#in my head I have all the energy in the world to write all of the things!!!!!

[hancorys]

k.lh — language of quiet hearts

genre: slowburn, fluff, sort of crack, comfort, strangers to lovers pairing: leehan x afab!reader wc: 9.5k warning: long-ass narrative and romance pace (bcs i’m a sucker for slowburn), aespa, belle and bonedo mentioned. FISHES mentioned!! lots of them, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind mentioned, my never ending “to be loved is to be known” mantra listen: ligaw — moonstar88 ft. chito miranda, love. — wte, bad — wte, sa bawat sandali — amiel sol, romcom — rob daniel, balisong — rivermaya, valentine — laufey

“welcome to the broadcasting club! we are pleased to have you here!”

a guy with a bright, almost too enthusiastic smile greets you the moment you step into the journalism headquarters. his voice carries an undeniable warmth, as if he’s been waiting all day just for your arrival. jaehyun—that’s his name. at least, that's what you remember from the posters.

the room hums with a quiet energy, papers rustling, low voices exchanging thoughts, the soft clicking of keyboards filling the spaces in between. the air smells faintly of old books, freshly brewed coffee, and the unmistakable scent of ink from the scattered printouts on the desks.

this is your first day at the broadcasting club. you had been enticed by one of their posters pinned outside your classroom, the words practically calling out to you—

“want a peaceful environment? join the broadcasting club now!”

peaceful, huh? looking at the head president in front of you, you're beginning to think otherwise. jaehyun radiates energy, the kind that makes you wonder if he’s ever known a moment of stillness in his life.

“uh… where do i sign?” you ask, shifting slightly on your feet.

jaehyun tilts his head. “sign what?”

“for the membership,” you clarify, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your sleeve, as if grounding yourself will somehow make the nerves dissipate.

“oh! right!” his sudden exclamation startles you slightly, making you stiffen for a brief second before you let out a soft chuckle, trying to mask your embarrassment.

he grins, unfazed, before motioning for you to follow. as he guides you further into the headquarters, your gaze flits around, taking in the space, committing the details to memory.

the room is a blend of organized chaos—papers stacked in precarious piles, sticky notes clinging desperately to the edges of computer screens, bookshelves lined with past publications and reference materials. a group of students huddle over a laptop in one corner, their quiet murmurs blending into the background noise. across the room, another group chats animatedly, their laughter breaking through the otherwise mellow atmosphere.

but then, your eyes land on him.

a guy stands near the farthest desk, his posture relaxed yet focused. his fingers move effortlessly over the buttons of a sleek camera, adjusting the settings with practiced ease. strands of dark hair fall slightly over his forehead, catching the soft glow of the overhead lights. he doesn’t seem aware of the world around him, completely immersed in whatever he's doing.

his brows knit together as he checks the camera screen, lips slightly parted in concentration. you wonder what he sees through the lens—what kind of stories he captures, what moments he finds worthy enough to frame.

your gaze lingers for a second longer before you shake yourself out of it. you’ve barely been here for five minutes, and you're already getting distracted.

straightening your posture, you let out a quiet breath before returning your attention to jaehyun, who’s still talking about the club’s activities. but even as you listen, your thoughts briefly wander back to the boy with the camera.

for the whole day, you barely did anything related to broadcasting. no writing, no editing—just a long, hellish day of socializing.

it’s not that you hate people. they’re not necessarily annoying, and you don’t think you’re above conversation. but being around too many of them at once? exhausting. overwhelming. you’ve always preferred the quiet that comes with staying in your own bubble, away from the small talk and forced interactions.

but today, jaehyun had other plans for you. he made sure to drag you from one conversation to another, introducing you to every single person in the club, making sure you weren’t left standing in a corner by yourself. you were drowning in introductions, nodding and smiling so much your cheeks started to hurt. you had exchanged pleasantries, laughed at jokes you barely understood, and answered the same questions over and over—“what made you join the club?” “how do you like it so far?” “do you write news or more on the features side?”

by the time the day was coming to an end, all you wanted was to sink into the nearest chair and disappear.

“before we end today’s agenda, please gather up here,” jaehyun calls out, motioning everyone to the giant couch in the middle of the room.

the members shuffle around, some grabbing last-minute snacks, others dragging chairs closer. you, on the other hand, are just about ready to bolt out the door, but before you can even think about it, jaehyun’s eyes land on you.

“y/n, come up front.”

you freeze.

slowly, hesitantly, you step forward, hands clasped together in an attempt to steady yourself. socializing was one thing, but standing in front of a room full of strangers, being introduced like some kind of special guest? you weren’t prepared for this.

jaehyun, ever the extrovert, beams as he gestures toward you. “everyone, meet y/n! she’s our new writer, so be nice.”

a small round of polite applause follows, along with a few smiles and waves from the group. you manage a shy bow, offering a soft “hello” as your eyes flicker from face to face.

jaehyun, ever the diligent host, takes it upon himself to introduce you to the people you hadn't formally met yet. he points first to a pair sitting close together—

“this is belle and taesan, our main radio announcers. they basically run the shows.”

belle gives you a friendly nod, while taesan grins and throws up a peace sign.

“woonhak and sungho—our sports feature writers. they’re also on the soccer team, so expect a lot of game recaps from them.”

the two boys flash matching smiles, exuding the kind of effortless confidence that only athletes seem to have.

“riwoo, our editorial writer. he basically keeps us from writing complete garbage.”

riwoo snorts at that, shaking his head as he offers you a knowing smile.

more names are thrown your way—ningning, winter, yuna, daehwi—all of them waving, all of them welcoming. the list seems never-ending, and you nod along, trying your best to commit at least a few of them to memory.

and then, finally, jaehyun points toward the last member.

your gaze follows his gesture until it lands on him.

“that’s leehan, our official photographer.”

he’s still where you last saw him, camera hanging around his neck, fingers lightly tapping against its frame. unlike the others, he doesn’t offer a wave or a smile. instead, he lifts his head just enough to glance at you. it’s brief—so brief you almost miss it—before he gives a small, polite bow and returns his attention to his camera.

“in this room full of extroverts, he’s an alien,” jaehyun murmurs, leaning toward you with a smirk.

you blink, tilting your head slightly. “why?”

jaehyun hums, crossing his arms. “he’s actually an extrovert by nature, but let’s just say… communication isn’t his strong suit.”

you glance back at leehan. he’s adjusting the settings on his camera now, looking through the viewfinder with a quiet kind of focus.

he doesn’t seem unfriendly. just… distant.

reserved.

like he exists just a little outside of the circle, never quite stepping in.

jaehyun chuckles, shaking his head. “he’s not as intimidating as he looks. he just sucks at talking to people.”

you nod slowly, gaze lingering on leehan for a moment longer. there’s something about him that piques your curiosity. maybe it’s the way he carries himself, the way he seems so immersed in his own world, separate from the lively chaos of the club.

or maybe it’s just the fact that, out of everyone you’ve met today, he’s the only one who hasn’t said a single word to you.

---

after the long and exhausting day of forced socializing, all you wanted was to go home, collapse onto your bed, and let the silence wash over you.

but, as luck would have it, the universe had other plans.

as soon as you step out into the parking lot, a sharp plop lands on your cheek. then another on your shoulder. before you can even register what’s happening, the sky opens up, and the rain comes down in heavy sheets, soaking the pavement in seconds.

shit.

you mutter a curse under your breath and break into a sprint, making a beeline for the nearest waiting shed. the cold raindrops cling to your skin, drenching your sleeves, your hair, the hem of your jeans. by the time you reach cover, you’re damp and shivering, rubbing your arms as you let out a tired sigh.

you shake the excess water from your hands, watching the rain crash against the asphalt. it’s relentless, the kind of downpour that could last for hours.

you exhale sharply. great. guess i’m stuck here.

as you wring out the sleeve of your jacket, you feel it—a light tap on your shoulder.

at first, you think it’s just a stray raindrop. you ignore it.

but then it happens again.

tap, tap, tap.

three soft, deliberate taps.

you turn around, eyebrows furrowing.

leehan.

he stands just behind you, his posture relaxed, a large blue umbrella held out in his hand.

you tilt your head, confused.

his expression remains unreadable, eyes flickering to yours before he nudges the umbrella toward you, silently insisting.

you blink.

he nudges it again.

hesitantly, you reach out, your fingers brushing against the smooth handle as you take it from him. the weight of it feels oddly significant, like an unspoken gesture heavier than words.

before you can even thank him, leehan has already moved.

he tugs his black marshall iv headphones back over his ears, slipping them into place as if retreating into his own world. then, in one swift motion, he pulls the hood of his jacket up and steps out into the rain.

you watch, stunned, as he takes off in a light jog, hands shoved into his pockets, head slightly ducked. he doesn’t even bother running properly—just moves at a leisurely pace, as if the rain isn’t drenching him head to toe. his free hand lifts above his head, fingers spread as if shielding himself from the downpour.

as if that’s going to make a difference.

you scoff, shaking your head.

so, he’s leehan.

quiet. distant. unreadable. but unexpectedly thoughtful.

you look down at the umbrella in your hands, running your fingers over the fabric. it’s slightly worn, the handle warm from where he held it.

a small, almost amused smile tugs at your lips.

maybe today wasn’t all bad.

---

when everyone in the club loved to chat or do anything that a typical extrovert would do, you’d find yourself slumped on the worn-out sofa in the farthest corner of the journalism office, tucked away from the noise. the room was always bustling with energy—voices overlapping, laughter echoing off the walls, the faint hum of computers in the background. yet, in your little corner, it felt like the world was muted, and you found comfort in that.

it’s been a week since you joined the broadcasting club, and you were surprised at how much you were enjoying it. their slogan promised a peaceful atmosphere, and while that wasn’t entirely accurate—there was always some level of chaos—it was still the perfect place to escape without affecting your class schedule. the best part? you could stay inside the broadcasting headquarters as long as you liked, surrounded by shelves crammed with old tapes, stacks of forgotten scripts, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. it felt like a secret sanctuary, and you were slowly getting attached to it.

you were curled up on the sofa, legs folded beneath you as you held a haruki murakami book, fingers lightly gripping a pen that danced along the pages as you scribbled little notes in the margins. the words on the paper seemed to blur at times as your mind wandered, losing focus just to drift back with a renewed curiosity. occasionally, you’d lift your gaze, letting your imagination fill the room, painting scenes inspired by the story in your head.

your eyes drifted to the water dispenser, the hum of the cooling unit blending into the background noise. and that’s when you saw him—leehan, standing by the dispenser, his hair slightly tousled, fingers tapping impatiently against his cup as he waited for the water to fill.

the blue umbrella.

shit. you forgot his umbrella, and it’s been a week since that rainy day when you borrowed it. you pressed your palm to your forehead, feeling the embarrassment flood in. you promised yourself right then—you’d definitely bring it tomorrow. no more excuses.

the next morning, you arrived at the broadcasting headquarters earlier than usual, the blue umbrella clutched tightly in your hand. the sky outside was still a soft gray, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. inside, the familiar hum of equipment and faint chatter greeted you. a few early birds were already scattered around, their sleepy good mornings exchanged as you made your way through the room. your eyes instinctively searched for him, and you didn’t have to look far.

leehan was at the coffee table, a book in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, his posture relaxed as his eyes skimmed over the pages. the soft glow from the window cast a golden hue on his face, and for a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of what to say—or if you should say anything at all.

you approached him quietly, your footsteps light against the worn floorboards. when you were standing in front of him, you didn’t bother with words. instead, you gently tapped his shoulder, just like he did that day when he handed you the umbrella without a single word. his eyes flicked up, widening in surprise as they met yours.

before he could say anything, you held out the umbrella, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment before you quickly pulled away. his lips parted, as if to say something, but you were already turning on your heels, leaving the room before he could respond. you didn’t even know why you were rushing, heart pounding as you disappeared down the hallway.

and yet, no matter how far you tried to run, you couldn’t escape the fact that leehan was everywhere. it started to feel like he was haunting you, always showing up in the same places, always close but never speaking. like now, for example.

you were curled up in your favorite corner, the ancient sofa sagging beneath your weight as you tapped your pen against the pages of your notebook. you’d been staring at the same sentence for what felt like an eternity, words tangled in your mind, refusing to form coherent thoughts. but your distraction wasn’t just because of writer’s block.

across the room, leehan was there, again. his camera rested in his hands, fingers absentmindedly adjusting the lens. he wasn’t taking any pictures, just fiddling with the settings, eyes occasionally flicking up before quickly looking away. you wondered if he knew you noticed. if he realized how obvious he was.

this wasn’t the first time.

last week, you were in the library, wedged between two dusty shelves, lost in an old poetry book. the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows created a soothing melody, and you were fully immersed in the words until a faint presence disrupted your peace. you looked up, and there he was—one aisle over, his eyes skimming book titles, fingers trailing along the spines without actually pulling any out. you turned a page. he turned a page. you sighed and scribbled a note. he shifted his weight, adjusting the strap of his camera bag. it was almost like you were synced, even though neither of you said a word.

then there was that time at the coffee station, a cramped little corner of the student center where people squeezed past each other with hurried apologies. you were pouring cream into your cup, watching the swirling white cloud mix with the coffee’s dark brown. you felt him before you saw him—standing just behind you, close enough for you to feel his presence, but not close enough to touch.

you didn’t turn around. you didn’t have to. you moved aside, and he stepped forward, reaching for a sugar packet. his movements were slow, deliberate, the crinkle of the packet tearing breaking the silence between you. you knew he liked exactly one sugar in his coffee because you had seen him do this before, every time you ran into him here. he stirred his cup slowly, his eyes never meeting yours, but his presence was heavy, lingering in the air long after you walked away.

and now, once again, he was here, in the broadcasting headquarters, across from you with his camera in hand. neither of you spoke. the silence felt heavy, charged with something unspoken, the distance between you feeling smaller than it actually was. you wondered if he knew how many times you noticed him. if he realized that he was becoming a constant in your day, an unspoken presence that you were starting to expect.

leehan’s gaze shifted, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before he looked back at his camera, his fingers continuing to fiddle with the lens. you quickly looked away, pretending to be lost in your notebook again, the pen tapping against the paper as your heart raced.

---

the quietness with the both you started shifting when he saw you at the couch, sitting during one break, reading one of the books he was into—fishes.

slowly, leehan approached, standing near the arm of the couch, his fingers tightening slightly around the strap of his camera bag.

“t-that’s a cool book.” he said just enough for you to hear.

“yes, i love reading this every now and then,” you blinked. 

“you… like fishes?” he looked just as surprised as you felt, like he hadn’t really planned on speaking.

for a second, you only stared at each other. then, you nodded and smiled.

“i have some,” you murmured, voice quieter than the bustling room around you.

his eyebrows lifted slightly. “some?”

you hesitated, then closed the book halfway, your fingers still keeping your place. “i have six. a small tank in my apartment.”

leehan blinked, and then, before he could stop himself, he sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

“what kind?”

there was something about the way he asked, like he actually cared about the answer. you shifted slightly, feeling the couch dip with his added weight.

“a mix… two bettas, a couple of neon tetras, and some corydoras.”

leehan exhaled, a soft, amused sound that almost resembled a laugh. “you really know your fish.”

you shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “i just think they’re interesting.”

“you have fish, too?”

leehan leaned back slightly, nodding. “yeah… a planted tank. mostly rasboras and shrimp.”

for the first time, the quiet between you wasn’t just comfortable—it was expectant, like something unspoken had shifted.

“how do you keep shrimp alive?” you asked after a moment, genuinely curious. “mine never last longer than a few weeks.”

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s all about the water parameters. i can show you sometime if you want.”

it was a simple offer, but it felt bigger than that.

you nodded, tucking your legs under you. “i’d like that.”

and just like that, the conversation flowed.

for hours, you talked. about fish, about aquariums, about the best water conditions and tank setups.

leehan was in awe.

he had never talked this much before. never felt this comfortable.

since that day, something quietly shifted between you and leehan.

it wasn’t sudden, nothing dramatic. just subtle changes—small, unspoken gestures that gradually became routine.

like how he’d now linger near the couch during breaks, pretending to scroll through his camera or fiddle with his lenses, when you both knew he was waiting for you to sit down and talk.

and you did. you always did.

at first, it was just about fish. he’d bring books with colorful covers, filled with illustrations of vibrant aquatic life, and you’d pour over the pages together, sharing your thoughts, comparing notes.

once, he showed up with a tiny container. fish food.

“try it,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

you crinkled your nose. “are you crazy?”

“it’s not that bad,” he argued, leaning back against the couch with a casual shrug. “just a little salty.”

you stared at the container, hesitating. “you’ve tried it before?”

his lips curved into a small, almost playful smile. “curiosity got the best of me.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “i’ll pass.”

he just grinned, tucking the container back into his bag. “suit yourself. give some for your fishes though.”

it wasn’t always about fish, though. sometimes, it was about journalism.

he’d ask about your writing—your ideas, your process, what you wanted to bring to the broadcasting club. you’d stumble over your words at first, unused to someone showing such genuine interest. but leehan was patient, his quiet encouragement coaxing you out of your shell.

one afternoon, he found you struggling with an article, your laptop open and your fingers frozen above the keyboard.

“stuck?” he asked, his voice low and soft.

you exhaled, leaning back with a groan. “i don’t know how to start this.”

leehan glanced at the screen, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in closer. “just write the first thing that comes to mind. you can always edit it later.”

