist to help you maintain your balance as you moved up with shaky feet. his touch made you feel flustered and you lost your focus, accidentally slipping on the board. luckily, yeonjun was there to catch you before you could face-plant into the water.

“easy does it. don’t worry, it’s tricky to get it right on the first try” he held you again, his grip on your hand tighter than the first time. you held your breath as you made your second attempt, this time ending successful.

“no way- i did it” you exclaimed.

yeji’s and beomgyu’s cheers could be heard all the way from the bar, making you burst into laughter. your cheeks turned rosy as you noticed your hand still holding yeonjun’s.

“you’re doing amazing, cutie” your face felt even hotter at the sound of the nickname.

“let’s try that a few more times”

and so you did. again, and again, and again. yeonjun didn’t let you go until you had at least 3 successful attempts in a row. the both of you settled down on a sunbed, munching on some ice cream as a reward for your success.

“do you like it here so far?” yeonjun asked.

“we haven’t had the chance to do much yet but- i think i do. the beach alone is enough for me to enjoy my time here.” you took a bite of the ice cream cone “by the way- i was wondering, how come you started surfing?”

“i fell in love with the beach after my uncle taught me how to surf.” you looked up to meet his eyes. you could see the way they lit up as he explained everything further. “the gentle breeze, the adrenaline, the warm sun touching my skin- i felt like i couldn’t get enough of it.” he tilted his head back and stretched out his arms “i tried to go back to the city, but i couldn’t resist being away from all of this, so now- i get to do exactly what i love.” he smiled.

you stared at the ice cream in your hand, watching it melt from the heat. his words tugged at your heart; in a way, you were feeling jealous of how content he seemed to be with his life.

“sounds really nice” you smiled back, biting your lips. you could almost feel your stomach turning, your previous worries were coming on at lightning speed. the sound of yeonjun’s voice out of it.

“i’m glad you took up on my offer, it’s nice to share something i enjoy with a lovely person like you.” your worries dissipated, being replaced by butterflies in your stomach instead.

───⋆☆─────────────

you continued your lessons with yeonjun up until the middle of the summer. it was clear by now that you were definitely not a surfing prodigy, but you didn’t want to stop. you didn’t know when it would be the next time you got to do something like this. besides, having yeonjun’s attention all on you was nice. or at least, until little kids started stealing him away from you.

“teacher yeonjun- can you help me find my rubber duck? i lost it in the water.” the kid sobbed, tugging on yeonjun’s swimming shorts. yeonjun looked at the kid then at you, conflicted.

“go on-“ you reassured him with a smile “i got it.”

“i’ll be quick.” yeonjun grabbed the kids hand, sprinting towards the area of the “lost duck”.

you lifted your body on the surfing board, closing your eyes for a brief moment and taking a deep breath of the cool beach air. you were all alone now. this was your chance to get away from your thoughts, your worries; to simply shift your focus on all your other senses. somehow, you were feeling nostalgic- nostalgic for a moment that hasn’t even fully passed yet. if only it was possible to keep those feelings locked away, so you could revisit them whenever you wanted to.

yet, your happiness was cut short. you let your guard down too much, and were completely unaware of the danger right in front of you. beomgyu’s shout snapped you out of it. you opened your eyes, only to see an enormous wave centimeters away from you. you froze, not knowing what to do. a million thoughts ran through your mind; before you could even make a decision, the wave crashed into you, sending your body flying down into the water, your head hitting the surfing board in the process. the glass that beomgyu was holding slipped from his hand, shattering to the ground. he swiftly jumped over the counter, then took his shirt off, his eyes frantically searching around the water for you. instead, he saw yeonjun diving in the water, already 2 steps ahead from him. it was childish to race with yeonjun to save you. beomgyu ran back to the bar, hands shaking as he searched for a first med kit and a towel.

you couldn’t keep your eyes open as the salty water gave you a burning sensation almost instantly. you flailed your arms around, in an attempt to save yourself, but the more you moved, the more it felt like you were sinking down. you were almost ready to stop when you felt a pair of arms wrapping around your waist, bringing you back up towards the surface.

“i got you, don’t worry” yeonjun breathed out, hooking one of his arms under your legs and holding your shoulders with the other. your hands hanged loosely around his neck, desperately coughing up the water that entered your system.

“try to stand on your side if you can”

yeonjun laid you down on the nearest sunbed, and you did just as he said, bringing your knees to your chest as your coughing fit continued. “don’t panic, just let it all out” he said softly as he rubbed his hands down your back to soothe you.

yeonjun called out yeji’s name, gesturing for the others to remain in their place for now, as a group of people surrounding you could have been overwhelming. still, beomgyu chose to trail down behind yeji as she walked towards you. he covered you with the towel he found and left a cold bottle of water on the ground next to you before going up to yeonjun.

“can we talk for a sec?” he said, grabbing yeonjun’s arm to bring him further down the beach, without waiting for an answer from him.

“hey- how are you feeling now?” yeji crouched down, holding your hand and gently rubbing her thumb against it.

“better, i think” you answered, trying to put on a smile for her, even though you were still shaken up from what happened earlier.

“where did the others go? i didn’t even get to thank yeonjun-” you raised your body a little bit, looking around the beach.

“don’t even worry about that right now.” yeji was quick to push your shoulders back down. yeji knew why beomgyu was so quick to take yeonjun away. she knew how angry he was with him for leaving you alone so carelessly, and she knew how he was also angry with himself for not acting faster earlier. witnessing them arguing wouldn’t have done you any good. “just rest a little bit more so we can go back home. i’m sure you’ll have another opportunity to thank him soon.”

you looked down. you felt guilty for what happened, even though what happened was outside of your control. you let out a groan and brought a hand to your head, a pounding ache taking over.

“does it hurt?“ yeji asked. you removed your head from its place, only to see a small trail of blood dripping down your fingers.

“everything okay?” you heard yeonjun shout, jogging towards you. he was out of breath, bringing his hands to rest on his knees, cheeks flushed a deep shade of red; it seemed like he ran all the way back. beomgyu, however, was nowhere in sight. “let me see” his eyebrows furrowed as he came closer. he moved your hair behind your ear to inspect your injury. “it’s nothing serious. it’s just a surface level wound, but we need to clean it up.”

“here, beomgyu gave this to me earlier” yeonjun took the med kit from yeji and placed it beside you on the sunbed.

“please tell me if it hurts”

you nodded and he grabbed your chin, then started to gently dab your head with a wet cloth. your eyes shily glanced over at his face. you didn’t realise until then just how close he was sitting next to you. his eyes were only focused on your wound and he was biting his lips in concentration. his hands were shaking a little bit, too afraid to cause you any type of pain. unknowingly, you were holding your breath, heart beating out of control. you couldn’t understand why it was that your body was reacting this way, even in a situation like this, how he still had you wrapped around his finger, melting under his feathery touches.

“this should make it heal faster” yeonjun said, putting some ointment on the wound before covering it with a bandaid. “-and this too” he whispered, leaving a small kiss on that same spot. “i’m so sorry y/n. you are still a beginner and i shouldn’t have left you all alone like that, it was stupid-“ you stopped his rambling by pulling him in for a hug. “hey- don’t blame yourself so harshly. what happened was outside of your control. if you were there maybe you would have gotten injured too.” you hugged him tighter “i wouldn’t have wanted to see you hurt either.”

“you’re right...” yeonjun sighed, combing his fingers through your hair “still- i’ll find a way to make it up to you, i promise.”

“hey- i know you’re having a sweet moment and all, but it’s getting late and we should really get going” yeji interrupted. you slowly moved away from yeonjun, whispering a ‘thank you’ against his ear before finally letting go and getting up.

once at home, you hopped into the shower to wash off the salt off your body. you changed into more comfortable clothes, slumping into your bed, your body melting into the mattress. you were mindlessly scrolling through social media, your eyes feeling heavier with each minute that passed. you were on the point of dozing off when you saw a notification appear on your screen.

(gyu :) )

[beomgyu, 9:17 pm] y/n! how are you feeling now? :(

[y/n, 9:17 pm] definitely better now, especially because of your help :)

[beomgyu, 9:17 pm] i’m glad

[beomgyu, 9:18 pm] are you busy rn?

[y/n, 9:18 pm] no, why?

[beomgyu, 9:18 pm] look outside the window ;)

confused, you got up from the bed and peeked through the window blinds, spotting a smiling beomgyu waving his hand at you from the sidewalk. you couldn’t help but return his smile as you looked at him, already in his pyjamas with a jacket over his shirt and a small basket in his hand. you opened the window and shouted “wait- i’ll be down in a sec.” stumbling as you rushed to climb down the stairs and put on your shoes. you quickly ran your fingers through your hair and took a deep breath to regain your composure. you were taken aback when you saw beomgyu right in front of you, hand raised up to knock on the door just as you opened it.

“hi.” he spoke softly.

“hi-” you breathed out “want to come in?”

“ah-“ he cleared his throat, his eyes meeting the floor instead of your face “i just wanted to bring you this.” he brought the hand holding the basket in front of you, its contents hidden away with the help of a pink wrapping paper. you pushed it to the side, careful so as not to rip it too much. your eyes widened once you discover small boxes with fresh assorted fruits like strawberries, cherries, grapes...and a tiny bear plush placed in the middle of everything.

“thought these might cheer you up a bit. i snuck those away from the bar once my shift ended. don’t tell on me though, soobin might kick my ass if he finds out”

“beomgyu-“ you stammered “thank you, but you didn’t have to-” you were pushing the basket back towards him, overwhelmed by his sweet gestures. he caught your wrists with his hands, moving them towards your chest.

“but i did have to” he leaned down, bringing his face to the same level as your own “if i saw you smile, then that means it was worth it, even if i do get in trouble” his words rolled off his tongue slowly, with a low rasp. you noticed the way beomgyu’s eyes moved away from yours to glance at your lips, then going back to the floor, stopping for a second, hesitating, before deciding to quickly steal away a kiss from your cheek.

“go back inside now, you should get some rest.”

without even realising it, you brought a hand up to your face, touching the same spot he just caressed with his lips. he tilted his head, chuckling after seeing your flustered expression. “good night, y/n” he put his hands in his pockets, turning his back to walk towards the alleyway.

what you weren’t aware of though, was just how loudly beomgyu’s heart was beating against his chest.

───⋆☆─────────────

the end of august, also known as the start of the party season at the beach. with tourists ending their trips and leaving soon, as well as with the weather on the cusp of changing, the workers at the beach started preparing for their annual series of events (which was actually more of an excuse to make people purchase more alcohol)

“we’re doing what tonight?” you asked yeji, resisting the urge to throw the pillow in your lap at her.

“listen- i know you’re finding out about this late, but-“

“but?” you pressed your lips together, lifting an eyebrow.

“but you would have declined the invitation right away-“ yeji sighed “now it’s too late to tell them that we’re not going. remember our promise? to take up on new opportunities?”

you remained silent, crossing your arms and glaring at yeji.

“come on, it’s the first party. if you don’t like it then i won’t pressure you to go to the rest. let’s just try it and see how it goes” yeji got on her knees, holding your hand and looking at you with pleading eyes.

“fine.” you gave in, yeji’s words managed to persuade you yet again. she squealed, capturing you in a tight hug. she wasted no time to drag you into her room and help you get ready. her face was basically radiating as she showed you all the makeup and outfit choices, there was just no way you could refuse her anymore. you just let her do her thing, putting all your trust into her tastes.

the more you walked towards the beach, the louder the music was becoming. you were tempted to do a full 180 and make a run for it, but your conscience didn’t allow you. plus, you truly believed that yeji would simply take her heels off to go after you and drag you back. you felt out of place in the big crowd of people, overwhelmed by the loud beats combining with people shouting in a poor attempt to communicate with each other. you were busy frantically scanning the area for a familiar figure, but you somehow missed yeonjun coming right in your direction. you were taken aback when you noticed him standing in front of you.

“hi, cutie. glad to see you here” yeonjun greeted you.

“hi-“ your eyes trailed down over his body. his white button-up shirt wasn’t closed all the way, giving you a peek at his exposed chest and the delicate silver necklace sitting on top of it. you bit your lip trying to shift your focus from the pretty man in front of you back to the conversation. he winked at you when you tried to make eye contact with him again. shit. your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red; he definitely noticed you staring at him. you quickly turned around and took a shot from the drinks table close to you. you grimaced as the alcohol sent a dash of fire down your throat, yet you still extended your hand for more.

yeji grabbed your arm “hey- hey, take it easy. we only just arrived.”

“and i’ve already embarrassed myself” you whispered back, covering your face with your hands.

“i’m sure whatever you did isn’t that bad. you’re gonna embarrass yourself more if you get wasted within the first hour anyway.”

you pressed your lips together. she was right- you just didn’t want to admit it out loud. “come on, i want to check out the dessert table. i heard soobin did a pretty good job with that” yeji said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you along with her.

yeji tested out almost every single dessert at the party. each time she took a bite of something new, she insisted that you tried it too because “this one was really the best”. you found it amusing but in some way, she was right, soobin really outdid himself this time. the cupcakes in particular were your favorite. the cake was so soft and moist, and the frosting was soft like velvet, immediately melting down on your tongue. they were seriously addicting. you were about to dive into another vanilla cupcake when you felt a tap on your shoulder. it was yeonjun who came up to you again.

“y/n- join me for a dance?”

your eyes glanced back at yeji, then at the cupcake in your hand. you were very tempted to say yes, but you didn’t want to leave her alone either. the idea of abandoning your cupcake didn’t sound that good either.

“go ahead” yeji said, snatching the cupcake you were holding. “i was about to go to hueningkai anyway- i wanted to have a look at his playlist. have fun you two” she sent a wink your way before quickly leaving, not even sparing you a chance to argue.

“shall we?” yeonjun stretched out his hand for you to take, which you nervously took. he led you to the middle of the dance floor, making you internally panic. having not gone to many parties in your lifetime, you weren’t confident in showing off your dance moves, especially right in front of yeonjun.

yeonjun must have sensed your worries, dipping down to whisper in your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “just focus on me- don’t mind everyone else.” you were still holding his hand, so he took this chance to lift his arm up and playfully spin you around. you couldn’t help but giggle, slowly starting to ease up. you tried to ignore everyone else invading your vision, focusing on him and only him as you swayed your body along the rhythm of the music. you couldn’t help yourself but grab two more shots, one for you and one for yeonjun, when you saw one of the baristas coming down your way with a silver platter full of alcoholic drinks. ‘it’s for a little confidence boost’ you told yourself. for tonight, you were finally allowing yourself to be free from any worries, and to simply enjoy the moment.

you weren’t aware of how much time had passed since you stepped foot on the dance floor, and you were very tempted to take a break and let your legs rest for a while. but it seemed like the dj wasn’t going to let that happen anytime soon. the up-beat music that had been playing for the past hour was suddenly changed to a slow, jazzy song. you looked up at yeonjun with wide eyes, and he bit his lips, looking as surprised as you did. yet, he didn’t pull away. his hands dropped down from their position on your shoulders, trailing down your arms and then moving to your waist, leaving hot trails everywhere he touched your body. your body unconsciously moved closer to his, a bright red blush adoring your cheeks. your mind couldn’t focus on anything else but his hands on you. the sound of the music combining with your loud heartbeat made you feel light-headed.

“i want to kiss you” he whispered, resting his forehead on yours, his grip on your waist tightening “but if i do then i might not be able to contain myself.” he breathed out. your hand moved up to the nape of his neck, about to give in to the sweet temptation, when all of a sudden taehyun lightly tugged yeonjun by the collar of his shirt, creating distance between the two of you.

“loverboy, go check up on soobin, he’s having trouble setting up the fog machine”

“right now?”

“yes, now. come on” taehyun grabbed yeonjun, not letting him argue. ‘strange’ you remembered that the fog machine was already on when you arrived.

yeji and beomgyu appeared by your side just a few seconds later “where’s yeonjun?”

“ah- soobin was searching for him. guess i was kind of abandonded” you tried to laugh it off “can we go somewhere quieter?” the music is starting to mess with my brain.

“i’ll grab some drinks and i’ll meet you near the shore, there’s some log benches there.”

you nodded, holding onto yeji’s sleeve so as not to lose her. you felt like you could finally breathe again once you stepped foot on the sand. you couldn’t lie, parties did seem fun, but those where you’re almost completely surrounded by strangers? not so much. you held on until most people left, enjoying yeji’s and beomgyu’s company, cracking silly jokes as you kept on drinking. it was only after midnight when the rest of the boys joined you, with a few of the other people lingering around.

“anybody up for a few rounds of truth or dare?” yeji shouted.

“i’m in” beomgyu replied, raising his hand.

“i guess i’m in too” you sighed. truth or dare wasn’t really your cup of tea, but you didn’t want to ruin the other’s mood.

“everybody gather around the fire then” yeonjun said “and remember- no buts, no maybes” he snickered.

you noticed how beomgyu looked at you and opened his mouth, then closed it back again after yeonjun said down next to him. his body seemed to slump down after that; you wondered whether it was you who he wanted to sit close to.

“i’ll be the one to get this started” yeonjun stated, looking at every person over the hot flames of the fire, only for his eyes to land back on the person to his right. “beomgyu, truth or dare?”

beomgyu paused for a moment, then answered simply “truth.”

“you’re starting off easy?” he asked, the words rolling off his tongue with a playful, yet mischievous tone “well then- beomgyu, do you have a crush?”

“yes.” he answered shortly. beomgyu was sitting right across from you, and you could notice his body slowly tensing up as his arms hugged his waist tighter.

“and is your crush by any chance here with us?” yeonjun probed on further.

“that’s 2 questions” beomgyu frowned, looking at him.

“you didn’t let me finish.” yeonjun raised his hands defensively.

“yes- they are.” he answered then took a sip of his beer. however, what you failed to notice was him sneaking a glance in your direction as he said that.

everybody around you let out an “ooo” at beomgyu’s answer; people were giggling and nudging beomgyu, teasing him to reveal the name of the person. for some reason, the fact that he had a crush was tugging at your heartstrings. you were secretly hoping that the person he was talking about was you, but you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself.

“my turn now-“ beomgyu took another sip, his eyes scanned the room, then stopped on your figure. “y/n, truth or dare?”

you pondered for a moment. “truth.” you didn’t want to be the first one to try a dare, even if it was from beomgyu. he smiled “have you ever been in a relationship?” he asked, eyes sparkling from the light of the fire.

“no, actually.” you sighed “i was always too busy stressing over school- and look where that got me” you looked down and chuckled drily.

beomgyu nodded, seemingly getting a bit lost in thought. he wanted to continue, to talk to you more, but he restrained himself from doing so. he knew that this wasn’t the right moment to discuss your private life, not with everyone else around.

“let’s see- who should be the next victim?” you clicked your tongue “soobin- what do you prefer?”

───⋆☆─────────────

two hours of truth or dare later, soobin’s last shot was the one that tipped him off, and yeonjun offered to guide him back home before he had the chance to throw up on the beach. a few people stated that they were going to the bathroom, but in fact never returned; you didn’t want to know why. yeji was too tired to stay there any longer, so she left you behind. meaning, it was only you and beomgyu left on the now quiet beach. the fire was dying down, and beomgyu scooted closer to you, offering to share a blanket.

“how does one more round sound?” he asked you.

“i wouldn’t mind that” you laughed, feeling a bit nervous all of a sudden.

“truth or dare?” beomgyu whispered.

“dare.”

“dare, huh...?” he muttered “i dare you to dive into the water.” beomgyu smirked, playfully tilting his head to the side.

you were taken aback by his words, but your stubbornness didn’t allow you to back down.“okay.” you said, looking into his eyes. “turn around then. i don’t want my dress to get wet.”beomgyu’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting you to accept his dare. still, he did just like you asked.

you slid your dress off, then carefully placed it on one of the seats. you inhaled air deeply into your lungs as you approached the water, then jumped straight in, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“truth or dare?” you shouted.

“dare.” beomgyu shouted back.

“i dare you to join me.”

beomgyu wasted no time taking off his shirt then quickly diving into the water, splashing you in the process. you immediately returned the favour when he got back up to the surface.

“hey- you’re gonna pay for that” he jokingly threatened you.

“make me.”

you both attacked each other with water, only the sound of your laughter filling up the quietness of the now peaceful night. “okay- i surrender.” beomgyu shouted again, catching your wrists with his hands to finally make you stop. he got closer to you, your laughter dying down as his close proximity made you feel nervous.

“you look so beautiful in the moonlight” he said as he hooked his finger around yours, guiding you around in the water. and you followed him mindlessly, as if you as if he’s got you right under his spell. his hands detached themselves from your own, moving to your waist. and you were so close to him, nose to nose, his breath combining his yours, his eyelashes tickling your lids- and yet, you still couldn’t allow yourself. you couldn’t allow yourself to be victim of your foolish desires.

you looked over your shoulder, worried that someone might have come back and noticed what was happening. what if someone saw you two? saw the two of you fooling around in the blue waves of the sea, what if someone saw his fingers trailing your back or how your own nested at his nape? your brain kept thinking of all the possible ways you might get in trouble, fighting to remain in power as his hot breath gathered itself at your neck, distracting yourself from any rational thoughts.

“y/n! are you still here?” you suddenly heard a voice shouting, which you recognised was yeji’s.

“yeah-“ you shouted back “don’t worry, i’ll be back soon no need to wait for me”

“send me a text when you leave!” she shouted again before walking away.

you looked at beomgyu with apologetic eyes.

“guess i can’t have you all for myself tonight.” he looked at you with a soft smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “yeji’s stealing you away from me again.” he laughed.

“i’m sorry...” you whispered, lowering your head.

"there's no need to apologise", he said, a beat of heart and a pause following his words, "it's getting late anyway, you should rest, especially after such a night." the wind picked up your sigh before it could reach him, before it could whisper to him to come closer again, to take a step towards you, warm hands to envelop your waist and soft hair locks to tickle your skin again. you took a step back. "what an eventful night" you said under your breath. "what an eventful night", he picks up your words just as they roll off your tongue, giving you a smile. the air between you kept getting thicker and thicker, unspoken words and wishes weighing the both of you further into the soft shore. “wait just a second- i’ll be right back.” he rushed to get out of the water and sprinted to the bar. as he was coming back you could see him holding a small towel, which he handed to you.

“here, it’s nothing much, but i thought it might help you dry off- at least a little bit” he said rubbing the nape of his neck.

“it’s great” you smiled “thank you, beomgyu.”

he was also holding something behind his back, which he only revealed after you were done using the towel and putting your dress back on.

“have this too...” he looked away, the tips of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink. “i don’t want you to feel cold” he was holding out his white button up shirt for you to wear. you could feel your body reacting the same way as you thanked him and slided your arms into the sleeves. the faint scent of his cologne lingering on the soft material setting your heart on fire.

the walk back home was quiet, spent with the both of you sneaking a few shy glances at each other, his hand brushing against your ever so often, itching to hold yours again. for the first time during your stay you were disappointed that your house was so close to the beach, because it meant that you and beomgyu had to part ways so quickly.

“oh! your shirt- i almost forgot. let me take it off-“ 

his hands reacted fast, stopping you before you could do that “no- keep it, please. it looks good on you”

“o-oh. thank you” you stuttered. the both of you hesitated to part ways once again, too enticed by each other’s presence.

───⋆☆─────────────

beomgyu's ending | yeonjun's ending

taglist: @huekalover3000 @maybabe00 @sunoooism

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev Part l Master List |

Word Count: 10k

A SPECIAL HAPPY BIRTHDAY POST. (I’m 28 y’all)

Chapter contains: brief pregnant!reader, babies/kids…this is like a lil collection of blurbs. I have some head canons about each OC I can post if you’d like xoxo

I had ideas about their kids for ages, lol. This crazy lil family is chaotic

Still thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you and @bebe07011 for without you two this fic wouldn’t nearly be this good

Third trimester is a bitch. I barely have the bandwidth to write lately. I hope you enjoy

Two pink little lines stare back at you as Eddie turns the shower on, completely oblivious to the manic state you’re in.  

He offers you to join him, a temptation you decline with an intense amount of reluctance. You just claim you need your own bed, which was true.  

Eddie missed four weeks of work while you were on your luxe honeymoon, which means he now has several fires to put out. It keeps him busy for the week, making the doctor’s appointments and blood work you do that much easier when he passes right out on his couch at the end of his long days.  

The following week, knowing you're pregnant but not being able to tell him is pure torture. It doesn't help that for some odd reason Eddie seems more lovey, more affectionate. Your first instinct is to chalk it up to your newlywed status, but his affection feels different, the way his arms wrap around you each morning to wake you up, his gentle voice low in your ear. It's driving you up a wall not being able to share your secret with him.  

He seems to consistently have a hard time letting you go to leave for work (not that you’re complaining.) Though eventually you have to practically push him out the door.   

The ultrasound is nearly dull, the implantation in question is only a bundle of cells, but once you get a photo from the tech at the end of the appointment, it’s the very thing you needed to tell Eddie.  

After another early night of falling asleep you empty the face of the fridge, yanking every magnet off as you place the sonogram on the silver surface with a pink heart magnet right at his eye level.

-  

Eddie wakes in the middle of the night, a sudden urge to rise hitting him out of nowhere. His arm tightens around your waist, admiring your pretty face as he kisses your cheek. Your face falters only the littlest bit, twitching your muscles to shake off the tickle of his stubble.   

He finds himself starving, craving something only a feral racoon would also be satisfied with. He rubs his eyes as he walks down the steps. Sometimes he thinks he’s going to see you back in the kitchen chair in the dress and bathing suit, Dylan searching manically for a parking pass as if Eddie has imagined this whole dream scenario. Your love is just too good not to think he’d made it all up at times. He smiles to himself as he turns on the stove light, turning to the fridge for a snack.   

He feels frozen by the blank fridge at first, wondering where all the magnets got to. The black and white image staring him dead in the face suddenly registers, the heart shaped magnet falling to the floor as he rushes to pick it up to make sure his tired eyes aren’t fucking with him. They bulge out of his head when the significance of the photo occurs to him, and the hunger that woke him up seems to vanish.

His long legs take the stairs two and three at a time as he rushes back to you, hurling himself beneath the covers.   

The cold of his arms startles you, a gasp leaving your lips from the shock as you abruptly awoke. “Hmm?”  

“Are you fucking pregnant, sweetheart?” His eyes are unbearably soft, melted pools of milk chocolate staring intently at you.

A burst of sleepy giggles leaves your mouth, turning your body so you don't have to crane your neck. “You got up early.” You comment, weaving your fingers into his curls.   

“Skip the pleasantries, love.” He dismisses, scooping his arms beneath your back. “Are you fucking pregnant?”   

You pull him in for a kiss, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him down against you. “What’s the sonogram tell you?”    

He chuckles against your lips, his thumbs swaying against your smiling cheeks. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” You nod, absentmindedly playing with his curls. “Fuck, I’m so excited right now, baby.”   

“Really?” You ask him, grinning.   

“I just found out my wife is having my baby. Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, rutting his hips against yours desperately. “I’m rock hard, sweets.”   

Lucky for you and him, you opted for a pair of tiny panties and a t-shirt to bed, feeling his hardened cock against the thin lace fabric of your panties. Your fingers fumble to his boxers, hurriedly pushing them down his hips. “Then fuck me.”   

Eddie gently pulls the fabric aside, exposing it as his head perfectly brushes against your entrance. “God, my girl is soaked for me, ain’t she?”   

Your thighs tighten around his hips, jaw dropping as he teases you. “Want you, please, Ed.” Your eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against you 

He pushes in, arms wrapping themselves around your torso. “Oh my god you’re having my fucking baby,” Eddie mumbles, face curling into your neck. “Gonna see your stomach all big when you’re carrying my baby, sweets, and you’ll be even hotter than you are now. Which I thought was impossible.”   

No words come to mind, mouth open and gasping at the way he moves in you. The cotton of your shirt is too hot, your hands shakily grabbing at the fabric to take it off. Eddie admires the sight he sees as your piqued nipples fall out of his faded black t-shirt, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at them. A moth drawn to the light, he dives into one, curling his tongue around the nipple with the perfect mix of teeth, pulling little mewls from you.  

“Fuck, we’re gonna be the happiest little family,” he chokes, kissing from your breast up to your neck, his voice filled with emotion.  

“Love you,” you sigh, gasping into his open mouth as his hips hit you harder.  

Eddie smiles, a wicked little grin as his hand curves over the swell of your tummy, thumb petting it gently.  

“Hold on to me, sweetheart. Hold on to your baby daddy,” you grin the line, wonderfully cheesy, but Eddie feels the way you tighten around him. Your arms curl around his back, pulling his body against yours.  

“Eddie, make me cum, please.” 

“Hold on, baby, I’m almost there, hold on,” he stutters, his deep voice starting to falter. His lips bend down to your ear, gasping desperately, bordering on whining. “Fuck– cum with me.”  

His lips wrap around yours, delicately connecting his tongue with yours as his hips stutter a final time, the little moans vibrating against your lips as he fills you up. As you collapse on the bed, sweaty bodies intertwined, he spends the twenty minutes until he falls asleep cooing, whispering in your ear how excited he is.  

You wake up the same way, with rounds two and three before he begrudgingly trudges off to work. 

- 

The sun accounts as a natural alarm clock as Dylan stretches his limbs wide, turning to face his girlfriend. His arm falls over Maya’s form, pulling her in as he starts to wake up. “Morning, Dylan,” she whispers, her pink lips spreading into a smile.  

He pulls her back against his stomach, hiking his legs under hers. “Mornin’.”  

She hums as he kisses the back of her neck, giggling as he takes a deep inhale of her shampoo. “You work today?”  

“No,” Dylan answers, caressing the strip of her exposed skin with his thumb. “I am seeing my dad today.”  

She smirks, turning to face him. “And your stepmom?” Dylan grits his teeth, tickling her stomach until she begs him to stop, hunching over the arm around her. “Okay, I’m sorry!”    

“Mmhm. I’m telling them, did you want to join me?”  

Maya squishes her face, seemingly debating on pros and cons. “I’m gonna pass on that, respectfully.” She can feel the questioning look Dylan gives her. “I have a long shift today, and I am exhausted.”  

“Next time, I’m dragging you with me,” Dylan insists, squeezing with his arms wrapped around her.  

“I’m counting on it.”  

As soon as Dylan opens the door, he listens in, waiting for a sound that never comes. Good, he waited long enough to come. He wanders into the kitchen, meeting his dad drinking orange juice straight from the carton. “Dad?”  

His dad freezes, removing the spout from his mouth, and wipes his face hurriedly. “Hey bud.”  

Dylan raises his eyebrow at him, pointedly glancing to the carton and back to him.  

“Don’t tell my wife.”  

Dylan smirks, rolling his eyes. “Speaking of the devil, where is she?”  

“Upstairs.”  

As if your ears are burning, the two men’s ears pick up the particular sound of someone coming down the stairs. Eddie prays you come downstairs with some clothes on. Your face lights up when you see Dylan, welcoming him into your arms without a second thought. “Dylan!” The familiarity you two share is still new, but wrapping him in a hug is like second nature at this point. “What brings you into this part of the world?”  

You leave the embrace, backing straight into Eddie’s arm. “Actually, I have some news I wanna share with you guys.”  

Eddie’s hand tightens around your arm, he’s mentioned Dylan talking about proposing last month, and this news felt right around the corner. He feigns ignorance, innocently asking, “Oh, what news would that be?”  

Dylan’s cheeks bloom in red, glancing down to his feet sheepishly. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to travel to a destination wedding while largely pregnant. “Uh, we–or, Maya,” he clears his throat, a laugh stuttering through it, “Maya’s pregnant.”  

The first thing you do is glance at your husband, both sporting wide eyes and slacked jaws. To say you’re surprised is a grand understatement.  

“Not the news you were expecting?” Dylan asks, watching the two of you share a silent conversation.  

In sync, the two of you switch back to him, twin smiles on your faces. Dylan had no idea what either of the faces in front of him could possibly mean, and there’s a part of him that wonders if this is happy news for either of you.  