“easy for you to say,” you muttered. “you’re just clicking a button. i have to actually make sense.”

he rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched with amusement. “you think photography is that easy?”

you shrugged, teasing. “pretty much.”

he shot you a mock glare, then grabbed his camera, holding it out to you. “here. let’s see you take a decent shot then.”

you hesitated, fingers brushing against the cold metal. “i don’t know how to use this.”

“i’ll teach you.”

and he did.

he showed you how to adjust the settings, how to find the right angle, how to capture light and shadow. his voice was patient, his hands occasionally guiding yours, his touch warm and careful.

you ended up taking a picture of a half-empty cup of coffee, the light from the window hitting it just right. it was a terrible shot, the focus all wrong, the composition awkward.

but leehan looked at it like it was something special.

“not bad,” he said softly. “you’ve got an eye for this.”

you tried to ignore the way his words made your heart flutter.

then there was the day he showed you his portfolio.

“it’s nothing special,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed, as he handed you his tablet.

you started scrolling, taking in shot after shot—landscapes drenched in golden light, candid moments of laughter, the vibrant energy of city streets. his photos were alive, bursting with emotion and movement.

“leehan,” you breathed, eyes wide with awe. “these are... incredible.”

he ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “thanks.”

then you saw it.

you almost scrolled past it, but something made you stop. it was a shot of the broadcasting club room, sunlight filtering through the window, the warm glow wrapping around a familiar figure.

you.

your profile turned to the side, a small, thoughtful smile playing on your lips as you scribbled something in your notebook. your hair fell gently over your shoulder, your expression soft and serene.

your heart skipped a beat. “w-when did you take this?”

leehan froze. his eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “oh... uh... that... i was just testing the lighting, and you were there, and...” he trailed off, clearly flustered. his cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and he looked away, suddenly very interested in his shoes.

you tried to keep your voice steady, tried to ignore the heat creeping up your own cheeks. “it’s... a good shot.”

he glanced at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge your reaction. “really?”

you nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “yeah. you’re really good at this.”

for a second, he just stared at you, his expression softening, his shoulders relaxing. then he looked away, his ears tinged red. “thanks...”

after that, things changed—just a little.

he started showing you more of his photos, and sometimes, you’d catch glimpses of yourself in them. blurry, candid shots. nothing posed, nothing intentional. just stolen moments.

you never asked why. and he never explained.

but slowly, leehan’s presence became a constant in your life.

he’d seek you out during breaks, sitting across from you at the couch, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing quietly beside you.

other times, you’d find him standing outside the broadcasting club room, his hands tucked in his pockets, waiting for you without saying a word. you’d walk out together, your footsteps falling in sync, a comfortable silence wrapping around you both.

and then there were the little things.

like the way he’d slide over an extra bottle of water when he noticed yours was empty. or how he’d subtly adjust the window blinds so the sunlight wouldn’t glare on your laptop screen.

or how he’d hold out his hand when you were struggling with carrying too many things at once, his fingers brushing against yours just for a second before he took the burden off your hands.

you never talked about these moments. never addressed the way his gaze would linger a little too long, or how your heart would race whenever he was close.

it was slow, a delicate dance of stolen glances and soft smiles, of shared silences and unspoken words.

but somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, you and leehan were getting closer.

---

what you had with leehan wasn’t loud. it didn’t demand attention, didn’t clamor to be seen or heard. it was quiet, gentle, almost delicate in its existence. but it was yours.

it started as something small. something almost insignificant.

maybe it was the way your eyes flickered to the door more often than they should, a subtle glance that betrayed the anticipation curling in your stomach. you weren’t waiting for him, not really. but some part of you hoped. hoped that, maybe, leehan would show up, like he always did.

and then, like clockwork, the door creaked open.

your head lifted before you could stop yourself, heart skipping just a little when you saw him step inside. he was balancing a cup of fruit in one hand, a fork in the other, a piece of pineapple poised between his lips. his hair was slightly tousled, like he had run his fingers through it on his way over, and his eyes crinkled as they met yours.

he waved, the motion casual, easy. “hey,” he mumbled around the fruit before quickly chewing and swallowing.

you tried to fight the smile threatening to break free but failed miserably. “hey.”

he walked over, dropping his camera bag onto the chair with a soft thud, the familiar scent of his perfume trailing behind him. it was subtle, a delicate blend of something fresh and slightly woody, tinged with a sweetness that lingered in the air long after he had settled into his seat.

you tried not to notice. you really did.

but it was getting harder.

especially when you started noticing... everything.

like how he always had that cup of fruit with him. pineapple, melon, sometimes apple slices. you weren’t sure why it stood out to you, but it did. maybe it was because of the way he ate, with a sort of quiet focus, his eyes fixed on the cup, his brows drawing together just slightly. or maybe it was the way his lips would curve upwards every time he tasted something particularly sweet.

you’d never paid much attention to it before, but now it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world.

you filed the thought away, only for it to be replaced by something else.

like the way his voice dipped lower when he spoke in hushed tones, the words wrapping around you softly, lingering in the air long after he’d finished speaking. it was calming, a gentle rhythm that soothed even the most restless parts of you.

or the way he tilted his head when he listened, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made you feel like the most important person in the room. he didn’t just hear you; he listened. truly listened. and somehow, that meant everything.

and then there were the little things, the ones that shouldn’t have mattered but did.

the mole in his neck, peeking out from the collar of his shirt. you weren’t even sure why your eyes kept drifting there, but they did, tracing the shape absently, memorizing the way it stood out against his skin.

or the way he laughed. soft and breathy, like he was trying to hold it back. but when something was really funny, his laugh would break free, louder, more genuine, and he’d immediately cover his face with his hand, his shoulders shaking with embarrassment. you found yourself wanting to hear that laugh more often, wanting to be the reason for it.

you didn’t realize you were staring until he looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

“what?” he asked, a curious smile playing at his lips.

you blinked, heat flooding your cheeks. “nothing,” you mumbled, quickly looking down at your notebook, pretending to be engrossed in whatever you were scribbling.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shrug, going back to his fruit, his foot lightly tapping against the leg of your chair.

and just like that, the world felt a little more grounded.

you didn’t know when it happened—when the quiet presence of leehan became something you looked forward to, something you anticipated without even realizing it. but it did.

because it wasn’t just the moments filled with conversation or laughter that you found yourself craving. it was the silences, too. the ones that stretched comfortably between you, where no words were needed because his presence was enough.

sometimes, you’d both be working on different things, the only sound in the room the soft clicking of keys or the scratch of a pen against paper. yet, you felt more at ease in those moments than you ever did surrounded by noise.

and it was strange—how easily he had slipped into your life, into your routine. how his presence felt natural, like he belonged there, across from you, his fruit cup balanced precariously on his knee as he scrolled through photos on his camera.

you didn’t question it. you were too afraid of what the answer might be.

so you let it be. let yourself notice the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, or the way his fingers drummed absently against the table when he was lost in thought.

let yourself memorize the subtle curve of his smile, the warmth in his gaze whenever he looked at you.

---

leehan had always been observant.

it was something his friends teased him about constantly, claiming he paid too much attention to things that didn’t matter. but to him, the small things did matter. they were what made up the fabric of his world, the tiny details that others overlooked but he found himself lingering on, almost obsessively.

like how the jaehyun, the club president always spun a pen between his fingers when he was deep in thought, his brows knitting together as he tried to piece together the next news segment.

or how the lights in the broadcast room flickered ever so slightly every few minutes, a barely noticeable glitch that seemed to go unnoticed by everyone but him. or how taesan would doodle absentmindedly in the margins of his notebook, his sketches chaotic but oddly charming. or how woonhak had this habit of humming under his breath whenever he was editing videos, the soft tune weaving through the air like a whisper.

leehan noticed all of it. every little thing.

but most of all, he noticed you.

he noticed how you always sat in the same spot on the worn-out couch, legs tucked under you, your body curled in a way that made you look smaller, softer. how you’d have a cup of coffee within reach, the steam curling upwards, and a piece of bread in your hand, nibbling on it absentmindedly as you reviewed scripts or edited recordings.

he noticed how your brows would furrow when you were focused, your nose scrunching just a little, and how your lips would part ever so slightly when you were deep in thought. he noticed how you’d occasionally hum under your breath, a quiet melody that you probably didn’t even realize you were singing.

he noticed the way your hair would fall messily over your face, how you’d push it back absentmindedly, fingers brushing against your cheek with a sort of careless grace that made his chest tighten. he noticed how your eyes would light up when you laughed, the way your shoulders would relax, your entire body leaning into the joy as if nothing else in the world mattered in that moment.

and he noticed the way his heart would stutter every single time.

leehan wanted to talk to you from the very first time he saw you.

it was the first day of the semester, and you had walked into the broadcast room, shoulders slightly hunched as if you were trying to make yourself smaller. you were wearing a faded sweatshirt, the sleeves too long and frayed at the edges, your hair a little messy, like you had rushed out the door without bothering to fix it. you had looked around the room, your gaze flickering nervously before settling on the couch, where you had sat down, curling into yourself like you were trying to disappear.

and that was when it happened.

his heart did this strange, stupid little flip, a fluttering that made him feel lightheaded and dizzy. he didn’t understand it, didn’t know why his chest suddenly felt tight or why his palms were getting clammy. all he knew was that he couldn’t look away.

he wanted to say something, anything, but his throat closed up, the words dying on his tongue. he wasn’t good with people—never had been. talking to someone new was hard enough, but talking to you felt impossible. because you were beautiful. painfully so. and that terrified him.

so he did nothing.

instead, he watched. quietly, carefully, from the corner of the room, his eyes drifting back to you every few seconds, his heart beating a little faster each time.

“dude, you’re staring again,” taesan muttered beside him, his voice low enough that no one else would hear. “it’s getting creepy.”

leehan tore his gaze away, heat rushing to his cheeks. “i’m not staring.”

taesan rolled his eyes. “right. and i’m practically your best friend, dude.” he nudged leehan’s shoulder, a teasing grin on his face. “just go talk to her already.”

“i can’t,” leehan mumbled, his eyes unconsciously drifting back to you. “i... i wouldn’t know what to say.”

“just say hi,” woonhak chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “it’s not rocket science.”

leehan’s stomach twisted at the thought. just the idea of walking up to you, of saying something and potentially making a fool of himself... it was enough to make his palms sweat.

“i’ll just... i’ll just wait,” he muttered, sinking lower in his seat. “for the right moment.”

taesan sighed. “you’ve been waiting for the right moment for months, dude. at this rate, you’ll graduate before you even say hi.”

leehan didn’t respond. because taesan was right. he had been waiting.

and waiting.

and waiting.

but the moment never came.

so he watched instead. and he noticed.

he noticed how you always showed up early, at least fifteen minutes before the rest of the team. how you’d settle into your spot on the couch, sipping your coffee slowly, your shoulders visibly relaxing as the room remained quiet and empty.

he noticed how you always brought a piece of bread, usually something simple—plain toast, a croissant, sometimes a muffin. you’d nibble on it absentmindedly, your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you, occasionally brushing crumbs off your lap.

he noticed how your handwriting was neat but slanted, the letters curving gracefully across the page. how you always underlined your titles twice, the lines perfectly straight, no ruler needed.

he noticed the way you laughed—soft, melodic, the kind of laugh that made his chest feel warm and tight all at once. how you’d cover your mouth when you laughed too hard, your shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling at the corners.

and he noticed how his heart would ache every single time.

“you’re hopeless,” taesan said one day, watching as leehan’s gaze followed you across the room.

leehan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “i know.”

“just talk to her, man,” taesan pressed. “what’s the worst that could happen?”

“everything,” leehan muttered.

at this point, his friends had stopped listening.

but he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t stop noticing you, couldn’t stop wanting to be near you, to talk to you, to make you laugh. he couldn’t stop his heart from racing every time you looked his way, even if it was just for a second.

he couldn’t stop the way his chest tightened when he saw you smile, or the way his mind would go blank whenever you were close enough for him to catch the faint scent of your shampoo.

he couldn’t stop falling for you, even if you didn’t have a clue.

but then one day, everything changed.

it was break time, and leehan was heading toward the coffee station when he saw you.

sitting on the couch.

with his book.

well, not his book, but the book. the national geographic book about fishes. the one he had practically lived in as a kid, flipping through the pages until he had every fish species memorized.

his breath hitched. his hands clenched. his mind went into overdrive.

she likes that book? does that mean she likes fishes? what if it’s just random? what if—

he caught himself before spiraling. no. he needed to act normal. he needed to breathe.

step. step. breathe.

before he could fully comprehend it, he was standing right in front of you. close enough to see the delicate curve of your eyelashes, the way your fingers gently held the pages.

his lips parted, his voice coming out shakier than he wanted. “t-that’s a cool book.” just loud enough for you to hear.

you looked up.

oh. oh god.

leehan swore his heart stopped. just for a moment, he saw the gates of heaven when your eyes met. there was a pause, long enough for the world to blur around the edges, leaving only you in perfect focus.

“yes, i love reading this every now and then,” you blinked, looking up at him through those impossibly pretty eyes.

his mind went blank. completely, utterly blank. then, somehow, words tumbled out. “you… like fishes?” he sounded as stunned as he felt, like his mouth was moving before his brain could catch up.

you stared at him, and he could feel his pulse racing, each beat echoing in his chest. then, you nodded, a small smile forming on your lips.

“i have some,” you said softly, your voice delicate, almost shy.

leehan’s heart did a weird little flip. “some?”

you hesitated, closing the book halfway but keeping your fingers in place. “i have six. a small tank in my apartment.”

leehan’s eyes widened, and before he could stop himself, he sat down on the other end of the couch. he needed to be closer, needed to hear more.

“what kind?”

his voice was soft, almost reverent, like he was asking about something sacred. because to him, it was. you were.

you shifted, and leehan felt the slight dip of the couch, felt the warmth of your presence. “a mix… two bettas, a couple of neon tetras, and some corydoras.”

he let out a breath, a sound that was almost a laugh, his heart feeling light in a way he didn’t know it could. “you really know your fish.”

you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “i just think they’re interesting.”

god, he wanted to bottle that smile and keep it forever.

“you have fish, too?”

leehan leaned back just enough to look at you fully, his eyes taking in every detail. “yeah… a planted tank. mostly rasboras and shrimp.”

your eyes sparkled with curiosity. “how do you keep shrimp alive? mine never last longer than a few weeks.”

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s all about the water parameters. i can show you sometime if you want.”

the words were out before he could think, hanging in the air between you. he held his breath, waiting, hoping.

your eyes softened, your lips curving into that gentle smile again. “i’d like that.”

leehan felt his heart swell, warmth spreading through his chest. he could’ve floated right off that couch.

and then, as if some invisible barrier had shattered, the conversation flowed. effortlessly, beautifully.

you talked about fish, about aquariums, about water conditions and tank setups. your voice was like music, your laughter light and airy, filling every corner of his heart.

he was completely, utterly captivated.

leehan couldn’t believe how easy it was, how natural it felt. he had never talked this much before, never felt this comfortable. but with you, words just came.

he was falling. hard. and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

not that he wanted to.

---

“hey, are you listening?” you snapped him back to reality. stopping him from literally reliving the past mid-conversation.

he stared at you, and blinked, heat rushing to his cheeks. had he been staring? he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “y-yeah, of course. i still think the joel and clementine deserved a second or third chance...”

 you have been talking about movies for the past hours and it's just so that you got to talking about eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

 you laughed, and the sound was so soft, so genuine, that it made his heart skip. “we moved past that like five minutes ago.”

 “oh,” he mumbled, feeling utterly stupid. “right… yeah, i knew that.” you shook your head, amused.

“you’re kind of weird, you know that?”

“yeah,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck, a sheepish smile forming. “i get that a lot.” he expected you to laugh again, to make another teasing remark, but instead, your expression softened. 

“it’s… kind of cute.”

leehan’s heart stopped.

did you just call him cute?

he replayed the words in his head, over and over, trying to convince himself he hadn’t imagined it. the way you looked at him, eyes warm and gentle, the smallest smile on your lips—he was sure he was dreaming.

“w-what?” he stammered, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched. he cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “i mean… really?”

you shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the slight pink on your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “yeah, in a weird, clueless kind of way.”

“oh.” his heart was racing, pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. “well… thanks, i guess?”

you smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds, warm and dazzling. “you’re welcome.”

leehan swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the tiny space between you on the couch. he could feel the warmth radiating from you, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. it was intoxicating.

“so… um,” he started, desperately searching for a topic to break the tension that had settled between you, but his mind was blank. “you, uh… you never told me who your favorite character was.”

you looked at him, surprised. “from eternal sunshine?”

he nodded, grateful his voice didn’t crack. “yeah. you said you liked the movie, but you never said why.”

you tilted your head, your eyes drifting to the ceiling as you thought. “i think… i think it’s joel. he’s awkward and complicated, and he overthinks everything. but he feels everything so deeply, even when he tries not to.”

leehan’s breath caught. it was like you were describing him.

he wanted to say something, to tell you how much he understood, how he also overthought everything, how he was feeling everything so intensely right now it almost hurt. but the words wouldn’t come.

“what about you?” you asked, your voice gentle. “who’s your favorite?”

he looked at you, his chest tightening. “joel,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “definitely joel.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the air was thick with something unspoken, something electric. leehan could feel his heart racing, his palms growing sweaty.

then you looked away, breaking the spell. “yeah… he’s great.”

leehan swallowed, realizing he had been holding his breath. he let it out slowly, trying to calm the storm inside him.

you leaned back against the couch, eyes drifting to the book he let you borrow, resting on your lap. “you really know a lot about fish,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the spine absentmindedly. “i never would’ve guessed.”

leehan smiled, his heart fluttering at the way you said it, like you were genuinely curious. “yeah… it was kind of my whole life growing up. i used to spend hours reading about them, watching documentaries… i even had this imaginary aquarium business when i was a kid.”

you laughed, the sound bright and warm, and leehan felt his chest tighten. “really?”

he nodded, his cheeks flushing. “yeah… i’d make these little paper tanks and pretend to sell them to my stuffed animals.”

you laughed even harder, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “that’s… that’s adorable.”

adorable.

his heart skipped. he wanted to hear you say it again, wanted to make you laugh like that a thousand more times.

he looked away, his face burning. “yeah, well… i was a weird kid.”

“i think that’s sweet,” you said softly, your voice gentle. “you were passionate, even then.”

leehan’s heart thudded in his chest. how were you doing this to him? how were you turning his most embarrassing childhood stories into something beautiful?

“i… i guess so,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

you smiled, your eyes lingering on him a moment longer before you looked down at the book. “you know, i’ve had this book for years, but i never really understood half of what’s in here. maybe… maybe you could teach me sometime?”

leehan’s eyes widened, his heart leaping. “r-really? i mean, yeah! yeah, i’d love to.”

“cool,” you said, your smile soft, almost shy. “i’d like that.”

leehan felt his heart swell, warmth flooding his chest. he wanted to memorize this moment, to etch every detail into his mind. the way your hair fell softly over your shoulder, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him, the way you said you wanted to spend more time with him.

he fell. hard. he fell so bad he swore that you could hear his heart beating maniacally because of you.

---

it was a saturday morning, lazy morning for the whole broadcasting club, and you? you have other plans to spend this lazy saturday.

you found him in the broadcasting room, hunched over the soundboard with his brows furrowed, headphones around his neck. his fingers moved expertly over the controls, adjusting levels with a focused determination that made your heart skip.

you hesitated at the door, gripping the edges of your notebook, your palms clammy. asking him to watch a documentary shouldn’t be this hard, right? it was just… a documentary. about fishes. something you figured he’d like. nothing weird about that.

so why were your hands shaking?

“you gonna stand there all day?”

you jumped, heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked up to see taesan leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his lips. his eyes sparkled with mischief, like he knew exactly why you were hesitating.

“i-i was just…” you stammered, struggling to come up with an excuse, but taesan only raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“leehan’s in there, you know.” he jerked his head towards the room. “and he’s been staring at that soundboard for the past hour. pretty sure he could use a distraction.”

your heart fluttered at the thought, and before you could second-guess yourself, you took a deep breath and walked inside.

leehan looked up at the sound of the door, his eyes widening slightly when he saw you. “oh… hey.”

“h-hi.” you cursed yourself for stuttering. get it together. “i… um… i wanted to ask you something.”

his eyebrows lifted, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “yeah?”

you opened your mouth, the words on the tip of your tongue, but they refused to come out. your mind went blank, and all you could do was stand there, staring at him like an idiot.

leehan shifted, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. “is… is something wrong?”

“no! no, nothing’s wrong,” you blurted, heat flooding your face. “i just… um…” you looked down, your fingers twisting nervously. “i found this documentary. about fishes. and… and i thought… maybe… you’d want to watch it… with me?”

there. you did it. you actually did it.

the silence that followed was deafening. you forced yourself to look up, panic bubbling in your chest when you saw the way his eyes widened, his lips parted in shock.

oh god. this was a mistake. this was a huge mistake. you shouldn’t have asked. you should’ve just watched it by yourself—

“i-i mean, you don’t have to,” you rushed to add, waving your hands frantically. “it’s totally fine if you’re busy or not interested or—”

“no!” his voice came out louder than intended, his eyes widening in horror at his own outburst. he cleared his throat, his shoulders hunching as he looked down, his fingers fidgeting. “i… i mean… i’d like to. watch it. with you. i… i’d like that a lot.”

your heart skipped, hope flaring in your chest. “really?”

he looked up, his eyes softening as he nodded. “yeah. it sounds… fun.”

a smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, relief washing over you. “o-okay. great. um… during break time, then?”

“yeah.” his lips curved into a small, shy smile, his fingers fiddling with the headphone cord. “during break.”

you nodded, your heart pounding. “okay. cool. um… see you then.”

“y-yeah.” his eyes lingered on you as you turned to leave, and you swore you could feel his gaze on your back long after you walked out.

the moment you were out of sight, you leaned against the wall, your knees weak. did that… did that just happen? did he really say yes?

“well, that was cute.”

you jumped, whipping around to see jaehyun leaning against the lockers, arms crossed and an infuriatingly smug grin on his face.

taesan stood next to him, his own smirk firmly in place. “didn’t know watching fish could be so romantic,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

your face burned. “shut up,” you muttered, hugging your notebook to your chest as you tried to walk past them, but they blocked your path, their grins widening.

“honestly, it was painful to watch,” jaehyun drawled, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “i almost went in there myself just to ask him for you.”

“good thing you didn’t,” taesan added, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “i was enjoying the show.”

you glared at them, but they only laughed, clearly amused by your embarrassment. “you guys are the worst.”

“maybe,” taesan admitted, shrugging, “but at least we’re not the ones hopelessly crushing on leehan.”

your jaw dropped, heat rushing to your face. “i-i’m not—”

“sure, you’re not,” jaehyun said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “and leehan totally wasn’t staring at you like a lovesick puppy the entire time you were in there.”

you froze, your heart lurching. “h-he was…?”

jaehyun’s grin widened. “yep. absolutely whipped.”

taesan chuckled, crossing his arms. “you two are so obvious, it’s painful.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. because deep down, a part of you hoped they were right.

---

the room was quiet, save for the hum of the old tv and the soft narration of the documentary. the dim light from the screen cast a gentle glow on your face, illuminating the spark of excitement in your eyes.

leehan couldn’t look away. he was supposed to be watching the documentary—supposed to be fascinated by the vibrant corals and the graceful dance of the fishes—but all he could see was you.

you leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder as the camera followed a school of angelfish gliding through the water. “look at that,” you whispered, your voice tinged with awe. “they’re so beautiful.”

leehan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “yeah… beautiful.”

he wasn’t talking about the fish.

your shoulder brushed against his as you shifted closer, and his breath hitched. the contact was barely there, just the slightest touch, but it sent electricity down his spine. he fought the urge to lean in, to close the distance between you, to feel your warmth against him.

his fingers twitched, ghosting over yours. he wondered what would happen if he took your hand, if he dared to intertwine his fingers with yours. would you pull away? would you look at him with that soft, curious smile? would you let him hold on, just for a little while?

his heart raced at the thought, his chest tightening painfully.

he didn’t dare.

“you’re quiet today,” you murmured, turning to look at him. your face was so close, your eyes searching his. “are you… are you okay?”

leehan blinked, realizing he had been staring. heat rushed to his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, eyes glued to the screen. “y-yeah. just… just focused on the documentary.”

you tilted your head, studying him. “you must really like this, huh?”

“yeah,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “i… i like watching it with you.”

the words slipped out before he could stop them. his eyes widened, his heart freezing in his chest. he dared a glance at you, panicking when he saw the way your eyes widened.

but then, slowly, a smile spread across your lips. “me too,” you whispered, your voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it. “i like watching this with you, too.”

his heart skipped, his breath catching in his throat. was this real? were you really looking at him like that, your eyes warm and gentle, your lips curved into that beautiful smile?

he was dreaming. he had to be dreaming.

the documentary continued, the narrator’s voice droning on about coral reefs and marine ecosystems, but leehan couldn’t focus. not when you were this close, not when he could feel your shoulder brushing against his, your warmth seeping into him.

you shifted, your head tilting to rest against his shoulder, your hair brushing his neck. he froze, his entire body going rigid.

you were leaning on him. your head was on his shoulder.

he didn’t dare move. he barely dared to breathe.

he could feel his heart pounding, his pulse racing as he slowly turned his head, eyes wide as he looked down at you. your eyes were still fixed on the screen, a peaceful smile on your lips, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him.

he wanted to stay like this forever.

“you know,” you murmured, your voice soft, “i think this is my favorite documentary.”

he smiled, his heart swelling with warmth. “yeah… me too.”

he had watched this documentary a hundred times, knew every line by heart, but this was the first time it felt so special. because he was watching it with you.

your fingers twitched, brushing against his. it was barely a touch, just the lightest graze, but it sent his heart spiraling.

he looked down, his breath catching as he watched your fingers, so close to his own. his heart raced, his mind screaming at him to just reach out, to take your hand, to hold on.

his fingers moved, slowly, hesitantly, until they were resting against yours, his pinky brushing against your own.

you didn’t pull away.

leehan’s heart stopped.

your fingers curled, just the slightest bit, brushing against his. it was so subtle, so delicate, but it was enough.

he looked at you, his eyes wide, his heart in his throat. you didn’t look at him, your gaze still fixed on the screen, but there was a soft smile on your lips, so small he almost missed it.

his heart pounded, his chest tightening painfully. he wanted to say something, to tell you how much this meant to him, how much you meant to him, but the words wouldn’t come.

so he stayed silent, his fingers brushing against yours, his heart racing.

and as the documentary continued, as the narrator’s voice filled the room, leehan knew he was completely, hopelessly, undeniably in love.

and for now, this was enough.

© hancorys, 2025.

[concreteangel92]

Pick A Star

Noah Sebastian x female reader

No warnings for this one, all fluff!!

So I got this idea in my head and I needed to get it out and it’s the perfect Valentine’s Day fic haha (even though I’m not a fan of today 🤣 also it’s not set on Valentine’s Day)

Hope you all enjoy and I’m hoping to get my writing head back on after this as I only have a few requests left to do and then a couple of my own works but my job/life has been so hectic recently that I just haven’t had the energy to write, been jotting down ideas lol but not actually working on much. Hopefully that will change and I’ll get some more updates out soon! 🖤

Permanent Taglist: @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @lacy1986 @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @w0manof-flesh44 @dream-machine-love @thisbicc @amelia-acero @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @tosoundlessdarkistare @ichoosetenderomens @hurricanesfollowyou @concretejunglefm @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @xmads-omensx @chey-h @xxkittenkissesxx @lyschko666 @rumoured-whispers

Let me know if you wish to be added!

Masterlist

You were sitting relaxed in the passenger seat of Noah’s car as you drove, you’d been on one of your regular date nights but tonight Noah had gone all out.

He’d taken you to one of the nicest restaurants in the city, the kind you certainly had to dress up for and the kind of place where the prices made your bank account cry but Noah didn’t care, he wanted to spoil you rotten with no expenses spared.

You’d spent your evening enjoying your delicious dinner over candlelight and soft music playing in the background while chatting about anything and everything.

Once the meal was over, Noah said he had one more surprise for you and here you both were, driving out of the city and into the mountains.

Noah pulled up at a beautiful look out point, the sky was clear and the city lights were sparkling in the distance.

“Oh my god Noah, we haven’t been here in so long!”

Noah smiled and got out of the car before coming round to your side to open the door and offer you his hand.

You took it with a smile and step out into the cool summer night air.

You looked out over the city, Noah came behind you and wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on yours as you watched as the world went by below but for you two, it was like this moment was frozen in time.

“You took me here on our very first date”

You felt his chest vibrate against your back as he chuckled.

“Yeah…I thought it would be nice to come back here tonight”

“It’s beautiful, and it’s such a clear night”

You leaned back against him as you took it all in.

“This is the perfect way to end our evening”

“Not quite yet, I said I had one more surprise…”

You turned your head slightly.

“This isn’t it?”

Noah gently turned you around in his arms and shook his head gently.

“No. Look up at the sky angel”

You give him a slightly confused smile but you looked up and saw thousands upon thousands of stars, all shining and flickering against the dark night sky.

Noah kept his arms around your waist as he looked up with you.

“Pick a star”

You looked back at him, even more confused with a giggle.

“What?”

“Pick a star” he gave you a beautiful smile as he spoke.

“You going to buy me a star babe?” You giggled.

Noah looked at you lovingly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear that had caught in the breeze.

“I’d buy you every star in the galaxy if I could angel, but right now, pick a star, any one and I’ll find a way to give it to you”

You smiled and looked back up and then pointed to a particularly bright star.

“That one”

Noah followed your finger and hugged you closer as he saw the one you wanted.

“That one, you sure?”

You giggled and hugged him around his waist looking up at him.

“Yes I’m sure, that’s the one”

“Ok, close your eyes”

You smile, giving him a disbelieving look but you closed your eyes and waited.

You felt him pull away from you slightly and heard him moving.

“Ok angel, open your eyes”

When you opened them, your heart practically stopped.

Noah was down on one knee in front of you and he held a small black box in his hand.

“What…”

Noah cut you off gently.

“Babe, I can’t give you every star in the galaxy I’m afraid but what I can give you is my heart, you’ve had it from the moment we met. I’ve never known anyone like you, you’ve changed my life for the better and I want to spend every day of the rest of my life waking up next to you…”

Noah opened the box containing the most beautiful ring you had ever seen, with a big diamond the same colour as the stars in the centre.

“I want to go on more adventures with you, travel with you, have a family with you and just grow old every day with you. There’s no one else I’d want to be with so…will you marry me?”

You felt tears falling down your cheeks and you couldn’t stop the smile that formed on your face.

“Yes…yes I’ll marry you!”

Noah smiled, stood upright and pulled you into a deep and passionate kiss before he pulled the ring out of the box and carefully slipped it into your ring finger.

You held your hand up and watched it sparkle against the background of the city lights.

“It’s perfect, this is perfect…is this real?”

Noah laughed and wiped away the tears on your face as he pulled you into his embrace.

“It’s real angel and I can’t wait for the day when I can call you my beautiful wife”

[neospade]

DJ Got Us Fallin' In Love

pairing- Dj!Portgas d. Ace x fem!reader

MODERN AU word count - 5.1k genre - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. smut , explicit sexual content, mild sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, nipple/breast play, drugs mentioned once. synopsis- October's Halloween party interaction with the masked DJ got you crushing, that would make you go to his parties a lil too often just so you could see him, but this time it ended differently. note- this is my first time writing a one shot to begin with, let alone my first time writing smut. This has been a thought of mine since 2021 at least, fully based on Usher ft.Pitbull- DJ got us fallin' in love. I hope my Ace girlies enjoy it. Suggested music: Usher ft. PItbull- DJ got us fallin' in love (ofc); Akcent- My passion; The Weeknd- Sao Paulo + your favourite party songs

So we back in the club

With our bodies rockin' from side to side

The bass thumped through the crowded club, the beat vibrating in your chest as you weaved through the sea of dancing bodies. The neon lights flickered in time with the music, painting the room in flashes of electric blue and hot pink. You weren’t here to dance, though. Not really.

You were here for him.

“Really? Front row again?” your best friend, Nami teased as you both squeezed through the crowd. “You didn’t come for the music yet again, did you?” You rolled your eyes and snickered.

 “What? I just like being close to the action.” you joked, but you could feel Nami’s look on you. That devilish smile she always had on, when she was ready to let out her significant snarky comments. “Sure,” she snorted, nudging you playfully “Close to him, you mean.”

“Shut up!” you hissed unable to cover your smile, feeling your cheeks heat up. You finally reached your reserved spot near the front after what felt like forever. Your friend let out an exaggerated sigh. “All this effort for a view of your future boyfriend, huh?” Nami teased.

 You swatted at her playfully, but your heart raced as you looked up at Ace. The spot gave you a perfect view of him, perched above the crowd on an elevated platform was the DJ, lost in his world of sound. His fingers danced over the mixer, effortlessly blending tracks and controlling the energy of the room. His compression shirt tight on him, highlighting his defined muscles. Headphones on his head, not holding back his messy wavy hair that bounced with every nod of his head, and the most interesting detail of him, the sleek black mask that covered the lower half of his face.

 “Totally worth it,” you whispered, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“Please,” Nami laughed. “The only reason we keep coming to these parties is so you can drool over him. But I won’t complain because he makes such a great atmosphere, I’ll admit it. How long are even gonna continue to do so until you find a way to talk to him?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I don't even know what I'd say.” Nami raised an eyebrow. “How about ‘Hi, I’ve been shamelessly staring at you for weeks now, want to grab coffee?’” You giggled. “Very subtle.”

“Hey, subtle isn’t getting you anywhere,” Nami teased. “Next time, I might just walk up to him and tell him for you.” you just give her a stern look and you both break into a laugh.

Thank God the week is done

I feel like a zombie gone back to life

Back, back to life

 As the crowd pulsed with energy, Ace stood behind the decks, completely in his element.  With every nod of his head and wave of his hand, the crowd responded, lost in his music. His energy was electric, each movement commanding attention, and even from afar, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. For that moment, it felt like the entire room moved to his heartbeat—and so did you.

Turning over at Nami, you notice her staring at you while sipping on her tequila. "What?" You ask her confused.

"Quit glazing. Let’s go out there and have some fun!" Nami grinned, pointing toward the dance floor. "Come on. I’m not letting you just watch all night." You hesitated still not processing her words, but Nami wasn’t having any of it. Without another word, she grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the crowd.

It had been back in October, at that unforgettable Halloween party, when you first saw him—Ace, the DJ who would unknowingly capture your attention from that moment on.