“Um, no, actually,” Eddie barely holds back the sound of laughter in his voice. “That’s, that’s fantastic news, Dyl.” Truly, fantastic news. Eddie has been looking forward to being a biker grandfather since Dylan showed interest in being a father.  

You smirk, leaning into his shoulder. “How far along is she?”  

“Uh, 8 weeks, or so,” Dylan answers, squishing up his face comically.  

“Oh wow, so a week behind me, then,” you say nonchalantly, nodding at Eddie.  

“Wait, what?” Dylan asks, making sure he understood that correctly.  

You giggle, nodding as you sit your head in Eddie’s neck. “Yeah, I’m pregnant too, ironically enough.”  

Eddie leans into your ear, “So you’re gonna be a mom and a grandma in the same year…”  

Your eyes widen. “To think, I was just getting used to the idea of being a mom.” You lean back, meeting your husband’s pretty brown eyes. “Are we sure the kid’s gonna call me grandma?”  

Dylan picks up the conversation right away. “I mean, unless we’re gonna be completely honest with them, it doesn't make sense otherwise. You’re grandpa’s wife, therefore grandma.”  

Am I mom, then, too? You think to yourself, knowing you’ll point it out later. Your stomach rumbles, turning around to the counter to start making a breakfast of sorts. Your eyes hit the open orange juice jug and the lack of cup. “Did you drink straight out of the carton, again, mister?”  

Eddie avoids your eyes, looking at his son. “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he surrenders, having a seat at the island.  

“How’s Maya been handling the pregnancy so far?” you ask, grabbing a pan from under the cupboards. “Because morning sickness is no joke.” You pause, leaning on the counter. “Not just in the morning, either.”  

“I think it’s some nausea, a bit of acid reflux, but to my knowledge she hasn’t been sick,” Dylan says, taking out his phone to text Maya about the news.  

“Bitch,” you mutter, the tone in your voice clear you’re joking. “We can’t all be so lucky. Eggs?”  

Dylan nods, grinning at the text Maya shoots back. “So dad, you’re gonna have a kid and a grandkid the same age as each other?”  

Eddie shrugs, taking another large sip from the carton. “Since my girl showed up, my life hasn’t been normal, and this just means it will never be normal again.”  

“You’re welcome,” Dylan laughs, rolling his eyes at the exasperated look you shoot at him.  

- 

Dylan’s phone buzzes, glancing at the unknown number as Maya fades in the middle of her sentence. “One minute, babe, I’m expecting a call from the interview I just did last week. Dylan Munson, speaking.”  

“Oh, Dyl-pickle, you sound so big!” Only one person has ever called Dylan that. He gulps, the sound of her voice bringing up old, sore emotions.

“Brooke. W-why are you calling me?”  

“Brooke? C’mon, I’m your mom, sweetheart,” she whines, her voice the sound of nails on a chalkboard.  

“Really, are you?” Dylan asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace the hallway, his anger already building. “Ok, what college did I go to?” Silence. “What did I major in? What year did I graduate high school? When did I have my first kiss? Who’s my current girlfriend? What’s my best friend’s name? What sort of vehicle do I drive?”  

She doesn’t answer a single question, instead giving stuttered empty answers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer any of that… We haven’t exactly been talking for the last fifteen years.” She says, somewhat accusatory.

Dylan sighs, rubbing his face frustratedly. “What, your phone didn’t work all those years?”  

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m not the only one who had a phone,” she protests, sounding incredibly defensive. 

“Yeah, well, you also weren’t a child for 8 of those years who begged his dad for his mom to come to one thing that was important to him,” Dylan retaliated, angry at her gaslighting. “My dad had your number, always left voicemails inviting you to my soccer games, to award ceremonies, to my birthdays, and you never answered a single call, let alone showed up.”  

“I’m sorry, Dylan, I am, but I was young then, you can’t blame me for wanting a fresh start.” 

“Actually, I can,” Dylan answers, now done with this conversation. “You had eight years to be a mom before I finally gave up on you. You don’t get to pick and choose when to be my mom, now.”    

“I’m sorry that hurt your feelings, Dyl. But I have two boys, and they really want to meet their older brother. Would you come down for lunch one day?”  

He nods, knowing that this sudden need to be a mom again wasn’t going to come for free. “No. I have no interest in being your life. Not since the day I turned 18.”  

“C’mon, Dyl–” 

“No, mom–Brooke. No. Don’t call me again, please. I need to go now.”  

She starts another sentence, but Dylan hangs up on her before he hears it. When he walks into the bedroom he shares with his girlfriend, he crawls into the bed next to her, feeling like the ten year old whose life got torn apart.  

It looks like Brooke still has that uncanny talent for making everything about her.  

- 

Eddie sits in his office, a small room decorated with frames filled with the faces of those he loves and papers strewn around the desk. He’s going over the receipts and payments, and silently regrets not having hired an accountant by now, but he’s far too stubborn to admit it.  

There’s a knock on the door and Eddie looks up in relief. Please, let there be a disgruntled customer to save him from the numbers. “Come on in!”  

Connor, one of the new apprentices he hired only a few months ago comes in, looking timid. The first few months he has a new hire they’re usually shy, and when their self confidence in their ability to do their job kicks in, Eddie truly starts to miss it. “Uh, hey, boss, there’s a client out there who wants to speak to you.”  

Eddie chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he rests his feet on his desk. “Don’t, don’t call me boss. What do they want?” 

Connor screws up his face. “Uh, I forgot to ask.”  

“Always ask, man. Tell them I’ll be right out.”  

“Alright, I’ll tell her.” Eddie sighs in relief, women tend to be more understanding.  

“Hey, send in Joe, will ya?”  

“On it!”  

Joe, a man who’s worked for Eddie for 20 years, older by ten years, walks into the office just a moment later. “What’s up, Ed?”  

“Give the lady a talk, will ya?” Eddie asks, scratching the itch on his right forearm. “Ask her what she wants.” Joe, tall, dark, and quiet, nods and shuts the door.  

He’s back in the office in seconds. The door’s loose knob has barely clicked shut before it’s abruptly opened again. “That fast?”  

Joe shakes his head, his eyes wide with a grimace on his face. “Uh, no, it’s…it’s Brooke.”  

Eddie scrunches his face up. “Brooke, like…Brooke?”  

“Yeah. You want me to–” 

“No it’s okay, I got it,” Eddie insists, a pit forming in the depths of his stomach. He rubs his face tiredly, fully unprepared to deal with this. 

“Dude, you sure?” He asks, having been with Eddie through the divorce.  

“Seriously, I got it. Thanks, man.”  

Eddie gets up from his desk, catching the eyes of his long-time employees on his way to the entrance of the garage. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.  

There she stands, looking around the garage holding her purse with two hands. She’s dressed like one of those Instagram moms, high waisted jeans with a loose blouse tucked in under a long coat. Her eyes land on him, her face lighting up as she exclaims, “Wow, the garage looks great!” 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, sighing. “Is there a particular reason for…”  

Brooke smiles, and Eddie could almost see a genuine human behind the mask. “Um, do you mind if we go into your office?”  

Eddie raises his brows, perplexed. “I really don’t see the necessity for it.”  

“It’s not really a conversation to have in front of the guys, Eds,” Brooke comments, shuffling her feet as she crosses her arms.  

Eddie winces at the nickname she calls him. She really doesn’t know him well enough to call him such anymore. The audacity of it astounds him. “I’m not Eds to you…and my office holds things that are precious to me, that I honestly want to keep out of this conversation.”  

“Like I haven’t already seen pictures of your little wife,” Brooke grimaces, her tone switching from sweet to condescending in a split second, her eyes rolling. “Congrats on that, or whatever.”  

Eddie blinks, too exhausted to argue. “Alright, come on.”  

It's not like Brooke hasn’t been in his office before, Eddie thinks, they were happily married, after all. She looks around at the changes, her eyes seemingly fixated on where photos of Dylan’s previous achievements are proudly displayed. “Wow, he looks just like you,” Brooke mutters, a look on her face that Eddie can’t quite place.  

Eddie assessed the bulletin, Dylan’s graduation, first school dance, the Munsons spending a weekend at the Harrington’s, it certainly spelled out to her what she missed out on.  

He clears his throat, quietly asking for her to continue. “Right, um, I was wondering if you could talk to our son.” 

“Our son?” Eddie asks, barely holding back his laughter. “Last time I checked you said he was my son.”  

Brooke ignores it, faltering in her seat. “I tried calling him last week, but he shut me down.”  

“What do you need me to talk to him about exactly?” Eddie leans against his desk, his hands gripping the edge.

Brooke blinks, tilting her head. “When did you cut your hair?”  

“Irrelevant. What do you need me to talk to him about?” Eddie enunciates, already feeling the exhaustion of her mere soul sucking presence.

“My sons are asking questions about him, and they would like to meet him.” She inhales, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say, “I would love to reconnect with both of you, honestly.” 

Like an anvil, Eddie feels his stomach pull him all the way down into the floor. The silence she’s given him and Dylan for the last fifteen years has been stable, reliable even. The most reliable thing about her. This is turning off the road into a ditch with nothing to instigate it. “What did he say?”  

“Uh, he had no interest in it,” Brooke shrugs, leaning back in her seat.  

Eddie nods, having expected it. “Brooke, those pictures on the wall? My son spent so much time begging me to call and get you to at least one event, one time just to show that you still cared about him.” He pauses, watching her avoid his eyes. “I left dozens of voicemails in your inbox, and I know it was your inbox, because I remember the day it went from Munson to Prescott. I begged you to show up. Just once. The last time I did was for his graduation, but by then I had stopped telling him.”  

“He told our lawyers and the judge he wanted nothing to do with me. Forgive me if I thought he was telling the truth,” Brooke huffs, her voice sounding defensive.  

“He was a child, Brooke!” Eddie deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “A child hurt by his mother’s actions tearing apart his happy family. Staying with the stable parent was probably the more appealing option.” He scratches at the stubble on his face, glancing over to the sonogram sitting on his desk. He’d hoped Brooke hadn’t caught wind of that news, yet. “At first, he was really hurt, but after a while, he just wanted his mom. Who never showed up.” 

“Well, I might be a little late, but doesn’t it count for something that I’m trying, now?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest. 

“I think it counts more that he’s about to be a father and he has no interest in including you in his kid’s life.”  

Her eyes bug right out of her head. “Wait, what?”  

“Mmhm. Seems he’d rather give what was supposed to be your title to someone he’s known for less than a year.” Eddie flickers to the photo of you he has framed, a portrait of you surrounded by the sunset in your wedding dress. “You had eight years, Brooke. Eight. You don’t get to decide to be a parent when it’s convenient for you. I never had that luxury. I had to pick myself and my son up and find a way to get through it emotionally without falling apart at the seams.”  

She seems to start talking, but Eddie is on a roll. “I finally feel like I’m living my life, and not just surviving. If you reached out five years ago, I probably would’ve said yes. I even had a low enough self-esteem to hope it would mean something more…but now I have this woman, this beautiful person who showed me how much she believes I’m worth, showed me how much I am worth. Brooke, no offense, but when I look back on it, especially comparing the two, you treated me like shit.”  

“Uh, okay,” Brooke mutters, holding her hand out. “I did not treat you like shit.”  

“You never stuck up for me with your parents, forced me to do things I was uncomfortable with all the time, gave ‘our’ son’s teachers hell all the time, and, oh yeah, left me for the person you told me not to worry about. So, no I will not be talking to my son. If he comes to the conclusion to reconnect with you, then fine. But I will not be participating.”  

“Wow, you’re being harsh.” Brooke complains, grimacing. “Eddie, I was young. I made a few stupid decisions.”  

“You know, my wife is a bit young. Somehow, she already knows not to act like a stone cold cunt.”  Brooke stutters through an empty response, completely rendered speechless. “I think we’re done here.”  

“I’m not done!”  

“Well, I suggest you be by the time my pregnant wife gets here, because she’s not your biggest fan.” It gives him the utmost satisfaction to start looking through the papers. He glances back up to her expectant expression. “Safe travels back to Boston, hmm?”  

Eddie swears the smile on your face in the photo of you grows, glad the backbone he needed seems to have finally grown. “You’re not going to even–”  

“No. I’m not. I’m done here, Brooke. Give Kevin my condolences, yeah?”  

Brooke nods, reluctantly understanding she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. Eddie had indeed grown the self-confidence she never saw when she was with him. “Condolences?” 

“Yeah, for still being stuck with you. Close the door on your way out.”  

Brooke’s nostrils flare, her jaw locking. She turns around without another word, the slam of the door echoing through the garage as she storms out, every click of her heel enunciated.  

Moments later, Joe pops through the door. “Everything, ok, Ed?”  

Eddie looks up, his dimples pronounced on his face. “Oh just, peachy, Joe. Mind if I take off for the rest of the day?”  

“I would be concerned if you didn’t, man.”  

- 

The ringing of your phone stirs you from your slumber, having passed out on the couch mid snack. An app you downloaded on your phone for the pregnancy said the first trimester would have you feeling quite sleepy, and you didn’t believe it until you find yourself constantly falling asleep during your off days, and exhausted at work when you really shouldn’t be.  

Your sister’s name lights up the screen, and the quick assessment of the movie tells you you’ve been asleep for at least forty-five minutes. “Hey, Viti.”  

“Hey, sis,” she greets, an airy tone in her voice. “Sounds like you just woke up.”  

You haven’t broken the news to your family, yet, waiting to present the information in the form of a present next time you and Eddie make your way over to your parents’ house. “Had an afternoon siesta,” you sigh, watching the movie you’re tempted to restart. The twist of Carlisle’s death just isn’t the same if you don’t build up to it. “What’s up?” 

She sighs, a habit you’re all too familiar with. “Spit it out.”  

“Okay,” she starts, gaining her courage. “Me and Arlo got together the night of your wedding.”  

If you were attempting to get rid of any sense of sleep, it disappeared within a second. The information takes a second to register, eyes darting around the living room filled with wrappers you have yet to throw out. “Harrington?”  

She laughs, probably expecting a much worse answer. “Do you know any other Arlos?”  

“Guess not.” You pet the bangs in your eyes away from your face, trying to remind yourself of the look on your baby sister’s face when she was slow dancing with him. “Ok. How did it happen?” 

“You’re okay with this?” She asks, your heart melting at how little her voice sounds.  

“It was never my choice, Vi,” you answer, using the remote to restart the movie. “If you like him and trust him, then, yeah, I’m okay with it. So how did it happen? Tell me all about it. But if you’ve slept with him, then maybe not all about it,” You chuckle. Viti sighs exasperatedly and you can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone.

“Um, so we were kind of flirting a lot after the family dinner. I thought he was just being nice, but I was willing to be his friend. It got a bit more intense at the wedding, and he asked me to dance…”  

“I saw,” you admit, granted you only saw because Eddie pointed it out to you. “What happened after that?”  

You can hear the smile on her face. “He led me to a hallway, and then we went to the hotel room I was staying in…” She trails off sheepishly. Oh, that's all you need to know.  

“Damn, girl!” you laugh, opting to push away the mental image and simply be your sister's friend right now.  

“We went to dinner last week,” she says, a giggle laced through her sentence. “I really, really like him.”  

It had to be Arlo Harrington. “Then I’m really, really happy for you. Have you told everyone else yet?”  

“You’re the last to know, to be honest. I think Eddie even knows at this point.” You roll your eyes, because of course that’s why he was so peculiar this morning.  

“Just because I don’t necessarily approve of the choice of boy doesn’t mean I won’t be happy for you. Plus, I could get used to him, after all, Steve isn’t so bad.” That’s a damn lie, Steve Harrington has become one of your favorite people. “Tell me you got out of the hotel room before mom and dad discovered you.”  

“We heard them coming down the hall…” she says, giggling. “We were dressed as they were about to come in the door. Luckily, they were both pretty drunk, so they didn’t really catch on to what was happening. Well, until the next morning at brunch, I guess.”  

Note, send a text to your mom asking about what her perspective was, because there’s a chance she knew more than she let on. You think to yourself.

“Anyway, four weeks in Cancun. Spare me the dirty details but tell me all about it,” she giggles, moving the phone away from her face, “shut up, stop, shut up!’ 

“Let me guess. Arlo?”  

A burst of giggles runs through her body and you can hear the smile on her face. “Maybe,”

“You couldn’t wait until you were alone?”  

“She’s not really alone all that much these days,” Arlo’s voice rings out. You can picture the smug smirk on his face.  

“Arlo!” She chides him, and yeah, this might not be so bad, you decide.  

“I’m gonna let you two go,” you offer, dismissing any protests she let out. “Also, without the dirty details there’s not much of the honeymoon to tell. Well, except one thing.”  

“What?” 

“You'll have someone new to meet in seven months!”  

“No way!” 

- 

If there’s one thing you know, it’s Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years is the song for the last credit scene of the Twilight Series. As each character is shown with the corresponding credit, it gets closer and closer to the main cast.  

It might just be the hormones, but this round of credits just seems to hit differently, tears spilling down your cheeks as it gets to the Cullen family. The front door to the house slams shut, announcing the arrival of your husband. Odd, he’s about three hours early.  

The weight of the cushion next to you sinks down with a comforting arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your head falls easily into his embrace, curling into his lap as you sniffle. It’s ridiculous, the irrational reaction that takes over you, but damn do the editors know how to elicit a reaction out of the audience.  

His hand pets your shoulder, kissing your forehead. “You crying at Twilight?”  

You nod, furrowing your eyebrows. “Lose the smug attitude, mister. This is your doing.”  

He laughs under his breath, petting your hair. “Hmm, that’s not how I remember our honeymoon.”  

You tilt your head back to look at his face, fretting at the curls that are starting to resemble closer to a mullet. “Just because I begged for your babies does not mean you had to listen to me.”  

He rolls his eyes, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips that takes the breath out from your lungs. As he backs away, he hums with a peculiar look on his face. “What’s on your mind?” You ask, your brows knitting together.

Eddie sighs, petting the bare skin exposed on your hip. “Minor Brooke update, today.”  

Your brows instinctively rise, feeling every little muscle in your face tense up. “Oh?” 

“Yup. Are you interested?”  

You close your eyes, asking any entity out there listening for a lick of patience. “You piqued my interest. Lay it on me.”  

Eddie can’t beat around the bush, or he would never say it. “She came into my work today.” He pauses, allowing you to absorb the information before continuing. “Requesting that I convince Dylan to…let her back into his life, so to say.” You squint, remembering the few times that Dylan had confessed about his mom to you, always finishing by claiming he wants nothing to do with her and never will.  

“Yeah, good luck with that,” you comment, watching his eyes flicker back and forth between yours.  

“She reached out to him last week and when he refused, I guess the next most logical step was to drive the six hours from Boston and corner me at work.” Your teeth grit, angry at the fucking gall that fills Brooke whatever-the-fuck her last name is. God forbid Steve or Eddie ever accidentally tell you what it is, because the day it comes her inbox will be flooded with just a little piece of your mind, and she'll be lucky if profanities are the worst things you say.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, having watched your face move through the storm of emotions.  

“I was thinking that I fucking hate your ex-wife and if she has no haters then I’m dead,” you answer, dead panning.  

“I love you,” he sighs, tugging you in against his chest. “Are you hungry?”  

You look at the wrappers decorating the mahogany coffee table, “Surprisingly yes.”  

“Lets get a real meal in you, shall we?”  

- 

Eddie is present at every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, birthing class, and even at 20 weeks, when you were inexplicably spotting, stayed with you throughout the 7 hour wait at the ER. He certainly helped you hide from the embarrassment of the doctor explaining the bleeding seemed to be brought on by intercourse and to start being a bit more careful.  

Only one time does a health care worker mistake Eddie for being your father, a mistake quickly fixed at the death glare he gives her. You don’t know how, as you look nothing alike and he has been doting on you too affectionately to be a dad, but you can’t help teasing him by calling him daddy as soon as she leaves the room. 

Well, that’s a lie.  

There is one other time he’s mistaken for your father, running into the maternity ward and anxiously stating your name to the front desk of labor nurses. The head nurse, a woman bearing silver streaks in her hair, calmly tells him to relax and sit down, only the baby’s father is allowed in the room with patients.  

“Well you better take me to my wife, then,” he deadpans, his eyes harsh enough to shoot daggers if it were physically possible. 

She stutters through her response. “Oh, you-you’re her husband? I’m so sorry I assumed–my mistake, she’s in the third door on the left.”  

He rushes to the door, ignoring her last pleas for forgiveness. He was far too busy focusing on how he knew he shouldn’t have gone into work when he knew you were due to go into labor any day now. He knew he should've told them to ask Joe for the solution, as he was basically acting owner while he was away.  

When he bursts through the door, you’re sat on the bed in the room with Bethany petting your face as you push through a particularly hard contraction.  

He waits and watches anxiously for you to get through it before announcing his arrival. As soon as your eyes land on him he sees your face crumple in relief and your hands reach out for him. “Baby,” you whine, seeking the comfort of his shampoo and cologne.  

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, planting a big kiss on the hand that was reached out. “Thank you so much, Bethany, for taking her.”  

She shrugs, dismissing his over exaggerated gratitude. “She’s been a champ. Let me know if you two need anything.”  

Eddie pets your hair, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “How’ve you been, baby?”  

“Only been an hour, and I am so over labor,” you whine, smiling pathetically. “Thanks for coming so fast.”  

Eddie was surprised he didn’t get pulled over, going 90 down the freeway. He turned a 20 minute drive into 8. “Made any progress?” 

“I’m only one centimeter dilated. We could be here for a while.” 

“I’m here every minute,” he says, grabbing a chair to sit by your bed. “I believe in you. We’ll listen to Taylor, listen to a smutty audio book, watch a true crime series, whatever you want, baby.”  

- 

True to his word, he allowed you to blast your Faves Spotify playlist, watched a few episodes of 48 Hours with you, and even sat with you as he let you play with the makeup you had packed in your hospital bag on his face.  

You made him look like a Captain Jack Sparrow, giggling as he animatedly talks in a pirate voice. The best thing about Eddie being there is that he wards off your parents and others who wish to visit you in your labor and acts as your advocate when the nurse is too rough with you and requests a new nurse immediately. Well, and his presence alone puts you at ease, of course.  

It feels like forever, but you’re eight centimeters dilated when a familiar face walks down the hall, passing his father as he carries the millionth cup of ice chips you requested. “Bud! Did someone text you about–” 

“She told me when Bethany was driving her to the hospital, but that’s actually not why we’re here,” Dylan sheepishly admits, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears as a pink blooms across his cheeks.  

“We?” Eddie catches on, blinking. “Is Maya also..?” 

“Yeah, we got here about three hours ago,” he squinted one eye comically, crossing his arms. “She’s about halfway there, now I think.”  

“Wow she’s progressing a lot faster than we did,” Eddie comments, it taking you far more than three hours to get to five centimeters.  

“It would be ironic wouldn’t it, if they had the same birthday?”  

“Irony is one word for it,” Dylan chuckles. “My girlfriend asked for ice chips about eight minutes ago, and she is not patient, so I’m going to get back to it.” 

“Let us know any updates, won’t you?”  

“I bet my kid will be born before yours,” Dylan answers, only somewhat joking. 

“Oh, you’re on, dude.”  

- 

As nurses and the doctor rushes around you, frantically assessing the baby while helping you with the afterbirth, birthing the placenta and ridding the bodily fluids that came out with the infant. Eddie cut the cord, watching carefully as the nurses quickly washed his newborn son off.  

He’s simultaneously whispering sweet nothings against your cheek, how proud he is of you, describing your son’s dark hair, his little mouth opening as the nurse's hand gently washes it. “Did so good, baby, so good, I’m so fucking proud of you.”  

“Is he okay?” You whisper, eyes half open as you stare up at your husband’s brown ones. “J-Josh, is he okay?”  

Eddie knows exactly what you’re asking, making sure his limbs are working, that he looks healthy, that the nurses don’t look too concerned about their results. He can’t help but answer, “He’s perfect.”  

Your favorite nurse, the one who got assigned after Eddie demanded it, brings him over swaddled in a hospital blanket and tucks him into your arms. The hormones and adrenaline overwhelm you as you stare at his face, selfishly grateful he looks just like his father, happily staring at the little button nose.  

“I love you,” when you stare up at your husband, you’re expecting his eyes to also be planted on the newest member of the little family. Instead they’re shiny and planted on you, his expression drenched in pure love.  

“I love you,” you sigh, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “He’s so perfect.”  

“I fucking love you so much.” 

The love fest eventually dies down, all the medical aides surrounding you finishing up and leaving the room as they steal one last glance at the happy little family.  

You’re lost in your own little world when Dylan runs in, seeing the little addition sat on your chest. Eddie looks up to face Dylan dressed in a hospital gown and a hairnet. His face is lit up with the same joy as the room is filled with. “You wanna meet your grandson?”  

Eddie nods, quickly stopped by his wife still lying on the bed sitting in the afterglow. “Go,” you insist, petting at the soft hair on your son. “Say hi for me.”  

He smiles, placing a gentle kiss on your knotted hair, followed by his newborn. “Be right back.”  

On the way over to the emergency surgery room Dylan explains that the umbilical cord ended up twisted around his son’s neck and they took Maya straight into an emergency C-Section. He sat with his girlfriend as they emptied the contents of her abdomen to allow the newest Munson to come into the world.  

Eddie asked several times to make sure it was okay if her father in law, her boyfriend’s father, to go into a room where she is this vulnerable. Dylan insisted that she said it was fine and since Eddie was here for the birth of his son it would be cool for him to meet his grandson, too, within the same half hour.  

Miraculously, after getting in his own scrubs, Eddie wanders in with Dylan as Maya is finished with her stitches. She’s still loopy from the general anesthesia, holding her newborn on her partially covered chest.  

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asked, knowing how against visitors you were.  

“Just come say hi to your grandson, Eddie,” Maya chuckles, passing up the newborn. “Meet Jace Edward Munson.”  

“Edward?” Eddie laughs, barely holding the mist that comes to his eyes. “What?”  

Dylan scrunches his nose, tilting his head to face the newborn now in his father’s arms. “You stepped up when she left. You were everything to me. You may have stolen a girlfriend, but that is small beans in the grand scheme of things, you know?”  

“Jace and Josh,” Eddie muses, laughter bubbling up his throat. “God, they even sound like twins.”  

- 

Kayla smooths over the dress she wears, nervously looking around the classroom. Are there enough learning centers set up? Will the children like the home center she put together? Will there be any difficult teachers during her first year?  

 For the first time, she’s on her own, placed in the very class she had spent so long working toward, kindergarten.  

Her little classmates with their parents, usually mothers, wander in with wide eyes, nervously holding onto their sleeves and looking around anxiously. She talks to each little one at a time, welcoming them and offering them many activities to distract them from wanting to stay with their parents.  

One little boy doesn’t need much, or any, peeling off his father as he runs in, his shaggy brown hair rustling in as he bolts straight to the building blocks. His dad walks in right after, carrying his bag dressed in a leather jacket and acid wash jeans.  

“Hi,” he sighs, sounding tired. “That’s Dylan.”  

“M or H?” Kayla asks.  

“M.”  

“Dylan, can you grab your bag from your dad and put it in the cubby?” Dylan runs to grab his bag from his dad, shouting in slight frustration as he’s pulled in for a hug. “Yours will have an M next to your name!”  

He listens, but doesn’t look back as he runs back to the blocks.  

“I’m Eddie,” the father says, holding his hand out. “His mom, Brooke, will pick him up after school, uh, she’s a bit of a hardass, so just beware.”  

Oh, goody. She gives him a strained smile, insisting she’ll be able to handle it.  

Eddie and Dylan end up being one of his favorite pairings for the year. But when Brooke walked in, she knew it became a big deal for something as small as Dylan putting his book in the wrong pocket in his bag.  

Kayla got along great with Eddie, as they turned out to be the same age. They saw one another around the school as Dylan got older, even became someone Dylan could rely on for a maternal figure when his parents ended up divorcing in fifth grade.  

About twenty one years after initially teaching Dylan, she’s a veteran teacher in her own right, having a monopoly over classroom #3 as she continues to be the answer for dozens of individuals when asked their favorite teacher.   

She sits in her lumbar chair that her coworkers raised the money for the previous Christmas as she finally is able to look over her newest class list. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she came across 9th and 8th from the last name, two boys with J initials and the last name Munson. She’d been wondering if she would ever have the pleasure of teaching Dylan’s boys, or if he decided to skip town like most of his classmates.  

Their birthday right next to their attendance names indicated they had the same birthdate, so she was safe to assume she would have another set of twins. If they were anything like Dylan, they would be a fun sort of challenge for her, that she was sure of.  

On the first day the following fall, she keeps an eye out for her former student, keeping in mind it could very well be the mother that decides to drop them off.  

As she’s helping a particularly shy child settle into her classroom, she notices a parent helping their kid out of the wind breaker they’re wearing. As soon as the little girl is settled she goes to them welcoming them. She immediately recognizes the parent. “Dylan!”  

“Oh, Miss. Thompson! I didn’t realize you were still teaching!” He sheepishly admits, looking at the plaque now containing her married name.  

“I am just married, now,” she answers, answering him the same way she would a student out of habit. “Now, who do we have here?”  

“I’m Jace,” the little boy answers shyly, brown hair of this father but stark green eyes.  

“Well, Jace, would you mind finding your name at one of the cubbies for me? I think you’re put right next to someone named Josh,” she tells him, watching for any recognition of the other name she thought was his twin.  

“Oh, sweet!” Jace exclaims, running with his Pokémon bag.  

She gets up from her squatting position, her knees far too achy for doing it continually like she still is. “So, there’s another Munson on the class list, would you know anything about that?” 

Dylan chuckles, sighing. “Well, about that–” Dylan is interrupted by a little boy with dark hair hugging him, exclaiming his name. “Hey, Josh, we were just talking about you!”  

Josh laughs, tugging on Dylan’s arm. “Is Jace here?” 

“Yeah, he’s playing with the dinosaurs, if I know him.” 

“Cool!” Josh runs straight off, meeting his supposed relative at the play carpet.  

Kayla turns around in confusion, questioning what just happened.  

As if answering her, in comes another familiar face, holding a bag that looks comically small compared to his tall stature. “Ah, Kayla. I was wondering if you were still here.”  

“Eddie!” She greets him, giving a very frank hug. “I have to admit, I am very confused.” 

“That’s okay, you wouldn’t be the first,” Eddie comments, crossing his arms. “Me and my wife had Josh at the same time Dylan had Jace. They’re assholes, they like to gang up on adults, but don’t let them intimidate you, they can’t with their adults anymore, so they try it on teachers.” 

“Takes a lot more than that to intimidate me,” Kayla answers, looking back at the boys who gained ownership over the carpet with dinosaurs and cars. “I appreciate the warning, though.” She looks back to her old friend, seeing the smile lines on his face, still carrying his son’s things. “I’m happy you found someone, though.”  

“Thanks. His mom will pick him up after school,” Eddie tells her, going to the cubby with his kid’s name on it. “She’s not as bad as Brooke, so there’s no worries, there.”  

“Alright, can’t wait to meet her.”  

Eddie and Dylan share a look, one that Kayla misses as she starts to welcome in a few new classmates.  

- 

The bell rings for lunch for the rest of the elementary school and end of day for the kindergarteners. Mrs. Franklin, or Miss. Thompson, as Dylan knows her, helps all her students with their backpacks and jackets. It’s one thing to manage five-year-olds, it’s another to get them to stop wrestling and help them simultaneously.  

The Munson boys are certainly no help, Josh trying to stick his finger up Jace’s nose, pinning him down on the dirty floor as Jace wiggles underneath him. Kayla wished Josh would stop telling Jace he’s his uncle and he has to listen to him, that way she wouldn’t have to hold back her laughter so hard.  

“Okay, Mr. and Mr. Munson, break it up, your parents will be here any minute now. Get up.” They both switch their glances up to her, eyebrows raised over wide eyes. “Get up.”  