The night had been buzzing with energy, the crisp autumn air clashing with the warmth of too many bodies crammed into the decorated party venue. Fake cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and carved pumpkins flickered with eerie candlelight in the corners. You remembered wandering through the crowd, your ghostface costume slightly askew from weaving through so many people.

Then you heard it—the perfect blend of beats, a smooth transition from one song to the next that pulled you in without you even realizing it. Your eyes were drawn to the DJ booth, perched slightly above the dance floor. And there he was.

Ace stood behind the turntables, completely in his element, effortlessly mixing tracks as if he’d been born to do it. But what caught your attention more than his skill was the mask he wore—a Jason Voorhees hockey mask, cracked and worn, making him look straight out of Friday the 13th. It was both terrifying and intriguing, and you couldn’t look away.

You remembered standing there for what felt like forever, the music vibrating through your chest as you watched him. His head nodded in time with the beat, and every so often, he’d raise his hand, hyping up the crowd without ever saying a word. The anonymity of the mask somehow made him even more captivating. Who was he behind it?

When he finally glanced up from his set, his dark eyes locking with yours through the eye holes of the mask, your breath caught in your throat. It was only for a second, but it stayed with you. The flickering lights, the pulse of the music, and those intense eyes behind a killer’s mask—it was a moment burned into your memory.

After a while, as the party was slowly dying down, and you were weaving through the maze of people heading for the exit, your head slightly fuzzy from the night’s excitement. You weren’t paying much attention, too caught up in your own thoughts, when suddenly, you collided into something—or someone—solid.

Before you could even react, a strong hand gripped your wrist, and another pressed lightly against your waist, steadying you before you could stumble backward. Your breath hitched as you looked up, heart pounding in your chest, only to be met by the blank, chilling stare of a Jason Voorhees mask.

It was him. The DJ.

“Careful there.”

Your mind raced as you tried to process what just happened. His hand was still firm on your wrist, keeping you steady, and you could feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of your costume.

“S-Sorry,” you stammered, completely thrown off. His other hand lingered on your waist for a moment longer before letting go, but the sensation stayed with you.

“Nice costume ghostie,” he said, a hint of a smirk in his tone. “Looked good on you.”

The ghostface mask on top of your head. He had noticed it. Before you could even process the unexpected compliment, he straightened up and disappeared into the crowd without another word, leaving you standing there, stunned, with your heart racing faster than the beat of any song that night

The music pulsed through the room, and you and Nami were completely lost in the moment, dancing like no one was watching. The crowd around you swayed and moved, the bass vibrating through the floor beneath your feet. Nami laughed, spinning you playfully before throwing her hands up in the air, her energy contagious.

Hands up, uh

Yeah, suddenly we all got our hands up, uh

No control of my body

But even as you danced, a familiar pull tugged at your attention.

Your eyes flicked toward the DJ booth—toward him. Couldn’t help but stare at him. It was something about him that catches your attention again and again.

“Joe Goldberg , pretty much?” Nami teases,her tone playful. You laughed, shaking your head, but as the two of you danced and lost yourselves in the music again, your gaze still found its way back to Ace. And maybe, just maybe, you caught him glancing your way too.

As the song shifted into another upbeat track, you felt the heat of the crowded dance floor catching up to you. Your breath came a little quicker, and you could feel a light sheen of sweat on your skin from all the dancing.

You leaned in close to Nami, raising your voice over the music. “I need a drink!” Nami grinned, her eyes sparkling under the colorful lights. “Same! Let’s go.”

She grabbed your hand, leading you through the throng of people as you both weaved your way toward the bar. Even as you moved through the crowd, you couldn’t help but sneak one last glance at the DJ booth. Ace was still there, completely focused on his set, but for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he noticed you leaving the dance floor.

Keep downing drinks like there's no tomorrow

There's just right now

You and Nami finally reached the bar, leaning against the counter as you tried to catch your breath. The cool air away from the crowded dance floor was a relief, and you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“What are you having?” Nami asked, still grinning from all the dancing. “Something cold. Surprise me,” you replied, still feeling the beat of the music thrumming in your chest. While Nami flagged down the bartender, your eyes instinctively flicked back to the DJ booth. Ace was still there, effortlessly switching tracks, his fingers gliding over the mixer with precision. His expression was focused, like he knew exactly how much control he had over the room with his music.

You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head at yourself. Get it together, you thought.

“Still looking, huh?” Nami teased, nudging you playfully with her elbow as she handed you a drink. “You’ve got it bad. Suit yourself. But if you keep looking at him like that, he’s bound to notice.”

You took a sip of your drink, hoping the cold liquid would calm the fluttering in your chest. But even as you stood there, trying to play it cool, you felt that familiar pull—the one that kept drawing your gaze back to him. And when your eyes flicked up to the DJ booth again, you froze.

Because this time, Ace was already looking at you.

And he didn’t look away.

Nami noticed immediately, of course. She raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin. “Ohhh, he definitely caught you staring.” You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “So what?” you said, shrugging. “I don’t care if he notices or not. I’ve made up my min-”

“Finally. It was about time, but be careful because you never know who will approach who first” she cuts me off. “Yeah…right…but chill out first.” you answer back nervously taking a sip off your drink again.

As you leaned against the bar, sipping your drink, your mind refused to stay quiet. No matter how much you tried to focus on the music, the crowd, or even Nami’s playful teasing, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

Did he really notice me? Or was it just a coincidence? you wondered, biting your bottom lip absentmindedly. And why does it even matter? It’s not like I came here for this, you try to lie to yourself.

You shook your head at yourself, frustrated. You barely knew him, and yet, the memory of that Halloween night still clung to you like a shadow. The way he had steadied you with such ease, the slight compliment he had left hanging in the air as he walked away—it had stuck with you longer than you wanted to admit.

Get it together, you thought. It’s just a crush. Just a moment. Nothing more.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, your mind betrayed you. Every time the bass dropped or the rhythm shifted flawlessly, you thought of him. Every glance toward the DJ booth made your pulse quicken, wondering if he’d look back again, which unfortunately he always did. Every single time he did.

'Cause baby, tonight

The DJ got us falling in love again

---

After what felt like forever the party was dying down and may people had already left. Nami had gone off with some blond guy, who happened to be her co-worker.  Now you found yourself standing alone in your reserved space, the energy from the dance floor a distant hum compared to the whirlwind of thoughts in your head.

The alcohol had started to wear you down, leaving you more tired than tipsy, so you swapped your drink for something lighter—a soda lemon—the cool fizz a relief as it hit your tongue.

You leaned against the small table, the condensation from your glass dripping onto your fingers as you absentmindedly traced patterns on the surface. The party around you carried on, people laughing, dancing, and living in the moment, but you felt like you were somewhere in between—still present, yet lost in your own mind.

The thumping bass vibrated through your chest, but you felt distant, the high from the night’s excitement starting to fade into something quieter. Your body was tired from dancing, and the weight of everything—the memories, the glances, the what-ifs—was settling in.

Meanwhile Ace was still there, focused on his set, and even though you were tucked away in your little corner, you couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed you were gone from the dance floor. Not that it matters, you reminded yourself for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

But still, you lingered.

“Yo,” he drawled, his tone casual but laced with amusement. “Looks like the dance floor wore some of y’all out already.”

A soft chuckle rippled through the crowd, but you barely noticed—because something about the way he said it made your breath catch.

Then, with a slight pause, he added, almost too casually, “Or maybe... some of you were too busy stealing glances to keep me up.”

Your eyes shot up to the DJ booth, heart pounding. Ace stood there, one hand on the mixer, the other holding the mic close to his lips. His gaze lingered on you.

“Hate to break it to you, but it’s about that time.” A collective groan echoed from the crowd, but Ace just chuckled softly into the mic.

“I know, I know,” he teased. “Wish we could go all night too. But let’s wrap this up the right way.” The beat dropped one last time, a perfect blend of energy and finality. The crowd surged with renewed excitement, determined to make the most of the last few moments.

You, however, stood frozen in your little corner, the reality settling in. The night was ending, and with it, the lingering anticipation that had been crackling in the air between you and Ace. As he worked through his final mix, Ace’s voice came through one more time, low and playful.

“Hope y’all had fun tonight... some of you more than others.” you found him already looking your way. That little motherfu-

The crowd had thinned out, the music fading into a soft hum as the night finally came to an end. People gathered their things, laughing and chatting as they headed for the exit. You exhaled softly, still feeling the remnants of the night’s energy buzzing through you. The memory of Ace’s teasing words lingered in your mind, refusing to let go.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure approaching until a voice, smooth and unmistakable, pulled you back to reality.

“Leaving already, ghostie?” You blinked, turning—and there he was.

Ace stood in front of you, close enough for you to catch the faint scent of cologne and a hint of something smoky. His dark hair was a little messier now, a few strands falling over his forehead and finally without a mask on, a signature smirk played on his lips like he knew exactly what effect he had on you. He had remembered you.

“Didn’t think you’d notice, either remember…” you teased, trying to match his energy. Ace chuckled softly, his eyes locking onto yours.

Swear I've seen you before

I think I remember those eyes

 “Hard not to,” he replied smoothly. “You’ve been catching my eye few nights now.”

Your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Guess the feeling’s mutual.”

He tilted his head slightly, amused. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “I figured.”

---

You don’t remember where along the lines of sharing a drink and a joint with Ace and hopping on his motorcycle, you ended up at your door making out with him. The heat between you intensified as his hands gently cupped your face, pulling you closer, while yours found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Every movement felt electric, a mix of urgency and tenderness as you both lost yourselves in the moment. His lips were rough against yours,yet a slow, teasing rhythm that made your heart race. There was something about the way he kissed you—like he was savoring every second of it, as if he wanted to remember it forever, his hand roaming all over your body.

“Find that goddamn key” he says and leans to kiss you again. He tilted his head slightly to allow himself access to deepen the kiss. His tongue ran along your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance. Ace slowly pulled away just enough to look at you. A smirk crept onto his face while keeping his hold firm on your waist, not allowing you to move away. His pupils dilated at the sight of your flustered expression.

You immediately look away and search for the keys in your bag. After finding them you quickly open the door. With a swift motion, Ace lifted you into his arms in a bridal style and carried you inside, then he shut the door behind him with a kick. As soon as the door closed his lips were back on yours in a rough, heated kiss. His tongue immediately demanded access to your mouth. Hands holding onto your waist firmly and slowly walking you backwards until your back is pressed against the wall.

His body pressed against yours, pinning you between himself and the wall while his hands traced along the sides of your body, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your jaw. Ace continued his ministrations, his lips trailing down to your neck, biting and sucking on the sensitive area to leave a mark. One of his hands slowly crept up to intertwine with one of yours while the other began to wander lower to your hip.

“The bedroom is that way” you mention towards its door.  

Ace chuckled against your neck, the sound being muffled as he continued placing kisses over your skin, "As you wish~" He replied before suddenly hauling you up and throwing you over his shoulder. One of his hands gently spanked your buttcheek as he began walking towards the bedroom.

He walks over to the bed before suddenly dropping you down on it with a soft thump. His body was between your legs, the sudden action placing him over you as he hovers his own above you. He looked down at you a cocky smirk on his lips.

"Look at ya … All flustered for me.” He leaned down to nuzzle your neck once again, peppering it with kisses as he spoke. "I could get used to this view…” He moved off you and took off his shirt. His board shoulders, defined biceps and abs at your display. You couldn’t help but stare and touch, your hands now roaming on his body, feeing every muscle of his.

What took you off was the tattoo in his left arm. It was just his name in a colon, with a crossed “S”, which got you wondering who the mysterious “S” could be.

“You like it?” he asks with a smug grin on his face.

“Luv it. What’s the ‘S’ for?” you answer looking directly into his eyes. He chuckles for a moment and turns his head tom the side before facing you again. “This would be the worst moment for me to start talking about my brothers..” he says and you were still staring at him a little confused.

 Before I could even ask him further more Ace leaned back down on you  and started pulling your clothes off, his hands slowly move to the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them one by one in a tantalizing pace like he was unwrapping a present. Ace's gaze was focused on your body as he revealed it to his eyes, tracing the curves with his eyes before his lips began to follow suit. Soft, gentle kisses were peppered across every piece of newly exposed skin. He took his time taking off your top and most importantly, unclasping your bra.

Put your hands on my body

His lips kissing all over the valley of your breasts while one arm wraps around your body and he pops the bra open with one hand. His other hand immediately pulling the bra off so now your chest is exposed for his eyes. He leans to take a nipple in his mouth, licking at it and giving it little bites while his other hand plays with your other breast. You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling oh him playing with your breasts and nipples, giving both of them the same affection.

 ‘’Squishy” he mumbles with a tiddie in his mouth, which made you giggle a little.

Then his hands roamed across your body with a certain confidence and familiarity while he slowly made his way down lower and lower, taking off your bottoms.

Leaving you on your panties only, Ace drops to his knees, hands drawing you towards his awaiting mouth. You watch the way his eyes are fixated  on your core. “Nice panties,” he pulls at the flimsy material “looks like someone planned on getting laid tonight.” Ace teases as he keeps nipping at your inner thigh, your thighs placed on his board shoulders.

“Yeah, and exactly with you” you spat back with a confidence that got washed off you as soon as he slipped your panties to the side.

“So wet” he smirks, his thumb coming in contact with your clit as he spreads your slick around. His other hand pushes your thighs to open more to give him more space, but his shoulder are too damn large-

You hold your breath when Ace moves closer, tongue taking its hirst taste lick that made your toes curl. Ace doesn’t say anything, he simply licks his lips and dives into you. His tongue parts your folds, dipping inside to taste your walls while your legs shake around his head. “Fuck, Ace-”

You reach down to grab his hair, applying enough pressure to his head to let him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing… if he can’t already tell from your desperately needy moans. His lips move to suction on your clit and a squeal escapes you, your back arching slightly at the sensation.

you’re also probably sensitive because this is Ace, because there’s been a build-up that’s left you ready to pop, and he seems intent on making you pop multiple times for him.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensing with effort as his skilled tongue works you up. Ace groans against your pussy and it’s one of the sexiest things that’s ever happened to you. Your grip on his hair tightens, your core throbbing with pleasure already. When he adds two fingers into your dripping hole, you know you’re not going to last, but you don’t think he wants you to. His finger were so skiller, no wonder he is a DJ after all.

“Fuck, Ace-” You want to tell him how close you are to your release, but you can hardly get the words out between your moans. “I’m- holy shit-” Ace finger fucks you even harder, his mouth focusing on your clit, and you’re pretty sure he’s understood your garbled attempt to warn him, pretty sure he wants you to cum.

“Release for me Y/N. Don’t hold back. I want to taste all of you” he says and dives back into you, his mouth fully on you. You allow yourself to find your release, your back arching again as you tug on Ace’s hair, keeping his face between your legs. You grind down slightly, your body chasing your orgasm as it surges through you like fire in your veins.

“Condoms,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your core and standing up. Ace reaches for his discarded jeans that were laying on the floor, grabs them and pulls out two condoms from his back pocket.

“And I was the one getting teased for planning this..” you tease him, you legs rubbing against each other to create a little friction as the view in front of you was so tempting. Ace was now  naked, this boner fully hard, his abs looking delicious as he was ripping open the condom plastic wrap with his teeth. Could have asked him to go raw just for the show he was giving you, but you decided to zip it this time.

“You’re okay with this, right pretty?” he asks, needing reassurance from you one last time, and you nod eagerly. He just chuckles at your reaction

He leans down to hover over you once again, your legs wrapping around his waist. One of his hands is around the side of your neck, forcing your face upwards as he captures your lips into a slow but yearning kiss. His other hand his lining himself against your core, teasing you buy rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your slit. Whimpering from the feelings, his mouth swallowed every single one of your noises. After teasing for what felt like forever, he finally pushes himself in.

“So tight-“ he groans from the feeling, while pushing his cock fully into your hole. He felt so big, making you feel full. It took you a little to get used to him. “No one has fucked this pussy in so long, right baby..” such a talkative teasing man, but two can play this game.

“Been waiting for someone to fill it good” you say, which caught him off guard but it was enough to make him go. He started properly thrusting into you, his moves not so fast, but pounding, and hitting all the right places. It felt so good that it made you want to turn your head backward but Ace’s hand that was holding your head firm stopped you from doing so.

“Feeling yourself already Y/N?’’ he whispers , nibbling on your ear. This felt too intimate. Ace’s lips lingering from your skin behind your ear to your neck, giving it little bites that will most likely leave hickeys tomorrow, but you’re not complaining.

‘’It feels so good-  fuck” out moan out to the feeling on his thrusts. The way your walls sucked him in drove the two of you crazy. You felt the way his vein pulsed within you that it made you clench down onto him. Ace swore under his breath at the tight feeling you were creating around his pulsing length. “Fuck — keep clenching me like that angel and I'm not gonna last long for you.” Ace said as he held onto your hips tightly.

Incoherent words fall from your lips as you savored the delicious feeling of Ace’s cock gliding in and out of your sopping entrance. Ace traced his free hand up from its place on your hips and brought it to the front of your chest. Ace takes one of your breasts and places it into his hand, giving it a squeeze causing the two of you to moan. Ace takes one of your hardened nipples between his fingertips and pinches it. 

Moan, after moan leaves your lips as the sensations he is giving you. Behind the noise of your moans, you could hear the sound of skin slapping against one another and the squelching sounds coming out from your entrance. “Look at me as I fuck this pretty pussy of your angel.” He speaks roughly as he continues to plough into you. “Look at how. You. Take. It.” Ace emphasizes with each hard thrust into you.  You were so fucking

close, and his cocky attitude wasn’t making it better. He turned you on so much. Ace snaked his hand away from your breast and down to your front. His fingertips started to press down onto your clit and moving them side to side, causing you to moan out loudly. 