They roll their eyes, Josh reluctantly getting off Jace slowly and helping him up. Slowly but surely, parents start to pick their kids up, both Munsons waiting for their parents anxiously. You wonder in with your youngest, a little three year old by the name of Stevie. She holds onto your pointer and middle finger anxiously, eyes darting around at the unfamiliar noises and faces.  

Your son is seemingly nowhere to be seen, usually seen with his counterpart but you can’t see him around the crowd of parents kneeling with their kids and asking how their day was. The teacher,  someone both Dylan and Eddie insisted is the best in the school, approaches you kindly to ask which kid is yours.  

Before you can even answer Josh runs into you, happily glancing up at you as he wraps his arms around your legs. “Hi, baby,” you greet him, kneeling down as you pet his sweet face.  

You miss the peculiar look Mrs. Franklin, or Kayla as Eddie referred to her as, gives you. Surprised to say the least that the Mrs. Munson she has yet to meet is so young. Her brows furrow even further when Jace notices you, yelling, “Grandma!” as he also runs for a hug.  

“Were you boys nice to Mrs. Franklin today?”  

“Of course!” Josh smiles, and you squint through his bullshit.  

“Well we’re gonna make sure to be nicer or we’re gonna have to lose our tablet privileges, won’t we?”  

You get back up, smiling at their grumbly faces. They never listen to new adults, it was a field day at their first day of preschool. One glance to their teacher’s observant face told you all you needed to know. “Eddie didn’t warn you, he?”  

“No, but they did have a peculiar look on their faces when I mentioned meeting you. Should’ve known better, with those two,” you tilt your head, curious at what she meant. “Seriously, your husband needs to tell you more. I taught Dylan when he was in kindergarten.”  

“Oh!” you exclaim, somewhat surprised. “That’s really cool! Were you surprised to see Eddie wi–” 

“With another kid,” she interrupts, laughing, “yes, I was. I’m happy to see that he found someone else, Brooke, was, well, she was not a nice person.”  

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of your husband’s ex-wife, this being the first person she meets outside Eddie’s inner circle to having even mentioned Brooke. “So, I’ve heard.”  

“Hey mom,” you hear behind you, you shove the owner before you even see him, rolling your eyes.  

It’s very recently become a silly habit of Dylan’s to call you mom, due to your son asking why his brother calls his mom by her real name and not mom like he does. After the best attempt at explaining Dylan has a different mom who is no longer around, Josh is still confused and insists that you still act like his mom, so therefore, are Dylan’s mom. 

It was awkward at first, but now it’s a little inside joke. If you were told when you first got together with Eddie that Dylan would be referring to you as a maternal figure, you probably would’ve hit them on the head for fucking with you.  

“Hey, kiddo,” you tease back, mocking his twisted face expression. “They were apparently giving her a hard time today.”  

“Of course they were. You know we can ask one of you to switch classes, right?” Dylan asks, an aura of authority in his voice.  

Their eyes go wide, even though it was a threat in their preschool room, they have yet to consider this. You didn’t want to resort to threats but with their shenanigans, it's literally one of the only things that will work.  

“C’mon, your dad is making your favorite for dinner,” your shoulder cascades around Josh’s shoulder, telling him to say bye to his nephew and that he’ll see him tomorrow.  

Two years later, Stevie shows up with her dark curls down to her shoulders after her father, giggling as she says hi to the teacher.  

That was the last time Kayla taught one of Eddie Munson’s kids. Or, so she assumed.  

- 

The double doors to the high school flew open, big black boots echoing as the large leather jacket trails behind a slim torso. He takes the immediate left into the office, his presence large, with grey streaks leaking into his roots and an angry look on his face.  

The kind administration lady looks up to his expectant face, the curiosity quickly melting into confounded terror. “Can I help you?” 

“Apparently Stevie Munson is in the office right now?” Better be a damn good reason for peeling me away from one of the only moments I have left alone with my wife, he thinks, eyes observing around the office.  

“Yes, she is, uh, are you her–” 

“Her father, are you going to let me in the office or do I have to let myself in?” 

The surprise that fills her features would be charming if Eddie wasn’t so fucking annoyed. He’s used to the assumption by now, but for the moment he just doesn’t have any patience in his body.  

“You can go right ahead, Mr. Munson,” she peeps out, gesturing to the door marked Principal. Eddie’s not sure why he even asked, or how he had the foresight to ask, first. He’s surprised, honestly.  

The door opens to face the school principal, his daughter and a boy sitting two seats away from her nursing his face with an ice pack. “Mr. Munson, welcome in! Have a seat.”  

“No thanks,” Eddie answers, polite, but curt. He looks at his daughter, “What happened?”  

She opens her mouth to answer but is interrupted by the bald principal, “I didn’t ask you, I asked her. What happened?” He directs his attention back to his daughter.

She smiles at him, the same sweet smile his wife bares. “This guy touched my ass under my skirt, so I punched him in the face.”  

Eddie’s brows raised, teeth gritted as he sends a daggers at the boy he is now aware assaulted his daughter. “I’m sorry?” He asks, now directed to the principal.  

“So she says,” the principal says, eyes widening at how Eddie manages to look murderous. “Granted, even if Mr. Jackson did do that, it’s not a good enough reason to assault him. She will be suspended for two days.”  

Eddie laughs, loudly, shaking his head at the gall, the fucking nerve. This principal is extremely lucky it was him who answered his phone and not you. “Really? My daughter got sexually assaulted and your reaction to her defending herself is suspending her? Are you fucking kidding me?”  

“Mr. Munson, if you could please calm down and have a seat,” he starts, gesturing to the chair, yet again.  

“Oh, I am calm. You don’t want to see me angry,” Eddie answers, the Hulk flashing through his mind. “You deciding to punish her tells me exactly why this little shit felt confident enough to lay his hands on her, to begin with. I just think about all the other girls he’s done this to, too afraid to speak up, I wonder how many times he’s done this with no consequence to feel confident enough to touch under a skirt. What the fuck is this place? No-tolerance bullying policy? Utter bullshit.”  

“Mr. Munson, calm down before I call security–”  

“Don’t make me laugh. Seriously. Don’t.” Eddie sighs, pinching his nose. “If you do suspend her, I will press charges against him and I will sue this fucking school. If you punish him, like you’re supposed to, take him off his team for the season, put him in detention for a month, I don’t care, something with fucking consequences, I won’t. You decide.” 

He looks down at the little shit, whimpering as he still nurses the barely there bruise. “You better hope I don’t hear you doing this shit to any other girl in this school, or you won’t get into any college in the country.” He pauses, opening the office door to an audience. Maybe he was louder than he thought he was. “C’mon Stevie, let’s go get some fucking ice cream.”  

When you heard about how your husband stuck up for your daughter like that, you got on your knees for him in the bathroom. That might’ve cheered him up a bit.  

- 

The sounds are familiar yet foreign when you wake up to the blindingly white room, the chatter in the hallway and some heart monitor beeping. Two people immediately come into focus, Josh, sitting at the end of the bed on his phone, Stevie sitting concerned by your head.  

You moan, sitting up in your bed annoyed at the stark contrast of the back of your eyelids. “What the hell?”  

“Mom!” Josh shouts, getting up and standing on the other side of his sister.  

“Mom,” Stevie runs out of the room, calling for a doctor.  

You look to your son, brows furrowed. “What happened?”  

“You passed out at the grocery store. You fainted and you didn’t wake up until just now.”  

Your brows raise, because you haven’t felt off even the slightest. The dizziness hit you out of nowhere, going from fine to woozy in two seconds and falling flat on your face. “How long ago did that happen?” 

“Like twenty minutes? The ambulance got there pretty quickly,” he admits, turning his head to his sister and the nurse coming in the door. 

“Mrs. Munson! So glad to see you awake. I’ll let the doctor know and he should be able to give your results,” she says, sweet smile as she turns away.  

Stevie’s bottom lip is stuck out, quivering as she grabs the hand containing an IV line. You thought that was a bit much. “Stevie, I’m okay.” 

“Are you sure, because I heard the nurses saying it’s not normal to stay out that long after fainting. What if you’re sick?”  

“I’m okay,” you insist, watching both their worried faces. “Fuck, you called your dad, didn’t you?” 

“Uh, yes! He would’ve killed us if we didn’t!” Josh laughs, leaning back in his chair.  

As if summoned, your husband pokes his head in, his eyes wide as he walks in the room, hands out to you as his long legs take him to the head of the bed. “Fucking Christ.” 

“Hi, baby,” you greet him, leaning into the forehead kiss that he gives you. “I’m okay.” 

“Fainting in the fucking grocery store, fucking hell. My god, baby.” He looks over to his kids, “What tests have they done, so far?” 

“Just a blood test, I think,” Stevie shrugs. 

“They might do an MRI but that could take weeks of waiting.” Josh offers no comfort to his dad despite his best efforts.  

“I’m okay, really.” You insist to all their worried faces. “You didn’t call anyone else, did you?”  

“Uh, we called Dylan,” Josh says, wincing at your annoyed face. “And Jace.”  

“Fuck,” you mutter, intertwining your hand with Eddie’s rough one.  

The doctor doesn’t come as quickly as the nurse promised, but he comes within two hours. “Oh, hello, you have quite the visitors, don’t you?”  

You shrug, rubbing his thumb as it anxiously rubs your hand.  

“We have the results, inconclusively.” The air is tense, every one of the family seemingly expecting terrible news. “Congrats! You’re pregnant.”  

You knew nothing was wrong, but this was not what you were expecting. You’re forty-two, Eddie is nearly seventy. You weren’t even sure he could still get you pregnant. You meet your husband’s eyes, sharing a bewildered smile.  

In the meantime, shouts of disgust from your teenage kids fill the room, standing up with tense shoulders.  

“Gross!” 

“Ew! I didn’t even know you guys still did it! Oh my god! Ew!!!!”  

You bite your lip, shrugging. “Are you wanting to be a father to a newborn at almost 70?”  

Eddie smirks, leaning in for a kiss that makes your kids jeer again. “Bring it on, baby.”  

Steve calls an hour later, concerned for the text his name sake sent him. When Eddie informs him, you’re pregnant, twenty years of karma hits tenfold.  

When Steve and Jocelyn said they were pregnant with Eliza fifteen years after having Dustin, Eddie spent the pregnancy making fun of their oopsie baby. Asking if they knew what protection was, joking how they still had sex, telling them to keep it in their pants, the works.  

Now, Steve was more than happy to return the favor. “A baby at 70, you old bastard? What was that you told me twenty years ago? God, I’m surprised you two still do it, considering how low Eddie’s ball sack must be hanging.”  

“You wish you could see my ball sack, you asshole,” Eddie teases, laughing with you as you sigh. “You’re just jealous I can still keep it up, you geriatric bastard.”  

- 

Five years later, when Eddie and Kayla are older, he wanders into classroom #3 for the last time, holding his third son who ends up being notoriously clingy towards his older father.  

It’s ironic to the both of them how Eddie has a son for both Kayla’s first and last year of teaching, keeping tabs on one another for the duration of forty years.  

Eddie doesn’t say anything, letting Tommy down and dismissing her questioning look. Don’t wanna talk about it.

By the time Tommy is 18, Eddie is too old to give a shit, wondering constantly what Wayne’s opinion will be when he ends up knocking on heaven’s door.  

When you got into your sixties, Eddie was full of gratitude, thankful that you will no longer be confused for one of his kids despite his actual kids all calling you mom. He makes fun of your vision, stealing his reading glasses constantly despite his constant insisting that you get your own pair.  

Despite the smile lines by his lips and his eyes, the sunspots decorating his skin, you still stare up at him like you did when he was forty-seven.  

Your lives were forever intertwined from the moment you saw him, from the moment he saw you. He lies down in your bed next to you for the millionth time, his hand caressing your side, pressing kisses on whiskered lips, it doesn’t occur to you to ever be anything less than woefully in love with him.     

———————-

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[ohmtoff]

Shots, shots, shots (Part 1)

Nick Sturniolo x Masc!OC

Summary: Nick is most definitely not having fun at a frat party Madi dragged him to, but this boy who’s staring at him hungrily may help him to have a good time (or: a very cliche and very self-indulgent fic of Nick getting it on with a frat bro)

WC: 4.8k

Contains: college!AU, frat bro!oc, drinking games, making out

Disclaimer: no smut yet, smut is in the next part. not an american, idk anything ab frat culture and the american college system in general, so there’s gna be some inaccuracies. this is just based on the frat fics ive read and my own college experiences.

a/n: was supposed to be a one-shot but i suddenly wrote 10k words💀 although i know nothing ab frat culture, how my american friends describe it is basically like any faculty organization in an indonesian uni lmao so hope my knowledge of how those orgs work help this a slight bit. anyways hope you enjoyyy <333

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Nick is most definitely not having fun.

He frowns as he feels the bitter burn of his fifth (or was it sixth?) shot going down, tipping his head back to get it to go down easily, well and truly smashed at this point. Madi would be proud. Speaking of… he hasn’t seen his best friend since they arrived at the party, the girl pestering him for hours earlier in the day to come party with her. Madi is tired of listening about The Breakup, and to be honest, Nick is too, but he didn’t agree to come with Madi only to have his supposedly best friend ditch him at the door, leaving him alone at a frat party where he knows absolutely no one. Especially not just so she can run off and suck face with some junior.

Nick spies his best friend making out with a boy he doesn’t know, back to him through the haze of the crowd, barely visible in the shitty purple LED lighting, especially with everyone packed into the house like sardines, the place filled to over capacity so that no one can move without being pressed up against someone or another. Well, unless they are sticking to the wall like Nick currently is. And he’s about to go give his friend a piece of his goddamn mind when he hears the voice beside him, his irritation still visible on his face as he turns to look.

“Hey.” The boy is staring at him with an intensity that is disarming, dark eyes set in an intense unwavering gaze as he looks, just enough light to make out the half-smile on the other boy’s face, only one corner of his mouth upturned slightly. The boy’s hair is half in his face, looking damp and mussed like he’s just stepped out of the shower. And Nick trails his gaze downwards, appreciating the other boy’s outfit, a black t-shirt with some obscure band logo, sleeves cut-off hastily, clearly homemade, the edges ragged, showing off the nice curves of the boy’s shoulders, the definition of his upper arms from hitting the gym obvious. All thrown over a pair of oversized black jeans.

The other boy is looking at him like he wants him, and Nick is too far gone to stop the delicious pit of arousal churning in his stomach, the euphoria going straight to his head, making him dizzy with desire. He’s not the type Nick usually goes for, in fact, the boy is the exact opposite of his ex, but that doesn’t stop his body from screaming fuck me now. “I haven’t seen you around before. Transfer or something?”

The question makes Nick give out a little snort of laughter. “No, not at all. Just not my scene.”

“Oh?” The boy raises an eyebrow questioningly, his tone clearly teasing as he slides in closer to avoid another boy trying to make his way past the two of them squeezed into the corner. Nick inhales sharply as the boy moves in closer, trapping him, his back pressed up against the wall with no room to go back further, the other boy bringing his arms up to brace against the wall, forming a makeshift barrier around Nick, casually caging him in. As he does, the smell of beer hits his nose, a smell he normally despises, but it’s mixing with something the boy is wearing underneath, something sweet and woody, and the combination is fucking intoxicating. “And what would be your scene then?”

He ignores the question, not wanting to say that maybe his scene is in his room, pitifully stuffing himself with fast food and crying into Madi’s shoulder about his ex months after the breakup, choosing instead to shift the topic, mumbling.  “You smell like shitty ass beer.”

“Shit, sorry.” The boy relaxes his arms, his face softening into a sheepish apologetic look that Nick finds almost endearing, backing up a step so that he’s not so deep into Nick’s personal space, and Nick takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartrate. “Got doused with beer earlier when they were spraying it into the crowd.”

“Seems like a waste of alcohol if you ask me.” The unexpected response makes the other boy’s eyes go wide, a moment of silence before he bursts out into raucous laughter.

“Yeah, shit, it probably is.” Nick hates that his breath hitches automatically as the other boy runs his hand through his black hair, shaking his head in apparent exasperation, looking unfortunately all too attractive in the process. “Imagine how many people could be more drunk than they already are if they hadn’t wasted all that beer.” The boy shoots him a grin, which he finds himself returning, or at least he hopes he is.

“So how did you get here?”

“My best friend, Madi. She dragged me here.” Nick admits, a slight eye-roll accompanying the statement. “Otherwise there’s no way I would come to a party in a dump like this. Complete shithole. Floor is disgusting, and the whole place looks like it’s going to collapse in on itself if they throw another couple of parties.” He finds himself having to yell to be heard, the music playing far too loud, the bass turned up so that he can quite literally feel the floorboards vibrating underneath his feet.

To Nick’s surprise and appreciation, the other boy appears to take an interest in listening to him, craning in closer and cocking his head to the side to hear better. His ex was an asshole that wouldn’t bother to make sure he was comfortable at parties, even after knowing Nick didn’t love large crowds, preferring to hang out with small groups of people instead. Plus points.  “Oh, I know Madi, met her at a general ed class last semester. She’s also friends with one of the frat bros here, I think. Nate. Anyways, enough about your friend. I haven’t even gotten your name yet.”

“It’s Nick.”

“Nick.” The other boy repeats it, long and drawn out as he rolls the sound around in his mouth, and the thought of the other boy saying his name as encouragement flashes in his head, mentally kicking himself for even thinking about blowing this complete stranger already within ten minutes of meeting. It’s the alcohol talking, definitely the alcohol. He desperately tries to repeat it to himself and believe it as he watches the other boy bite his lower lip in thought. Fuck. Yeah, so maybe it isn’t the alcohol making him want this boy. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t been fucked since The Breakup. Which was 3 months ago. Nick scowls. Fuck Madi for telling him he needs to get laid, and double fuck Madi for being right.

“And yours?”

“Evan. My name’s Evan.” The name sounds familiar, but Nick can’t quite place it, putting aside the feeling for now, instead choosing to concentrate on his plan of perhaps getting laid tonight. Which shouldn’t be hard considering the way Evan is looking at him right now. Like he wants to ravish Nick. With maybe a touch of possessiveness. Nick doesn’t mind the possessiveness, as long as they don’t go overboard. Possessive makes for a good fuck.

He gives in.

I’m here already, might as well have a good time.

He turns on the flirtiest smile he has, his lips curling into a natural irresistible pout as he keeps talking, his hand coming up to brush Evan’s arm, his fingertips lightly grazing the other boy’s bicep. Very obvious, very forward. No one would ever accuse Nick of being subtle, especially when it comes to getting what or who he wants. “Well, Evan, since this does seem to be your scene and not mine, what would you say to being responsible for me having a fun time tonight?” The words have the desired effect, Nick tracing the tightening of the other boy’s jaw with his eyes, pleased at the barely veiled show of restraint.

Nick feels a shiver of anticipation run up his spine as Evan leans forwards, tilting his head downwards as he speaks, the other boy’s hot breath against his earlobe, pressed in so close that Nick can feel the ghost of a touch from Evan’s lips. He isn’t able to prevent the gasp from escaping when he feels the other boy’s tongue, teeth giving him a quick nip. “Well, tonight’s your lucky night, baby. I am at your service. For anything you want.”

The words make Nick bristle, bringing both palms up to push at the other boy’s chest, startling Evan into stepping back off-balanced. “I don’t like being called baby.” He mutters. “Don’t do that.” His ex had called him baby, as an insult, somehow managing to insinuate every time that Nick was too demanding, too high maintenance, turning the word into a mocking reprimand each time. “My ex used to use that.” He pauses a beat. “Not in a good way.”

“Oh, shit.” Evan frowns, his eyebrows drawn together giving almost a menacing look, and Nick feels a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of Evan losing interest. Maybe I came off too strong. “Your ex sounds like an asshole.” He lets out the breath he doesn’t even realize he was holding, a ripple of relief running through him. “And all I meant…” Nick’s breath catches as the other boy slides his hand underneath his chin, tilting it upwards as he speaks. “…is that you look pretty. Delicate. Like someone who deserves to get everything they want.”

Everything they want.

The words make Nick flush, the heat crawling up the base of his neck, stinging his cheeks. I want you. And his first instinct is to throw all caution to the wind and regret his decisions tomorrow morning after the alcohol has worn off, when there isn’t a buzz in his veins making him want to throw himself at this boy. And he desperately wants it to be just a physical thing, after all, he doesn’t really know this guy. He could turn out to be some weirdo psychopath for all he knows, but damn it if it doesn’t make him feel good that this boy thinks he deserves everything. But before he can open his mouth and resign himself to his fate, a hand appears on Evan’s shoulder, accompanied by the loud voice of another boy.

“Hey, bro.” The hand on Evan’s shoulder becomes an arm pulling the taller boy into a half-headlock of sorts. “Not like you to hide away in the corner for so long. Don’t you miss being the life of our party?” The boy turns slightly, catching a glimpse of him, and Nick becomes acutely aware that he’s probably gaping. “Oh, I see now.” The boy gives him a salacious and knowing wink, casting a sidelong glance at Evan. “You must be the reason our leader here is hiding instead of greeting the guests.”

Leader?

The new boy smiles at him, bringing his free hand up in a little wave of acknowledgment. “I’m Nate, by the way.” Nate squints, giving him a careful once-over, and Nick feels like squirming, getting the distinct feeling that he is being sized up though he doesn’t know for what. “You’re Nick, aren’t you?” Nate grins excitedly at the realization. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Madi.”

Nick furrows his brows thinking how does he know Madi and why Madi’s talking about him, getting more lost within the conversation by the second. “Madi said he’d be your type, and it looks like he was right. Fuck.” Nate lets out a string of profanity, “Fuck me, Evan. That means I owe her fifty bucks. So really, fuck you.” Nate narrows his eyes at Evan, who isn’t even trying to hide his mirth, chortling at his friend’s distressed expression. “Unless, you two dickwads set me up.”

Evan shakes his head. “No, man, I didn’t even know who he was until he gave me his name.”

“Fuck.” Nate lets out one last swear in a drawn out sigh, smiling fondly at Evan. “Well, I hate to interrupt the overwhelming sexual tension between you two, but I do think our new president should give a speech at our first party of the year.”

“President?” Nick echoes the word without meaning to, the sound of loud buzzing in his ears drowning out the sound of everything else around them, noting the shit-eating grin on Evan’s face that is getting wider by the minute.

“Yeah, president of Chi Alpha Omega. You know, the ones hosting this party right now.”

Nick can feel the color draining from his face, accompanied by some wooziness in his head. Madi had told him about the president of ΧΑΩ before, about how he “got around” quite frequently, always with someone new every other weekend. And apparently in no short supply of people who want to casually hook-up with him. In short, a player through and through. And Nick can’t tell whether he’s disappointed that Evan is probably not interested in any type of relationship or just excited that the boy is likely a really good fuck. Or both.

But none of that really even matters because he had literally called Evan’s house a shithole.

Fuck.

Evan winks at him before turning to Nate. “Yeah, I can definitely say a few words. And by the way, Nick here thinks we should probably stop spraying beer into the crowd to hype up the party.” He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the overly serious and solemn expression on Evan’s face as he says that. “Apparently we’ve been wasting alcohol when we could be using it to get everyone even more drunk.” Nick wants to sink into the floor at the other boy’s next words, hoping desperately that the ground can swallow him up.

“And he’s also made me aware of the fact that apparently, we live in a shithole.”

Nate’s eyes go wide. Nick wants to kill himself.

“Well, not exactly a lie.” Nate laughs, clearly bemused by his worried expression. “We’ve been trying to get administration to move us out of this shithole for ages. They just won’t do it. So we figure if we throw a few extra ragers this year, and this dumpster fire of a house finally breaks, maybe they’ll consider letting us have a different building for the frat house.”

“Wait, so…” Nick says the words slowly, his head slow to catch up, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “…you all actually want to break this house. Like that’s your actual plan, and I’m not stuck in some weird-ass twilight zone time warp imagining this.”

“Correct.” Evan nods.

“You all are fucking crazy.”

“Correct.”

“Sooo, about that speech Evan?” Nate asks, stealing another glance at Nick. “Any time soon? Or am I assuming that you’re gonna be busy for the next hour or so?”

The implication makes him half-cringe on the inside. Is it that obvious?

“Yeah, of course, now is fine.” And then Nick feels the other boy’s hand around his, Evan’s fingers settling to interlock with his naturally as if they belong there, warm and inviting. A little overly warm, probably the alcohol. But it feels nice, gives him the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest for the first time in a long time. “You’re coming with me, baby.” Nick wants to protest the nickname, but he isn’t given the opportunity to, finding himself being dragged along by the taller boy, weaving through the crowd of people deftly, trying to keep close to the other boy’s back, his free hand reaching out to grab the untucked edge of Evan’s t-shirt. The other boy heads to the kitchen, passing by the crowd that is busy dancing, flirting, and Nick reminds himself to yell at Madi tomorrow, spotting his best friend out of the corner of his eye still attached to the face of a guy.

The kitchen is slightly less crowded, the only people slipping in and out to grab more beer or shots, the entire kitchen counter covered with half empty alcohol—rum, vodka, gin, whiskey. God, how much booze do they have?  Evan doesn’t let go of his hand as he opens the fridge, rummaging around before finally coming up with another handle of vodka. The taller boy just shakes his head as Nate gives him a questioning look. And then Nick follows as he is dragged along again, making their way back to the living room, heading straight towards the epicenter of all the noise in the house. Evan finally lets go of his hand, and Nick feels a twinge of concern as he watches the other boy climb up onto the ping pong table, ignoring the cry of protests from the people playing beer pong. No way he’s sober enough for this.  Somehow Evan’s voice is louder than the music, his voice floating above the noise.

“Hey, we having fun tonight?” The cheers and hoots rise up from the crowd, Evan clearly reveling in the attention, waving his arms to tell everyone to pump up the noise, and they do. After a minute or so of cheering, the other boy puts his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, quieting the crowd.

“Here’s to the first party of many this year for Chi Alpha Omega. As the president for this year, hope to see all of you underclassmen at rush in the spring.” Evan grins, and Nick hates that the other boy is so charismatic, everyone in the room turning to hang on to his every word. “And to kick off a good night, how about yours truly start off a round of body shots?” The crowd hoots and hollers. “First up, my newest friend, Nick.” He feels himself outright blushing this time, Evan looking downwards to wink at him, some of the people in the front of the crowd turning to stare.

He startles as Evan jumps down from the ping pong table, landing unevenly, grabbing on to his shoulder for balance before scooting back on to the table to take a seat, his legs hanging off the edge. “How about it, baby?”

And he’s about to object, but his mind goes completely blank as Evan crosses his arms over his chest, gripping the hem of his t-shirt in order to pull it up over his head, the other boy’s arm muscles tightening. The skin above Evan’s jeans comes into view first, the white band of the other boy’s Calvin Klein boxers just peeking out from the top, a sharp contrast from the smooth tan of Evan’s skin on top and the black of his jeans on the bottom. Nick can see a glimpse of the other boy’s hip bones, sharp and defined, and his gaze trails further upward to his belly button, abs slightly visible as Evan moves, and all the way up to the other boy’s chest.

But it’s the tattoo that makes Nick stop breathing.

It’s intricate, clearly well done and by a tattoo artist that cares about how the finished product looks, a revolver with its barrel pointing downwards, the tip disappearing under the white of the other boy’s boxers. And Nick doesn’t think he’s ever had a specific thing for guns. But fuck. Because he wants to think that he’s better than this, better than having the only thought running through his head being it’s pointing to his cock. And the overwhelming urge to find out just exactly how true it is.

“You’re up, baby.” The words make Nick snap his glance upwards, tearing his gaze away from the ink on the other boy’s skin, the embarrassment flitting through him as he realizes how long he had been staring, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Evan, who is grinning at him, definitely amused. He’s already poured the shot, messily spilling at least two shot’s worth of vodka on the ping pong table, and Nick experiences a stroke of utter insanity, the words coming out before he can stop them.

“You should probably clean that up.”

“Hmm, maybe later.”

“It’s going to get sticky.”

“Maybe I like sticky.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that the whole scene is probably bizarre as fuck, talking about cleaning while the whole room is waiting for him to take a shot off a boy he doesn’t even know. But Nick feels as if he’s in a haze, entirely blocking out the rest of the room as Evan crooks a finger at him, motioning for him to get closer, the other boy’s legs parting on the table, stretching apart to give him room to fit in between, and Nick is uncomfortably aware of Evan’s jeans, the material stretching over the other’s boy’s thighs, even tighter now that Evan is sitting.

“Come.”

He comes.

The shiver of arousal runs through him as he gets closer, coming up to the edge of the table, Evan winking at him as he squeezes Nick’s sides slightly with his thighs, making the feeling curl deliciously in his groin. And the other boy lies down slowly, not breaking eye contact with Nick as he does, and god help him, because it only makes the outline of the other boy’s abs deepen. Fuck. The shot glass is placed right over Evan’s belly button, wobbling as the other boy breathes in and out, and Nick winces as Evan starts off a chant of encouragement.

“Drink, drink, drink.”

Fuck it, it’s just one shot.

He doesn’t try to overthink it, leaning down with his head to clumsily grasp the shot glass with his mouth, intending on throwing his head back and downing the vodka all at once. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything as he braces his palms against the other boy’s thighs, enjoying the feeling of muscle underneath his hands. But he’s not used to the motion, not able to use his hands, and he ends up spilling half of it, feeling Evan’s thighs tense around his waist as the cold liquid hits the other boy’s bare skin, some of the vodka settling into the crevices of Evan’s abs, already starting to slide off his body.

Nick doesn’t know why he does it.

But the next instant, his tongue is on Evan’s skin, feeling the other boy tense as he does it, licking the rest of the vodka off of the other boy, the feeling of burning still in the back of his throat from the half he does drink, dipping his tongue in to run along the grooves of Evan’s abs, the slight saltiness of the other boy’s sweat mixing with the taste of alcohol. And he’s pressing half-kisses, half sloppy licks against the other boy’s skin, the tips of his fingers reaching upwards from where they’re resting against Evan’s thighs to brush against the boy’s sharp hipbones, an inch or so above his jeans.

As he dips his tongue into his belly button, Evan bucks his hips upwards, the wanting movement making the arousal go straight to his cock. And he tells himself it’s because he’s trying to clean every last bit of vodka off of Evan’s body, but it isn’t the alcohol giving him a high as he runs the tip of his tongue slowly down the barrel of the gun tattoo that Evan has, the thought of going further and further down until he reaches the other boy’s cock making him hot and dizzy. The thought of Evan holding his head down and tugging on his hair as he gives the other boy a blowjob. Further, further. Evan squirms as he licks his way downwards over the exposed skin, and Nick wonders if it tickles, his nose already nudging the edge of the other boy’s boxers.

A bad fucking idea.

And he’s just about to pull away, the feeling of regret mixed with horror hitting him as he surfaces from his reckless decision, half-aware that they’re still in a very public room for the first time since Evan had told him Come, when he feels it. Evan half-hard against his palm, his hand accidentally brushing too close to the other boy’s inner thighs as he tries to move back, and before he can process that fact, everything around him moves.

Nick yelps as he feels Evan’s hands on the back of his thighs, dangerously close to his ass, and he’s suddenly being lifted up into the air, his legs coming up to wrap themselves around the other boy’s waist, his hands grabbing at Evan’s shoulders to balance himself. He vaguely hears the sound of catcalls coming from the crowd, his head falling forward, his face buried into the crook of the other boy’s neck, the smell of beer in Evan’s hair and that smell of wood and vanilla. A few quick strides, and Nick finds his back up against the wall for the second time tonight, Evan’s hips pressed into him, grinding him up against the wall as he plants kisses against Nick’s neck.

The other boy is definitely completely hard now, the feeling against his thigh each time Evan moves his hips making the arousal tighten in Nick’s groin. And it’s a fleeting thought, that he is grateful for wearing a white tank top, giving Evan free access, the other boy’s tongue darting out to run itself along the top of Nick’s collarbones, sucking likely-to-be-hickeys into his skin hungrily.

His fingers curl themselves into the other boy’s hair for purchase, needing something to grab onto as he writhes in Evan’s embrace, his eyes closed, his breath coming out ragged. An unbidden moan comes forth as he feels Evan sneak his hands underneath his tank top, the other boy’s fingers splayed against the skin at his waist, his thumbs digging into the spot just above his hipbones. Evan’s hands feel hot against his skin, burning into him more than he thought possible, and Nick’s eyes flutter open only to remember that everyone is still there, that they’re not alone.

“W-wait,” The words come out weakly in between little pants and far too soft for Evan to hear anyway, and Nick wonders if the idea of the other boy fucking him against the wall in front of a crowd of people should turn him on as much as it does. Fuck.

“Get a fucking room!”

The loud jeer seems to snap Evan out of it, the other boy stopping his attack against Nick’s neck long enough for him to catch his breath. Most of the room has gone back to whatever they were doing before, and it’s nearly impossible to pick out whoever had yelled it. “Don’t mind if I do.” Evan grins at him, not waiting for a proper response. “Hold on.” Nick just manages to get his arms around Evan’s shoulders before the other boy starts moving, hoisting him up slightly to get a better grip on the underside of his thighs, Evan’s chin nestled into his shoulder, the other boy’s breathing hot on his neck.

The sounds of the party slowly start to fade away as they ascend the stairs to the second floor, the stairway narrow and not lit, and Nick winces as he is jostled against the wall a few times on their way up, Evan’s steps not as steady he would have hoped. All he can hear now is the other boy’s breathing, slow and deep, the sound comforting, and Nick breathes in and out to match the other boy’s. I wonder if Madi was right, and I’m his type.  And he’s sure that he’s Evan’s type physically, the whole display downstairs has convinced him of that, but for the first (okay, maybe second or third) time tonight, he has the niggling suspicion that he might like it if he is Evan’s type for more, the way the other boy puts him at ease so naturally and effortlessly perhaps giving him more butterflies than he’d care to admit.

His mind unwillingly flashes him scenes on what it would be like dating Evan. Would he like his eggs scrambled or poached? What shows would they binge together? Would Evan show him off to his frat brothers?

Evan licks a stripe behind his ear where he’s most sensitive. Ah, fuck it. Who cares about dating? Nick knows he’s going to get fucked till he forgets his own name tonight.  

tags: @thenickgirl @mybelovednick @sukiipjs

[drabbles-mc]

Ever the Gentleman

Jax Teller x OC Natasha Moreno

Summary: When Natasha came back to Charming after hitting more than a few bumps in the road, she hadn't been ready to see Jax again. Things were complicated enough without all her old feelings bubbling up to the surface again. But all it took was one little look from Jax for her to know that she was just as done for now as she had been back then.

Warnings: 18+, light angst, smut, language, alcohol

Written for the First Time Exchange 2024

Word Count: 10.1k

A/N: Picked up this as a pinch hit in an exchange and thought i was just gonna write a quick little story about childhood friends seeing each other after a long time away and suddenly it was 10k and i didn't know what i was doing with myself anymore lmfao. Anyway!! Hope y'all enjoy!

The bike he saw when he pulled into the gas station wasn’t one that he recognized. It wasn’t a Harley, not like the bike any of the guys in the club rode. It was sleeker, sportier than that. The type of thing that could easily slice through traffic and lanes on the highway if someone was feeling brave enough. Even parked underneath the half-shade by the gas pump, enough light still hit it to cast a glint off the clean black paintjob.

The bell on the frame chimed as he walked in. The young girl behind the counter looked up, a smile instantly spreading across her face when she saw that it was Jax who had entered. She nodded in greeting before getting back to making change for the customer standing in front of her, an older gentleman who wasn’t nearly as enamored by who had just strode through the door.

When he reached the back wall where all of the refrigerators were situated, racks of soda and beer and water bottles, he gave himself a couple seconds to see if he really wanted anything before turning to look and see who else was standing there. Any thoughts of playing it cool or casual disappeared when he saw the woman standing hardly two yards away from him.

She looked different now, although he supposed that he didn’t look the same as when he graduated high school either. Some days it felt like it was just yesterday even though it wasn’t. Her hair was longer now than it had been back then, blonde and light brown highlights breaking up the long dark waves that fell down past her shoulders. The tattoos were new. Or, at least, Jax didn’t remember her having any that he could see back then—that hadn’t been quite her style. He could see some of them poking out now, though, ink spilling out from beneath her rolled up sleeves, peaking out from under the crop-top that she was wearing. They stood out against her tanned skin that was somehow even more sun kissed than it had been before. He wondered what the full picture of them was.

She wasn’t paying him any mind as he took another step closer to her. She was reaching to pull the door to one of the refrigerator sections open when Jax finally decided that it was time to speak up. “Well, well, well,” he said with a chuckle as he continued to collapse the distance between them, “if it isn’t little miss Natty Ice.”

Her head snapped in his direction, the anger on her face changing to a smile and then feigned annoyance when she saw who it was that was speaking to her. She braced her hand flat against the door that she’d been thinking about opening. “Most people these days just call me Natasha, you know.” She tried to sound bothered but a smile was still fighting to curl the ends of her lips.

The smirk on his face was familiar, and the jury was out on if that was a welcome familiarity or not. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He leaned against the door next to the one she was about to open, the flannel he was wearing underneath his kutte protecting him from the cold glass.

Natasha made a point to look him up and down slowly. Her eyes lingered longer on his kutte than almost anything else, at least until she was looking him in the eyes. “Something tells me you’ve been having plenty of fun, Jackson.”

Jax chuckled and shook his head. “Lotta shit might’ve changed since you left, but it’s still only my mom who calls me that.” There was a pause, just the two of them taking each other in a little longer before he said, “So?”

She tilted her head in the opposite direction, brows pulling towards each other in confusion. “So...?”

He pushed himself back off the door. “So what’s the hot shot doing back here in little old Charming? Thought you were outta here for good.”

She scoffed and shook her head. Finally pulling the door open, she grabbed a bottle of soda from the top shelf. “Yeah, you and me both.” She let the door fall shut, allowing it to bounce from the force before it settled before turning so that she was facing him again. “Getting laid off tends to throw a wrench in the plans, though.”

The smug look on Jax’s face disappeared instantly. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” she dragged the word out long enough to get chuckles out of both of them. Clearing her throat, she said, “Well, it was good catching up. I’ll see—”

“Oh come on,” he cut her off, laughing. “How long you even been back? How long you been dodging me?”

She shook her head at him as she started to walk towards the front of the store to cash out. “You think an awful lot of yourself if you think that’s why you haven’t seen me since I’ve been home.”

“Yeah? How long has that been, then?” He popped up next to her at the cash register, gently nudging her to the side before talking to the girl behind the counter. “I got hers. Just grab me a pack of—”

“The usual,” she finished for him with a tiny smile and a nod. “You got it.”

Natasha rolled her eyes so hard Jax was surprised that they didn’t get stuck in the back of her head. It didn’t stop him from continuing his usual song and dance as he put a couple bills on the counter. He flashed the girl a smile as she gave him his pack of smokes. “Thanks, darlin’.”

Natasha was shaking her head at Jax, but still gave the girl a sincere, albeit far less flirtatious, thank you before carrying right on towards the door. It was only when Jax caught up to her, catching the door that she was about to let slam shut in his face, that she said, “Can’t believe you’re still at it with that whole schtick.”

He laughed, shrugging as he tucked the cigarettes away in his kutte. “Hey, if it ain’t broke.” The two of them were standing just to the side of the door when he repeated his question one more time.

She didn’t bother waiting for him as she started walking off towards the gas pumps. Jax watched her for a second before he got his feet to start moving. “Hey, wait up.” She stopped and turned, waiting for him to close the gap between them. Once he did, the usual smug expression on his face dimmed, something slightly more genuine taking its place. “What’s going on with you?”

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He chuckled. “C’mon, Natty—you’re still not that good of a liar.”

“I haven’t lied to you yet.”

“No?” he asked, his tone goading in a way that was impossible to miss. When she just shook her head in response, a neutral expression on her face, Jax figured it was as good of a time as any to nettle her. “You miss me?”

Another eye roll. Another step farther away from him. “Oh fuck off.”

He laughed as he kept stride with her. “C’mon. How long you been gone? You’re not a little happy to see me?”

She stopped by the bike that was still parked by the gas pump. “I’m ecstatic,” she answered, her tone flat but there was still a glimmer in her eyes giving her away.

It took Jax a couple seconds longer than it should have to put it all together. He watched as she took another sip of her soda before shoving the bottle into the backpack that was resting on the seat of the bike. He looked back and forth between her and the bike a couple times before he said anything. His brain trying to sync up the mental image of who she was before she left Charming to the woman who was standing in front of him now.

Natasha watched him process his way through it all, too. She didn’t say anything about it as she pulled the straps of her backpack back onto her shoulders. She felt the way Jax was watching her in what almost seemed like awe as she slipped her hands into the gloves that she wore to ride. Not that she gave it too much thought, but she was fairly certain that there hadn’t ever been a time in history when he stared at her like that. She would’ve noticed, would’ve remembered.

When she reached for her helmet, that’s when Jax got himself to speak up. “How many times did Ope and I try to get you on the backs of our bikes and you said no? Now you’re—”

“To be fair,” she cut him off, propping her helmet on her hip as she spoke, “I still wouldn’t get on the back of either of your bikes.”

He chuckled, holding his hands out innocently. “Why not?”

She didn’t dignify the question with a response, instead swinging her leg over the bike to start getting situated. She still hadn’t put her helmet on yet—once she did that Jax knew it meant she was going to be jetting off whether he had said his piece or not.

“Where you staying now, anyway?” he asked.

She shrugged, the expression on her face not exactly an excited one. “Back home. Just until I figure out what my next move is. I didn’t wanna sign a lease on a place if I’m just going to be moving again in another month or two.”

“Bet your mom is—”

“Way too excited about it, yeah,” she finished the sentence for him with a laugh. There was a beat of a pause, both of them waiting to see if the other was going to say anything more. The feeling, the slight flutter in her chest, it was kicking up a feeling of dejavu that she hadn’t experienced yet in her two weeks at home. Clearing her throat, she decided that enough was enough for now. “Well, it was good seeing you. I gotta run, though. I’ll see you around?”

“You should come by the clubhouse,” he offered with a grin. “Got the bike now and everything.”

She shook her head before pulling her helmet on. Sliding the face shield up, she said, “Hard pass. Thanks though.”

“C'mon. Ope and Donna will be there.”

She gripped onto the handlebars, leaning forward to brace against them. “Yeah? Tara too?”

It was the first time Jax faltered throughout their entire conversation. “No, no. Tara took off, shit,” his hand rested on the back of his neck for a moment, “couple months after you, actually.”

She frowned in thought for a moment, the expression partially obscured by her helmet. It wasn’t the response that she had been expecting from him. She was caught between shock and a tiny shred of relief, immediately followed by guilt over her initial reaction. Regardless, it wasn’t going to change her answer to the question.

“Right,” the word came out sounding jilted, forced in a way that the rest of their conversation hadn’t been. “Well, either way,” she shook her head, “still isn’t my scene.” She brought her bike to life and Jax took a tiny step back out of habit. “I’ll see you.”

He cracked a grin as he watched her slide her face shield back down. “I’m sure you will.”

~*~

It was a couple days later when her mother knocked on her bedroom door. Natasha looked up from her laptop screen, a welcome break from the dozen or so tabs open of different jobs she was thinking of applying for. “Yeah?”

Her mom held out the phone, a landline that Natasha was willing to bet money only ever had incoming calls from her when she lived out of state. “For you.”

She cocked her head in confusion but reached out and took the phone. She said a quick and quiet thank you to her mother before bringing the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Never got your number,” Jax’s voice came through with a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Had to go digging but I figured your parents never got rid of the house phone.”

“Creatures of habit, all of you.” She laughed quietly.  “What’s with the house call, then?”

“You didn’t wanna come by the clubhouse—how else was I supposed to talk to you?”

Natasha shook her head even though he couldn’t see it, placing her laptop off to the side of her on the bed. She allowed herself to flop back onto her mattress, her head not even reaching her pillow with the way that she was laying. “I guess I didn’t think that you’d wanna talk to me that bad. Never called me up while I was gone.”

“Didn’t have your number then either,” he quipped.

She hummed in acknowledgment. “I guess not.” She paused, waiting for him to speak up. When he didn’t, she had to laugh. “Figured if you made the effort to call, you’d at least have a conversation in mind.”

“Wanna grab a drink?”

“That depends,” she said, letting the back of her hand that wasn’t holding the phone rest against her forehead. “Do you know a place to get a drink that’s not on the Sons compound?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I think I could figure something out.”

“Can’t wait to see it, then.”

“You gonna give me your number so I don’t have to go through your mom every time I wanna talk to you?”

Natasha laughed hard enough that it took her a moment to be able to respond. “Too much like old times?”

“Nah, I don’t even think I had to do that when it was old times.”

Her laughter quieted into a hum. “Should’a called more.” There was a beat of silence and she cleared her throat. “Anyway. Got a pen or something ready? I’m only gonna tell you once.”

She knew that she shouldn’t have felt excited to go and see him. It wasn’t just the joy of getting back in touch with old friends, although there was that part of it too. But she also knew that, for all the time that she’d been out of Charming and away from Jax, for all the ways that she had changed over the years, there was still something to be said for the fact that she was going to be meeting up to grab drinks with Jackson Teller, the boy she spent three out of the four years of high school being infatuated with. He'd felt so unobtainable then—still did, in a lot of ways. But the stakes were different now. They were older. He was, presumably, single. But she also knew that she didn’t really know him anymore, or him her. A lot could’ve changed in the time that she’d been gone. A lot had changed, at least for her. Even knowing all of that, though, she still felt a warmth spreading across her face as she grabbed the keys to her bike to go and meet him. Plenty of things had changed but apparently some things still hadn’t, no matter the front that she put on.

She spotted his bike when she pulled up outside the bar. She parked her bike right next to his, smiling to herself at the differences between the two. She’d gotten her bike during her second year of college, a decision that nearly gave her mother a heart attack but there was no going back on it once it was done. The argument then was that her parents weren’t going to have to watch her ride around on it anyway, so they didn’t have to worry. Natasha was surprised, really, at how little grief her mother had given her about it since she came back home. Too many other things going on.

Natasha couldn’t deny that she was a little surprised by the choice in venue. It wasn’t high-class by any means, which she was thankful for because she certainly hadn’t dressed the part for that. But it wasn’t really a dive bar, either. It wasn’t like the clubhouse—more orderly than places like that. The music was loud enough so keep people from eavesdropping on conversations, but not so loud that you couldn’t hear the person sitting across the table from you. The most surprising part of it all to Natasha was the fact that the place was well-lit. She didn’t picture Jax hanging out in bars that you didn’t have to squint to see in.

She saw him sitting at a two-top just a couple feet from the bar. He was already looking at her when she saw him, that same smirk on his face. He had a glass of beer in front of him, which he lifted in greeting once she saw him. She gave a small wave and a nod before going over to the bar.

Once she told the girl behind the bar what beer she wanted, she asked, “Did my friend over there open a tab?” The woman nodded and Natasha cracked a smile. “First one’s on him, then.” She swiped the glass off the bar-top. “Thank you.”

Natasha walked over to the table where Jax was sitting. He was watching her, a smirk on his face as she got situated and took a sip of her drink. “Glad you found it.”

Natasha laughed, leaning forward and bracing her arms on the tabletop. “What’s a guy like you doing in a nice place like this?”

He shook his head at her. “Figured it might be more your speed.”

She smiled. “That’s fair. Just, you know,” she took another sip, “surprised they let you in the door.”

He rolled his eyes but he was still smiling. “I know a guy.”

She laughed. “You always do.”

The conversation picked up and Natasha found herself waiting for it to get uncomfortable, but it didn’t. She asked about Opie, a little bit about the club, the things that she was part of back when she still lived in Charming. They dug up just enough old memories to laugh at without getting too caught up in it all. There was a familiarity there between them that she didn’t remember having with him before. Maybe there were always too many other people around. This was one of the first times that she didn’t feel like she was fighting for his attention—teenage Natasha would’ve been over the moon about it.

Jax asked her about her parents. He saw them around every now and again but it wasn’t like they ever really made the time to talk and catch up—the only thing they really had in common was Natasha and that might’ve been stretching it a bit on his part. He asked her about school even though it was too little too late. He wanted to ask about work, about what had happened, but he didn’t know if he could.

“You figure out if you’re gonna stick around?” he asked, figuring it was as safe of a question as any.

She laughed. “In the two days since I last saw you? No, no I haven’t figured that out yet.”

He smiled, blue eyes brighter than they had any right to be. “I could get you a job at T-M if you want.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jax—”

“What? It’s basically the same thing, right? Should be easier, actually. Car engines are way smaller than plane engines.”

Natasha was trying not to laugh and failing. “They’re not the same at all, actually. But even if they were,” she finished off her beer, “it’s not like you could afford me anyway.”

Jax had a smirk on his face as he swirled around what little was still left in his glass. “You’re the one living with Mom and Dad, so I dunno. I don’t think you can afford you either.”

She scoffed in mock offense. “Fuck you.”

He laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just callin’ ‘em like I see ‘em, Natty. Don’t get mad at me about it.”

She pushed her empty glass towards him. “I might be willing to forgive you if you get me another round.”

Jax didn’t even bother putting up a fight about it. He finished off his drink in one swig before getting up out of his chair. He grabbed his empty glass and Natasha’s, heading off towards the bar with a, “Coming right up,” as he went. Natasha laughed, shaking her head at him. She couldn’t help but to watch him as he sauntered up to the bar. She watched the way that the bartender was all smiles and batting eyelashes as Jax spoke to her. Everywhere Natasha went she seemed to be reminded that certain things about Jax didn’t change, and probably never would.

The flutters in her stomach were dampened by the knot that was starting to form. Part of it was Jax, the brutal reminder that he hadn’t given her any undivided attention back then, probably still wouldn’t be able to give it to her now. The other part of it, though, had nothing to do with Jax and everything to do with the series of events that led to her coming back home. It hadn’t been her choice, and it hadn’t been anything as simple as getting laid off from her job. No one really knew that, though. She tried not to think about it all if she could help it, but something about the butterflies in her stomach when she looked at Jax made it hard to forget.

When Jax turned back around to bring their drinks, he saw the change in expression on Natasha’s face. He cocked his head to the side as he walked back over, a wordless ask of what was wrong. Natasha gave an equally wordless answer by simply shaking her head. Jax wanted to press it as he set the glass down in front of her, but he stopped himself.

She nodded towards the bartender. “That the uh,” she took a sip of her beer, “guy you know?”

He cracked a grin. “Not quite.”

She shrugged. “Just seemed awfully friendly.”

His smile split a little wider. “I’m just a friendly guy.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and yet still found herself smiling. “One of your many endearing qualities.”

“So they say.” He paused, taking a drink. “What’s your deal these days anyway? You got a boyfriend you’re gonna bring back to Charming too?”

She laughed. “Please. If I had a boyfriend I would not be letting him inside county lines.”

“Why not? Afraid he can handle Natasha but not Natty?”

She waved him off with a laugh. “Fuck off.”

There was still a smirk on his face as he studied her expression. “I can’t tell if you’re lying to me or not just to save yourself some of the trouble.” He sipped on his drink. “Or save your boyfriend the trouble, at least.”

She crossed her arms and rested them on the table. “I’m not lying. Even when I was living out in San Antonio I never really had a boyfriend.” She saw the surprised look on Jax’s face and shook her head to emphasize her point. “I went on a couple dates with a couple guys but never…I don’t know,” she shrugged, “never really wanted to get to know anyone like that.”

“One less thing tryna pull you outta here, then,” he joked.

She laughed. “Of course.”

He leaned back in his chair. “What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.” She sighed, propping her chin into the palm of her hand as she continued, diverting the conversation just slightly. “Besides, considering I seem to be blacklisted from most places, I might not have any other choice.”

Jax’s eyes popped wider in shock. “No way. C’mon, there’s no way you did anything that bad.” He paused, waiting for her to argue with him. “What’d you do? Knife somebody?”

She barked out a laugh, and it at least eased the tension. “No, I did not knife somebody. Jesus.”

“Then what was it?”

“Nothing.”

“You can’t tease me with that and then not follow through.”

She cocked one eyebrow at him. “I don’t think that you have the right to give anyone shit about teasing.”

“Fine. But if the feds come knockin’ on my door I might just rat you out.”

She smiled and took another sip of her drink. “I’ll take my chances.”

Natasha thought that that was going to be it, that it was going to be the thing that did them in and doomed them to a night of uncomfortable conversation. But Jax didn’t seem too offput by it. She figured that given the club and everything they got involved in, Jax was probably no stranger to secrets by this point. He picked another topic and they carried right on, but she could feel that there was a gravity that hadn’t been there before.

Jax squared up his tab and the two of them walked out together. He couldn’t help the grin on his face when he saw that Natasha had parked her bike right next to his. He never would’ve thought in a million years that she would be the one out of their group of friends to turn up on two wheels instead of four. Somehow it felt fitting.

“Back to Mom and Dad’s?” Jax asked as he leaned back against his bike.

Natasha laughed as she nodded, pulling on her gloves once more. “Well, I’m certainly not gonna sleep on the street. My childhood bedroom that’s packed full of boxes of shit from my apartment is still somehow preferable to that.”

He lit a cigarette, letting it casually hang from his lips as he asked, “Wanna come over to my place?” He saw the pointed look she gave him and held up his hands innocently, cigarette between his fingers. “Just for a drink.”

She was still shaking her head at him as she swung her leg over her bike. “You’ve had it too easy around here, Jackson.”

“Anytime you wanna stop by—”

His sentence was cut short by the sound of her bike engine, and even though they couldn’t hear each other over the noise of it, they both knew that the other was laughing. Once her bike quieted down, she said, “Night, Jax.”

He watched her roll back and get ready to jet off again. “Next round’s on you!”

She smiled before bringing her face shield down. “We’ll see.”

~*~

As one week turned into two, and Natasha was coming to grips with the fact that she had been back in Charming for an entire month and still had yet to make any headway on getting a job in-town, or hearing back from the places that she had applied to out of town, she realized that she was talking to Jax more than she was talking to most other people. Even if it wasn’t every day. The longer she stayed, the more familiar faces she saw. She didn’t know if she should feel comforted by the sameness of it all, by how many people were still there, by the fact that she was fading right back into things even though she’d been gone for so long.

Despite the calls and texts that they’d been exchanging, the casual comfort of having someone to talk to that wasn’t her parents, Natasha still found herself hesitating when he reached out and invited her over again. He hadn’t brought it up again since the night that they went to the bar. Held his tongue on it even when Natasha had stopped by T-M to see if they could give her bike an oil change.

“You’re tellin’ me that you don’t wanna get out of the house for a little while?” he joked when he heard her hesitation on the line. “Get out of the maze of cardboard boxes?”

Natasha laughed at that. She couldn’t deny the fact that it would be good to get out of the house. It didn’t feel suffocating the same way it had when she was a kid, but still she only wanted to stare at the same four walls for so long.

“Fine.” She could hear the smug victory in his voice before he even spoke, so she tried to catch him before he started. “But only because I don’t think I could survive sitting at the dinner table with you and my parents.”

Jax chuckled. “What’re you talking about? Moms love me.”

Natasha gave a playful scoff. “Yeah, that’s a whole separate problem.”

The sun was just starting to set when she pulled up to the house that night. She saw the lights on in the windows, and something about it felt so homey in contrast to the bike parked out front, in contrast to the man that she knew was living there now.

Walking up to the front door, she knocked and waited. She couldn’t hear anything coming from inside, no music or television. She was looking back over her shoulder when the door opened, revealing Jax in just his jeans and one of the seemingly countless Samcro shirts that he had. It briefly crossed Natasha’s mind that this was the first time since she’d been home that she saw him without his kutte on. He looked more like how she remembered him.

Jax’s house was about what Natasha had been expecting—a bachelor pad. Motorcycle posters and Harley paraphernalia scattered around and on the walls. She had the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that the matching, and fairly nice, furniture wasn’t picked out by Jax himself. That kind of thing had Gemma written all over it, but at least it meant that he didn’t have patio furniture in his living room and a mattress on the bedroom floor with no bed frame.

When they walked into the kitchen, Natasha saw the takeout containers on the table. There was only one place in town that had good Chinese takeout, and as far as she knew it was still the same family running it as it had been when she was a kid. Suddenly she realized how long ago lunch had been.

“Did me the kindness of not cooking for me, I see,” she joked as she stepped up to the table.

Jax chuckled as he opened the refrigerator. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He handed her a beer before sitting down across the table from her with his own. Natasha watched him as he dug through the pile of silverware and sauce packets. She chuckled when he decided to forego the chopsticks and grabbed a fork instead.

The conversation started off with her asking if anything of note had happened at the shop. She’d been making it a point to not ask to much about the club—anything that she knew about any of it was because Jax had decided to tell her, not because she had pried it out of him. The question, though, was met with his usual rebuttal of, “You’d know what went down if you just let me hook you up with a job there.”

She shook her head as she deftly pulled noodles from the takeout box and placed them on her plate. “I told you, I’m not doing that. If I do that,” she shook her head, “then it’s like I’m committing to staying in Charming forever.”

Jax chuckled as she handed the box over to him. “And that’s the worst thing in the world?”

“Not the worst. I just, I don’t know, I loved being out in San Antonio I guess. It was great until it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, what happened with that anyway?” He took a bite of his rice. “You never told me.”

She shook her head. “Never told anyone, really.”

“So?” he asked, food tucked in his cheek. “What’s the deal?”

She sighed, slumping back in her chair. “Do we have to get into this right now?”

“What? Come on, you’ve been all mysterious about it—can’t expect me not to ask.”

“Can I at least eat my dinner in peace?”

Jax let slip a smirk as he nodded. The two of them shifted to silence for a couple minutes as they started to eat. He met her halfway at least, telling her about the antics that Tig and Juice had gotten into at T-M that day.

The two of them made it through dinner without it coming up again. Jax had started to accept the fact that she wasn’t going to tell him. He was ready to accept the fact that she wasn’t ever going to tell him. They were cleaning up, tossing the empty takeout boxes in the garbage and putting the plates in the dishwasher. It was only when she let the lid drop closed on the garbage can that she spoke up about the topic that she’d been dodging with Jax, with everyone since she came home.

“I got blacklisted out in San Antonio.”

He was placing the last plate in the dishwasher when she said it. Turning to face her, he raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“After they fired me,” she explained as she went to the fridge to grab another beer, “they pretty much put a notice out to everywhere I tried to go to next telling them not to take me on.”

“Shit,” he said, closing the dishwasher. “What the hell did you do?”

“Depends on who you ask. You ask my old boss and he’ll say that I assaulted a coworker.”

He came and stood, leaning back against the counter right next to where she was standing. “And if I ask you?”

“I’d say that I popped some guy in the jaw because he tried to put his hands on me after I told him to back off.”

Jax’s eyes widened, not expecting that to be what she said. “Jesus Christ.”

She shook her head, a bitter expression on her face as she took another sip of her beer. “Yeah. We worked on the same crew for almost two years. Thought we were friends, but…” she shrugged, knowing there was nothing to do about it now.

“You tell your boss what—”

“You know how tough it was to even get that job in the first place? The shit I had to go through there when I got hired? When I was in school?” She scoffed. “Yeah, I told him. But it’s a boy’s club over there—I never stood a chance.”

“Who was he?”

She chuckled, looking over at him. “Why? You gonna ride across state lines to beat the shit out of him?”

He allowed himself a small smile. “I would if you wanted me to.”

The laugh she let out had a little bit of heaviness lurking beneath it. “Jax Teller, ever the gentleman.”

He smirked. “Last man keeping chivalry alive.”

When the silence crept back in, it was the first time that Jax really felt how much older they both were now. Charming sometimes had a bit of a Neverland quality to it—even when people grew up it didn’t really feel like they did. But hearing what had happened, seeing the look on her face, suddenly he felt the years that had passed.

Natasha saw him trying to think of something else to say so she decided to save him the trouble. “So that’s why I’m home.” She chuckled awkwardly, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s also why I haven’t told anyone the real reasons why I’m home.”

“Not even your parents?”

She shook her head. “What’re they gonna do about it? Besides feel bad? Or,” she laughed weakly, “or lock me up in my room at home?”

Jax relaxed against the counter, a move that caused his side to be pressing up against hers. He knew that she had a point, that even if she gave her parents all the details of what had happened to her, it wasn’t going to change the outcome. He also remembered, way back when, that her parents hadn’t wanted her to leave. They said it was a big scary world out there and they didn’t want her getting lost in it—Natasha didn’t want to let them think that they were right.

She saw the way that his face was shifting, and not for the first or last time she wished that she could read his mind. Trying to ease the tension, she took another sip of her beer and nudged his shoulder with hers. “You look like you’re thinking way too hard over there.”

“You really don’t wanna stay?”

She shrugged, what little humor was in her face fading as she answered. “There’s no way to stay here and do what I want to do. And, even with everything,” she turned and placed her empty beer bottle on the counter behind them, “that happened, I don’t think I want to give it up.”

“No?”

“The work wasn’t the issue. And, shit, I’m good at my job. I just need to find somewhere with people who aren’t total scumbags.” She raked her hands back through her hair. “And that seems to be a tall order.”

“You really wouldn’t want to do anything different? I’m sure you could—”

“Why?”

Jax’s brows knit together, confusion all over his face at her interruption. “What do you mean?”

Natasha took a small step away from him, turning so that they were facing each other head-on. “Why do you want me to stay so bad? You didn’t care when I left before.” She’d thought it plenty of times before, but that was the first time she’d ever said the words out loud and all the emotions she felt all those years ago came back with a vengeance.

“You don’t know that.”

She laughed, but it was a sad sound. “I think I do. You hardly noticed when I was there, let alone when I was gone.”

He reached out, trying to catch her hand with his own. “Nat, c’mon, I—”

“No.” She yanked her hand away and started to turn to leave, not ready or willing to deal with the feelings that had been lying dormant for so long. “You don’t get to do this to me again.”

Jax quickly caught up to her. His hand landed on her shoulder, pulling and making her turn around to face him. “Hey! Hold on. What the hell are you talking about?”

She shook her head, not forcing herself to make eye contact with him. “Nothing. Just forget it.”

“No. You don’t get to say something like that to me and then just storm out.” He allowed her to shrug off his grasp. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Natasha was silent for a moment. She was staring intently at Jax, eyes flicking back and forth between his as she tried to figure out how little he knew, how honest he was being. She found it so hard to believe that he never knew how she felt, but looking at the confusion, the hurt on his face, for a moment she wasn’t quite so sure.

“You really don’t know? You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

“That I spent almost all of high school in love with you!” She shook her head, raking her nails back along her scalp. “Jesus Christ, Jax. I know you were a little preoccupied but you can’t really expect me to believe that you never—”

“I didn’t. I didn’t know.”

She scoffed, wishing that the soft, sad look in his eyes would go away. “Not like it would’ve mattered anyway.”

Out of instinct Jax reached out for her. “Natty—”

She took another step back before he could get to her. Ignoring the tears in her eyes she started to all but book it towards the door. “I gotta go.”

Jax wanted to go after her but he knew that it wouldn’t do any good. After a couple seconds he heard the sound of his front door slamming shut, the sound making him flinch. He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment as he tried to work his way through what had just happened.

Natasha just tried to focus on the sound of her motorcycle’s engine and the road stretching out in front of her. She tried not to think about the tears on her cheeks or the way that her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. Or the look on Jax’s face when he heard what she’d said to him. She went a little faster, the roar of her bike getting a little louder to drown it all out as she took the long way home.