The repetitive sensation of Ace hitting your spot within your walls makes you see double the stars than before. “I’m gon—” Without warning you started to come around Ace’s length. You felt your body shiver at how intense the orgasm was. Your legs started to shake as you started to feel the overstimulation take its course considering that he had already made you cum once.

“That’s my good girl” he groans, feeling you clenching around him. “Come for me again baby” he says and captures your lips into an eager kiss. After a few more thrusts, strings of curses left Ace’s lips as his stomach clenched and thighs shake slightly as he let go inside of the condom completely.

As the two of you rode out your highs together, the weight of the situation between the two of you started to settle within the two of you. As Ace pulled himself out, cleaning you and throwing the used condom in the bin in the process, a deathifying silence fell. He fell lip next to you, and leaned on your arm to keep looking at you. You weren’t sure how to approach the topic. Do you say this was a one-time thing or are you guys actually together now? 

Noticing the way that  you were staring at him, he kind of figured out what you were thinking. He started laughing which made you feel uncomfortable at this point.

“What’s so funny?” you ask with a stern look on your face.

“Stop overthinking this. Instead fall asleep as I’m taking you out when you will wake up tomorrow.” He says and wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him, your back on his chest as he snuggles into your neck.

“Good. You got me worried for a second” you giggle “Good night deejay”. It was worthless waiting for his answer as he was already asleep. Kind of suspicious how fast he fell asleep so quicky but not much of a big deal at the moment, as sleep took you also.

'Cause baby, tonight

The DJ got us falling in love

author rights go all to @neospade

[nameless-jamie]

Hiii, if you're not to busy would you write PA'S first day or so working for Jamie? I loved reading the interview and I'd love to see them getting to know each other, PA meeting the team and their first impression of her etc.

Thankssss ☺️

First Day

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

A/N: Hi! Very good idea, here's a little view into Y/n's first day working with Jamie, time-wise it happens directly after The Interview.

TW: cursing

Y/N had worked for lots of difficult people before—divas, athletes, celebrities who thought the world revolved around them. But nothing quite prepared her for Jamie Tartt.

Not that he was difficult, necessarily. Just… a lot.

From the moment she stepped into Nelson Road for her first official day, Jamie was already waiting for her outside the locker room, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Oi, there she is. Thought you might change your mind, maybe chicken out,” he teased, falling into step beside her.

Y/N shot him a look. “Why? Because you’re so impossible to work with?”

“Nah.” Jamie grinned. “’Cause you’d be too busy thinkin’ about me, to get any work done, love.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “Right. Because that’s exactly what I was doing last night—thinking about my job.”

Jamie smirked, nudging her shoulder. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll get used to it.”

The locker room was loud—boots thudding against the benches, voices overlapping in easy banter. The second Y/N stepped inside, the energy shifted. It was her first day as Jamie's assistant and she knew nobody.

Dani Rojas was the first to react, practically bounding over. “New friend!”

Before she could respond, she was wrapped in a very enthusiastic hug.

“Dani, mate, let the girl breathe,” Isaac chuckled, pulling him off. He turned to Y/N with a grin. “Welcome to Richmond. You Jamie’s new babysitter?”

“Assistant, actually.” Y/N corrected.

“Same thing,” Colin muttered under his breath.

Jamie scoffed, draping an arm over her shoulder like they’d known each other forever. “She ain’t just anyone's assistant. She’s my personal assistant.”

“Poor thing,” Sam said with a sympathetic smile. “Do you need help escaping? Blink twice.”

Y/N smirked. “Don't worry, I signed up for this.”

Jamie turned to her, looking mock-offended. “You sayin’ workin’ for me’s a punishment?”

“I’m saying I’ll probably have my hands full,” she replied, arching a brow. “Which reminds me—you have a physio session in twenty minutes, followed by a media meeting.”

Jamie made a face. “Borin', let's not do that, huh?”

Y/N patted his chest with a saccharine smile. “Too bad, Jamie. You'll definitely do it.”

The locker room erupted with laughter.

“I like her,” Isaac said.

“She’s gonna put him in his place,” Colin added.

Jamie rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smirk. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Just jealous that you don't have an assistant. You bought a shite car you can't even drive, instead!"

If Jamie was testing her patience, he was doing a great job.

By noon, she’d already dealt with his half-mumbled excuses for skipping meetings, misplaced gym bag “I swear I left it right there, Y/N”, and at least three attempts to distract her with compliments.

“You know,” he mused as she checked his schedule on her tablet, “it’s kinda nice, havin’ someone look after me.”

She didn’t look up. “So nice that you’re actually listening to me now?”

Jamie grinned. “Don’t push it, babe.”

She glanced at him, unimpressed. “Jamie.”

“Y/N.”

“Physio. Now.”

He huffed but stood up, stretching exaggeratedly. “Alright, alright. But only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Y/N shook her head as he strolled off, smirking like he’d won something.

Yeah. This job was gonna be interesting.

By the time Y/N managed to physically usher Jamie into the physio room—because apparently, telling him wasn’t enough—she was already reconsidering all her life choices.

“I don’t get why I gotta do this every day,” Jamie whined, plopping down onto the treatment table like a sulking child.

Y/N crossed her arms. “Because you’re a professional athlete, and keeping your body in top condition is kind of your job.”

Jamie smirked, stretching out in an unnecessarily dramatic way. “You checkin’ out my body, love?”

Y/N exhaled slowly. “You exhaust me.”

“I grow on people,” he replied, grinning. “Like mold.”

Before she could fire back, a gruff voice interrupted.

“The fuck is goin’ on in here? Tartt, you're not allowed to bring girls in here remember?”

Roy Kent stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed. His sharp gaze flickered from Jamie to Y/N.

Jamie perked up. “Oi, Coach, this is Y/N—me new personal assistant.”

Roy grunted. “Christ. Higgins really got you a fuckin’ babysitter?”

“Assistant,” Y/N corrected, offering her hand. “Nice to meet you, Coach Kent.”

Roy eyed her, then her outstretched hand, before finally shaking it. “Yeah, you’ll quit in about a week.”

“Come on, Give me at least two,” she deadpanned.

Jamie cackled. “See? She’s funny.”

Roy muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like fuckin’ hell before jerking a thumb toward Jamie. “Make sure this prick doesn’t fuck up his knee again.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Y/N said, sending Jamie a pointed look. “I’ve got him under control.”

Jamie just wiggled his eyebrows at her.

After dealing with Jamie’s endless complaints about stretching and Roy’s ever-present scowl, Y/N finally managed to get a moment to herself—only for approximately three seconds before she heard:

“Oi, love!”

Y/N turned to see Jamie jogging toward her, still sweaty from training, grinning like he had nothing better to do than annoy her.

“You do know I have a name, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N,” Jamie said, testing out the sound of it like he was deciding whether he liked it. Apparently, he did, because he nodded approvingly. “Just makin’ sure you weren’t bored without me.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said dryly. “Your to-do list is very entertaining.”

Jamie groaned. “You’re obsessed with that thing.”

“I have to be,” Y/N shot back. “Otherwise, you’d be wandering around like a lost puppy.”

Jamie grinned. “Ah, so you care about me.”

Before Y/N could argue, a voice interrupted.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the person tasked with keepin’ Jamie Tartt in line.”

Y/N turned to find Ted Lasso and Coach Beard standing nearby, both watching the interaction with interest.

Ted stuck out a hand, his usual sunny grin in place. “Ted Lasso. Pleasure to meet ya.”

“Y/N,” she said, shaking his hand. “And trust me, keeping Jamie in line is a full-time job.”

Ted chuckled. “Oh, I believe it.” He glanced at Jamie. “She givin’ you a hard time already, buddy?”

Jamie scoffed. “Nah, she loves bossin’ me around.”

Beard, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up. “Think she’s got her work cut out for her.”

Ted nodded. “Yep. You ever try to wrangle a raccoon on Red Bull? ‘Cause that’s about what you’re dealin’ with here.”

Y/N smirked. “Sounds about right.”

Jamie gasped, placing a hand over his chest. “I’m sittin’ right here, you lot.”

Ted patted his shoulder. “We know, buddy.”

After the team finished training, Y/N spent the afternoon reorganizing Jamie’s schedule, answering emails he had blatantly ignored for months, and figuring out how the hell she was supposed to manage someone who thrived on chaos.

She was typing up notes on her tablet when Jamie dropped into the seat next to her, stretching his legs out.

“Busy?” he asked, peeking over at her screen.

“Very.”

Jamie hummed, tilting his head. “You’re good at this, y’know.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised. “At what?”

He gestured vaguely. “Bossin’ me around. Keepin’ up. Most people just get annoyed and then they quit.”

She smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m very annoyed.”

Jamie grinned, nudging her knee with his. “Still here, though.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “For now.”

Jamie winked. “You sure you'll last longer than a week?”

Y/N leaned in slightly. “I bet I’ll last longer than you think.”

Jamie’s smirk widened. “We’ll see, love.”

And with that, she realized something very important—

This job?

Yeah. It was gonna be interesting. Life-changing even.

[tsukihotaru]

Movie Werehog Idea

If I don't type this out it's going to drive me up a literal wall. It won't leave my fuckin head. So here we go! (ALSO IF ANYONE WANTS TO WRITE THIS KNOCK YOURSELF OUT. I'd love to see others interpretation of this idea)

Set right after the 3rd movie. Two months after the eclipse canon event, Sonic is kidnapped by gun (upon Rockwell's orders) while he was on a nightly run to think about Shadow. (This is so Sonadow, but tbh it doesn't have to be, in just desperate).

He is taken to a secret base where GUN starts tests on Sonic to make HIM into the weapon they want, since they 'lost' Shadow. Sonic fights tooth and nail, never shutting up and trying his best to drive the scientists nuts while he thinks of an escape plan. But before he could, he is injected with a substance GUN obtained from deep within the earth. They dubbed it 'Dark Gaia energy', thinking it's directly related to the old god Gaia.

Upon injection, sonic transforms painfully into his Werehog form, after this the tests grow more brutal. Combat, healing capabilities, bodily functions, they tested it all. Giving him a collar to keep track of his progress.

But when GUN brought in a live person (a prisoner on death row or something) to fight, Sonic refuses. No matter what they did, sonic didn't fight against the defenseless human. That is, until they activated a secret aspect of his collar, where it sends an intense amount of electrical energy mixed with dark Gaia energy. He blacks out after it, when he comes back to his senses, he was covered in blood and staring at the mangled body of the human prisoner.

Sonic grew quiet after that, his mind swimming with self hatred. About how he's to dangerous now, that he'll hurt others. And after he almost bit the arm off of a scientists, they attacked a muzzle to his head and gave him special gloves that his claws can't penetrate.

So while all THAT happens, Sonic is gone for half a year. His family tries to find him in any way they can, exploring around the world trying to find their blue blur. But no matter what they did, it was like he just vanished.

While on their search, they came across a very alive Shadow. The family was reluctant about the hedgehog at first, but shadow explained he had no intentions of harming then or anyone, and that he was sorry for his past actions. But upon learning Sonic was missing, shadow Insisted on helping find him. (After using the emeralds, they formed a connection of sorts. But that connection has a range so they can't always feel each other unless they're within 5 miles of each other)

So that's, kinda it tbh. I haven't thought much past that. I toyed with the idea of sonic finally breaking out and running, or his family and shadow figuring out where he is and go to rescue him. But nothing legit or solid.

OH!! and he isn't very big! Like he's bulky and fluffy, but not much taller than he usually is.

Well that's all I guess. Hope at least someone will find this interesting lmao

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 10: Prophet Girls

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 10: Prophet girls

Wordcount: 5,7k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for full series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, themes of indoctrination, themes of eating disorders

Description: You go hunting with Simon in the morning, and get invited to dinner in the evening.

A/N: Well….this chapter took a long time - Holidays took the life out of me, but I'm making my come back to my writing! - This one hasn't been read by my lovely beta reader as she's sick, I hope you get better soon love! :,( - I've proofread best I could so, I hope you have all enjoyed the chapter regardless, it's one I've been looking forward to write!

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

"Relax your arm, you're holding onto it too tight" Simon gently adjusts your hold on the hunting rifle by your shoulders.

You grumble quietly, following his directions and exhaling a cloud of frosted breath. "I know what I'm doing," you shake his guiding touch off leaning further down into the snow and relaxing. There's no animal in sight yet, thank God. It's not like you'd hit it like this, all jittery.

At least that's how the suddenly very invasive man next to you so delicately put it just mere minutes ago.

You don't remember him being this pushy, or this confident really. A trait you don't appreciate so much when it comes to the correction of your apparent flaws. They only became flaws today for some reason.

"Are you sure? You seem really tense," his voice has been a constant stream of chatter in your ears this morning. When in the world did he stop being quiet again. "I mean it, you need to relax or you're going to miss it."

"I am relaxing!" you hiss out looking to where he's laying by your side.

His eyes narrow but he lets out an exhausted huff. "At least relax your trigger finger, you're going to scare away any of the animals before we even see any." He shakes his head.

Despite your protest you do as he asks and relax your body even more into the snow. A bit of it has managed to find the little exposed places of your jacket and make its way under, but you can barely feel it now.

"If you're going to be so picky, why did you even drag me out here," you ask a tad calmer resting your cheek against the cold polished side of the rifle. When he had woken you up that morning, it came as a surprise that he was only doing it to drag you out hunting at the ass crack of dawn.

You hadn't been at the liberty to decline.

"You can't keep staying in that room forever..." Simon says adjusting his position in the snow and keeping an eye on the moving bushes at the far end of your viewpoint. "You aren't coming out anymore, it's getting Price worried. Johnny too even if he won't say it."

You let out an annoyed huff. They shouldn't waste their energy worrying over something so trivial. You knew how to take care of yourself, even if it didn't look like it to them. What you were doing was most strategic.

"Great so it's a pity hunt."

"Don't do that," Simon grumbles. "We take care of our own," he gives you a pointed look when you make a noise of disapproval. "You're part of the team whether you like it or not Spider."

"Temporarily."

He shakes his head but otherwise makes no comment.

"Are you really that eager to get away from us?" there's an underlying meaning in his words, it’s less about an us, and more about a me.

You hadn't given it much thought, what you'd do once all of this is over. A part of you doesn't know if this can be done. They have a determination you lack. To truly see this through, you're going to need something that you still lack, you're going to have to dig a lot deeper than before, to resist, to complete the objective set before you.

"Where are you going when all this is over?" you ask.

"Wherever they send me next," he answers.

That's the part of his job that made sure you never got there. Sure, there were other certain factors. However, that point, the going from place to place with reckless abandon and a trust in your superiors that you'll never build again is what keeps you.

You move on your own terms, not someone else's. Not anymore.

"That doesn't get tiring?"

He goes quiet for a moment, leaning over to adjust where your gun is looking. He guides it towards the rustling bushes where he seems to have spotted something.

"There...a rabbit...keep an eye and take your shot when it's in view."

You let out a quiet steady breath as the white fur and pink nose sniffs out of one of the nearby bushes. It's cautious of danger, sniffing at the snow before taking a few uncertain steps out.

It's like it can feel it. That some quiet predator has it in its sights. The tense air around the clearing is almost suffocating, the expectation of the shot making your senses jittery.

"You get used to it."

It's all jumping around too much, and you start to crave the stability of the drug induced illusions.

Your finger itches on the trigger, your breath hitches. You look right into the red eyes of the rabbit, you see its terror. It's enticing, a rush like nothing else, that makes sparks fly off the synapses in your brain.

You pull the trigger with as much uncertainty as the scared rabbit.

You could never get used to it.

When you get back to the cabin, you find Gaz hauling a pine tree inside the house, right along with a mountain of snow. You can't imagine Price will be happy about that, but all he gives is a disappointed glare.

He directs Gaz around, moving the table a bit to the side to make space for the massive thing. You had never truly understood why there was even a need for a tree, even more so here. You didn't even have any decorations for the thing, it would quite literally just be a tree in the living room.

"Oh, you're back," Gaz perks up from behind the tree when he finally manages to get it into position. "Did you catch anything?"

Your empty hands should speak for itself. Simon closes the door behind you, kicking off the snow from his boots before looking quizzically over at the tree. "No," you answer curtly. "Not this time."

"Well, at least you're not being forced to carry a tree all the way from town," Gaz huffed with a smile on his lip.

"Zip it Gaz, you volunteered," Price grumbles. "Now put it a little more left."

"Do we really need a tree Cap'?" Simon passes you to stand next to the captain, observing from his viewpoint.

"It's festive."

You slip past the three of them, quiet steps placed towards your room. Simon might have brought you, to get you out of the room but that didn't mean you couldn't retreat as soon as you got back.

Halfway down the hallway, a wall in the form of Soap stops you from entering the room once again. You stop abruptly, startling yourself and him at the same time. "Joh-" you don't get to cut yourself off because he does it for you.

"Spider!" a smile spreads across his lips, and it startles you worse than bumping into him. "I was wondering when ye were coming back," he sounds endearingly excited. "Are ye ready for tonight?"

"Tonight?"

You take a step back, swallowing the thick of your spit back down. He's holding a notebook in his hands, a pencil case behind it. He's been drawing again then. Your wrists itch, curiosity winning its primary space in your brain as to what he could possibly be drawing now.