~*~

All of Jax’s calls had been going to voicemail after that. He texted her only to get no response. Every now and then he’d hear her bike or see her whipping down main street. She hadn’t stopped by the shop in the week since she stormed out of his house.

There had been part of him that wanted to stop by her parents’ house but with what little impulse control he had, he knew that it wasn’t going to do him any favors. He didn’t want to corner her—all he wanted to do was talk.

Underneath the embarrassment and hurt that was aching in Natasha’s chest, the sense of restlessness that she’d felt since she came home had increased ten-fold. The only upside, not that she was sure if she’d call it that just yet, was that in her moment of crisis she had sent out a whole other wave of applications to places out of the county, out of the state. That didn’t mean that there was any guarantee that any of those places were going to call her back, but the indecision between staying home and taking off again disappeared. Or, at least, it had until her emotions slowly started to settle, but by then the damage was already done.

It had been just shy of a week when she rolled back into Jax’s driveway. She hadn’t even listened to any of the voicemails that he’d left for her. She saw the texts but still hadn’t responded. She hadn’t even bothered to reach out and let him know that she had decided to stop by. The way she saw it, the worst-case scenario was that he’d just send her away.

He was opening the front door before she even had the chance to knock. He didn’t bother trying to hide his surprise at her sudden appearance on his front steps. The feeling was mutual as Natasha stood there staring at him in nothing but his jeans, hair still wet from the shower as he clutched what appeared to be a t-shirt in his hand. There was a moment of tense silence, neither of them really up for forcing an awkward greeting as they stood in the doorway. Without a word, Jax opened the door a little wider for her and she stepped inside.

He led the way, pulling the t-shirt on as he did, and Natasha tried to lie to herself about how intently she watched that happen. She was the one who broke the silence when they reached the kitchen. “Sorry to just drop in.”

He shook his head as he turned back around to face her. “No you’re not.” There was no malice in his voice, but there wasn’t humor either. Both of them still testing the waters.

She hummed quietly in response. “I just, um, about last time. I—”

“It’s fine.”

“No it wasn’t.” She shook her head as she stared down at the floor. “It was shitty to just throw that in your face. It was a lifetime ago at this point and I just…” she trailed off, not sure where she wanted the sentence to go. She hadn’t rehearsed ahead of time and she was kicking herself for it.

“You meant it though?”

She huffed, not wanting to look him in the eyes. “Well, yeah, but what good does it do anyone now?”

“Is it still true?”

She raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“What you said last time, do you still—”

“Come on,” she said, trying to ignore the heat flaring up in her face. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

He cracked a small smile. “Sure you do.”

“Jax,” she tried to say his name like it was a warning, but it didn’t hit quite right with the tremor to it.

He stepped in closer to her, enough so that she had to tilt her chin up just a touch to be able to look him in the eyes. “I haven’t changed that much,” he paused and studied her expression, “and I don’t think you have either.”

The responsible part of her brain was telling her to stop all of this before it even got a chance to get started, that nothing good could possibly come from getting mixed up in all of this now. The sentimental part of her, though, the part of her that still felt her knees getting weak whenever she looked into his bright blue eyes that were so focused on her in that moment, was telling her that she had spent so many years daydreaming of something like this happening that it would be silly to turn her back on it now that it was actually unfolding.

She pulled in a breath, gearing up to say words that she hadn’t even thought of yet, but it wasn’t as though Jax even gave her a chance. Leaning in, he caught her lips in a kiss that was softer than Natasha thought he was capable of being. Everything about it caught her off-guard, so much so that she only got herself to kiss him back when his palm cupped her cheek, the warmth of the gesture kicking her brain into gear.

Placing her palms flat against his chest, for a moment she thought about pushing him away, ending whatever it was that the moment was trying to be. She almost did it, too, but instead she found herself sliding her hands up until they were on his shoulders, the ends of his hair grazing over her knuckles.

Jax placed his other hand on the small of her back, pulling her in closer when he felt the way she was kissing him back so eagerly, threading her fingers into his hair. Even as the warmth of Jax’s palm was seeping through her shirt and into her skin, Natasha still was waiting for it to all be a daydream, a sick joke that the universe was playing on her. It wasn’t the wisest thing that she’d done since she got home but she figured she might as well enjoy it while she could.

Without a second thought, Jax placed his hands on the backs of her thighs and lifted her up to set her on the table. Out of instinct, Natasha wrapped her legs around his waist and kept him pinned tight to her. She felt the smirk on his face as he kissed her and it felt as good as she’d always daydreamed about—if anything it felt better than that.

She didn’t pull away until she felt Jax’s hands slide down her sides and start to creep up underneath the fabric of the t-shirt that she was wearing. “Jax,” her voice was quiet, breathless, “I don’t…I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek, then another to her jaw. “Never said it was a good idea.”

Her logic and resolve were deteriorating rapidly when he began to kiss down the column of her neck. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access as her eyes fluttered shut. With what few coherent thoughts were in her head, she managed to say, “We—I can’t.” She pushed him away a little farther, enough so that his lips against her skin were no longer making her thoughts go awry.

There was still a smile on his face and Natasha briefly wondered if it would ever go away at this point. He reached forward, pushing her hair behind her shoulder as he spoke. “Why not?”

She shook her head, trying not to focus on the way his fingers were trailing up and down her arm. “I’m…I’m not staying. In Charming. I applied to a bunch of places and if one of them calls me back…” she hesitated for a moment, “I’m going.”

That got his grin to falter but it only took a moment for him to recover. “So we can’t make the most of it while you’re here?”

She scoffed but it wasn’t cruel. “I don’t,” she uncurled her legs from around his waist, “I don’t want to just…” She forced herself to look him in the eyes. “All this and then I leave?”

“So stay,” he offered, tone purposely casual.

She chuckled, hands on his shoulders. “Or you leave with me.”

He shook his head. “You’re over-thinking this.” He leaned in and kissed her again, noticing the way that her fingers wound themselves into his t-shirt as he did. “We can have a good time while you’re here. Being home doesn’t have to be so bad.”

“Jax.”

“Natty.”

She laughed and he took advantage of the moment as an opportunity to kiss her again. She gave right back into it, arms draping over Jax’s shoulders as her heels pressed into the backs of his thighs to get him closer to her again. The moan building in the base of her throat as Jax’s tongue slid to meet hers was involuntary. If she could’ve just melted completely into him in that moment, she would have.

Jax’s wandering hands finally came to rest on her waist. She could feel the pressure of his fingertips as he squeezed her tight. Something about the urgency, the need of it, had butterflies erupting in Natasha’s stomach all over again. To feel that wanted by someone she’d spent so much time wanting was its own unique type of high.

When he started to work the button on her jeans, Natasha pulled away again. “Wait.” Natasha hardly recognized her own voice with how out of breath she sounded.

Jax’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing I just don’t do…this.”

He cracked a grin. “Not like I’m gonna tell on you.”

She gave a small, almost weak, smile. “No, no. I mean I don’t…I’ve never…”

It wasn’t until Jax noticed the way that she couldn’t meet his eyes that he realized what she was saying to him. He didn’t want to just let her run off again, but he also didn’t want to make her feel like she couldn’t leave.

Taking his hand away from the waistband of her jeans, he cupped her chin instead and tilted her head so that she was looking at him. He knew that he didn’t have the right things to say, so instead he kissed her again, soft and calculated. Allowing her to give in or pull away one more time.

“You can stay here tonight even if you’re not staying in Charming forever, you know,” he said, lips so close that they were brushing against hers as he spoke.

He felt the breath she pulled in as she thought about what he was saying, offering to her. The small handful of seconds that passed by felt like they dragged on for an eternity. Jax could feel the tension in her muscles, building up like they were getting ready to snap.

She only relaxed again when she crashed her lips back into his. Jax didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back just as eagerly. Reaching up, Jax grabbed her hands and interlocked their fingers before pulling away. He only let the space linger long enough to pull her back down off the table. Then he was bringing her body right flush to his again, kissing her as he guided her back through the house towards the bedroom.

Natasha was lying on her back on the mattress, stripped down to just her t-shirt and underwear. Jax hovered over her, pulling her legs so that they were draped around his waist. He still had his jeans on but his t-shirt was lost in the pile with the rest of Natasha’s clothes. He ran his hand up her thigh and over her hip, fingers tracing along the exposed skin there as he kissed her.

He felt the involuntary shiver when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties. He pulled back, studying her face. “We can stop, you know.”

Natasha swallowed hard as she nodded. “I know. I don’t,” she reached and dragged her fingertips down the side of his face, the stubble trying to take away some of the boyishness and failing, “I don’t want you to stop.”

He smiled wide, kissing her once more on the lips before leaving a trail of kisses down over the t-shirt covering her chest, the exposed skin of her stomach, and then down to her hips and thighs as he pulled her underwear down and off her legs, casting them aside with everything else.

Jax let her legs hang over his shoulders, granting him the ability to kiss and nip at the insides of her thighs with ease. With every move and breath he could feel what it did to her, the way she squirmed with excitement, thighs tensing as he dragged his lips and tongue along her skin. He hovered over her core, waiting for her to look at him and give him some cue to keep going before he allowed himself to lick a stripe through her folds. The way she gasped and arched into him had him smirking against her as he continued to work her over with his lips and tongues, allowing himself to get lost in the way that she tasted, the sounds she made in response to everything that he did.

Her thighs were trembling on either side of his head when he pulled his lips off of her center. Her body was already pliant underneath him as he kissed his way back up her torso. He kissed her, running his tongue along hers so that she could taste herself the way that he did. She was gripping onto his shoulders, pulling him closer when she felt his fingers trailing up the inside of her thigh, touch featherlight over her wet and sensitive folds. He was slow, gentle as he pushed his fingers into her. her breathing was ragged, needy as she adjusted to what he’d given her. Once she was kissing him again, Jax began to carefully and methodically pump his fingers in and out of her, her moans and the way that she panted his name were like music to his ears.

“Jax, please,” she begged in pants. “Please.”

He felt the way she was working the button and zipper on his jeans, fumbling slightly as he reached over to his nightstand. Pulling the drawer open, he reached around blindly until he found a condom. Quicker than she even realized, Jax’s jeans and boxers were tossed to the floor and he was lined up at her entrance.

It was taking every ounce of self-control to not thrust into her. Leaning down, he kissed her again, murmuring soft reassurances in her ear that had her trying to pull him closer and into her. He kissed her right below her ear. “I’ve got you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, nails biting into his shoulders as he pushed into her. He went slow, telling her how good she was doing and how amazing she felt around him, words that rendered her unable to do anything but whimper in response.

“You okay?” he asked as he kneaded the muscles of her thigh. When she didn’t say anything in response, he gave her leg a squeeze. “Nat? You okay?”

She had a blissful, hazy look in her eyes as she nodded. “I’m okay. Please, Jax.”

As he started to thrust into her, there was a moment when he wasn’t sure who was having a harder time controlling themselves. Her legs locked tight around his waist, nails dragging hungrily down his back as he started to find his rhythm, started to speed up his pace. She begged him to keep going like he’d ever dream of stopping.

He felt her breath against his skin, her lips on his neck and shoulder as he braced his arms on either side of her head. He pulled away enough to be able to look down at her, and the hunger in her eyes as her hands slid down his chest was a sight Jax didn’t think he was ever going to be able to forget. She fit him so perfectly, and when he felt the way she pulled at his hair while he kissed her his mind went blank.

She bit lightly at his lip, her legs trembling against him. Her words faded into moans as her walls fluttered around him. She took his chin in her hand, fingertips pressing into his jaw. He pressed his forehead to hers, both their eyes shutting tight as they soaked up the feel of the other.

“Don’t stop,” she plead desperately, wanting anything that would prolong the feeling of him inside her, the waves of pleasure that rolled over her each time he slowly dragged himself out only to thrust back into her again.

Jax wanted to give her anything and everything she could ask for. She looked so dazed and sounded so needy—he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so entranced by someone. He thrust into her, slow but deep. It was only when he was buried as deep inside her as he could manage that he spoke up, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.

“Don’t know how much longer I can last when you feel this good.”

The laugh she let out was a breathless one, but it was music to Jax’s ears nonetheless. He kissed the side of her throat, starting to suck a dark mark to leave behind when he felt himself getting close to the edge. With his lips on her neck he slipped one hand up underneath her shirt, kneading her breast as he continued to thrust into her. Moments later he could feel it, the way that she was coming undone around him. His name fell from her lips somewhere between a whine and a moan, a perfect sound that had Jax unraveling right after her, pushing into her with one more harsh thrust as he spilled into the condom and collapsed against her chest.

He listened to the rapid beat of her heart for a moment before lifting his head so that he could look at her. She was already staring at him, and there was something about the blissful smile on her face that had a sense of ease washing over Jax.

Still, he kissed her softly on the lips and ask, “You okay?”

She smiled, nodding and pulling him in for another kiss. “I’m good.”

They laid like that, neither of them looking to pull away from the other. Natasha was expecting to feel exposed, the way that he was looking at her, the way his fingers trailed along her face and through her hair. But it was comfortable, like they’d been doing this forever.

Too soon for either of their liking, Jax slowly pulled out of her. He swiped his boxers off the floor to he could clean himself up, handing Natasha’s back to her as well. By the time that he came back into the bedroom she was under the covers and in one of his shirts instead of her own. He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy the sight of it.

“Comfy?” he joked as he slid into bed beside her.

“I’d say so.” She moved closer, resting her head on his chest as she draped her across him.

He pulled her one leg over so that it was tangled with his. “So…you’re gonna stay, right?”

“Jackson.”

He laughed, squeezing her tight for a moment. “Tonight, I mean.”

She hummed in amusement. “Mhm, I’m sure.” She tilted her head so that she was looking at him. “Yes, I’m gonna stay the night.”

He gave that same smirk he always did. “Still can’t call you darlin’ though, right?”

She shook her head. “No you can’t.” She rested her head back against his chest again, letting her eyes shut as she listened to the thrum of his heartbeat. “Natty works just fine.”

He chuckled, lips brushing against the edge of her forehead in a quick kiss. He felt her relaxing more and more against him as exhaustion started to settle in. Despite what the morning held, or the next few weeks, they at least had this. He ran his hand up and down her back. “I’ll take it.”

(divider by @cyberangel-graphics 💖)

SOA Taglist: @withmyteeth @garbinge @littlekittymeow @yourwinchesterbros @i-just-read-stuff

@justreblogginfics @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardburnsupersoldiers

@darqchilddaydreamz @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @nessamc @narcolini

[theladybarnes]

CRIMSON AND CLOVER: CHAPTER SEVEN

“What if I'm not good? What if I'm the monster?”

▸ summary: things get messy between the group and you feel as if you’re out of luck (&time) ▸ characters: steve harrington, eddie munson,dustin henderson, robin buckley, max mayfield, & nancy wheeler ▸ word count: 10k ▸ warnings: angst, semi-fluff, mentions of death, slight canon divergence ▸ series masterlist

“I guess the old man taught me well, huh?”

 The sudden weight of falling down into the cold street hit you harder than you expected. Forcing you to reach out and grip onto the blue car behind you. Wait, you know this car. 

 “What?..” you whispered, taking a step back. It was Billy’s blue Camaro, still warm from being recently used. But you weren’t anywhere near his car– Your thoughts are cut off when you suddenly take in your dim reflection from the car window. 

 The entirety of your right eye was black and teary. Instead of being trapped in the mall again, you’re suddenly back from having just left the tunnels that had run beneath Hawkins. But if you're by Billy’s car then..

 Turning around, you nearly gasped at the sight of Billy. He’s healthier than the last time you saw him. No Flayer tentacles stuck in his chest. No dead look in his eyes. He was back to the regular asshole you knew before. The sight of his former appearance has you taken back. 

 “Billy..” you croaked, unsure what to say. “I-...”

 “She’s speechless.” Billy laughed, taking a step towards you. “What a nice change.”

 Every part of you is aware that this isn’t real, but seeing him before you is leaving your mind puzzled. “You should go inside, Billy.” you got out eventually, gesturing toward his home, but the moment you glanced over, you noticed it was gone. The land stripped down to just the gutted floor of the house. Only the lawn had been laid intact. 

 “I don’t have a home anymore. I don’t have anything.” he said slowly, voice dark as he inched closer. You tried to step back, but something about his tone had your feet frozen in place. He took the chance to stand behind you now, wrapping his arms around you in order to pull you close. 

 He was ice cold.

 “All because of you..” he said into your ear, tickling your skin with his cold breath. 

 “I didn’t..I didn’t do anything to you, Billy.”

 “Exactly,” he agreed. “You didn’t help me..you didn’t save me. You let me die, you let the flayer get me.” 

 His grip got tighter, causing you to wince out in pain. You had to get out of this. “Let me go.” you said calmly despite the chill that was now coming up your spine. “Billy, let me GO.”

 “It’s sad when you consider what’s happened,” he continued on, pressing his face against the side of yours. “Billy said that he loved you, tried to get back together with you, and you left him in the dust for a guy that wouldn’t even consider leaving town for you.” 

 There were so many alarms going off in your head but you couldn’t help but focus on one in particular. 

 “Billy? You mean yourself, right?” you asked, trying to turn your face to look at him. But he simply reached one of his cold arms up to pinch at your cheeks, forcing you to look at the empty lot in front of you. 

 “No one is ever going to pick you, you know? At the end of the day it’ll always be someone better, someone worth sticking around you. There’s no happy ending for you.” His lips ghosted around the base of your neck before he chuckled lightly against you. “No happy ending for us..”

 You shook your head, trying to get his daunting words out of your head. “I’m nothing like you..”

 That only made him even more amused, raising a laugh out of his chest. “We’re a lot alike, actually.” he hummed, “We use people for pleasure and toss them aside when they decide to go against what we want.”

 “I don’t do that.” you said, turning around enough to face him. He looked at you with a smirk before he pinched at your cheek. “I would never do that to anyone.” you added, swatting his hand away.

 “So you didn’t dump Steve for saying no to the big move?” he gasped, feigning shock. “Or better yet, you’re not ditching your poor Eddie after he left you alone to wander the forest? I mean, you didn’t even bother to let him speak. He’s probably beating himself up but you don’t care. Not when Stevie is giving you the ol’ love and attention you need. Which, let’s be honest, babydoll, is pretty shitty of you to use him for a quick fuck instead of talking things out. Thought that’s the sort of shit girls like to do.”

 His words cut through you like knives, dredging up thoughts you tried to bury deep down. But then, something shifted. Billy mentioned Eddie, someone he couldn't possibly have known about. Their paths never crossed once if you thought hard about it. 

 "You don't know Eddie," you said slowly, voice struggling between sounding calm and trembling. "How could you possibly know what I’ve done with him if you’re dead..”

 A sinister smile twisted Billy's lips as his grip tightened, sending searing pain coursing through your body. "He’s been watching you," he confessed, his voice dripping with malice. "And boy does he have plans for all of you..”

 The world around you began to fall apart. The dark sky falling apart like fabric unraveling to reveal a dark crimson sky. The distance etched with bursts of lightning to light up a world in an ominous glow. 

 “This isn’t happening..” you promised yourself, eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to convince yourself that this was just a dream, that none of it was real.

 “Oh babydoll, did you still think this was just a dream?” (tick)

 The arms around you felt different, and you opened your eyes in time to see Billy back to looking like the night of mall fire. His eyes glistened with tears and smile oozed with the dark bloody liquid that seeped from all over his wounds. 

 “Time for a wake up call.” (tock)

 Before you could react, he shoved you with a force that sent you crashing to the ground. Landing hard on the unforgiving concrete that shot your body in instant pain. Just as you began to process what had just happened, a deafening roar filled the air.

 To your right, the blinding headlights of an oncoming car came into your vision, hurtling toward you at a terrifying speed. You barely managed to get your hands up to cover your face right as it was about to hit you.

 And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, you woke up.

 Gasping for air, you sat bolt upright in bed, heart racing with adrenaline. Sweat soaked your skin, and a sense of lingering dread clung onto you like a heavy cloak. The warm glowing light of the sun peeked through your curtains. Nothing like the red haunting sky that was in your dream. New day, new nightmare. You thought.

 “Hey, are you awake?” 

 Dustin burst into the room, nearly sending you back into panic mode as you scrambled to get out of the bed. Defensive position ready for the attack. The younger boy held onto the door knob in shock, holding a hand out too in case you were about to strike him.

 “Whoa,” he chuckled nervously, looking at you carefully. “You okay? You’re all sweaty.” 

 You licked over your lips, pushing back the hair away from your face. “I’m fine.” you nodded, trying to calm yourself down. “Just got spooked.”

 “Right,” he said slowly, skeptically, even. “Well, Steve called. Said he was going to head over here if you wanna shower or something before leaving.”

 Turning away from your cousin, you tried to gain some sort of control over yourself as you trudged over to your dresser. Picking out some clothes you could change into after your shower. But from behind you could feel Dustin lingering at the door, a familiar worry still in the air.

 “I’m fine, Dustin.” you said, before he could ask. You focused on the clothes before you gathered for your shower. “It was just a bad sleep.” 

 “You sure? Because..we’d all get if it you needed a day to jump back into–”

 “I said I’m fine!” you snapped, turning around finally. The glare on your face is enough to have him take a step back. As if your words were a slap to his face. Guilt quickly filled into your gut and you rubbed a hand over your tired face. “I’m sorry I’m just tired.”

 “I get it.” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be in the living room.”

 Without another word, he turned on his heels and made his exit. Not two minutes into the day and you were already messing things up again. 

 “Time for a wake up call.” 

 You shuddered at the words that repeated in your head and quickly left the room. Hoping for the shower to wash away the remnants of your latest nightmare and give you a chance to start the day fresh.

 The car ride to the supermarket was spent mostly with Dustin yammering to Steve about the plans for today while you sat quietly in the back. The nightmare that pulled you out of your sleep still left you frazzled. Even with the help of a hot shower that tried to wash away the haunting memory. So while Steve kept checking over you now and then, you managed to keep to yourself until you guys arrived at the market. 

 Instantly Dustin wandered off in search of snacks for Eddie once inside. Leaving you and Steve to navigate the supermarket aisles together as a small awkward tension lingered in the air. You focused on gathering supplies, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of what would be enough to last Eddie for the unforeseeable future. 

 "Hey," Steve's voice broke through the silence, causing you to glance up from the decorated can of the Smurf’s Beef Ravioli you were inspecting. His curious gaze met yours, and you couldn't help but notice the worry etched into his features.

 "You look exhausted," he remarked softly, his tone filled with genuine concern.

 You wanted to sigh. 

 Of course Steve would be the first one today to distinctly look past all the makeup you expertly applied this morning to notice the exhaustion you were feeling. After the harsh nightmare, the bags in your eyes seemed to take a permanent residence. Offering a weary smile, you attempted to brush past his observation in order to change the mood. “Is that your subtle way of saying I look terrible?” 

 His eyes widened, worried for a second that you were being serious. “Of course not!” he scoffed, moving closer to you. “You’re gorgeous..but I can tell you look exhausted.” 

 You watched him carefully, waiting to see if he’d crack from the line of questioning, but when he tilted his head at you, keeping a worried gaze, you let out the withheld sigh, giving in a little bit. “I had a pretty harsh nightmare, don’t think I really slept well the whole night.”

 The palm of his hand met your cheek gently. Thumb rubbing against the soft skin before he reached over to push a piece of hair away from your face. "That bad, huh?" he murmured, looking at your features. "Why don't you let me stay over tonight? Just a friendly sleepover. You can wake me up if things get too intense."

 You couldn't help but chuckle at his offer. Recalling the past summer filled with nights of him on the pretense of just sleeping. "A sleepover, really? With just the two of us?"

 He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's not like it's the first time I've slept over at your place."

 You raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a teasing grin from tugging on your face. “Well, if I recall correctly, we didn’t really sleep at those either.”

 A faint blush crept up Steve's cheeks, and he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Okay, fair point," he admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice. "But seriously, I just want to help. You don't have to go through this alone."

 It would be so easy to say yes. Give in to that natural urge that always wanted the company of the man before you. To have him by your side and give you all the attention and care you know he would willingly give to you. But your nightmare played in your mind again and you couldn’t help but feel the familiar twist of guilt form in your stomach again. 

 You opened your mouth to decline the offer when a case of YooHoos was placed quickly into the cart. An out of breath Dustin wiped over the sweat from his forehead, looking between the two of you expectantly. “It’s almost ten and we still have to pick up the others. Let’s go.” 

 Steve looked over still waiting on an answer from you but all you could do is offer a meek smile. “All right,” you nodded to Dustin. “Let’s head out.” Without looking back, you made your way towards the registers. Stomach twisting more than ever now.

 Thankfully picking up Robin and Max turned out to be quicker than expected. Max had taken the bus to the other girl’s house, making the trips cut down less after Dustin explained you’d also have to make a stop at the hilltop to use his Cerebro. And after some unsettling updates from the Hawkins police department, you all were able to finally make the drive over to the Lipton boat house.

 A part of you was slightly nervous to face Eddie again after yesterday. You never really felt the best after chewing out people you cared about. But add the hurt from the day before, plus the predicament with Steve, and the newest bit of information, your body was slowly aching in all sorts of places as you tried to navigate each feeling.

 “The streets should be busy today, most of Hawkins are probably over their hangovers from  Friday and have to go back to shopping for the week. We’ll have time to look for clues around the trailer later.” you heard Dustin say to everyone as he and Max took the lead towards the boat house. 

 “God,” you said suddenly, stopping in place. The days quickly calculated in your mind and you couldn’t help but feel another worry. Robin and Steve both turned at your voice, looking at you curiously before you wiped your hands over your face. “I was supposed to work with Keith today..”

 The two of them looked at each other for a second before letting out amused chuckles. 

 “What’s so funny?” you frowned.

 “Honey, Robin and I closed up the store at seven o’clock last night so we could all go find Eddie.” Steve cleared up.

 “Not to mention Steve was gone a whole hour before that to go find you.” she snorted, trudging over with the groceries still in hand as she draped an arm over your shoulder. “We’re totally fired.”

 “Fired?” you gaped, slightly worried by how easily over it they seemed to be. “B-but you guys needed the jobs!”

 “There’s thousands of other part time jobs in Hawkins, kid.” Robin sighed, giving you a tight lipped smile. “We’ll just have to update our resumes..again.”

 She left with that, leaving the two of you behind to join the others down the hill. Glancing at Steve, you opened your mouth, ready to apologize about his likely termination, but he quickly leaned over to press a finger to your lips.

 “Don’t even think about apologizing.” he said sternly. “Because no one in the whole world could have stopped me from leaving. Not when it comes to you.”

 Again, you’re left speechless by the man before you. 

 There couldn’t be any proper explanation as to why Steve continuously gave you more than you deserved. Not one that you would believe in anyway. You’ve hurt him, pushed him, and left him with no reason to do things for you. And off he’d go, ditching his life’s responsibilities just to look out for your well being. 

 It’s all so overwhelming and you find you’re stumped enough that it’s taking a second longer to think of a reply.

 “Trouble..” he said after a second of your silence. 

 You quickly scrambled together a response good enough to divert the seriousness that he seemed to be leading things to lately. Something you know he’ll grow tired of eventually and confront you about. But for now, you’d stick with easing the already harsh day as best as you could.

 “I was just going to say I’m glad we won’t have to wear that vest anymore.”

 “Right.” he said, sucking in a sharp breath. Then suddenly, he leaned over enough that he could look at your face closely. “Are you..okay?” 

Okay seemed to be the last word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially after this morning’s nightmare. But considering the man lost his job to help you out the last time, you figure you should cut this worrisome question short. 

“I have a lot on my mind.” You shrugged. “Just..girl problems.”

His brows were knitted tightly together, skeptical of your response. But before he could throw in a follow up question, the sound of Robin calling out to you guys put a stop to that.  

“We should go..” he said eventually.

 Not wanting to lag behind any longer, you dashed down the hill to the others, catching a glance back to see Steve rub at his face until he remembered to follow after you. The two of you joined just in time to open the door into the boat house. 

 There’s a slightly yelp sound and the five of you watched as a frightened Eddie looked over at the doorway with wide eyes. Apparently he didn’t notice or hear any of you approaching at all. 

 “Delivery service!” Dustin exclaimed, a wide grin on his face as he lifted up the grocery bags. 

 Apparently, you weren’t the only one whose morning was off to a rough start.

  The five of you gathered around Eddie, giving him a few minutes to calm down. But that calmness quickly left the moment Dustin gave him the box of Honeycomb. All there was after that was the crazy amount of crunching as Eddie stuffed as many as he could into his mouth. 

 “So we got, uh, some good news and some bad news.” Dustin started hesitantly. “How do you prefer it?”

 “Bad news first, always.” Eddie said as if there’d be any other way.

 “All right, bad news. We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you.” he said before blinking hard, forgetting the last important fact. “Also, they’re, uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.”

 “Like, one hundred percent kind of convinced.” Max said next, looking at him solemnly.

 “And the good news?” Eddie asked, perplexed. 

 Robin looked down at him with a familiar gaze to Max’s as she spoke up next. “Your name hasn’t gone public yet. But if we found out about you, it’s a matter of time before others do too. And once that gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother is gonna be gunning out for you.”

 You can’t help but feel worse hearing everyone lay out the information than from the dispatch. From where you stood behind Dustin, you could see as Eddie’s face paled at the truth. 

 “Hunt the freak, right?”

 “Exactly.” Robin confirmed.

 The memory of the crash came to mind from his words. Freak of the town. Now it was going to be a man hunt with him as the prey. Dustin before you held a hand out, piping in with what he figured would be words of encouragement. 

 “So, before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.”

 “That’s all, Dustin? That’s all?” 

 “Yeah, no, that’s pretty much it.”

 You can’t help but snort at Dustin’s reply. Feeling the pessimism seeping into your mood. There were too many variables to this idea that made it almost impossible to complete. And while you didn’t want to join in on adding salt to Eddie’s wounds, you couldn’t help but shake your head.

 “And after all this we’ll have you back home in time for dinner.” you said offhandedly, keeping your eyes down at your nails. Steve and Dustin turned their gazes over their shoulders to look over at you questionably, making you sheepishly wave them off as you stepped closer towards the group. 

 “Listen, Eddie,” piped Robin as she attempted to lift up his spirits. “I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this before. I mean, they have a..a few times,” she said gesturing to the three of you. Steve confirmed her words with a reassuring nod as she went on. “And..and I have once. Mine was more human-flesh-based, and theirs was more smoke-related, but bottom line is, collectively, I really feel we got this.” 

 “Yeah, see, we usually rely on this girl who has super powers. But, uh, those went bye-bye, so uh..” Steve said quickly, adding a true fact that you felt didn’t really help much considering El wasn’t even in town in the first place. 

 “So, we’re technically in more of the–” Robin volleyed in.

 “Kinda..”

 “Brainstorming phase.” Max finished, seeming to conclude where Robin and Steve were going with their words.

 “There..There’s nothing to worry about.” Dustin spluttered, attempting to bring the group in together. 

 Eddie was rightfully stunned at everyone, tilting his head in shock as he stared at his friend in disbelief. But he’s soon after glancing over to you finally. Looking for what you had to say. In fact, everyone glanced over at you, almost waiting for you to say otherwise.

 And while you parents always said they admired your candor, not everyone around you reacted the best to it. 

 So, you shot him a small tight lipped smile, nodding your head to everyone. “We’re gonna help you, Ed.” you said honestly. “Just..hopefully without any more..complications.” 

 As if the universe was waiting for their cue, the sounds of sirens cut through the silence of the group. Grabbing all the attention off of you as everyone quickly reacted to the new possible threat. 

 “Tarp.” Robin pointed out. “Tarp!” 

 Eddie quickly concealed himself underneath the fabric while the rest of you dashed over to the windows. Peering out through the dirty glass in time to watch as police cars and ambulances zipped past the front of the house. 

 “Where the hell are they going?” you heard Dustin mutter under his breath. His gaze shifted up to you curiously. 

 “I don’t know, but we need to go find out.”

As the group dispersed from the boat house, you felt a hand gently grab at your arm, halting your exit. Turning around, you found Eddie out from the safety of his tarp. Looking at you with remorse in his eyes. You could practically feel how nervous he was. 

 "Hey," he began softly, "I need to talk to you for a sec."

 Sensing where this conversation was going to go, you almost wanted to reject him. You weren’t sure how many tense conversations you could handle for the day. But seeing as you weren’t certain of when you’d actually see Eddie again, you nodded your head and stayed in place.

 "I wanted to apologize," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "For that shit back at the van, the woods, all of it. I know it was messed up,..I never meant for any of that to happen."

 His words stirred conflicting emotions within you. Anger, frustration, but also a bit of understanding. 

 At this point, you knew Eddie. He was the same guy who’d get annoyed with your lectures about his fashion taste, or who’d try and kiss you whenever you had a bad day at work, and who would bring out that ridiculous Mick Jagger impression that made you laugh before the first bell rang. He was impulsive, but never malicious. 

 Still, the wounds still lingered inside of you. 

 "I was terrified, Eddie," you admitted, voice barely rising above a whisper despite the anger behind it. "Being lost in those woods...I had no idea where I was going or what was around me. I just saw Chrissy die and woke up to a world of mess."

 His expression softened, and you could see the heavy remorse returned back to his features. "I'm so sorry, Princess.” he croaked, hands reached out to grip onto your arms. “I promise I'll make it up to you, however I can. I won't let you down again."

 You pushed away remaining doubt that wanted to linger behind. Wanting to believe that there were still ways to turn things around. At least in terms of your friendship with Eddie. He was there for you through your shitty moments, it was time you took your turn in being there for him. 

 In this case, his moment being a murder case. 

 “Well, let’s make a habit out of not ditching each other in the woods then.” you said finally. 

 He snorted excitedly, chuckling a bit at your reaction before he pulled you in a tight hug that had you patting his back just to calm him down. “Sounds reasonable to me.” 

 “Good.” you laughed, giving him a final pat to release you out of his tight hold. “Uhh, Eddie? Kinda need to go work on saving your ass now.” 

 “Sorry,” he muttered, loosening up his grip. “I was just kinda worried we’d stop being friends..”

 You pulled back to look up at him, searching his eyes for a moment before you nodded your head. “We’re still friends..”

 “Good, because now that we’re square again, I really gotta say, you look like shit.” 

 “What is it with you guys today? I mean, I am tired, but seriously what the fu–” your words are cut off when Eddie leaned in to press his lips against yours. It wasn’t the most unusual reaction from him. There had been many times he’d say something to annoy you and cut off your anger with a sloppy kiss. But at the current time you couldn’t help but think about the last kiss you had from a freakout. And many other things you did with the man who gave it to you.

 "Eddie, I..." you trailed off, unable to find the right words to explain the complexity of problems you had going on. Especially the ones in your love life.

 He quickly retreated, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

 Suddenly, a throat cleared from behind, cutting into the moment. Instantly your heart plummeted as you turned to see Steve standing under the threshold of the door. Expression unreadable. How much did he see? How much did he hear?

 "We’re ready to go," he stated curtly, avoiding your gaze. “If you two are done.”

 Without waiting for you to reply, he quickly turned and left the doorway to join the others back up where the car was. You let out a tired sigh, unsure how you were going to even explain anything of what he just witnessed. All you knew was this was slowly turning from a bad morning to a crappy day.

 “Did I just make things worse?” you heard Eddie chuckle behind you.

 “No, Ed, I think I did.”

 Despite the awkwardness of your late entrance to the car, the group made it just in time to catch the location of where the cops were heading to. It was towards the main road that led over to Forest Hills.

 Everyone slowly began to murmur out curious questions as to what it could be. Chrissy’s body had already been covered, what could have happened in just a day?

 The car came to a slow stop and the group slowly made an exit out of the car. Looking around what looked like a scene of a crime. Amongst the cars surrounding the area was one that caught your attention quickly. Coroner. But before you could mention that, the sight of a brightly colored skirt caught your attention.

 Talking close to the newly appointed Sheriff Powell stood Nancy. 

 You stepped out on the road, ready to make your way over to join her when a hand tugged on your elbow. Steve, who despite still held some difference towards you since the boathouse, did not want you going forward. Only cocking his chin in the direction of the girl.

 She looked relieved to see you guys but you could tell from the furrow in her brow that she was more than upset. Looking close to crying. Still, she held up a weak hand, waving over at the group with a pained expression. 

 “Shit.” you heard Max whisper. She pointed over towards the side of the road. On the floor, just past your friend, was another body, covered up in a white sheet.

 Vecna’s second victim.

 Picking at your nails had seemed to be a new habit of yours now. Previously used to keep you busy from conversations slowly turned into you using it to distract yourself from the reality of things. Like right now, as the group gathered around one of the lunch tables just outside of Eddie’s trailer, listening to Nancy explain what the police had found, you were currently tearing at the side of your hangnail.

 Fred was gone. Just the same as Chrissy. Meaning that Dustin was right about this not being the last of Vecna’s attacks. But the idea of it being people you all knew seemed to make this whole thing more sickening.

It was eerie to be back in the trailer park. You made it a point to sit at the side of the table facing the Munson home. Needing to keep your eyes locked on the place again in case of anything odd happening. At one point you felt a hand slowly pat over at your leg, making you jump a bit before glancing to your left.

 Steve stared at you expectantly before he shook his head in confusion. “You with us?” he asked softly, voice with the familiar tinge of worry. 

 Nodding your head, you tucked your hands down into your lap, looking at the three girls across from you. 

 “So, you’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down?”

 “If the shoe fits,” Steve said simply before he looked at you again. “Right?”

 “Well, considering the lights blinked like usual before the attack happened. I’d say yes.”

 “Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell or a curse.” Dustin added. “Now, whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.”

 “All we know is that this is something different.” Max joined in, a frown etched on her face as she glanced amongst everyone. “Something new.”

 “Doesn’t make sense.” Nancy muttered, shaking her head. 

 You reached over to place a hand towards her, gaining her attention to you. “Has anything about the Upside Down ever made sense?” you asked honestly, “Besides, this is still a work in progress.”

 “She’s right, it’s only a theory.” Dustin said after you. 

 “No, Fred and Chrissy don’t make sense.” Nancy explained, putting together something in her head. “I mean, why them?”

 “Maybe they were just in the wrong place. “ Dustin tried. “They were both at the game.”

 Max nodded her head, following the pieces coming together. “And near the trailer park.”

 “We’re at the trailer park.” Steve pointed out slowly. “Uhh, should we maybe not be here?”

 You sucked in a slow breath before leaning back to look around the area. It looked the same as when you’d come to visit Eddie. Max’s trailer was still just across the way, and the sound of wind chimes still echoed in the distance. But one glance back to the Munson trailer and you felt your stomach dip. 

“There is something about this place.” Nancy said after a second. “Fred started acting weird the second we got here.”

 Robin looked over at Nancy curiously.  “Acting weird as in..?”

 “Scared, on edge, upset.”

 It completely bothered you how similar you felt to that right now. But you could practically feel worried glances from some of the people at the table, so you bottled down speaking up on that in favor of hearing what Dustin had to say next.

 “Max said Chrissy was upset too.” 

 “Yeah, but not here.” she shook her head. “She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

 For a second you couldn’t help but feel a twist in your stomach at the idea of Chrissy. She was so nice in the van that night. Wanting to take the special K just to get through the night without feeling overwhelmed. But her troubles were vastly bigger than she laid out for you and you couldn’t help but feel bad for not reaching out more when you had the chance. 

 “Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right?” Robin asked, cutting into silence. “So, maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this Vecman–”

 “Vecna.” Dustin quickly corrected.

 “I don’t know about you guys but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone.” Steve said. His eyes looked to you, almost like he was expecting you to agree with him. And while the logical side of you did, something deep inside was stopping you entirely from speaking out. 

 “Maybe they did.” Max considered slowly. “I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelley’s office. If you saw a monster, you..you wouldn’t go to the police. They’d never believe you. But you might go to your–”

 “Your shrink.” Robin concluded. 

 The idea of Fred and Chrissy having a connection through Ms. Kelley did little to ease your growing anxiety. Especially when you remembered that amongst the few students that happened to be stuck in her counseling sessions, was you.

  Not wanting to waste the day, the group quickly left the bench to head over to the next destination. Hopefully Max could find her way into getting out some information about the others from Ms. Kelley. 

 You’re walking close beside Nancy when she elbowed your side, raising a brow to you before nodding towards the direction of her car. You almost wanted to ask her what she had meant when she gave you a familiar look. Quickly getting the hint that she had something else in mind, you casually turned towards the car. That is until the group’s den mother seemed to take notice.

 “Whoa, whoa, HEY! HEY!” Steve said, jogging after the two of you. “Where are you guys going?”

 “Oh, there’s just something I wanna check on first.” she explained simply, nudging at your side quickly. 

 “I’m gonna go with her, you know Nancy Drew needs Bess Marvin and all that.” you waved, trying to make a turn for the car again.

 “Something you guys wanna share with the rest of us?” Dustin asked, slightly offended.

 “I don’t wanna waste your time. It’s a real shot in the dark.” she said shyly, kicking at the dirt for a second. You nodded your head, looking over at the rest of the group with a small smile.

 “If she’s got a hunch, it might be worth checking out guys. We’ll be back soon.” you reassured them.

 “Hey, you can’t just ditch us.” Dustin scoffed. “Besides, it’s better to keep an eye on you if you’re suddenly turned into a suspect and we need to hide you up with Eddie.”

 Max looked over at Dustin before she nodded her head, agreeing. “There’s still a chance your name could come up. If we can’t reach you then we wouldn’t be able to help you on time.”

 Something told you that there might be another reason Dustin and Max wanted you to stay and while you were sure nothing would happen while going with Nancy, you also didn’t want to make things harder on anyone. Especially with these two out of all them showing concern openly.

 “Looks like I’m with the kids.” you sighed, turning defeatedly to Nancy. “Think you’ll be okay?”

 “I’ll be an hour or two tops.” she nodded. “We’ll regroup after that.”

 “Yeah okay. Are you guys out of your mind?” Steve asked, looking at you two a little perplexed. “Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? No, it’s too dangerous. You need..you need someone to..” His face turned hard with a sudden frustration as he looked at Nancy worriedly. Your stomach caught onto that tension quicker than your brain and twisted slightly at a growing feeling you haven’t felt in a while. Steve didn’t seem to notice as he turned to toss his keys over to Robin.

 “Here you go. I’ll stick with Nance.” he said quickly. “You guys take the car, check out the shrink.”

 The girl caught the keys awkwardly, giving Steve a confused look as she pointed over to the car. “Don’t think you want me driving your car.” she said wearily. 

 “Didn’t think he let anyone drive the car.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time he nearly had a heart attack and that was just driving in the streets.”

 Steve blinked over at you confused before he turned back to Robin. “Why?” he asked, ignoring your jab. 

 “I don’t have a license.”

 “Why don’t you have a license?” he asked frustratedly. 

 “I’m poor.” she reasoned with a shrug. 

 “I can drive.” Max offered, only adding fuel to Steve’s emotions. 

 “No, No! Never again. Please. Anybody but you. NO.” he argued.

 Dustin, ever with his perfect timing, looked at Steve with his arms out. As if he were ready to take on the responsibility that no one on the team could take. From behind Steve you could see as his body deflated at his choices. 

 “No chance.”

 “Come on!”

 Nancy looked a little uncomfortable at Steve’s persistence, only casting you an apologetic look. You on the other hand could not stop the familiar green monster from trying to crawl its way up from the depths of your soul. Unsure where Steve’s need to be around Nancy came from just yet. But you knew by now that it wasn’t the best idea to act on those feelings just yet.

 Finally Steve glanced back to you, raising a brow questionably. 

 Bastard.

 “Fine,” you said calmly, earning a small shock from the group. As if they expected some other reaction from you. Taking a step towards him, you held out your hand, giving Steve a sweet smile. “I’ll take your car.” 

 Steve nervously licked over his lips. Eyes shifting from your hand, then to Nancy, and then back at you. “No,” he gulped, shaking his head lightly. “I sense I made a mistake of some kind.”

 Fed up with everything, Robin reached for the walkie in Dustin’s bag and stepped in. “All right, okay. This is stupid. Us ladies will stick together.” she confirmed, putting the keys back into Steve’s hands. Her eyes gave him a warning look before she marched over to join Nancy’s side. “Unless you think we need you to protect us?” she said with a humorous chuckle.

 The two of you didn’t move from your spot. Only watching as Robin made her way towards Nancy’s car. Taking the lead for their exit. Nancy gave you both a sympathetic shrug before she mouthed an apology to you before turning on her heels to catch up with the other girl.

 “Be careful!” he called out, Robin turned around, shooting out a peace sign before she glanced at you. 

 “Should be saying that to yourself!” she laughed, giving you a wink.

 From the corner of your eye you can feel as Steve nervously looked over at you. His previous annoyance went away when he noticed your change in demeanor. Without another thought you walked towards his car, avoiding his gaze as you made your way towards the car doors. He quickly rushed over, moving to open up the passenger door for you, a small tight lip smile on his face.

 Ignoring that offer, you carefully opened up the backseat and slipped in beside Max. Avoiding his gaze as you slammed the door shut. From the outside you could hear Dustin chortle at his friend as he moved to take the free spot. “Nice one,” he said to Steve. “You just gonna stand there and gawk?”

 “Dude, shut up.”

 “Why don’t we go? Okay?” he said teasingly.

 “Shut up and get in the car.” he ordered. “Wipe your feet.”

 You watched as Dustin carelessly began to wipe his feet inside the car. Almost comically as he patted the shoe against the clean interior floor, earning another explosive reaction from Steve. 

 “On the outside, not the inside!”

 There was a bit more huffing between the two as they finally got into their seats. Leaving the car in a second of silence. Steve glanced back at you, opening his mouth to say something. But instead of giving him the chance to say anything, you turned in your seat, facing your direction to look out the window. Giving you the chance to give him a bit of the silent treatment. 

 “Always the babysitter.” Steve muttered angrily, turning on the engine of the car. “Always the GODDAMN babysitter!”

 You watched carefully from your side of the car as Max entered inside Ms. Kelley’s home. Only looking back at you guys once before the door closed up behind her. Hopefully the whole thing wouldn’t take as long and the four of you could make your way back to others and give you space away from Steve. 

 “So..we gonna talk about..it?”

 Glancing to your right, you looked into the passenger mirror to find Dustin looking at Steve. He seemed to have purposely left his window open enough that you were able to eavesdrop into their conversation. 

 “Huh? Sorry, talk about what?” Steve asked, barely paying attention.

 “Your temporary insanity earlier today when you basically threw yourself at Nance? And in front of my cousin of all people.”

 It took everything in you not to react to what you just heard. Your cousin’s words basically confirm the worries that hit you in the trailer park. The little green monster inside was practically dancing as it festered on the negative energy building up inside of you. 

 “Okay, first of all, that’s not what happened.” Steve said defensively. 

 “Pretty sure that’s what happened.” he countered. “It was public, there were like, a lot of witnesses. The prime one being at the back of your car right now.”

 He made it a point to glance at you through the mirror, catching your glaring gaze. He looked like he was about to change things up from his expression but you quickly shook your head, nodding in the direction of Steve’s side of the car for him to continue. 

 “Uh-Are you implying I still have a thing for Nance? Really? Me?”

 “No, I’m not implying.” he said, shaking his head. “I’m stating. And, as it relates to your current break up leaving you to go on various dates, it’s pretty much the only logical explanation.”

“That’s not the only one.” Steve denied quickly. “You know what I’ve been going through. What I’ve been thinking. And as for Nance, I was just trying to protect a friend.”

 From the mirror you could see Dustin’s face turned amused, like he was beyond believing that statement in the slightest way. You let out a small sigh, glancing down at the ground almost..defeatedly.

 This wasn’t even something you had the right to be angry about. If anything, the only reason you had room to speak on the situation was the fact that Nancy was currently dating your best friend and you couldn’t just let Steve of all people step in on that.

 God, that thought alone made you feel sick.

 “A friend, Henderson. Okay?” Steve said after noticing Dustin’s silence. 

 “Okay.”

 “I don’t wanna find her in the morning with her eyes sucked out of the front of her skull by this Vecna creep.”

 Dustin let out an amused giggle. “You’re bright red in the face right now!”

 Not having it in your stomach to listen to anything else, you stomped away from the car. Trying not to let the stinging tears in your eyes slip out. Your mind viciously shoots you into a memory from the first fall when Billy arrived. His terrorizing had slowly come to an end that night but not without some parting words to you.

 “He’ll never get over Wheeler. It’s that first love shit that chicks are so keen for. He’ll never get away from that feeling. Trust me, I’d know.”

 Back then you convinced yourself that he wasn’t telling the truth. That he took your weakness that night to try and get under your skin. But now? Now your mind is so frazzled and so broken lately that everything is turning into doubt. 

 “Get in the car.”

 You turned around to find Max rushing over to the car door, giving you a wide look before she entered inside. Quickly, you joined in after her, closing up the door in time to catch her giving Steve an order to drive. He’s quick to start up the car, setting all of you to hit against the seats as he sped away from the house.

 Eventually Max briefly explained what happened inside and stated that the best way to get more information would be in Ms. Kelley’s office at the school. You tried to explain it’d be a lot harder to break in due to the break but she simply held up a pair of office keys. 

 Suddenly the walkie in Dustin’s lap let out a loud squawk before a voice suddenly spoke through.

 “Dustin. It’s Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin.”

 The sudden sound of your friend’s voice had you and Max quickly leaning over your seats, trying to listen in on the incoming message. 

 “Lucas? Where the hell have you been?” Dustin asked into the walkie. 

 “Just listen.” Lucas pleaded. “Are you guys looking for Eddie?”

 “Yeah and we found him, no thanks to you.” he chided back. 

 “You found him?”

 “He’s at a boathouse on Coal Mill Road. Don’t worry, he’s safe.”

 “You guys know he killed Chrissy, right?” Lucas asked worriedly. The car seemed to grow tense at that. Now the teens at the school surely knew he was the main suspect. Time was beginning to run out. 

 “That’s bullshit. Eddie tried to save Chrissy. My cousin was there!”

 “She was there too?! Wait, then why do all the cops say he did it?”

 Max, having had enough, reached over for the walkie. “Lucas, you’re so behind it’s ridiculous, okay? Just meet us at the school. We’ll explain later.”

 “I..I can’t. I think some real bad shit’s about to go down.”

 “What are you talking about? What bad shit?” she asked, but there was no response back. Almost as if the connection was lost. “Lucas? Lucas?” 

 “Line got cut off.” Dustin said, reaching back for the walkie. “What do you think he meant?”

 “I’m not sure.” Steve said, gripping the wheel tightly. “Let’s just get to the school.”

  It was dark by the time the four of you arrived at Hawkins. The air held an eerie atmosphere as you guys parked discreetly in the back of the school. Couldn’t exactly have anyone checking by to see there was someone at the school this time of night.

Your cousin was thankfully prepared for the night again and quickly passed around a couple of flashlights, giving you guys some light to venture through the creepy halls with. 

 “I gotta say, didn’t think I’d be coming back here anytime soon.” Steve muttered to you, smacking at the side of his flashlight before it fully turned on. 

 “It’s definitely not the way I wanted to spend my Spring Break.” you nodded, flashing towards one of the classrooms. 

 There’s an awkward building tension between the two of you. A part of you wanted to squash down that anger from before, use it to keep focus on the problems at hand. But there was a bigger part inside that was gleefully ready to make a mess out of things. 

Per usual.

 “Didn’t think I’d spend the day like this.” he chuckled lightly, looking over at you. “Kind of a bad way to end the weekend don’t you think?”

 Something in his words, while innocent, just irked you. Making your whole body shift as you finally let free some of the venom that had been building up since the trailer park. 

 “Yeah, you must be having a pretty bad day considering you’re stuck babysitting with me instead of chumming it up with Robin or looking out for Nancy.”

 Steve looked almost as if your words were a slap to the face, staggering back a second before his expression quickly changed to annoyance. He reached a hand out to stop you from walking. 

 “Where’s that coming from?” he asked slowly.

 “Seriously?” you laughed, raising a brow at him. “Did you suddenly forget that little show you gave back in Forest Hills?” You made an effort to dramatically reenact tossing invisible car keys. “Here you go. I’ll stick with Nance.” you said in a dramatically deep voice. 

 He was unamused by that, pressing his lips together before he scratched at his hair. A nervous tick he got whenever something got under his skin. “I’m sorry I’m a little particular with who I hang out with at the moment. I figured you’d feel the same way considering you probably wanted to stick around with Eddie so you guys could make out and weirdly flirt again.” 

 Sometimes you forget that Steve’s as much of a former bitch as you were. Making his bite hurt particularly bad right now. Still, you weren’t one to back down from a verbal fight. 

 “Wow, I’m not really surprised you noticed everything I’m doing considering how you’ve been trying to figure out ways to keep me at home.” Tilting your head you step closer to look up at Steve. “Was worrying about me too much for you now that you want to display your macho-man persona to Nancy again?” 

 “You’re pulling that out of nowhere.” he scoffed, shaking his head at you. “I mean, really, how is me wanting you to stay home because I’m worried about how tired you look, suddenly turn into me trying to get back with Nancy?”

 “Oh, so now it’s suddenly trying get back with Nancy?”

 “No, you just said–”

 “I said you were showing off!” 

 He let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face before he turned to look at you seriously. “All I offered was to go with Nancy so that she wasn’t alone. Her friend just died the same way Chrissy did and I didn’t want her to end up the same way. I was just trying to be a comforting friend.”

 “So you wanted to comfort her? Well, that’s great to hear considering we both know how you like to comfort people through their crisis, don’t we?”

 “I-It was different with you, okay?” He stuttered a bit, before he held his hands up, looking annoyed again. “You’re the one who is kissing some other guy and it’s me that’s trying to get with someone?”

 “As always, you always take one part of the picture to paint the story, your highness.” you sighed, pushing a hair out of your face. “But don’t worry, I’m sure Robin will put in a good word for you with Nancy since you’re so keen on chivalry.”

 “That’s not fair. That is not what I want.” he spat. “Look, I know that you two have a thing okay? I’m not going to step in on it but that doesn’t mean I have to be nice about it either. So, quit using the friendly friendship I have with Nance to compare your beneficial one with Eddie.”

 “There isn't a thing. God, Steve.” you frowned. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Eddie kissed me. I didn’t ask him to, nor to hold me, or anything. He’s just a friend..and I pulled back.”

 “That’s not the only thing you two have done, quit acting like it’s just some innocent friendship.”

 “If you can’t seem to remember, the only person around here that I’ve willingly done anything with in the past twenty-four hours, is you, so..” you said as a matter of fact. “Also I think it’s unfair that you get mad at Eddie for kissing me but quickly go around to play the brave knight in shining white Adidas to Nance.”

 “They’re Nikes!” he countered weakly. 

 You could only scoff at him in disbelief. “This conversation isn’t going anywhere. I’m sorry I’m not the one you want to be around right now, let’s just leave things at that.” 

 Taking a step to leave him you made an effort to follow after the two kids when Steve reached forward to grip at your arm. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you around. But I know you’re not okay right now. And the more you try and push yourself in this, the more I can tell that something else is bothering you.”

 He’s staring down at you with the familiar look of worry he’s been doing these past few days. Something that would have comforted you the other day, but not with how you were feeling right now.

 “You’re right.” you said softly, reaching up to gently pat at his hand. “There is something bothering me.”

 From the tone of your voice, Steve could easily tell where this was going to go, only giving you a pleading look as he tried to diffuse the comeback you were about to give him.

 “Don’t say it’s me-

 “It’s you.”

 Without a sparing glance, you pushed out of his grip and brushed and brushed past a nosy, lingering, Dustin in order to join Max at the front of the search. Her gaze stayed ahead, looking away from you, but from the corner of your eye you could see as she shook her head. A small smirk on her lips.

 “Well that was really nice.”

 “Oh, shut up.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Like you have any room to talk about niceties.”

 “I don’t?” She asked amusedly. 

 “Well considering your on and off history with Lucas, I’d think it’s fair to say you’re just as good with dealing with exes as I am.” 

 She frowned for a moment, seeming to think it over before she shrugged. “Guess we’re both kinda messed up.” 

 A part of you wanted to argue. Say how she’s wrong and that aside from what was currently going on, you were fine. But considering the dramatic fight you just shared for the two kids, you figured she wasn’t entirely wrong. “It’s kinda nice.” you said eventually, nudging her side playfully.

 “It’s nice that we’re messed up?” She chuckled, looking a little taken back. 

 “No,” you hummed lightly, “it’s nice we’re messed up together.” 

 She finally glanced over at you, giving you a weird look before laughing. “You’re so weird.” she said, nudging you back. 

 With that small bit of comfort, the two of you silently led the other boys the rest of the way to Ms. Kelley’s office. 

 The familiar lingering scent of her relaxing lavender candle hit your senses quickly once you entered inside. Which you were thankful for considering the small stress you seemed to be adding onto yourself. You were happy to finally have a moment where all you guys had to do was focus on the clues needed to progress your theories and not your current problems.

 “It’s like a mini-Watergate or something.” Dustin said behind you. “Hawkinsgate.”

 “Wait a second, didn’t those guys get caught?” asked Steve.

 You made your way over towards the desk, looking over the papers laid out neatly at the center of the table while Max peeked through the cabinet for the files. 

 “Holy shit.” she said suddenly.

 “You found it?” Steve asked, as the rest of you gathered around her.

 “Yeah, and not just Chrissy’s file. Fred was seeing Ms. Kelley too.” Her hand reached back into the cabinet, pulling out one more manila envelope before she turned over to face you. Her eyes focused on you intently as she held the file up in the air. “And so were you.”

 Even with your eyes looking down at your file, you could feel the intense stare from Steve’s eyes. He hasn’t stopped looking at you ever since Max revealed your file to everyone. You couldn’t help but find it all worthless to bring up. To you, it was just your regular file. There was the first meeting recorded, the goals she wanted you to have for the next couple of years. Nothing out of the ordinary until this year. When she began to take notice of your reaction towards Billy’s death.

 “God,” you scoffed, looking down at her words. “Behavioral avoidance? What a load of crap.” 

 You carefully threw the file onto the desk, plopping down in her chair to look over at what Max had been reading across from you. 

 The folder containing Chrissy’s sessions quickly caught your eye. Making you curious to know what the girl truly had been going through before her untimely death. 

 “Can I see Fred’s file?” she asked suddenly. 

 “Yeah,” Steve said, passing the folder over to her. She quickly laid it out before her, flipping through the papers to collect whatever information caught her attention. From the side you could see as Steve carefully tried to reach out for your file. You made it a point to move away from him on the other side of the desk.

 Leaning over, you reached over for Chrissy’s file, looking over the small details listed on her last session. Headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares, anxiety, insomnia, trauma.. All things that made sense but..oddly familiar. Moving closer, you peered over to look down at Fred’s notes that Max had stopped at. 

 ..They were almost similar to Chrissy’s.

 But that didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. Because if that were the few connecting signs to what made Vecna attack Chrissy and Fred then what did that mean about you? Glancing back at your folder, you pushed through the notes again, trying to figure out if there was anything similar to what was on the other two folders. But there was nothing.

 Only the small note written at the corner of your last session.

 Might benefit if suggested with a group therapy. Perhaps with Max M.  Both suffer from related trauma.

 Related trauma? You thought.

 Glancing up from the papers, you peered over at Max worriedly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she looked a lot like how you felt at the moment. But this couldn’t be right. You never voiced to Ms. Kelley any of these things. You weren’t seeing any weird Vecna monster or dealing with trauma. You were-

 “Perfectly fine?” (tick)

 You felt a cold shiver run down your back and glanced up in the room. Almost expecting to see if anyone else had heard that. There’s a heavy weight suddenly over you and you feel as if the air in the room was slowly being sucked out. This couldn’t be happening. You weren’t like the others. You weren’t going through these struggles you weren’t–

 “Going crazy? (tock)

“Max! MAX!” 

 The sounds of Dustin and Steve calling out to Max instantly pulled you out from you haunting thoughts. Before you was a frozen Max, still frozen in place. “Max?” you called out, getting out from your seat to kneel beside her. 

 Steve’s hand rested on your shoulders, concern on his face as he began to breathe heavily. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice uneasy. “What do we do?”

 “She’s just..I don’t know!” you panicked, shaking at her shoulders. “Max, c’mon. Talk to me!” But as you gazed into her vacant eyes, a chilling thought swept right through you. 

 Did you guys just run out of time?

A/N: okay so this chapter is kinda messy. Reader is seriously losing her mind but I promise that trouble is gonna get her head on screwed right soon enough. Maybe after she remembers that Nancy is in love with Jonathan and Steve practically dropped everything to go to her. I blame Vecna tbh. And Billy from the afterlife. 

TAGGING LIST:  @cluz1babe​ , @starofavolonea​ , @darlingimafangirl (won’t let me tag), @primroseluna​,  & @siriuslysmoking​

[cloverdaisies]

# ART CLASS 𝜗𝜚𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

JI CHANGMIN x reader

˗ˏˋ description:ˎˊ˗જ⁀➴ৎ୭ : your crush on your art professor might be affecting your grades, he was just perfect but you’re just a student. how you accidentally fell in love with art class for the wrong reasons…

˗ˏˋ genre:ˎˊ˗જ⁀➴ৎ୭ : fluff, unrequited to lovers.

˗ˏˋ word count:ˎˊ˗જ⁀➴ৎ୭ : 5.5k+

˗ˏˋ notes:ˎˊ˗જ⁀➴ৎ୭ : this was once 10k+ but oops, is a bit of an indulgent fic i can’t lie, i hope you love it as much as i do, so here’s some changmin brainrot to feed ur delusions, massive thank you to @juyeonszn for helping me get over my plot blocks, ily. proof reading in progress!

Mondays, the worst day of the week. That was for certain, considering you had a two hour class that morning with a professor that would draw over your weeks worth of work with sharpie. Thankfully, he’d already announced his leave and you wouldn’t had to deal with that anymore. Every morning you’d get the bus to university dreading the next class, headphones on trying to drown out thoughts of how you were going to survive your degree in these insufferable conditions.

“Today you have a lesson with your new professor, who’ll be taking over for me. He’s very well educated and I’m sure he will be able to fill in the gap after my leave.” Your old professor rambled on as if his low marking and reckless actions with felt tip pens would be missed.

You weren’t necessarily paying attention, more focused on your pencil work in the sketchbook than you were on the front of the class. Ears suddenly perking up at the voice you heard from the front of the room, it was a cuteish tone, at the same time mellow and calm - a voice that could put you to sleep that sat just on the right octave to make you fall in love with it.

“Hello everyone, I’m professor Ji and will be taking over the introduction to Fine Art module going forward. I look forward to getting to know you all and seeing your work. Today we will be starting a new project for your mid term evaluations, it will be a multimedia piece with a theme of your choice. Make it mean something, do what’s true to you.” Professor Ji stated, already he sounded as if he knew exactly what he was talking about. It was a breath of fresh air and his intellect was almost making you dizzy.

No y/n, you can’t be getting a crush on your professor this can only end in tears if you find out he’s already happily married and settled in life.

“Any questions?” He asked looking around the room with his thick black rimmed glasses, leant against the wall with his hands clasped in his blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Are you married?” Someone asked from the back of the room triggering a boisterous laugh to break out across the classroom.

Professor Ji sighed and rolled his eyes, clearly contemplating his response a bit taken a back by the question. Especially in a university classroom, where everyone’s an adult, it was such a high school question, but who could blame them for asking?

“Do I look that old to you?” He responded with a chuckle, holding a hand over his chest like wound had opened over his heart. Oh and he’s funny. This literally couldn’t get any worse, he just seemed perfect.