"Got invited by Mrs. Evans and her husband to dinner at their house tonight, ye and me." He shifts the weight between his legs, his eyes darting away from you and to the art on the walls. "Price agreed it would be good idea, get more intel on 'em."

"Of course they did," you say exasperated. "He's not wrong, if they're apart of anything major there'll be signs. Subtle but they'll be there."

He nods, falling quiet as he stands there. You look at him for a hot minute, expecting him to move but he doesn't. Your lips move to form the words you want to ask but nothing comes out. Your eyes go back to the items he's holding, and you gesture to it, trying to get him to say something, anything.

"Oh! ach that's right, I got ye something." He smiles and holds out the notebook for you to take. Hesitantly you take hold of it, giving him a questioning look. Your hands ghost over the edges before you flip it open.

It's empty, but the paper has quality and it's not just any notebook. He had bought you a sketchbook, one that's matching his own. A warmth blooms in your heart as you realize he remembered. Of all things you hadn't expected him to go out of his way and use his own money on you.

"John you...didn't have to..." you cringe a little when you catch your own slip up. He gives you a curious look. A tiny nod is the only signal you get. He's fine with it. It manages to relieve a weight in your chest, the one that's been bothering you about the balance between the two of you. Of what is too far. What is too much.

You gently take the sketch book out of his hands, and he places the little pencil case on top of it. "Nah don't mention it, thought ye might enjoy having something to do that isn’t just working." You feel your cheeks warm up a bit at the call out.

Your teeth latches onto your lower lip, your eyebrows furrowing along with it to create the difficult expression. He looks so excited about this gift. It sometimes feels a little like having a dog standing in front of you, his tail wagging excitedly at the mere possibility of you showing even a hint of approval.

"Just think of it as an early Christmas gift."

You can see why Simon has taken a liking to him. When you first meet him, he's an imposing figure. Even if he puts his good side forward, there's an underlying darkness. A thing you haven't been able to dig out of him yet, but you can see it in the way he moves, in the way he carries himself through social situations.

It's no doubt to you that every single one of the men living under this roof have a deadly touch. They've killed, and they'd kill again if they were ordered to it. It makes you wonder what their moral compass is like. How far is too far. Would they have done what you did, if they were in your position?

Would they understand.

Whatever Simon was put through it had been rough on him, enough to confine himself to a mask. John seemed understanding of him. He always seemed understanding of the things around him. He cared for things. He took care of things, even if that is in his own ways. You watch him love Simon like it's the easiest thing in the world. It's a quiet love, barred behind closed doors for safety but it's there. You see it, in their actions.

You wish you could be like that. Take responsibility in the same way. You've never loved normally, and part of you is sure you never will. Your love is an obsession. It's an all-consuming sickness, burrowing itself in the cavity of your chest. You are an all-consuming idea. You lick your tongue over bloodied ribs, you sink teeth into the heart. Your touch leaves marks and scrapes, that will hurt and destroy.

There's no part of you that should be loved in the way John loves Simon. Yet you crave that attention so viscerally, you'd do anything for it, to be the object of someone's eye once again.

"Thank you..." the words are quiet but it still makes him smile.

"Do show me what ye come up with, ah have a feeling inspiration will strike when it's just right" he speaks like he knows. He's so sure of himself, that you almost believe him just from that. He's the smart type, he'll figure it out.

He'll figure it out.

You shake your head. He won't unless you give him or any of the rest any reason to suspect anything. So far, you're just a weirdo, right?

"Yeah, I will," you try to give him an easy-going smile. Your thoughts should stay on the goal ahead. Whatever this dinner will bring, you have an objective now.

"Do we have to?" you turn away from their front door to face John again. You had gone along this far without complaint. The event of the evening hadn't seemed so daunting before you were standing Infront of the Evans family's lusciously decorated front door.

The first sign of their religion already came at the first glance. The giant cross put in the middle, surrounded by decorated plants and Christmas reds and greens.

"Yes, we do, and ye know that" he says with a soft chuckle, yet he remains still with you in front of the door.

"We could turn around now, Price doesn't have to know, there's a market in town we're just as likely to get information there than here." You aren't sure why exactly you're trying to convince him, when you're well aware you aren't getting out of this without the use of force. Which is definitely not ideal either.

He shakes his head, an amused smile flashing your way. "Price'll know, trust me he always somehow knows," he speaks from experience.

"It'll be over before ye know it, and we can always go to the market afterwards if ye'd like that," he offers as a middle ground. As if it was about the market in the first place.

You lean forward to press their doorbell with a sigh. If you were quick enough you could find the signs and leave. The shallow hope resides in your chest like an anchor to reality. You knew it wouldn't happen, not the way you wanted it to.

You take a step back when Mrs. Evans opens the door with half a squeal to make you wince. Her smile is so bright it borders something disturbing. "Oh my goodness, it's so good to see you two! Come in, come in!" she exclaims.

You step inside, giving her a soft smile and the friendliest greeting you can think of. Anything to make you come across as normal and not an anxious lunatic. She's wearing a beautiful floral print dress reaching down to her ankles, her hair done up in braids tucked into a bun.

Your hands twitch, muscle memory settling into your reflexes as you remember. The younger ones had loved that type of hair. You had been the best at doing it.

The signs will be subtle but they will be there

The Father's voice echo within your head as you step into the foyer.

I never abandon my children to the dark

The inside of their home is almost as obnoxious as their loud front door. Everything is Christmas times a hundred, but only the right kind. The one that praises God, the holy, the pure.

"Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Evans" you give her your best crafted smile. She clasps her hands together and gives you one in return.

"Oh please, I always make it a point to acquaint myself with anyone new. So few come all the way out to our lovely little community, it's a blessing to see good new faces, and I told Frank you two make such a cute couple I couldn't resist inviting you over and getting to know you!"

You freeze at that. Couple? You hadn't said anything about that. Had John...you give him a look but he doesn't look back at you, his eyes focused on Mrs. Evans.

"And we're glad you did, we're both happy that the community is so welcoming, we were a bit worried at first," John doesn't correct her. Is he being serious right now. Did he really tell her that the two of you were together. What in the world was he thinking. What about Simon.

"Please, take off your shoes, settle in settle in! Make yourself at home," she encourages the both of you. There's little time to reflect on his choice, and even less to scold him about it. For now, you'll just have to play along, pretend as if you know what in the world she's talking about.

You discard your shoes and jacket in their rightful places, keep a respectful distance from most things in their foyer to avoid accidentally knocking over the copious number of trinkets they've got out on display.

"I hope you like roasted pork," she leads you into the living room where the warmth of the roaring fireplace encloses around you. "My husband made sure to get the best from the market this morning."

"It smells delicious, I'm sure you're a lovely cook" John stands closer to her. She giggles and waves him off with a bashful expression.

"Oh please, I'm just fine but you'll get a taste for yourself soon enough."

They've got a tree out, ornaments putting it in a white and golden light. Each one engraved with something. It's too small to read. Drawings around the room, done in crayon and childish paint, hung on the spaces on the walls.

John makes small talk with Mrs. Evans, some of relevance some not. It all becomes white noise as your eyes dart around the room. A pet bowl stands near the entrance to the kitchen, it's empty. Paintings of moments of importance from the scriptures are hung neatly on the walls. You recognize most of them, while a few are vaguer for your imagination.

"Excuse me," you try to be as polite as you can butting into their conversation. "Where's your bathroom?" you gesture awkwardly around the room with your hand.

"Oh! Just down the hall sweetie, the first door on your right" Mrs. Evans points back out towards the hallway you had gone through. You thank her, before retreating back out there. Away from the prying eyes of hers.

The hallway is almost worse than the living room. Decorations are splayed about, and it's probably the most visually interesting thing you've come across. Overstimulating almost. You come to a stop Infront the circular mirror, you ignore it in favour of directing your interest towards the display on the little table in front.

It's been decorated in many different colours, plants, pine, ornaments and Christmas cards. All of them coded in some way with the scriptures or religious practice that's been taught to them. Your hand traces over the little ornament, the words hollowing out inside your mind. Reactivating prayers that lay dormant.

'Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart - Proverbs 3:3'

You know words of prayer by heart. You've spent countless nights reciting them, practicing them, committing them to memory so you could receive a reward morning come.

And then you had spent countless nights crying them out in a prayer for help, for rescue. You had spent countless restless nights turning your throat raw, screaming to a god that never actually listened.

This home is oversaturated with them.

There's truth to be found in them, one you pretend to no longer care for. You walk further down the hallway, inspecting every ornament, every inscription. All the little signs that could distinguish this home from a loving religious household, to one that does the bidding of the collective.

There has to be signs. Tiny little things. Anything at all that can lead you towards the presence of The Father, of your home. He rarely goes anywhere without doing so, to lead his rightful children back to where they belong, no matter how far out they might have gone.

It was a lesson he taught you early on.

There'll always be a place for you in my arms.

The shadows still take his face, and use his voice. They still taunt you despite how much you try to fight it. You think they might not even stop if you were to finally give in to them.

You come to an open door. A child's bed room. It's clad in golds and pinks, blending together in the context of a princess design. The little kid is there too, her golden hair almost shining in the big lamp light above. A halo around her head. She's pure.

She would be so easily corruptible.

"Are you mommy's guest?" she doesn't seem nervous at all. "Oh! Do you wanna see my toys? Mommy says I can get more for Christmas!"

Let her be innocent. Please. Let her be free of it.

You walk closer wordlessly. An easy smile settles on your lips, exactly how you used to do with the young. "Yeah, those are some cool toys" you try to mimic her tone of excitement. "Are they new?"

You settle down onto your knees next to her. Her toys keep the same colours scheme as her room, except for a few baby blues and greens. She excitedly shows you her favourite.

You're careful not to touch her as she drags you through her collection of colourful ponies. She's too young. Let her be too young to know.

He starts young.

Let her be too young.

Your eyes search her body for scars, bruises, any mark at all but find nothing but the smooth skin you envied. "Do you go to church often little one?" you ask and settled down on the floor next to her in a more comfortable position.

"Mhm! It's a bit boring sometimes though, don't tell mommy I said that," she snickers and puts a finger over her mouth.

"Have you ever wanted more out of it?"

She shrugs barely interested in your words, clearly boring her about just as much as the lectures she would find within the church. You reach out, grab her arm with a force that gets her eyes to widen.

"Deus spes nostra," your eyes bore into hers searching for even the tiniest sign of recognition within her.

You spoke a tiny prayer within your mind, let her be innocent, let her be free.

"Deus lux mea est."

Your stomach sinks, your eyes searching for the source standing in the open doorway. She couldn't be much older than you had been. She had the same expression you would wear back then, masked by the anxiety swimming in your gut.

The family has two daughters.

The little one, uninterested in the religious practice being thrust upon her as she grows. She'll change her mind as she gets older, turn to the so-called light stained by the blood red sky above her.

And the older one.

He's raising a new angel.

It's the only thing that makes sense. A new angel to take the place you left hollow when you fled. He's starting from the bottom up, creating something better, something stronger. And by how she stares you down from across the table, it wouldn't be crazy to think she knows of you.

You can only pray she would keep her mouth shut. That she wouldn't alert your presence to anyone of importance. Or you could dispose of her. The plan formulates all too quickly in the back of your brain, how you'd do it, what you'd do with the corpse afterwards, the explanations of your absence to the team.

Depending on how deep in her training she is, you're unsure whether it's a fight you want to pick alone. She's so much younger than you, inexperienced but fresher without the pains of a weakened body.

"Love, could you pass me the salt?"

You freeze, your head whipping to John in surprise. Despite the agreed cover you hadn't expected him to pull out anything extra. Was that really needed? As if Mrs. Evans hadn't already fussed over the two of you enough.

"Yeah..." you pick up the salt and pass it to him. Your eyes leaving the new angel.

"Are the two of you settling in well?" Mrs. Evans speaks up clear startling her youngest. "I know the valley can be difficult to get accustomed to especially this time of year!"

She has a faux type of energy that rubs you the wrong way.

"We're settling in just fine, kind of you to worry" John responds with optimism. How does these people not rub him the wrong way, can't he see it? Or is he just that much better at masking it than you are. Likely it's the latter and it doesn't help your annoyance.

"Ah it's nothing, gotta look out for the young love in our community" her knife squeaks against her plate when she cuts a piece of meat. It hurts your ears. The table itself is clad in imperfect white frills, candles in the middle, surrounded by fruits, potatoes and meat galore.

"Isn't that right honey?" she elbows her husband in the arm. His eyes have been glued his plate since you took a seat. He's barely eaten a thing. When he doesn't answer her, she clears her throat and nudges him again.

"Mh..yeah."

She lets out an awkward little laugh, her uncomfortable stature satisfies something in you. John smiles unsure towards her as he takes another bite of his own food.

"Oh, darling you've barely eaten a thing? Do you feel ill?" Mrs. Evans directs her attention to you when she doesn't get the response she's looking for. You mentally curse out the man of the house for not taking up her conversation.

"No, I'm alright, just had a big lunch that's all" you give her your best attempt at a disarming smile. Let her buy it. Don't dig.

You pick up your fork and pick up the piece of meat you had cut for yourself. It doesn't go down easy. The heat burns your tongue, and the texture drags in your throat. It settles wrong in your stomach.

"It's such a good thing the two of you decided to come to church! The community is always so excited over newcomers, I'm sure you'll make lots of friends in due time." You have to give it to her, her excitement seems as genuine as it gets. Whatever lays beneath, she believes in it wholeheartedly.

"Yeah, we're happy to have found it so receptive. We have a lot to learn from a tight knit community like this, but I'm sure there's only good things to come. We've also been thinking about expanding our horizons, attend some things more than just the Sunday mass." John replies in an excited tone. He's good at mimicking the interest in their practice, but you suppose it's not entirely fabricated.

"Oh but of course! You absolutely need to come by Wednesday when the choir practices. My own two girls are apart of it, and they've got the most angelic little voices, do you not?" she glances towards them with hope in her eyes.

The little one smiles bright at you, nodding along rapidly to what her mother is telling. The elder remains quiet. "They both work so hard too! I mean you should have seen it when they first started, a bit uncoordinated but they sharpened up quickly. A few private lessons and it put them right on track with the others!"

She sounds proud.

Her happiness disgusts you.

The daughters are silent listening on to their mother singing their praises on a topic they'd clearly rather avoid. It's in their faces, even the younger one, the distaste, the compliance. The new angel still has her eyes on you, ever focused on your moves, your expressions, your reactions. She's too observant for your liking.

You make a mental note to ask Laswell for any and all information on this family, on her.

There'll be plenty of work to do once you go home from this. You doubt you'll get much sleep. You only hope your sleep deprived state won't cause you too much trouble, and that the 4 men living under the same room won't make too many comments. You got voices enough in your head to listen to.

The rest of the dinner is spent observing the family's dynamic, marking off mental notes of their reactions to one another. You've got down the mother’s devotion, the daughters forced contribution, the father’s detachment to the world around him as if nothing matters to him anymore.

He's been here

This place is filthy with his prints

He's planted the seeds and they've taken root deep within them

"Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Evans. It was delicious."

"Oh, don't mention it Mr. Mctavish, it was my pleasure to host the two of you" she gushes as you move out the front door and back into the snowy town. John follows close behind, his hand holding tightly onto yours as if to keep you in check, so you don't go running off prematurely.

You guess he still doesn't fully trust you after your little stunt.

"We'll see you in church on Sunday! Stay safe now," Mrs. Evans waves you off and closes her front door with a prominent click.

You let out a deep sigh, finally being out of there. "You did good," John says and gives you a smile. His hand is still in yours, a warm weight you don't feel like letting go just yet. Luckily, he doesn't seem to want to either as he tugs on your arm to walk in tow.

You let him lead you, tugging your jacket further around yourself. "So are you not a fan of family dinners at all, or was that just as intense as it felt like back there," John says with a chuckle. You a crack a smile of your own. You could still feel your muscles tense state, at least you hadn't been completely alone in it.

"Would you believe me if I said both," there's amusement in your voice bordering a reciprocal chuckle. He looks to you with a fonder smile.

"Yeah."

His attention is taken off of you again when you hear the faint music down the street. Christmas carols, songs of joy. It seems to spark interest in him as he quickly changes course.

The closer you get the more extravagant the decorations around town seem to become. Fairy lights are hung from house to house, and across streets, becoming shimmering lights above you, like golden stars in the night sky to guide you to where you're meant to be.

"It's beautiful..." your voice is but a whisper, staring up at the marvel. A rough hand comes to graze against your jaw. The hand that isn't holding yours guide your eyes to the bigger display at the centre of the upcoming square, the giant tree in the middle, the band in front of it playing songs for a dancing crowd.

His hand squeezes yours, making you look down. His thumb rubs soothing motions over your skin, like it's meant to be there. Your eyes trail back up to his face, but he isn't watching you. No, that amused face is captivated by your surroundings. There's something unmistakably beautiful about him in this kind of lighting, and you count yourself blessed enough to be allowed to see it before your end.

Your teeth clench together as your mind drifts back to the dinner. The one question you want to ask lies on the tip of your tongue, and before you can stop yourself.

"John back there why did you make us a couple, we could've been anything to them you didn't have to-" you bite down on your tongue, looking away from him as his eyes come back to you.

"It was the first thing that came to mind, didn't think it would bother ye that much." John is quick to respond, his concern edging into his tone. You swallow uncomfortably, and the hand that lies in yours suddenly feels wrong, like rubbing your hand on a cheese grater.