After that the class began to start their projects, however for some reason you just couldn’t overcome the creative block in your mind on what to do. As you were sat twiddling your pencil and scratching out ideas in your planner you felt a presence appear behind you.

“Struggling?” Professor Ji appeared over your shoulder with his hands behind his back, briefly looking down at your empty page before back at your embarrassed expression.

“I guess you could say so.” You laughed as if you were begging for hole in the earth to collapse and swallow you into non existence. You watched as he smiled sympathetically thinking of a way to help you, dragging a stool and bringing it closer to your workspace. He’d done this to every student, going around to check on your progress unlike your previous professor who didn’t really care less.

“Let’s see.” He scratched his head for a moment, tapping his pencil on the table. “What are you interested in?”

You blushed internally, the question on completely professional terms but almost sounded like something someone would ask on a first date - at least in your delusional state of mind.

“Well I usually focus on work that expresses feeling, like this piece I did on stress.” You showed him a previous piece of work you did for the class, the abstract work compelling him to the phone screen.

“This is really creative. I love the way you used colour here, it’s abstract but so detailed. I think you’ve definitely found a style there —” He paused for a moment realising he didn’t know your name.

“Y/n.” You slightly smiled at him, trying to make yourself seem less like an awkward mess in front of him or mask the fact, that you totally weren’t staring at him the entire time he’d been looking at the phone.

“Y/n. I definitely won’t tell you what to do! But something similar will definitely have you sailing through this module.” He smiled, the cute line peaking at his dimples which could of had you squealing right there like some sort of wild animal.

As he walked over to the next table you couldn’t help but wish he’d stayed longer, his presence was unfortunately addicting. It’s the way his eyes lit up seeing your work, his passion for his work, his intellect, his welcoming aura, it had you in some sort of chokehold you hadn’t felt in years.

You took his words on board, an idea suddenly crossing your mind in a quick flash. Sure it wasn’t the best idea considering your current situation, but all the emotions you’d depicted so far were negative. Something within you was scratching at your brain to illustrate the feeling of the fear of love, knowing you were good at painting the feelings you genuinely felt.

Beginning to map out your idea in your planner, the new wave of creativity certainly didn’t go unnoticed by your professor as he looked over at you working away with a smile.

Then you hit a wall. You didn’t like using anything other than acrylic paint, every other form of media just for some reason seemed to irk every single creative bone within you.

“Any progress?” Professor Ji passed your table for the last time, as the lesson would soon be drawing to a close.

“Yeah I have an idea. However, I hate working with anything other than acrylic.” You expressed, your ears turning a bright pink as he grazed your arm to take a look at your planner.

“Well I think this is a great idea.” He laughed politely, readjusting his glasses with a light push. “I’d love to discuss this more thoroughly in office hours with you, if you’d be up for it?”

“Sure. When?” You asked completely composed, your mind rattling through ideas for the piece whilst trying to block out any thoughts of the man next to you. He smiled for a moment, flicking through your scribbled notes with a pen.

“Today, 5-6pm. Think of the things you want to discuss before attending and I’ll be happy to help. It seems you’re a really talented artist. You just need a push in the right direction.” He replied, his friendly register doing nothing to help you out of the sick spiral you were falling down. You smiled as he walked off to the front of the classroom to close the lesson, unable to pay any focus to the words falling from his mouth as you flipped around your ballpoint pen and chewed nervously down on your lip - the venom of adrenaline circulating your body like a wildfire from the interaction.

The class began to pack their things, snapping you out of your silly nightmare daydreams packing your sketchbook and planner. You pushed your pencil behind your ear, planning to pack it away into your pencil case at some point but not necessarily revising that idea. You slung your bag over your shoulder with a sigh, about to leave door without looking back, your bed awaits.

“Don’t forget to sign your attendance guys.” Professor Ji pointed to the clipboard on the back of the door greeting everyone on the way out with a warm smile.

You quickly went to check your bag for the loose pencil you could have sworn you just had, not remembering where you’d placed it, frantically searching the bottom of your bag for it not fussing to open the case of pens in front of you.

“Are you looking for this?” Professor Ji, took the pencil from behind your ear with a chuckle. Thankfully, being the last to leave was on your side today, no one seeing the god awful embarrassment on your face.

“Thank you, that’s so stupid of me. Sorry.” You laughed off the embarrassment, grabbing the pencil from his hand and signing your name on the sheet as he continued to laugh. “Stop laughing.” You looked over to him, holding back your own giggles as he only laughed more.

“Sorry I can’t help it. See you later y/n.” He chuckled as you left the classroom with a idiotic smile glued to your lips, the door closing behind you. You could have screamed right there and then due to the shear torment of embarrassment.

As soon as your head hit your pillowcase, the room felt as if it was spinning, so many thoughts drowning that brain of yours they were turning it into nothing but mush. You felt your eyes shuttering closed, slumber gradually taking over your body.

┈ ・꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱ ・┈

The persistent beeping of the alarm on your bedside table triggered you to rise from your nap like something out of the walking dead. You could have used more sleep, but you seriously needed to attend Professor Ji’s office hours otherwise your project was never going to be finished.

You got ready, your head clouded with looking good for your literal university professor. You shook those thoughts out your head fairly quickly before sliding into your boots and setting off out the door. The winter semester brought in dark nights, it was cold outside, so cold you could see your breath in a thin smoke as you waited at the bus stop.

Presenting your pass to the driver, thoughts circulated your head like a manic steam train running a track as if it was the F1 , you can’t fall for your prof, it would only end in tears when he doesn’t reciprocate those feelings. Staring into the steamed windows of the bus out on the dark night, you sighed the faint sound of music playing through your headphones as comfort.

You pressed the stop button, nervously making your way down the bus aisle as it came to a halt. Making your way to the arts building on campus, you inhaled an anxious sharp breath before reaching the hallway of offices. The office still had your old professors name engraved in a silver board on the front of the door, hesitantly you knocked awaiting an answer. The door handle turned, your stomach flipping and performing handstands.

“Y/n, come in.” Professor Ji smiled, walking into the office with a confident stride, the place littered with boxes seemingly needing to be unpacked. The office was lit warmly with a lamp stood in the corner behind the desk. He sat in a spinning chair at the polished desk nearly placed towards the centre of the room.

“So explain your plan.” He leant forward as you sat in one of the chairs opposite him, you pulled out your portfolio the chunky folder highlighting a collection of your previous projects.

“So, since I’ve done a lot of work on emotion, I thought I’d tackle something more complicated. So I wanted to do the fear of falling in love.” You explained showing him a colour palette you put together in class, it showed colours from a deep scarlett red to a sapphire blue. “The only issue is I don’t know how to use any other media than acrylic.”

“Hmm. So you’re a painter?” He asked watching you nod before beginning to speak again. “Have you ever tried oil paint?”

“Only briefly, I don’t really have the funds to buy oil paints though.” You laughed, thinking the suggestion was silly considering how expensive oil paints could be on your student funds.

“Thought so, that’s why I’m offering you use my resources for this project. Here.” He pushed a set of untouched oil paints across the table, as if they’d just been bought. You looked at him with confusion, you thought this had to be too generous, you’d never had any teacher care so much about their students.

“I mean thank you so much but why?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the gift, it wasn’t necessarily too expensive nor was it meant anything but a professional proposal.

“I know what it’s like to be a student. Plus, someone like you could really benefit from it, your work with acrylic is to not be transitioned into oil paint.” He passed on a genuine smile, a smile that radiated a positive energy you’d never felt. You looked down at them, still in a state of shock he’d go out of his way to buy such a thing for you. “I was also thinking, since 1 to 1 mentoring is setting back up with the new semester, would that be something you’d be interested in? I happened to stumble across your notes from your old professor and he noted you seemed very stressed with your work load.”

“Yeah that’s true, but I can handle it!” You tried to smile, however upon hearing the comments you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed in front of the likes of Professor Ji and his intellectual level in art. It felt as if you were being told you were slacking or left behind. “I don’t think I need any extra help.”

“Are you sure? I mean when I was in your year I also went through 1 to 1 mentoring for the same issue. I wasn’t always at the level I am now.” He sympathised with you, trying to catch eye contact as you looked down at the table.

“Okay. I guess it can’t hurt.” You sighed, still avoiding the glare of his brown eyes across the table, a silence lingering as the grandfather clock ticked on in the background.

“That’s great to hear. So it will be out of university grounds. Purely because the university won’t let me book a space in the week, I was thinking maybe a café? Of course on a completely professional basis, there’s a few other students needing the extra help too. I’ve got one more slot, are you free Wednesday at 10am?” He rambled on slightly, the thin biro in his hand hovering over the page beneath him. He pushed up his glasses and looked at you expectantly, your many thoughts being interrupted by his gaze.

“Uh, yeah that’s my day off so I guess.” You replied with a shrug, sitting back in the chair as you watched him messily scribble in his planner. “Do you have any pieces you’re working on at the minute?” You had no idea why you asked him, however something in you was desperate to ask.

“I’m just doing research at the moment into the baroque period, I would love to have the time do a piece of my own. It’s been a while.” Prof Ji seemed happy you asked, a small grin lighting up his cheeks as he spoke about it.

“Hopefully you can clear some time soon, I’d love to see what you make yourself.” You laughed, almost forgetting you were in a professional space as you let the words slip from your lips.

“Agreed. You’re free to go, see you on Wednesday morning.” He concluded the meeting politely, seeing you out the warm lit room through the tall chestnut door.

“See you then.” You replied, feeling heat rising to your cheeks as you noticed his arm over you keeping the door open, thoughts spinning through your dizzy head feeding your delusions like a sickly candy.

┈ ・꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱ ・┈

After then, every other class had you spacing out with a mind full of Professor Ji, thoughts of his paint covered glasses, rolled up shirt sleeves, sweet smile and messy short hair. You often smiled to yourself, the words of every other prof passing through one ear and out the other - drowning softly into the background of your daydreams.

Wednesday seemed like a century away, you found your weekend dragging by Monday felt like an entire week and so did Tuesday. The night before, you’re sat planning your outfit as if you were going somewhere incredibly important the next day. Scrolling tiktok to cancel out your nerves for the next day, although it wasn’t a date, it was a completely professional meeting. You couldn’t shake the thought of it being a café setting, somewhere where you’d get to know someone for the first time, somewhere where you’d ask someone their hobbies, stare at each other across the table- you were getting carried away, but how couldn’t you?

The weather was on your side the next morning, the sun shining through your small apartment building window, the temperature outside not too warm but not too cold either. You carefully got dressed into the clothes you picked the night before, fixing your appearance in the mirror with a smile. Hopefully the effort wouldn’t look strange to him, after all you weren’t trying to look like the weird student with the crush on the teacher, nooooo that’s not you! It was and you couldn’t deny it.

You couldn’t help but twiddle your thumbs on the bus towards campus, palms coating themselves in a thin layer of sweat, your stomach churning in anticipation. You thanked the driver, walking towards one of the many on campus café where you’d agreed on meeting. It was a sunny day, therefore a considerable amount of people had taken to having picnics on the campus green, most opting to sit outside the café with their iced drinks and books.

You spotted him immediately, sat on one of the small tables with his laptop, scrolling away through his laptop and sipping at his iced latte with pouty lips.

"Hey." You smiled walking up to the chair in front of him with a smile, he returned the smile closing his laptop and putting his drink aside on the table.

"Y/n, lovely to see you. How are things coming alone? Do you want a coffee?" He asked picking up his wallet and signalling towards inside of the cafe.

"I can get my own! And I can't say I've done much, I've been pretty distracted the past few days." You laughed, trying not to be too suspicious or act embarrassing in anyway. He looked at you momentarily, eyes wavering across your outfit and perfectly styled hair.

"You look nice, are you going somewhere after this?" He asked, for the second time heat flooded your cheeks, your ears probably lighting up bright pink.

"No." You didn't know how to respond, if anything you were too stunned to speak, trying to gargle up words out of the jungle rattling in your brain. "I just had some extra time to get ready this morning."

"Glad I'm not keeping you from getting anywhere." He chuckled a mischevious smile on his lips, "I'll get the coffee, what are you wanting?"

"An iced matcha would be nice." You blushed, your voice barely coming out above a whisper as all your dreams of a man all seemed to be coming true. He was so mature but at the same time had a man-child charm, he believed in chivalry and was always there to give you everything you needed. In your sick fantasy, he was your prince, the older man that would save you from the horror of the boys your own age.

As he nodded, politely exusing himself to get your drink, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, reaching to grab it, a text from your roommate lit up the screen. 'Wanna go to the bar tonight?' You hadn't been out in a long time, too busy in work and exams to dare leave your mess of a bedroom: seemingly procastinating work was always more important than your own happiness and social life. 'Sure' You replied, after all you deserved some fun after everything.

Professor Ji returned with your drink, you graciously thanked him and slid your phone back into your pocket. He turned the pages of his planner to the notes about your project he'd written earlier.

"So have you started sketching out your linework yet?" He asked, repeating his little habit where he pushes up the middle of his glasses to the top og his nose since they always slid down slightly everytime he loked down.

"No... Sorry, its been a hard few days. I'm not even sure where to begin." You replied awkwardly, with all the thoughts of him you'd completely forgotten all aspects of the project or the fact it was due sooner than anticipated.

"That's okay, we can always start now, that's if you brought your sketchbook." He laughed lightly, not trying to put you in some pit of self doubt when you were already struggling to hit a pencil to paper.

"Yeah I did actually." You reach to grab your large portfolio bag, grabbing your sketchbook and opening it to the page where your moodboard for the piece was. You had practiced some sketching, feathered lines and doodles scattered across one of the pages. He reached across the table, looking at the drawings with a keen eye.

"Pass me a pencil." He asked, holding out his hand as you gave him one of yours, watching as he began to draw in the corner. "Instead of feathering your lines so much, try to get a firmer line like this so its easier for you to follow the precision of the paint."

He drew the heart balloon you'd drew in the corner, of course in a much nicer way which was soul crushing for you, but you followed his guidance and he nodded in approval. Of course, he could'nt admit it, but Ji himself was feeling some sort of gut feeling, perhaps guilt as he felt himself begin to get nervous around you. He thought it was endearing, the way you followed his movements and laughed nervously when you accidentally made a mistake quicly erasing it. However, he would absolutely never, his self control was a much tougher obstacle to tackle and he wouldn't let it fall for anyone.

You carried on discussing placement and ideas, not long until you had an minitaure layout of the page for your project all sketched out. The hour had flew by, and you almost forgot about your drink, too focused on him and his words to comprehend the time.

"Thanks for today, oh, and the drink, Professor Ji." You began to pack up your things, your pencils going neatly slotting into their case.

"Of course, just call me Changmin by the way, the professor thing is too formal even for a classroom." He felt himself cringing, why would he say that? He did mean it but, it felt even weirder that it was you saying it and not the other students.

As you left, he took off his glasses for a moment palms flattened over his face as his thoughts ran over all the events of the past hour, raking his fingers through his hair. Although he did think everything you did was in some way magical, he understood that he could not loosen the boundary between him being your tutor and you being his student. It simply couldn't happen. Ever. That thought would torment him until you either went away or he had to leave himself.

┈ ・꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱ ・┈

For the next few hours, your daydreams had become an even more delusional hell than before. Your memory floated over the fact his hand had touched yours briefly as you handed him the pencil, the warmth of his fingertips lingering over your knuckles. As you grabbed your bag, getting ready to meet your friends you simple’s could not shake the thought of today, the chemistry between you both, the tension. It was all a bit much to handle.

You met your friends at the bar, regardless of the messy state of mind you were in. You got a break from work conversations for once, being able to stay up late and drink as much as you wanted as the sports played in the background of the bar. For the first time you felt as if this was normal university life you were living, however the huge disadvantage of not drinking in a long time is that after a couple of drinks you were irresponsibly and irrevocably drunk.

“Get home safe y/n.” You friend smiled, you two bring the last people in the bar as your roommate and her boyfriend had already left much earlier.

“You too.” You smiled before turning around and trying to walk in a straight line, the narrow alley of the street proving difficult as you accidentally wandered into the wall.

On a late night convenience store trip, trying to shake his irreplaceable thoughts. Changmin couldn’t get a wink of sleep with the pool of guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach at the idea of you. He left the store with a few snacks, figuring if he couldn’t sleep he may as well watch a movie or something to pass the time.

As if the world was against him, he noticed a familiar figure stumbling down the street, sighing as he recognised you, clearly not being in a state where you can get home safe unless you lived extremely nearby.

“Y/n?” Your ears perked up at the familiarly sweet voice. A voice of concern as you looked up to see your professor, Changmin stood in front of you with a glint of worry in his eyes.

“Oh…. hiiiii…. Sorry I must look like a mess right now.” Barely able to string out a sentence you giggled and hiccuped pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Oh goodness… how you’d regret this in the morning.

“Can you get home safely? How much did you have to drink?” He asked frantically, gasping as you almost stumbled over his palms landing on either arm to support your body.

“Yes. You’re so funny…. I just need to get the bus.” You slurred your words going to walk past him, before you were stopped by him blocking your path.

“There’s no buses from here at this hour it’s 3am! I can’t take you home because I’ve drank myself. You can sleep on my couch if you want but if you go to walk home, I’m walking all the way with you.” Changmin stated, watching your eyes light up all giddily as you began jumping up and down.

“OOOO, What does your place look like?!” You squealed the curiosity getting you way too overexcited in the drunken state you were in

“Come on then, you had lectures in the morning you need be more careful.” Changmin let you link your arm into his, despite the berry pink shade rising in his cheeks he hoped you’d wake up in the morning and forget all about the way you were acting towards him for your own sake.

His apartment was a humble excuse for a studio, not too big but not inconveniently small either. There were band posters and some of his original art work hung on the walls across the room where there was space. It was lit warmly, he seemed to hate fluorescence of ceiling lights and much preferred dotting smaller lights with thrifted lampshades around the room.

“You have the bed, I’m gonna stay awake for a while.” He pointed to across the room where his neatly made bed was just waiting to canon balled, the mountain of pillows looking so unrightfully comfortable. You collapsed into the sheets without any arguments, failing to see the relieved smile as he sat down in front of the television.

You soon drifted off to sleep, every little mumble, little breath was heard across the room by him. He struggled to shake the thoughts of you, after all that’s what was keeping him up in the first place. He’d only made his situation worse, he couldn’t fall in love with you no matter how attractive he thought you were. Every time he shut his eyes he saw you, and now you were across the room the thought was haunting him. So he laid across the sofa awake, into the hours of the early morning until he just couldn’t keep them open anymore. Even in his dreams, the pictures of you danced like paintings across his brain.

┈ ・꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱ ・┈

Of course leaving your professors house hungover at 8am on a Thursday morning, wasn’t the proudest moment of your life, it certainly was an experience. You’d never been mortified of your own actions, god knows what you said to him, you couldn’t remember blurting anything you shouldn’t of. However as you showed up to your lectures for the next 3 weeks he didn’t talk to you, nor did he help you with your project or take you to any cafés for your mentoring.

Your one to one sessions now took place in his office, to him it was easier to make the difference between love interest and student in there. You could tell the difference, he wasn’t as friendly, he was ice cold and this only made you more embarrassed.

After a few weeks you finally mustered up the courage to ask him.

“Why are you being so different with me?” You asked confidently, watching him avoid making eye contact and ignore the question as if he never heard it. “You owe me an explanation.”

“Do I? I’m just trying to maintain a professional relationship with you.” He shrugged continuing to check through your sketchbook, you couldn’t look at him without beginning to shake, the confidence in your voice wavering.

“What do you mean by that?” You retorted, confused to why that was suddenly so serious, when had HE ever been unprofessional, after all weren’t you the problem?

“I mean what happened those few weeks ago, was wrong. I’m your lecturer nothing more.” He placed his palm on the desk looking at you with a serious glare, eyes wavering suspiciously.

“Changmin?” You were hesitant to ask, “Do you have feelings for me?”

There was silence, you wished you could swallow your words back into your head but you were too late. He stared at you with a panicked expression, then one of disappointment before beginning to speak.

“I can’t Y/n, you’re just a student. You’re my student, I don’t want to lose my-”

He knew he was hurting himself with his own words, it was so clear he’d been pushing himself away from what he wanted and that was you.

You interrupted him with a kiss, it took a moment before he reciprocated standing up straight and pushing your back into the wall behind you. It was passionate desperate, as if every emotion, anger, frustration, love that was so forbidden - he’d just let it go. He couldn’t fight it anymore.

Pulling his face away from yours, you looked at him with teary eyes, all the emotions bursting out as your own feelings began to conflict.

“I’m sorry. That should have never happened.” He quickly backed away, holding his lips. You shook your head violently not able to produce a coherent sentence.

“No. I’m in… I can’t say it. Don’t hate me.” You still couldn’t think of the words, you didn’t want to frighten him or push him away. You were scared he wouldn’t be able to love you back, he’d hold his career over you.

However that singular tear that fell from your eye, was gently wiped away by his thumb. Wrapping his arms around your head and bringing you to his chest. He sat himself on the desk, lifting you on to his knee to comfort you.

“It’s okay, I’m in love with you too.” He whispered into your ear, only causing you to sob more as his own tears were wiped away by a hearty chuckle. “I guess we’ll have to figure out the work stuff before I can fully be able to love you like I want to though."

You smiled up at him in the ambient lighting, as he rocked you in his arms against the warmth of his chest you were content. The dimples in his cheeks sending your stomach swarming with butterflies, as you pushed your glasses up his nose for him.

That’s how you accidentally fell in love with your art professor.

┈ ・꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱ ・┈

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Three: Marry Me, Today and Every Day

a/n: here’s chapter three of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. next chapter we get down to business, and maybe things will start to take a turn for these two. who is to say? also--the book r is reading is an actual fanfic by @blueywrites​ that you most definitely should check out. haha. just a fun little easter egg. 

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

- 

Sweat slicks your palms. Brings an awareness to every inch of your body as you pace around your bridal suite. Fear permeates every nerve ending. Sets them alight with a new sort of panic. This daunting, unrelenting, overwhelming knowledge that in less than an hour you’ll be a wife. 

In less than an hour, you’ll be the new Mrs. Steve Harrington. 

A Harrington. 

Married to a man who you barely know, and yet his is the name you splutter out when your father asks what you need, noticing the staggering rise and fall of your chest, palm over your sternum where your heart races beneath. 

The room clears out then. Faces pass in your peripheral vision, all varying degrees of worry lining them. Whispers, you’re certain, from your soon to be mother-in-law and Steve’s grandmother, over if you’re getting cold feet. 

And it’s not that. 

Not really. 

You’ve resigned yourself to the understanding that this is what’s best for right now. Marrying Steve pays for your student debt, which gives you the liberty to find work in the interim while finishing up veterinarian school, and thus aids in assisting your father in taking care of what he needs to. 

With money not being a worry in your mind, all your efforts can be in assisting the man who gave you life and lost his own love too soon. All your efforts can be put into that little girl with fire in her eyes and love in every inch of her bones—even when she’s trying to hide it in her cell phone, on social media, or scrolling through TikTok. It’s a sacrifice you don’t have any lingering regrets over. 

He stands there in his tuxedo and wire frame glasses, hair styled back to perfection in a way that’s still so strikingly him, and yet elevated in a way you’ve not seen him before. Your head photographer, Jonathan, waves the rest of his crew out of the room when he realizes you’ll be needing a moment, the rest of the bodies filling the space finally slipping out of the room one by one until it’s just the two of you remaining. 

“Wow,” he breathes out, swiping his palms against the front of the black tux, eyes roving your form. “You look—wow.”

“I, ah, thank you.” You allow your eyes to trail his form. The head to toe dress attire, the effortlessness in which he holds himself. Handsome, disturbingly so, and he never acts like he’s fully aware of the effect he has. “You clean up well, Mr. Harrington.”

He chuckles and suddenly you’re just a girl, and he’s just a boy, standing in a room together, taking in one another. It’s a slow perusal. Him, handsome as ever, in all black, save for the little floral arrangement on his chest that mirrors the one you’ll be carrying when you walk down the aisle, the glasses he’s wearing for the evening, and the gold watch around his wrist.  

“Are you okay?” 

He steps closer, hand extending slightly before it drops back to his side. Like he thinks better of it, like he doesn’t feel right about being near to you. It’s been that way since your bachelorette party. Since the moment he kissed you and forgot that next morning. The look in his eye when he stated plainly he didn’t remember much at all about the moment where you wondered, if only briefly, that there might be something more to this arrangement than two people entering a business deal. 

From that moment on, he’d made himself very busy, and you spoke little. Figured it was likely better that way. No way to muddle the lines established in your fake marriage. Better now than when you’re deeper into the arrangement, and delusion might have arisen. 

But now, in this moment, you need that nearness. Crave the touch of the only other person who understands what you’re going through. The only other person who appreciates the depth of the nervousness pooling in your belly. Circling around your heart like a vice. Clawing at your lungs to leave you breathless. 

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, trying to keep the frustrated tears at bay by inhaling deeply. He moves closer, thumb brushing along your right hand to where you’ve moved your engagement ring until after the ceremony when it’s joined by your wedding ring. “We’re doing something absolutely insane.”

“Completely,” he agrees, and those fingers drag along the inside of your palm. Your fingers reflexively tighten around his, comforting warmth seeping into flesh. “But you can say the word and I’ll call it off now.”

“You’ll let me be a runaway bride?” 

It’s a watery laugh that prompts Steve to grip your other palm in hand as well, giving both a gentle squeeze. Your eyes wander downward to the two tethers anchoring you to earth in this moment, then to the kind face of the man who is to be your husband in minutes. 

“Just say the word and I’ll come up with an excuse why it couldn’t happen.”

“No. No. I’m marrying you today, Steve.”

He blows out an exhale. A stray hair falls down into his eyes at the motion, and your fingers hesitantly reach up to push at it. His stare pierces you, hazel eyes warm as you card your fingers through dark locks, feeling them shift and move beneath your fingertips, impossibly soft and lush. 

Gently, ever so gently the hand curling in your right one loosens and circles your wrist like a bracelet. Rests briefly over your frantic pulse point, before trailing along the back of your arm. Faint brushes of skin back and forth, back and forth, loosening that breath presently hitched tight in your chest. 

“How about this,” he begins, eyes darting to where gooseflesh starts to prickle along your skin. You chalk it up to the AC unit in the bridal suite, meant to block out the heat of the city in summer. “When you walk down the aisle, you only look at me. Don’t look at anyone else, okay? It’s just you and me out there, no one else matters. Eyes on me.”

“Okay.” 

A long exhale leaves your mouth. Lungs deflate with the deepest breath in what feels like hours now. Steve’s fingers extricate themselves from yours in those moments of quiet, footfalls of his leather shoes clacking along the floor as he makes his way over to the door. His hand curls around metal when your voice breaks into the resounding silence, quiet and minuscule for you, and you loathe to admit there are nerves that still cling to every fiber of your being over what you’re about to do in front of hundreds of literal strangers. 

“Steve.” 

It’s simple. But he turns quickly, barely opens his mouth to speak when you rush forward and wind your arms around his waist. And there’s no protest. No argument as broad arms twine around your waist. As they rest low against your back, radiating warmth and comfort. 

He remains like that, quiet and steadfast, until you’re both ready. Until you lace your fingers with him and he leads you to where your father stands ready to walk you down the aisle. He hands you off to the older man, rests a comforting palm on his father-in-law’s shoulder and dips his head once. Tips his head in your direction and offers you a kind smile. 

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you. 

“Eyes on you.”

So it begins. 

-

There’s a ring on Steve’s finger. You notice it as you sit beside him at your sweetheart table, as strangers and friends alike offer you congratulations and greetings in support of your nuptials. 

Because you’re married now. Freshly Mrs. Harrington. 

In a whirlwind of emotion, you’d walked down the aisle onto that beautifully lit private rooftop. Admired only briefly the weeks of wedding planning spent with your new mother-in-law and followed Steve’s directions. 

Eyes on him to block out your surroundings, eyes on him to ignore the shutter of Jonathan’s camera, of the other photographers milling about. Eyes on him as you heard the audible sniffles of Steve’s family and your own. Eyes on him as the officiant had you recite words that would bind you to Steve as you slid rings on each other's fingers. Empty words that felt like ash on your tongue. Nearly choked you as you spoke them out loud in front of hundreds of people. Declarations of a devoted love shared between kindred spirits wanting to spend the rest of their lives together. 

And you’d kept your eyes on him as you were declared husband and wife, as your new name was announced to that rooftop gathering, as they’d announced Steve could now ‘kiss the bride.’ 

He’d been warm and welcome. Lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that had your head spinning, stomach swooping low in your belly. When he leaned back to take you in, his palm, the one where his new wedding band sat, cupped your face. To others, a sign of affection. To you, a reminder that it was only you two up there. Even as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, as the room erupted into applause, and he whispered to you. 

“Keep looking at me until we get back inside, okay?”

A simple sentence. A comforting command meant to quiet your fears with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand against yours.  

Now you sit in a romantically lit room, all atmospheric blues dancing along the walls draped in white with your new first initial of your last name highlighted on the dance floor. Beside you, Steve chats enthusiastically with a man and woman, who offer you remarks on your appearance. It’s all you’ve heard all evening. Comments on your new marriage, how beautiful you look, how happy everyone is for you two. 

You find it eases that tension, helps you settle in against your chair, still holding your husband’s hand as you sip daintily at a glass of champagne. That and Steve’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, offering to grab you another drink despite the fact wait staff quite literally answers your every beck and call. There’s a gratitude toward him that rests behind your ribs, an appreciation regardless of the confusing few days you’ve had as of late with him. 

Your husband who is not. A man you share a name with and only that. Who you signed paperwork with and will be heading off on a honeymoon with come morning. A man whom you’ll be sleeping in a separate bed from tonight, when most would assume you will be consummating your marriage. There’s none of that, only a pre-planned understanding. 

Agreements, plans, business deals.  

Before your mind can venture any further, the Emcee announces your first dance as husband and wife. You’ve almost forgotten about this part in all your planning. Never really thought beyond the kiss at the altar. Even so, Steve’s cupping your hand and leading you into the center of the dance floor where a giant ‘H’ is emblazoned below, drawing you near to him in an embrace as the song begins and you’re swaying back and forth in the arms of your husband. 

“I’m scared to death that she might be it, that the love is real, that the shoe might fit.”

“People are staring,” you point out, curling your hands around the back of his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Today is our day,” he laughs against the top of your head. Warm breath puffs along your skin, shiver tingling your spine. “I think you've forgotten. Everyone is here to celebrate us.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond. Beyond.”

“You’re my husband.”

He chuckles again, chest rumbling near your ear as you sway, his broad hands against your hips, tugging you closer. 

“Guess that makes you my wife, huh?”

“Space and time in the afterlife. Will she have my kids? Will she be my wife?”

Your nose wrinkles at the newness of your title. Wife. Wife. You’re someone’s wife now. And he’s your husband. Husband. You mouth the word once more silently to yourself, finding it unusual, tongue stumbling over it, and snort into his suit. 

That hand around your right hip tightens. “Something funny?” he asks, but there’s a levity in his tone that has your mouth jolting upward at the corners. 

“Just…this day.”

“I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as he adds, “people are also staring because you are beautiful, you know? 

“Steve.”

“It’s true.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing closer to him. 

“I know this day has been…stressful for you, but you’re not alone. There’s two of us now.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond.”

Your head tips back at his words, feeble mind stumbling momentarily over his compliment, heart thumping as you say, “Like a team.”

He grins. “Exactly like that. We’re the Harringtons now.” 

“The Harringtons.” 

The name falls easily from your lips, but your quiet conversation is disrupted by the clanging of glasses about the room. Silverware all around the room taps against the delicate surfaces, a continuous tinkering around you both that has Steve’s mouth parting slightly. The pink of his tongue swipes briefly across his bottom lip before he closes it once more, lines of his throat bobbing on a swallow. 