"But you and Simon..."

"He doesn't mind."

Your brows furrow, because what does he mean he doesn't mind. He should mind. He should really, really mind.

"But-"

"Dance with me."

He comes to stand in front of you, blocking the view of the spectacle ahead and becoming the new one instead. Light shines around him like he was sent from the heavens, a beacon for you to follow. The workings within your mind are dangerous, the connections they start to make.

"What?"

"Dance with me." He's steadfast not taking no for an answer as he gently grabs your other hand and moulds you into the right position. He doesn't start right away, waits for your muscles to relax, for the surprise on your face to morph into something different.

Then he leads you, and you follow.

You haven't danced much in your life if at all, and it shows in your clumsy movements, in the way you look down at your feet as to not step on his. He doesn't say a word, not a single complaint is heard. He spins you around with a soft smile on his lip, hums along with the tune of the song in the back.

It takes you half the song but you start to grow more confident, your steps more bold, more assured. A smile cracks out on your own lips, and when he spins you around again you can't help the laughter that crackles from your throat, the tickling in your body.

"You don't have to worry so much you know," he whispers close to your ear, your back to his front.

"We've got you."

He spins you back around, guides your steps until you've successfully danced yourself over to the rest of the moving crowd. His hand finds a resting place on your waist, the other one aiding you to make sure you stay in place. Your steps become unsteady, trying to not bump into people but he doesn't let go. He doesn't let you fall.

You don't know what changed for you that day, but later on you've come to realize, the feelings within you have morphed into something else, and whether you liked it or not, they would continue down that path. It's too late to walk away.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @haipasa @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @kaoyamamegami @ellabellabunny123 @chickennn-soupp @spicyspicyliving @lilynotdilly

[lctibule]

dealing with an increasing Urge to try picking up jinx as a muse ngl

[novelconcepts]

more and more it's feeling like we just...don't have room for people trying anymore. it's all or nothing; get it right the first time, or be crucified by a jury you can never fully see or convince. and this isn't new, isn't born of current events. it's become more and more prevalent over the last ten years thanks to social media putting every little thought on blast, but i'd put money on the idea that it's actually been brewing much longer than that. and, for me, it goes beyond being tiring or upsetting. it feels bleak. it feels downright fucking broken that we're all so busy trying not to condone anything remotely problematic that we don't leave room for good faith learning. watching people trying to suss out their own identity--something literally ONLY they can fully understand or explain--be vilified for trying to fit words around their own experience sucks. watching people misunderstand something and try to apologize for it later, only to be told they should have known all along, sucks. seeing people who once held truly toxic beliefs actually grow and learn and apologize and still be told to fuck themselves as if they're a lost cause--it sucks. just. does that not fill you with despair for the state of things? does that not break something in you, to think that if you one day don't understand something, or misuse a word, or grapple with complicated feelings, it will forever stain you in the eyes of perfect strangers?

dude the world is fucked, and we all see it, but like. it doesn't feel like it helps to be so goddamn reactive. it doesn't feel like it helps anyone to demand perfection out the gate. it's exhausting. there are enough people out there who don't want to learn, who aren't trying, who actively revel in cruelty. looking for malice in every little fuck-up from people who seem to be genuinely striving to live their lives with kindness strikes me as lending strength to an army that already glories in suffering. and makes the world look more fucked than ever. and i really don't know that that energy is what we need when there's already so much to set right.

maybe it's just me. maybe this last decade just shattered something in me. but i really, really hate the idea--reject the idea, frankly--that people can't learn and change and grow. that people can't be better than a bad day or a failure of understanding. i reject the idea that people are something to be thrown out because they fucked up. it just seems...yeah. bleak. really fuckin' bleak.

[mochinon-yah]

I think i'm just full of repressed aggression, and it's all slowly seeping out every time i interact with the world

[prisjean]

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ HELD CLOSE caleb x reader

synopsis: after finding out your ex cheated on you, an angry caleb comes and saves the day, and then comforts you hehe ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

tw: MDNI +18, p in v, no condom (pls use protection), cumming inside, caleb gets NEEDY (or i try to make him seem that way lolz), he says pipsqueak in the middle of it (only once), dry humping, slight biting, and long plot (i try to make it worth it PLS)

authors note: literally i had to take a break writing, esp during the dry humping scene cause HOOOO lorddd this makes me want caleb more than ever. thank you @tbaluver for helping me write this & happy reading everyone!! ᡣ𐭩

your phone buzzed in your trembling hands, and when you saw caleb’s name flash across the screen, your heart clenched. you wiped your tear-streaked face quickly, taking a deep breath before answering the video call.

“hey pipsqueak.” his voice was warm, familiar but his sharp eyes immediately narrowed. “what’s wrong?”

you forced a smile, shaking your head. “nothing, i’m fine.”

caleb tilted his head, his expression softening but showing a bit of his possessiveness. “oh no no no, don’t lie to me. i can see it all over your face.” his voice was firm but gentle, a thread of concern weaving through it.

your resolve cracked, and a fresh wave of tears welled in your eyes. “he cheated on me, caleb,” you whispered, voice breaking. “i feel so...so stupid.”

his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. the muscles in his neck tensed, his grip on the phone tightening. "who?"

you hesitated, but when you said your ex’s name, caleb’s eyes darkened. “...i’m on my way back to linkon,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“caleb, you don’t have to-”

“don’t.” his voice cut through your protest. “i'm almost there, just stay put.”

you knew better than to argue when he got like this, so you nodded, biting your lip as he gave you one last lingering look before ending the call.

it wasn’t long before a knock sounded at your door. when you opened it, caleb stood there, his casual clothing slightly disheveled, his knuckles bruised and raw.

your eyes widened. “caleb…”. you grabbed onto to his hands.

he shrugged, gazing down at you before. “had to teach that asshole a lesson.” wanting him to calm down, you led him to the couch.

your heart ached, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. you looked at him before speaking, “but you.. you didn’t have to.”

he reached out, wiping away the stray tear lingering on your cheek. “yeah.. i did.” his voice softened. “no one gets to mess with you and get away with it.”

you sighed, leaning into his touch. but your chest felt tight, you didn’t know why, but somehow, you found yourself sitting on his lap, his hands found your waist, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you in the moment. “what am i gonna do without you?” you chuckled softly.

caleb smirked, caressing your cheek. “lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

caleb’s eyes softened as his hand rested on your cheek, but even as his gaze held yours, there was a storm behind his violet eyes, something darker. his lips parted like he was about to say something, but he didn’t. the silence between you two was becoming unbearable.

then his hand gripped your face, pulling you closer, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, desperate energy that sent you spiraling. it wasn’t gentle but of a hungry, needy, force that demanded attention. as his kiss deepened, you could feel the tension running through him and slowly through you, neither of you fully able to control the emotions swirling inside.

as the kiss deepened, the world around you disappeared but only the feel of caleb’s lips, his warmth, his touch. his hands were everywhere, your waist, your back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get close enough. the two of you were practically moaning in each others mouths, every second felt like it wasn’t enough. the heat between you both was unbearable, and with each kiss, each caress, it felt like everything that had been unspoken was finally free.

but then, you couldn’t take it anymore. you pulled away, your chest heaving with the intensity of the kiss with your heart racing like it might explode. you stared at caleb, trying to catch your breath, feeling his body still pressed against yours, the distance between you barely existent. you didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to face the reality of pulling back, but your feelings were conflicted.

you bit your lip, your gaze flicking to the side as you gasped for air. “caleb, i can’t... this is too much, i—”

before you could finish, caleb’s hands grab onto yours, he presses his forehead onto your knuckles before looking right back up into your eyes. his eyes were dark, full of raw need, and his jaw clenched tightly. “no. don’t you dare do that.”

his voice was rough. “you can’t pull away from me now. not when i’ve been wanting this for so long.” the words came out like a confession, as though the weight of everything he’d been holding back had finally come crashing to the surface. his gaze softened, but the longing was undeniable. “i’ve been waiting for this, waiting for you...”

“please,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, almost like a prayer. “don’t push me away when i finally have you here. don’t make me wait any longer.”

you didn’t know what to say. his words wrapped around you like a chain, pulling you back toward him. no man could ever long for you the way the man in front of you did. your pulse raced and before you can even mutter a reply, caleb closed the distance, capturing your lips again in a kiss that felt like a promise.

his hands roamed again, desperate to keep you close, to feel you against him, like he needed to anchor himself to something real. the way he kissed ignited a fire in you. it couldn't be helped when you started rolling your hips forward just to gain a little bit more of him. you started to feel him harden against you, making the friction unbearable to keep your moans intact. you could tell he was enjoying you by the way his hands clutched desperately on your back, with nails digging in as he pulls you even closer. his kisses grew more frantic, little whines and gasps escaping him between each one. he would so often lift his hips eagerly to meet with every roll you had to offer him, bitten off whines leave his lips as you continue to grind your clothes cunt onto his clothed cunt.

caleb's breath hitched as your lips suddenly trailed along his neck. his hands tangled in your hair, holding you close as you nipped and sucked at his sensitive skin. a low groan rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your lips.

"god, i've dreamed of this," he murmured, voice husky with desire. his hips bucked up against yours, seeking more friction. "dreamed of you, like this, for so long." he continued. 

caleb's voice grew increasingly desperate, his words punctuated by ragged breaths. "please," he begged, his fingers digging into your hips. "i need you. i need all of you." his eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with lust and longing. "touch me, taste me, anything” he kisses your knuckles. “just don't stop."

"i've waited so long," he whimpered, burying his face in your neck. his lips brushed your ear as he whispered, "make me yours. please, i'm begging you."

caleb's usual composure had crumbled completely, leaving him trembling and needy beneath you. his hands roamed your body restlessly, as if he couldn't decide where to touch first. "can i..we.." he murmurs, gesturing towards your skirt.

you nod, you can feel your cheeks heat up. your tone softens, "caleb, i have always been yours as you have been mine." you give him a smile. with trembling hands, he fumbles with his belt buckle. he finally managed to undo his pants, freeing his erection. the tip was already gleaming with pre-cum. with one swift motion, he lifted up your skirt and pulled your panties to the side, not wanting to waste a single second now. he softly guided you, leaving your soaked pussy to run through his tip. you start to slide down on him, taking him inch by inch. you both cried out at the sudden, intense sensation. caleb's head fell back, his mouth open in a silent moan as he savored the feeling of finally being inside you.

"p-pipsqueak.." his raspy voice fills the air as you began to ride him, letting his cock explore you as he whines with every hip roll.

"don't.. don't stop" he whimpers, his cheeks slightly flushes. you were moving at a slow, sensual rhythm that had him gasping for breaths. his hands continue to roam your body as you continued.

"use me however you want.." he whispers, his hands cup your clothed breasts. "don't stop using me till you're.. satisfied ngh.." he places his hands back on your hips, helping you bounce on him.

"caleb.. you feel so..so good.." you moaned in reply. your rolls had him hit your sweet spot and now you were almost at your high. your sounds seemed to ignite something primal in caleb. his grip on your hips tightened as he began to thrust up into you with renewed vigor. the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"and you.. ngh.. are so perfect," caleb groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "so tight,.. so wet for me." he leaned forward, capturing your neck in his mouth, gently biting bite. the sensation sent shocks of pleasure through your body, making you clench around him.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as you rode him harder. "caleb, i'm.. so close," you panted, feeling the tension building in you.

his eyes locked onto yours, cheeks still flushed. "that's it.. princess.. please..please come for me... huu.. please let me feel you.."

his words, combined with the exquisite friction of his cock inside you, pushed you over the edge. you cried out, your body shakes as you rode your high on him.

"you're stunning.." caleb says adoringly as he watched you crumpled on him. "ngh.. im going to cum.. let me cum," you loved this new side of him. "cum inside me.." with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within you, his cock pulsing as he came. it sent you over the edge as you felt his seed warming inside you. both of your breathing were in synced, breathless as time seemed to go normal again. the air between you was thick with warmth, your bodies still tangled together, caleb didn't want to pull himself out of you yet. he wanted to cherish this moment. caleb’s hands, once gripping you with desperation, had softened, his fingers now tracing slow patterns along your back.

you let out a shaky exhale, pressing your forehead against his, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his shirt like you weren’t ready to let go. caleb’s hands slid up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheekbones.

“you okay?” his voice was lower now, softer, laced with something tender. he searched your face, his gaze lingering, waiting for any sign of hesitation.

you chuckled, nodding as you leaned into his touch. “i should be asking you that,” you whispered, teasingly. “that was a different caleb i saw back there.”

caleb chuckled under his breath, a small, breathy sound that sent warmth curling in your chest. “yeah,” he echoed, a hint of something affectionate in his tone. his fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering, like he wasn’t ready to stop touching you yet. "but, it couldn't be helped.. when i'm with you." he continues.

caleb shifted, adjusting so you were nestled against his chest, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet protectiveness. his heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a rhythm that soothed you.

you sighed, melting into him as his warmth surrounded you, his steady heartbeat lulling you into a sense of calm. his fingers trailed absentmindedly along your back, tracing slow, soothing patterns, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were still here, still in his arms.

“you make me crazy, you know that?” caleb murmured after a moment, his lips brushing against the top of your head. his voice was softer now. “i don’t think i’ve ever wanted something this much.”

your fingers tightened slightly around his shirt, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. caleb’s eyes softened, and without thinking, he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. it wasn’t desperate or rushed like before, just warm, grounding, like he was trying to memorize every second of this moment.

“are you tired?” he asked, smirking a little. his fingers now tracing idle circles against your arm.

you hummed in response, your eyelids growing heavier. “a little.”

knowing you didn't run away from his confession, he pulled himself out of you and adjusted yours and his clothing as if nothing happened. he shifted slightly, just enough to lean you against him, making sure you were comfortable. “i’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice quiet, protective. “just rest, okay? i’ll be right here.”

you smiled against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the way his arms held you like he never wanted to let go. you had totally forgotten about your ex. the world didn't even matter to you at all, not right now, not when you had this.

and as sleep pulled you under, you heard caleb murmur one last thing against your hair, barely heard but filled with devotion.

“i'll always be by your side.”

[heegyukeluv]

cross the line (lhs)

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: “How do you know if someone is flirting with you?”  It was Heeseung’s question to you, and you were left with no option other than to show how you do it.

my's note: this is from an old prompt i had. nothing much, just some fluff and highkey desperate (and long) smut... and bestfriends to lovers 🤭i feel like i lost the plot while i was writing it, but yeah! hope y'all enjoy it

warnings: childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, kinda miscomunication?, reader blushing/turning red!, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!!), desperate hee (in many ways lol), hee is sensitive and edges himself, very slooooow and unnecessarily detailed smut, reader is not a virgin but it's her second time!! / lmk if i missed something!

wc: 14,5k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers, @ikeuverse, @tinycatharsis

“How do you know if someone is flirting with you?”

The question lingered in the air longer than Heeseung expected, but he wouldn’t blame you at all.

It was a quiet, calm Saturday afternoon. None of you had work to do or studies to draw your energy. While your back lazily rested on your couch’s armrest with your legs propped up in a triangle, Heeseung was laid on the ground after blaming the couch’s fabric for being too heated for his skin, his head opposite to yours. 

Far enough to miss your instant confused expression. 

“Huh?” You murmured with a frown, trying to figure out if you heard it correctly before diverting your attention from your phone to catch a glimpse of Heeseung’s plain eyes looking up at the ceiling. 

He had shifted his position to a relaxed one with a hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, the quiet motion of up and down following his gentle breathing. It could easily soothe your nerves to watch him serenely exist like that in the world, an opposite to his normally chaotic and teasing demeanor. 

“How do you know if someone is flirting with you?” Heeseung repeated his question once again, and you were sure now you had heard it right. It didn’t make you less puzzled though. “Like, I think I struggle to recognize what’s just a normal interaction and what’s a flirt.”

Your eyebrows were sky high as you skeptically eyed Heeseung, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth as your body stiffed a little. 

Growing up together as friends was just a quarter of your story with Heeseung.

Your moms were the typical best friends that surprisingly gave birth around the same time, resulting in you and Heeseung becoming as close as siblings due to your families proximity, although the thought of being Heeseung’s sister haunted the depths of your mind terribly nowadays.

Of course you wouldn’t mind being considered in that position when you were younger; Heeseung annoying ass bothering you all the time with the subtle hair pulls under the excuse of trying to grab your attention, or poking your sides to start a little fight that he always won, or the times he simply feigned to go for a whisper as in telling you a secret just to blow air in your ear and elicit a scream from you, were a huge behaviors proof he had somewhat sibling energy.

Your constant smacks on his shoulders and chest, along with your not-so-gentle bites on his arms, and your giggles whenever you pranked him by tossing flour at his direction when cooking together worked well to establish a strong base to that idea.

However, as you both started to grow up, things changed accordingly to your ages.

You were expectedly very comfortable around each other, and the touches once aiming to bother, switched to casual, caring ones, still having a faint of that light-hearted taunt.

Heeseung would often be seen removing an eyelash from your cheek, his fingertips brushing against your skin softly as you kept talking normally.

Or intertwining your hands when going back from school, so you wouldn’t fall whenever you tripped – and you did quite regularly.

Or, when you sat together, Heeseung would make sure to have your thighs resting on his lap so he could settle his warm hands on top of it, casually caressing your skin while watching whatever you choose to. 

It was great and heartwarming to have him like that, taking care of you even with the slightest teasing alongside genuine intentions – Heeseung struggled to demonstrate his feelings openly, so giving you princess-like treatment with a hint of his usual playful banter was his way to show how much he loved you.