“They want us to kiss,” you tell him, sliding one palm down from where it rests around his neck until it curves around the edge of his jaw. You tip his head your way slightly, eyes scouring face. “And will probably be wanting us to do so all night. So…guess we might as well put on our best show, huh?”

It continues for the duration of the evening. Kiss after kiss bestowed by your husband. Constant expected affection. His fingers laced between your own, your hand on his thigh, his head on your shoulder, lips at your temple, lips on yours. Over and over again for hours. This time in a way that the slight buzz you have from your champagne could never erase—from either of your minds. 

The evening itself becomes fun. Music changes and you’re brought onto the dance floor with your new husband and the friends from your hometown, as well as the ones he’s made along the way. Strangers who become dance partners. Bodies twirling and swirling along the floor, hands tangling with hands, laughter pulling from your lips. Like this, with Robin and Eddie’s forms near to your own, you feel lighter. Like this, when the song changes and you sing the words out loud in a silly rush with Steve in the center as those around you egg you on, you allow yourself to let go. To be free. To enjoy the evening that is about you and Steve. 

Before long your feet are aching. Heels are discarded beneath you at your table, hand in Steve’s once more, as your closest friends give speeches. For Steve, it’s a rushed flurry of words from Robin. She speaks mostly to the closeness they’ve developed in the short time they’ve been friends, but a bond that has easily etched deep between the two of them. Speaks of your time as her roommate, about how she’d only been kidding when she said maybe you should get out there and start dating and quickly fall in love with her friend. Laughs easily when she says maybe she should have introduced them sooner. 

It almost feels real, the words she speaks—the words Eddie speaks as he grabs the microphone and draws it close to his lips. He ties his hair back quickly, sweat from dancing clinging to the bangs dancing along his brow, and he clears his throat. Unrolls a piece of paper that’s on the tiniest scroll you’ve ever seen, but rolls all the way down to the floor when he unfurls it. The room bursts into enthusiastic laughter, your chest aching in adoration at the first words he speaks. 

“You see…before I knew Steve, I knew his new wife. We grew up together in some shit hole town—I can curse, right? Sorry for all the kids here. Anyway, we grew up together…as I was saying. So when she asked me if I’d still love her if she did something stupid, I was thinking she meant a prank. Steve, just a heads up, your wife is a menace. A total damn menace. But I'm sure you knew that already.” He pauses for a moment as Steve chuckles, nodding his head in agreement, then continues, “And then she goes and falls in love with this guy. Big boy Harrington.”

Another round of laughter echoes in the room, and Steve grips your hand tighter in his where it rests against his lap. 

“Pretty stupid, huh?” He chuckles to himself, folding the microphone against his waist for a moment as he bows, thanking the crowd for their involvement. “But it’s not that stupid when I really think about it. Because these two are some of the best people I know. Really and truly, and it makes sense that we’re all here right now. Right here in this room. Two people like this are meant to find each other. Drawn together by some…cosmic force. I mean, look at them! Have you ever seen two people so in love?”

The room leans in. Swells with emotion as Eddie sniffles audibly. This part, you know, is part of his speech. He’d read it to the two of you the night before, just as Robin had. Those around you don’t know, but you do. And still, your guests are nodding in agreement. Some are dabbing napkins into the corners of their eyes, swallowing down knots of emotion welling in their throats. Your own father glances your way with a fondness that cleaves you down the center, ears ringing as Eddie continues the rest of his speech, filling the cavity with guilt. 

Clapping hands draw you from your silent reverie, followed only by the sound of metal meeting glass once more. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears as Steve slides a hand along the side of your face and leans down for the umpteenth time that evening, stilling your mind with the glide of his mouth against your own. 

Soon enough, the bouquet has been tossed, the garter awkwardly collected from your thigh, and cake has been shared between the two of you, sugary remnants that linger in Steve’s hair (a mental note made to never mess with his hair ever again upon fear of death in your marriage) still visible as guest stand on either side of an aisle outside where a car is waiting for the two of you, lit sparklers dancing to life in their hands. 

Your eyes meet his. “Ready to go?”

He grips your hand. “We’re in the home stretch now.”

-

Seventeen hours. 

Seventeen hours is what it takes for you to arrive in the Maldives. Plus the time spent traversing you two across the main private island to your smaller bungalow only accessible by boat. You’ve barely had time to take in the beautiful sights, tiredness clinging to every limb, by the time the two of you are deposited on a dock leading to the place you’ll be staying for the next five days. 

Steve clambers down onto the wood beside you, his own form looking a little worse for wear. He’s not spoken in quite some time. Neither of you have, really. Not since you returned to your penthouse after the wedding and slipped out of your wedding clothes. Nor when you parted down opposite ends of the hall. Even at the airport your conversation had been simple, pleasant, easy chatter about the weather and what you might do when you get to the island. 

“Look how beautiful!” You enthuse, taking in the beautiful thatched roof of your private honeymoon suite on the water. 

Pretty purple light douses the building, casts that same hue across the surface of the lagoon that laps against the edges of the boardwalk. From where you're standing, you can see another pathway leading to an outdoor gazebo and dining area draped in flowing cream curtains that billow in the gentle caress of the breeze around you. 

You turn to look at your husband. “Wanna go explore?” 

He yawns, head dipping as your guide lingers behind on the boat, wishing you two a lovely first evening on your honeymoon. Inside you’re met with a beautiful living room with sliding glass doors that lead to a deck, fully stocked with a jacuzzi, pool, and a sunken outdoor bath. Tired bones scream at the prospect of using them, though you proceed further into the suite. There’s a beautiful kitchen with the option of a private chef, a gym, an indoor spa you know you’ll be utilizing, the master bathroom with a tub that looks like it could fit ten people, and finally…the master bedroom. 

The suddenness of your realization dawns, because your eyes immediately hone in on the one bed. A king bed, but only one all the same. You’re tired, you’re so tired that all you want is to peel back the covers and clamber in, but this throws a wrench into those plans. That clarity must also hit Steve, because he’s dropping his things to the ground and walking around the side of the bed to grip a pillow in hand, and begins making his way toward the entrance of the bedroom when you splutter audibly. 

“Where are you going?”

He cards his fingers through his hair, exasperation lining those withdrawn features. “There’s a couch I saw in the living room.”

You shake your head, reaching out to cup his bicep. It instantly tenses under your fingertips. You don’t dwell on it, and instead argue, “You’re going to kill your back. We’re here for five days. We’re adults…we can share a bed.”

It’ll be like a sleepover. An adult sleepover where no sex is involved. Definitely not on your honeymoon—and definitely not with the man you married nearly twenty-four hours ago who you know very little about. You don’t know his birthday, his likes, dislikes…you don’t even know his favorite color, his favorite show, or if he’s a dog or cat person. Sleeping in the same bed as him will be a cake walk. Nothing to even worry about. A mere blip on the radar.

“I just…I don’t want…” He exhales deeply, and you finally notice the dark circles under his eyes. “You’ve already done enough by uprooting your life and marrying me—”

“It’s a bed, Steve.”

That seems to quiet the tension in his shoulders. They drop into a slouch, his form trailing back over to the side of the bed facing the wall when you clear your throat, awkward laugh breaking into the otherwise silent room. 

“I like to sleep facing the wall,” you say gently, noticing the slight downturn of his lips. “But I’m assuming you do as well, so for the sake of both of our sanities I can sleep facing the door.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, I’ll take the door side. I can handle a few nights.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Your lip twitches upward. “You don’t snore, do you?” You ask teasingly. 

“I…don't think so. But I’m sure you’ll tell me if I do,” he says, moving himself around the bed once more. He settles down against the mattress, testing the surface beneath his palm. “Bed is soft.”

“I would hope it would be for a private honeymoon villa. Your mother really went all out, huh?” 

Your head tilts upward, taking in the vaulted ceilings. Where you’re standing you can even hear the sound of water lapping on the deck outside your windows.  

“Pretty sure she’s secretly hoping I extend the Harrington line this week.”

Your nose wrinkles at that. “We’re absolutely making a pillow wall after that comment.”

“I’m joking,” he grumbles, body falling backward onto the bed. 

One thing you’ve learned about Steve Harrington? He’s dramatic—impossibly so. Sort of like Robin, though he’s more frustrated outbursts versus her nervous or frantic ones. 

“Pillow. Wall.” 

“Fine.”

You walk over to the bed where your husband lays with his eyes closed and forearm strewn over his face. Bare knees brushing his, you reach out and tug on his free hand splayed near his hip, trying to drag him upward to no avail. 

“Stop being a big baby.”

“We just flew for seventeen hours,” he argues, sitting upright. 

“Steve. Lift your hulking ass off the bed. The sooner you get up, the sooner we go to bed.”

Your new husband grumbles to himself as he stands to his feet, helping you pull down the comforter on the top of the bed. Satisfied, you pluck a few of the extra pillows and make a line down the center of the mattress, pointing out your side and his, before slipping into the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

You follow your normal routine. Wash your face, brush your teeth, slip on a moisturizer. You change out of your clothes next, opting for a matching set of shorts and a tank top, before tossing your street clothes into a laundry bin and sliding into your “Bride” slippers given as a gift by one of your friends at your bachelorette. 

There’s a brief moment your eyes trail to the shower, where there’s glass paneling and a bench in the corner and then further to your right toward the gigantic bath tub you could practically swim in…and huff. Such a strange thing to be in this beautiful honeymoon hideaway with a man down the hall who regards you as a friend.

The same friend you now share a last name with. 

Pushing the thoughts aside, you meander back down the hall to your bedroom for the next five days and come to find Steve laying on his stomach with his broad back on display, sheets hung low around his waist. You can map the various freckles and marks along his skin from where he rests, head resting on his forearm. 

Smiling to yourself, you settle down into the bed and roll over to shut the lamp nearest your side of the bed. The room descends into darkness, and you whisper, “Goodnight,” before following him into sleep. 

-

Pristine blue water surrounds you as far as the eye can see. The world is quiet from your home away from home for the week, save for the rustle of your book pages turning as you progress through the story and the sound of Steve’s fingers clacking across a keyboard. You exhale with a long huff, pushing your sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose. 

Steve’s been working for hours now. 

Since you both woke up, really. 

Initially you had been a little miffed as you cooked up something for the two of you in your large kitchen, opting out of calling for a private chef to do so, and he pulled out his phone and laptop. You figured that was fine, up until the headphones went in while you sat down across from him and ended up sharing your breakfast in complete and utter silence. 

On its own, that wasn’t so much an issue. What bothered you was your request to go outside and enjoy the sun together, and he’d agreed. In your mind, his intentions were genuinely to spend time with you. He’d slipped into a bathing suit and everything, only to join you on the sun deck with his leather work bag, laptop pulled out before you could even get in a word of protest. 

“You know, most people enjoy their honeymoon,” you tease, turning the page in your book. 

You find yourself needing to take a break anyway. The two couples in your book are on vacation themselves, and the main character kissed the dark haired hero on the makeshift dance floor after one of the hottest dancing scenes you’ve ever read occurred. And seeing as your own honeymoon is not heating up, you’re frustrated. 

Increasingly so when he says, “This isn’t a typical honeymoon.”

“Weren’t you trying to wrap up the business before we came here?” 

You recall a conversation you had wherein he said as much about wanting to make sure he’d be able to partake in the Maldives, but it seems those words were rang untrue. 

“Yes, but…things happen.”

Your book thumps onto the lounger beside you. “You do realize everyone thinks we’re on a real honeymoon, right?”

He dips his head, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he glances over the top of his laptop to glance your way. 

“Your coworkers are going to be confused why you’re logged in for work while you’re here. I mean—look how romantic this place is!”

“I’m not following…”

Huffing, you curl your legs beneath you, shifting your body toward him. “You’re supposed to be…you know, giving me attention every hour of the day while we’re here. Ravishing me. Going at it like—non-stop. It’s supposed to be overly romantic. Flowers on the bed, sexy showers, no sleep, naked trysts in the kitchen—”

“Fine.” He shuts the laptop. Tucks it away in his leather bag. “I’m logging off. Happy?”

You grin enthusiastically. “Very, husband.”

Steve disappears inside for a moment, then appears once more with his phone in hand. You’re about to argue with him when he shows you he’s playing a game of solitaire—which you snort at, shoving him when his eyes roll—and slip your sunglasses back on over your eyes. Opening your book, Steve pushes at the back cover, leaning in close to try and read the short description on the back of what lingers inside the dog-eared pages. 

“What are you reading, wife?” You catch the slight uptick of his lip; the smirk he tries to hide.  

Conversation. Small talk. You can work with that. “To Know You’re Mine.”

He tucks his phone near his thigh. “What’s it about?” 

“Swingers.”

“That’s very vague,” he points out. “Can you give me a little more than just ‘swingers?’”

Your brow arches. “Do you really care?”

“No, I’m asking because I’m bored.” 

Shifting your chairs closer to one another, you flip the book over so he can see the front cover and start pointing out the little cartoon characters on the nondescript covers on shelves everywhere nowadays. 

“So there’s these two who are dating, right? Have been for a long time. But it’s her first boyfriend and they live together. Then one day, he takes her to his friend’s show. And that’s where you then meet these two characters. Just so happens, they start swinging and…well, it gets really crazy. Do you want me to tell you the rest? I’m about…halfway.”

He nods his head and you explain the entirety of the plot so far. And maybe your honeymoon isn’t perfect, maybe jet lag kicks in and Steve starts to nod off right around the time you start explaining the chapter you’re up to, and maybe you have to nudge him to come inside so he doesn’t get sunburned. 

Maybe you watch him as he lays down on the living room couch and you drape a blanket over his slumbering form. Maybe you settle down on another couch and roll over onto your side to look at him, your book long discarded on the coffee table. Maybe you allow yourself to roam his features, so much younger than his twenty-seven years when he’s resting like this—when he doesn’t have a whole company on his shoulders. 

Maybe you close your eyes too and join him. 

-

Suffering from jet lag, your first day is spent mostly lounging around. Sleeping off the long trip you’ve taken to get to where you are. Steve sits on his couch near you, and you sit bundled in blankets on the couch opposite. You watch reality TV, a show where couples pair up in a villa and try to make romantic connections, and scroll through social media. Allow yourself to click through different stories from your friends accounts, glance at the few articles printed, and scour the comments beneath regarding your recent wedding. 

TikTok is blowing up with videos of you and Steve photographed with Eddie. You are in your wedding gown and Steve is beside you, hand in yours. He looks happy. Genuinely happy in a way that has you smiling over to where he sits, hazel eyes drifting your way curiously. You don’t even know how they got access to them in the first place, and likely don’t even want to know. 

Overall, it seems like most are impressed and craving more photos. Wanting the inside scoop on the famous Corroded Coffin member’s best friends. No one seems to question the validity of the marriage, though there are questions as to why so quickly, but are snuffed out by those who make note that it isn’t like the two of you haven’t been in the same social circles for some time now. That it was a matter of time before the two of you realized love was always there, right in front of the both of you, and all you needed to do was reach out and grasp it.

By the next morning, you’re both awake and ready to take on the day, ordering a boat to the main island for your spa day. The prospect of a massage after the weeks spent planning your wedding sounds lovely, and you tell Steve as much, leaning into his frame as your guide asks how the first day of your honeymoon was. 

“Amazing,” you gush, though you spent another night with a mountain of pillows between you and the man beside you. The only reason you’re close now is because they’re watching your interactions, gauging the newlyweds. “It’s so beautiful here.”

And that’s that, until you arrive at the spa booked for a private afternoon with your new husband, compliments of your new mother-in-law and the travel agent she’d worked alongside to make sure your accommodations were all you could ever dream of. 

The only detail left out on your itinerary was the fact it was a nude spa. Fully. Part of some “bonding exercise” as the attendant explained before the two of you entered the hot spring, freshly massaged and draped in the coziest of robes to ever grace your skin. 

You’re left alone with Steve in a darkened room warmed by the steam rising from the water’s surface, eyes dragging along his presently clothed form.

“I’ve seen your chest? You sleep shirtless, which…I mean, is fine. And uh…you’ve seen me in a bikini. It’s kind of like that, no?”

“Except now we’ll be naked.”

“Well, there’s that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“I mean, it’s not that serious. No cause for alarm bells,” you say, trying to ease the tension rolling off of Steve’s shoulders in waves. “I mean, you could always turn around and I can get in first. Just…eyes above the water level only.” 

Steve rubs a hand along the back of his neck, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay, you go first.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and you rush over the small deck to turn him around so he’s facing the wall. With his back turned, you untie the robe and drape it across a rack, then move over to the water’s edge to dip your toes into the water with a sigh. Warm water laps at your skin, coaxes you further into the hot spring until you’re settled down on a bench, water up to your shoulders, hopefully obscuring the rest of you from view. 

“Okay, I’m in,” you announce. “You can get in. I’ll close my eyes.”

You pinch them shut in emphasis, clapping your hands over your face just in case. The sound of his bare feed padding across the deck reaches your ears, followed by the splash of what you assume to be a foot stepping into the water. It’s followed by a low exhale. 

You pop your eyes open momentarily and Steve’s voice has you clapping them shut frantically. A shout of, “I’m not in all the way!”

“What are you waiting for?! Jesus to come back?!” 

“Oh, I don’t know, to adjust to the warm water. It’s cold out here.”

You scoff. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your dick.”

“Can you not?” 

“What? I didn’t!”

“I’m glad you didn’t!” 

You scoff. “I mean, ow. That’s kind of rude. I’m your wife.”

“Did you bump your head and forget the part where we’re on a fake honeymoon, following our fake wedding?” He whisper-yells, still not moving down the stairs leading into the sauna.

“I didn’t say I want to see it! Don’t get too big of a head now,” you amend, eyes narrowing. “Steve, just get in, please.” 

Your sigh of exasperation has him moving swiftly. Water ripples around your shoulders, gentle caresses against skin as he settles down beside you and announces you can open your eyes. 

“There’s this dinner spot I think we should try out tonight. It’s on the main island, but it’s supposed to be really good,” he says after a while, drawing your attention to him. “I figure it could be nice to spend an afternoon out. Together.”

“Is my husband asking me on a date?” You tease, watching as his head submerges itself under the water, leaving you in solitude. “I’m kidding. Kidding, Steve. This seems on brand; my husband trying to escape me on our honeymoon.”

He emerges with a laugh, hair slick against his head, broad chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. It’s then your eyes wander southward. Hitch on the hair lining his chest, the way it trails below the surface of the water, hinting at a downward path your heart clenches at the mere prospect of following.

Steve’s…well, your husband is handsome. You’ve known since you met him that first time nearly a year ago. But now, sitting there, with the ring you got him your ring on his finger as he cards his fingers through his hair. It…shouldn’t do anything, but it does. Bubbles to life feelings you would rather push away, sweep under a rug, ignore. 

Deflect, deflect, deflect. 

It’s easier this way. 

Because he’s not your real husband in the ways that matter. 

Capturing your current distraction as you continue to mindlessly stare, Steve taps your shoulder, drawing your gaze back to his face, your mouth twisting into a frown. 

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t looking I—”

Scrambling to escape the moment, you start to rise a bit from the water, only for Steve’s gaze to stray. “Eyes up here, Harrington,” you tease, shoving at him and forcing him deeper into the water, hazel eyes bright and wide, holding you in place there in that sauna. 

He laughs, spluttering as his head dips beneath the surface. 

A deep, hearty, lyrical sound. 

That laughter continues until dinner, where Steve brings you to a lovely outdoor restaurant on the beach. All around tables lit by candlelight outline the sandy floor. Little twinkling lights illuminate the space, hidden in the trees, curling around their slender trunks. It’s gorgeous, and you say so as your waitress congratulates you on your marriage while she seats the two of you, offering a bottle of champagne gifted by your mother-in-law. 

Until it stops because of a simple sentence that makes Steve stiffen on the spot: “Are those the new Harringtons?”

-

It’s supposed to be easy. A business deal with a contract like the ones he’d grown up reading. An exercise his father had him do often: would hand him a detailed contract, pages thick, and see if Steve could find the faults within. It’s why he knows the one he drafted up for his own marriage was—or rather, should have been—perfect. But marriage contracts don’t account for persistent wives. For the types of women who seep into the crevices of your life and make themselves known. 

And that, he finds quickly, is you. You’re vibrant and joyful and downright fun to be around, and try as he might to deny it, finds himself enjoying your company. But he’d told himself, from the moment on that rooftop when he’d asked you to marry him, that these things could only grow complicated if he allowed them to. If he allowed himself to open up, to feel, to wonder. 

Such as this moment, presently staring him in the face. You are in that pretty, off the shoulder cream dress he’d seen you unpack back in the bedroom that clings to your every curve, as Carol and her husband, Tommy H, settle down at the table beside the two of you. And, naturally, you slip into easy conversation with them. Chipper chatter as you catch up on the happenings of your honeymoon so far. 

“Isn’t it just so beautiful here? It’s actually our first time here too, but it has been so lovely. Have you two been able to get out and see anything? I’m sure you’re still in that first few days of your trip bliss,” Carol asks, waggling her brows teasingly. 

“I…uh, what?” You pause for a moment, reaching across the table to grab Steve’s hand in yours. As if you’ve just remembered you’re married and are meant to play the part of a newlywed. “Oh, yeah…so we have a private bungalow on the water. So you can imagine…” 

“That sounds so romantic. Ugh, honey—” She reaches over to clasp her hand around her own husband’s forearm fondly, as if she’s reliving memories of their own newly wedded bliss. “If you haven’t seen any beaches yet, you definitely need to. The water was so perfect. We also tried out this really lovely breakfast place. Great for a morning meal and it’s connected to the sweetest trail. Such pretty scenery here, isn’t there, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, turning to Steve when the girls slip into easy conversation, grinning widely. “She seems great, buddy. So happy for you.”

“She really is,” Steve admits, catching the profile of your pretty face. The upturn of your lips that has his heart careening into the pit of his stomach. 

He hates when it does that, and it seems to do so all the time now. 

He knows it’s not coincidental. 

And that’s the problem, now isn’t it? 

The charm you possess. The way Carol and Tommy talk to you like they’ve known you for years as opposed to the few minutes it takes to learn their background history. To find out that they know Steve from the private school they went to in the city. You quickly learn Steve and Tommy played baseball together, before Steve went to business school and Jason pursued the major leagues. They’ve not seen each other in years, so there are no hard feelings about not being invited to the wedding, but they’re happy for the two of you. 

Steve told himself marrying you would be easy because he knew little of you. You’re his best friend Eddie’s best friend. You were previously Robin’s roommate. But up until your vows at the altar you were a name his friends would bring up in conversation, and now you’re central to a majority of his conversations, share a last name with him, have now shared a bed with him. 

Luckily, there are only a few more days left of your honeymoon. A few until he’s back in the city, back to work, and back to normalcy. You’ll be heading back to school, he’ll have a semblance of reality he feels he’s been lacking, so wrapped up in wedding planning and get togethers, and he’ll have no questions as to why he’s finding it so hard to keep your marriage strictly as what it was always intended to be: a business deal. 

For now he’ll have to deal with you grabbing his hand flirtatiously when an Emcee announces a competition for that evening that manages to put a new glint in yours and Carol’s eyes. An expectant glee for him to participate with you, keen on competition, despite his grunts of protest. 

For now he’ll have to deal with the way your eyes meet him as a coconut is pressed between the two of you and the game of the evening is announced. Coconut smoochie, wherein two couples compete to bring the coconut between their bodies up to their mouths for a kiss, without using their hands. 

For now, he’ll have to deal with the smirk that lines your lips as he starts shifting this way and that, coconut rolling between the two of you, sliding against his abdomen, his chest, your chest, your breasts. 

For now, he’ll have to ignore the way you grin to yourself when Carol and Tommy drop their coconut behind the two of you, how satisfied you are when Steve manages to get the coconut under his chin and pinches it there. 

“Harrington, you’re not so bad at this,” you tease, chest against his, hips against his. 

One wrong move and—

“Can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“You’re on your honeymoon. Live a little. Life doesn’t have to be numbers and contracts all the time.”

And you’re right. He knows this. But he hates the way his stomach twists violently, how his heart clenches as your lips press against the coconut and the other side is pressed to his mouth. Hates how when you’re announced the winners and the coconut drops to the floor between you, his palms sweat as your arms come to curl around his waist. 

Because you’re his wife, yes. 

Technically. 

On paper, at least. 

But that’s all it can be. 

This affair, this agreement—it has an expiration date. 

Three years. 

Three years and then you’ll be gone. 

Lost to him, like so many others. 

For the sake of your agreement, it has to remain that way. 

-

Light seeps in through your bedroom window. A heaviness around your waist, like a weighted blanket, keeps you still. Comforted. Warm. A sigh spills from your lips, pleasant and happy. Contented. Burrowing deeper into that warm, you hum, relishing in the feeling of it. Of being cocooned, safe, held close. 

Held close. 

Held close. 

Held— 

Head shifting, you come to notice Steve flush against your back. His hips against your backside, thighs tangling with yours, and that weight around you? Yeah, it’s connected to a wrist, a bicep—because it’s an arm. Steve’s broad arm cages you in against his bare chest. His warm, freshly tanned, bare chest. Those fingers around your hip curl tighter. The arm around you tugs you closer, though you’re not sure how much closer two people can be without climbing into the other person, and you realize the very…interesting situation you two have found yourselves in. 

His body against yours. Your body flush against him. His breath in your hair, along your ear, his mouth near the hinge of your jaw. If he moves even the slightest bit, they’ll make contact with your skin. And you’ve kissed Steve enough times now to know said kisses are dangerous. They’ll only lead to dreaming, to questioning, to wondering. 

You don’t have time for any of those things. 

Your honeymoon is coming to a close soon enough. Only a few days left now, and then you’ll be back to your own lives. To normalcy. Or as normal as two people freshly married can be.

“Steve?” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to not startle the man holding you. 

His mouth shifts near your ear. A low yawn spills against your jaw, heat fanning across your skin. “Yeah?”

“You’re squeezing me,” you point out, wiggling your body for emphasis. “Our pillow wall fell down in our sleep.”

But it’s in the wiggling against his solid form that you realize there are actually three people in the room. Your husband, yourself, and the warm, thick, long, and presently hard erection pressed against your bottom. 

It’s also when you hear the slow exhale of your husband’s breath along the hollow of your ear. A telltale sound, even in the short time you’ve been married, that signals he’s hardly awake. Still in that wispy world between waking and sleep. Deciding to not rouse him further, you settle back down into his embrace. 

Or rather, try to. When you do so, your body freezes on the spot. Cold water seemingly drops from a bucket onto your shared bed. Because Steve whimpers against your shoulder. 

Whimpers. 

A breathy, needy sound that has your stomach fluttering. And further still, as your heart rate picks up, realization dawns. Your knee involuntarily searches for its twin beneath the covers, thighs clenching around Steve’s thigh. This time, he moans. A deep rumble in his chest that vibrates along your spine, has your fingers clutching at his arm slung low around your hips. 

“Steve,” you try again, pleading with whoever listens from above as Steve’s hips roll forward, cock pressing against your backside again, making your pussy flutter around nothing. Betrays you and your damn emotions. Your pillow swallows your moan, desire racketting in your veins. “Fu—Steve.” 

Awareness grows. Waking follows. Steve starts to shift behind you, arm loosening from around your waist, chest slipping from your back. His form moves toward the headboard and you try to not miss the loss of his warmth so deeply, try to not linger on the instantaneous loneliness that creeps when the king sized bed grows even larger before you, the gaping maw between you created by lies and acts, touted before your closest family and friends never so insurmountable. 

As you rise from your own pillow and look at him, he tugs the blankets higher up on his hips, hands moving to the bedside table to grab his glasses and phone. Your mouth opens to speak, to reassure him it’s fine, that it happens, that it’s just a silly pillow wall, but he mutters shower and slips out of the room and down the hall. 

Huffing, you roll onto your back, listening to the sound of your racing heartbeat coming back to a normal rhythm. It’s joined a moment later by the water running, the gentle rainfall of the shower head in the master bathroom sparking to life, likely steaming that room. 

You don’t want to think about it. 

Try hard to not think about the figure of your husband slipping into the stream. Try not to imagine the sight of his bare chest on display, rivulets of water dripping down his sculpted abdominals, fingers running through the hair growing longer since you’ve met him on his head, along the stubble that’s lining his jaw and upper lip now. Try to not imagine him still pressed against you, rolling his hips against yours, drawing a quiet moan from you. Definitely don’t imagine what he’s likely doing in the shower to alleviate his…situation. Your fingers edge along the hem of your sleep shorts as you try to block out the image of his corded arms straining in the shower as those long fingers curl tight around his c—

No! 

Absolutely not! Not going there. 

NOPE. 

-

The day before your flight home arrives sooner than you expect it to. Five days of…well, maybe not marital bliss, but something, passing before your eyes. After the night you woke to Steve’s arms around your waist, the pillow wall became a pillow mountain. 

And, though you loathe to admit it, you hate the mornings that follow. They remind you of what you can expect once you’re back in the city with him. Nights where you slip to one end of the hall and him the other, where you pass each other on the way to grab coffee in the morning, where you wave goodbye before one of you leaves and silence follows. 

Steve wakes early the morning of your last day, mutters that he’s going to spend some time in the private gym, leaving you to make breakfast for when he gets out. With both a plate of eggs and coffee brewing for your husband, you open your laptop with the intention of making sure all your classes have been set up. 

What greets you there isn’t…well, it’s not unexpected. It was part of your deal, but you hadn’t anticipated him paying the bill already. 

Thousands of dollars were paid, bringing your total due for the semester down to nothing. 

Zero. 

Zilch. 

Eyes burning, you close the lid of your laptop, sniffling as Steve enters the room and thanks you, taking a bite of his breakfast. 

“You didn’t have to cook again,” he says. “We haven’t called the private chef at all this week.”

You shrug, wiping at your under eyes quickly. “I don’t mind. I like cooking. I’ll have to go shopping when we get home.”

Home. 

That’s right. 

The walls of your penthouse that feel so far from it are, in fact, your home. 

“Don’t drive yourself crazy cooking all the time. I order out or go out most nights anyway.”

“Right,” you say, dipping your head and pouring him a cup of coffee. “I’ll be busy with school soon anyway.”

“Exactly.” He sips his drink. “That should be your main focus.”

“Right.”

Awkward. 

Stilted. 

Uncomfortable. 

Those feelings linger as you step out onto the hammock outside, dangling over the water below. Your book is back on your lap, Steve’s on your right, freshly brought up to speed on where you’re at. The main character broke up with her boyfriend and told the main male lead that they need to stop seeing each other. 

Needing to take a break from it, tears gathering in your eyes, you tip your gaze up to the sky. The sun beats heavily on your head, warms your skin, and makes you sleepy. 

Steve turns his head your way, fingers trailing along your forearm, breaking you out of your silent reverie. “Hey. Are you okay? You’ve been a little quiet this morning.”

“Yeah.” You nod, rolling over onto your side. Reaching up to place your book on a safer spot of the deck, you shift closer to him, lips turning downward. “I saw you paid my semester—”

“I told you I would. It was part of the deal.”

The deal. 

The arrangement. 

“I know, I just…seeing it was kind of overwhelming. In a good way. In an…I’m really grateful kind of way.” A slow exhale spills from your lips, chest falling with the effort of it. “I know we didn’t get married in the most, uh, conventional way, but—there are things that this will allow me to do that I wouldn’t be able to otherwise. It’s a big weight lifted off my shoulder. So. I guess thank you for marrying me.”

The corner of his lip twitches upward as your husband rolls over onto his side, sunglasses blocking half his face from view. “This is also a weight off my shoulders, too. I think you forget that. I needed to get married for the company—”

“A company you don’t want,” you tease, wrinkling your nose. 

“A company I don’t want,” he agrees, chuckling lightly. “But I’d rather it stay out of my cousin’s hands. So thank you for marrying me.”

“Ready to go home, Mr. Harrington?”

He snorts. “Sure, Mrs. Harrington.”

-

-