Eventually, puberty hit him, and hit undoubtedly hard. 

The little kid who used to follow you around just to annoy had become the taller, handsome, and effortlessly cool teenager, surrounded by friends and making girls squeal over even the slightest interaction with him, leaving you to wonder when everything had changed that much.

You didn’t expect Heeseung to keep being friends with you the way he was before as time passed, but surprisingly he would often be choosing you over the others, such as hanging out during lunch time with you, doing his schoolworks only with you, spending a part of his pocket money with sweets for you and taking you home everyday – you lived near to each other, nonetheless he would always guide you to your door’s porch before kissing your forehead and saying his farewell. 

At some point you realized your body was reacting similarly to how girls who had a crush on Heeseung would describe when he was around; an urge to scream and giggle just because he smiled, heart pounding hard in your chest after watching him slicking back his sweaty hair while playing basketball with the boys, hands trembling with the thought of being alone for too long with him in your room.

You were starting to act awkward, your hormones messing with your head enough to leave you scared as shit, questioning what you and Heeseung were, because the definition of friendship wasn’t making any sense, seemed lacking, insufficient for what you truly, wholeheartedly wanted from Heeseung.

So your most sane decision at the time was to push him towards other girls randomly, sharing how much in love a friend of yours was with him and how worthy, pretty and intelligent she was. Or how the cheerleader’s leader would fit him perfectly and they would become the school’s model couple.

The sting in your heart was tough to deal with when he started to pick up some of your ideas and openly flirt with the said girls, sharing each step with you how friends constantly did, but you would one hundred percent rather to handle the pain of never having Heeseung as your boyfriend than the hurtful thought of losing him for good.

Then Heeseung started dating, and the girl was extremely jealous of your friendship. 

Though you swore she had nothing to worry about, Heeseung, once again, chose you, dumping the girl just a few weeks after because she said bad things about you, added to the fact that she had a list of reasons why he should end the friendship, something Heeseung would never, ever think about doing.

Despite your mind playing tricks after hearing that people could misinterpret the way Heeseung behaved with you – apparently he would be playing with your hair and giving you headpats quite too oftenly, barely keeping his hands away from you –, you tried to maintain things safely where they should be, focusing on getting over your foolish crush on Heeseung and moving on.

Eventually, little by little the so cherished friendship started to teeter the edge that crossed the line of just friends, and the casual moments started to hold a special place inside your chest.

Heeseung made no effort to help you as well, offering big and gorgeous smiles whenever he saw you as if you were everything he wanted. Laughing graciously when you hugged him so you could hear and feel his chest vibrating with it. Doing his silly little dances to cheer you up in the middle of your living room and, mostly, singing songs with his angelical voice for you to sleep during late phone calls. 

You were so terrified of reading beyond reality.

Was it really that deep?, you would question yourself when your head rested on your pillow at night, the phantom of Heeseung’s presence permeating your room after a game day together, the shared chuckles and teasing prolonging your fast heartbeats as a sweet reminder of your feelings, feelings that you never really managed to bury somewhere else other than on the tip of your tongue, craving for the release you never gave.

The friendship continued the same through the years, or, at least, you both tried to. The emotional bond that tied you two together worked almost perfectly, if you got to keep your voice silenced, if you got to keep the real feelings inside your chest, away from the possible reality.

Heeseung would be eager to share his adventures with you, from the everyday moments, like when he made a shot with his back turned to the hoop and scored, to the more secretive and sexual escapades, the ones you would rather not hear about but had to in order to support your friend spot.

It felt like a punch to the gut when Heeseung talked about his first kiss and the others that followed, each revelation stirring a mix of emotions you couldn't quite shake off, not when you wanted him to be your first kiss as well.

When you both entered college last year, once more things shifted a little.

Heeseung and you began to frequent very different places. While you gravitate towards the quiet spots, such as the library, the coffee shop, or the shade of a tree on campus to read a book in your silent, mellow atmosphere, Heeseung was willing to attend every single party he got to know about, having girls constantly kissing him in front of everyone, caring little to nothing about the talks or if the night would end up in his room.

But he never really committed to anyone.

You wondered what was the reason that held him back, considering the amount of good opportunities he had; the offers were abundant, and the line of admires long to make a curve down the square. Surely he would find the love of his life among that many options, and you had convinced yourself you were far faded from the running.

So, the question felt out of place.

“Are you really gonna try to make me believe that you don’t know when a girl is flirting with you?” You propped yourself on the couch to full face Heeseung, arching an eyebrow. “You? Of all people?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes with a sigh and a smirk, pushing himself up to sit with crossed his legs, fully aware of what you were referring to. “Don’t even start with this shit.”

You chuckled dryly, struggling to contain the bitter taste dissolving in the depths of your throat, the knot was extremely hard to swallow, to know he had fucked who knows how many girls through his life and you, on the other hand, barely had a boyfriend.

It might sound like envy, but you were just frustrated for not being any of those girls.

“What shit? The ‘last weekend I slept with three girls’ shit?” You faked a deep voice to mimic Heeseung, together with his usual cocky smile before deadpanning into a feigned teasing expression.

The episode happened a few days ago, right when you accidentally eavesdropped on him and his friends chatting while playing video games in your shared living room.

It was the typical boys’ talk that you had no intention of listening to, but unfortunately you had just reached the door’s knot to open it, then each word that came out of Heeseung’s mouth traveled straight into your ears, making your stomach drop in an unexpected pain. 

You rushed to your room, cheeks heating and tears stinging your eyes, on the verge of breaking down after hearing what he had said.

Of course you knew Heeseung was sexually active. His room was right next to yours, and though he tried to keep it quiet, the girl he once led in after mistakenly thinking you weren’t home hadn’t bothered to be discreet.

You were fully aware of his private life, the quarter that had you screaming, crying, nearly pulling out your hair and breaking some of your belongings in jealousy because it wasn’t you. 

“Y/N,” Heeseung called out seriously, accidentally bringing you back from your spiral thoughts. “You, more than anyone, know I was joking,” he averted his eyes from you, the prominent area of his cheeks heating as he added. “I literally lost my virginity not even six months ago.”

Now it was your time to roll your eyes, because yes, Heeseung did in fact lose his virginity on that said date, but he never stopped having sex ever since and it annoyed you so fucking much. While you struggled to even kiss a boy, Heeseung was out there living the best of life. Without you.

For years, you thought you hated his behavior because you couldn’t be like him, nonchalant about your crushes as if they were nothing much. You had to literally force your body not to shake when kissing someone, had to hide your sweaty palms and how all your instincts yelled for you to run away when sharing intimacy with someone.

But the actual reality was simpler. You weren’t envious of him. You didn’t want to be like Heeseung.

You wanted Heeseung.

“Whatever you say,” you muttered with a dry chuckle and dropped back on the couch, grabbing your phone to keep scrolling on tiktok, ignoring how hot your face felt after.

Heeseung grunted, his eyes darting towards your face as you absentmindedly watched videos. The boy was oblivious to the real whirlwind happening inside your chest, especially because on his side of the story, he was fighting so fucking hard to contain himself.

Every. Single. Second. 

You were the prettiest girl he ever had the chance to lay his eyes on, with the bestest personality that complemented his own just right, with the most melodic voice and laughter that made his whole world slow down in order to make his breathing ability harder. And he really wished it actually slowed down, to allow him to enjoy and appreciate every passing moment with you even deeper.

Fuck, Heeseung was unable to tell when the butterflies in his stomach started to dance along the beat of your constant presence, but the day you asked if your lipgloss was cute definitely played a big role on it.

Heeseung had a vivid memory of how gorgeous you looked wearing your brand new dress for your fifteenth birthday party, styling your strands with a hair bow and prepping your face with makeup that only accentuated your already beautiful features.

And then you turned on your heels, cheeks painted with a faint blush, big, wide, innocent eyes colored with a soft shade of brown, and your lips, oh, your fucking plump lips with a  shade of a light pink gloss adorning it, screaming for his own mouth to be pressed there.

‘Do I look cute? Does my gloss look cute?’

The question was simple and very common. Heeseung always answered yes to them, because he would always think you were pretty, even when waking up with your puffy face and half-lidded open eyes squinting because of daylight.

But there you were, making Heeseung focus intentionally more on your, now, kissable lips, on your sweet, tempting, fucking gorgeous lips.

Ever since that day Heeseung had to keep you closer to drift his nasty thoughts away.

It was controversial and maybe hypocritical. He should have done the opposite, to avoid you, to keep you as far as possible, but he simply couldn’t, because in that very moment he found himself addicted to you, addicted to the idea of tasting what he had come to crave as his main life goal. 

Having you near meant not dealing with the thought of other guys that had experienced what he longed the most, because with you, everything that filled Heeseung’s mind was the present; your presence, your cheeky smiles, your clingy hugs, your scent, you, as a whole.

It was so fucking tough and hurtful to hear about your little crushes, it fumed his chest with angry flames that spread rapidly, with no sign to have a firefighter strong enough to put the fire out.

You weren’t like him, or at least the part you allowed him to have access didn’t compare to even one percent of what he lived, but Heeseung strongly envied those who had the chance to be the reason behind your shy giggles and blushed cheeks.

Along the chat about flattering boys that stole your heart, you would also ask him why he didn’t date anyone, your curious gaze making him stutter in place. To internally scream and squirm to prevent the words from escaping his mouth – words that would form the sentence that, without a doubt, would change the trajectory of your relationship – was the only suitable option.

It’s your fault, idiot. It’s because none of them are you.

Heeseung always opted to laugh away and give an open answer; ”didn’t find the right one” was his favorite.

In fact, watching you grow up was harder than dealing with some of the questions you threw at him. One moment, you were just the little girl he loved to tease, someone he considered his best friend, and even like the little sister he never had

Heeseung would watch you laugh at his jokes, chase you around scaring you, and protect you from the world when necessary. But then, out of nowhere, you started to change.

You were suddenly a full-grown woman, carrying yourself in a way that left him speechless, not knowing how to react, with boobs and shit.

Ok, that was not exactly what made his life around you harder, nonetheless, it was inevitable the way you physically evolved began to hold a distinct place in Heeseung's mind, blurring his cohesive thoughts with a frightening ease.

Being a teenager while having a hot friend was difficult, no one ever taught him about it.

He felt nasty every time he dared to touch himself while thinking about your body; how your mildly exposed chest, when wearing tight shirts, hinted at what was beneath it. How the soft curves of your belly and hips drew his attention in a way that got his fingertips tingling in craving to hug it, to have it under his touch.

Whenever he achieved his climax, your cute name falling from his lips in a quiet whisper, the following regret flooded his chest within a wave of remorse that he couldn’t control at all. For good minutes he even considered saying sorry to you within a text, without giving a proper explanation, but he would always choose to keep that hidden truth away from your acknowledgment in every instance possible.

Besides his strong, flaming desire, Heeseung loved you with all he had.

You were his best friend, the one and only, the girl who knew his deepest secrets and welcomed them without judgment, that laughed at his stupid jokes and held him closer when he needed comfort.

You knew that when he was a child, he would wet the bed because he had nightmares about clowns. You knew he would eat ramen in the middle of the night, hiding it from his parents and blaming his older brother. You knew that, despite him bragging about his skills, he was terrible at candy crush – and you loved to tease him about it, because who the hell is bad at candy crush?

You didn’t seem to care about his flaws, like the aggressive way he treated things around him when the accumulated stress snapped – never at you, though. Or the fact that he would procrastinate as much as possible to clean his room, to do laundry or wash the dishes. Or that he would always eat while watching TV at maximum volume, and scream loudly while playing league of legends even when late at night.

Heeseung loved you, yet, it wasn’t enough to keep him safely quiet, relentlessly making his body ache for you. What started as the warmth of a deep connection slowly blossomed into something more – more intense, more real, and yet, somehow, delicate, like a fragile flower that could easily be shattered.

Heeseung would treat you like a queen because he thought you deserved to be one, and in the valleys of his heart, he wished for you to let his presence be part of your happiness, to share all the intimate moments, to become a part of your world in a way that was more than just a friend.

So that was the reason Heeseung started this whole thing of asking you about flirting. He was patient, however the urge to be yours and have you completely was swelling not-so-slowly, and he found an unexpected way to maybe drift you both through that invisible boundary line he wished to cross for so long.

There was no actual curiosity behind his question, it was pure and genuine longing and quiet hope for you to, perhaps, reciprocate those confused feelings that only led his heart to decide that he loved you.

And he loved you with his whole soul. 

“Come on,” Heeseung groaned after zoning out, now pushing his body to stand up before taking the seat next to you by scooching your legs away. 

You looked at him over your phone, frowning, your heart still pounding hard in your chest after going thoughtfully over the topic he just brought, pretending to spend your time on the screen when, actually, your head was filled with anxious and fearful thoughts.

Even so, you kept a straight face. 

“What?”

Heeseung sighed, shoulders dropping in something close to defeat and you took your time to move and sit on one of your legs, the other on the ground, casually hanging as you bounced it in order to expel your nervousness.

You didn’t notice your friend had tracked the motion for a quiet second, immediately understanding you had shifted your demeanor in a way he couldn't pinpoint yet, but he had a hunch about it. A suspicion that got his heartbeats notably increasing.

But you saw the exact moment he switched as he gathered the best of his decency to lock eyes with you, guiding the plan forward with excellency.

“Could you, please, for everything we have been through, for our beautiful friendship, and because you love me so, so much, answer my question?”

The drama in Heeseung’s voice was blatant and got you fighting back a grin that threatened to break free. His big-doe eyes flashing you an innocence you wittily figured out as coaxing, added to how he slowly batted his eyelashes, tilting his head only enough to look extra adorable, even curving his bottom lip to pull into a slight pout that had your attention lingering longer than you wanted. 

Once Heeseung learned that his charming eyes were one of your greatest weaknesses, he wasted no time to take advantage of it, oftenly catching you off guard by using his secret weapon to achieve certain goals, offering a soft, yet penetrating gaze that got your knees faltering in place.

He didn’t know with precision what made you so easy to pursue whenever he used that trick, nonetheless it was a big benefit either for simpler favors or big other things, like using your credit card to buy a collector figurine he didn’t have the money to buy during that time.

In that moment, however, Heeseung just wished for you not to catch the flicker of apprehension in his eyes, or the barely contained excitement that danced behind the facade of calmness and fake purity, because he didn’t aim to get something expensive or use your bathroom just to explore your good amount of skincare. 

His only objective was to cross that friendship line, to ruin it, and, if he was lucky enough, have you enjoying it as you both do so.

You pursed your eyelids and then cocked your head to the side, incredulous. “Seriously?” A chuckle echoed from your parted lips, softening your expression to endearing amusement since it pretty much worked all the time, even after you became fully aware of his tactic. “Using bambi-eyes and shit?”

Heeseung nodded with admirable speed, his entire behavior was almost infantile, resembling a shameless child about to get a pricey toy after playing the good kid for his parents, although he definitely did no good. He had a smirk on the very corner of his mouth, and his eyes glossed with complete feigned innocence. 

You damned yourself for being such a sucker for that boy, for allowing him to have that much power over your whole existence. 

And with that, you accepted your fate, your defiance. You had no idea of what was going to happen, let alone what the hell Heeseung wanted to know exactly. Yeah, girls flirting, but in which way? And why?

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, placing your phone away on the side table. Heeseung smiled brightly and shifted on his seat, his whole body now facing you, expectantly. You flashed a hesitant look, cheeks already flaming hot in a strange anticipation, not even bothering to chase for his gaze properly. “What do you wanna know?”

“Ok!” Heeseung nearly buzzed, his body jolting slightly as if electricity ran through it, revealing his excitement. “I’ll repeat the question so it won’t get weird, alright?” 

You allowed your throat to let out a small hum, nodding and eventually daring to glance up for a little, meeting the view of Heeseung's eyes beaming with something close to thrilling and mischief.

A cold, yet silent shiver ran through your torso and you had to control yourself not to tremble when he glazed his gaze with yours, in a magnetic manner that left you with nothing but the necessity to oblige.

Though you had heard them quite a lot from the past few minutes, the following words didn’t ease your heart to weigh less; the amount of times wasn’t enough to get used to how they sounded to you.

“How do I know a girl is flirting with me?”

The air felt extremely thick, rarefied even, as if you were up on the clouds, out from any equipment of protection as you body travelled near to get out from the atmosphere, heavy in your lungs. 

Heeseung struggled to read your reaction at first. Silence. Pure lack of sounds, only a blank and slightly confused expression facing him.

It wasn’t like he was fully expecting you to partake in his idea, even though he planned to account for every possible outcome variant to achieve at least a fraction of his goal.

And yet, he didn’t have a clear objective. Perhaps he simply wanted to plant a seed of hope, mixed with a ‘what if?’, hoping you would realize his feelings ran far deeper than just friendship. And, if luck was on his side, that you might reciprocate – or at least begin to entertain the possibility.

He wanted to ruin that friendship, because he believed you could – no, should – be lovers instead.

You gulped down the lump forming in your neck, praying for some god to help you to release your nerves as soon as possible, otherwise the possibility of having a heart attack wouldn’t just be a fantasy; it would be a reality.

Although every cell in your body seemed to resonate with joy to step onto that untraveled road of your friendship, you couldn’t help the urge to run, to escape, to get away from that topic and move on with your life. 

For sure you both had conversations about similar concepts, but nothing close to personal-sexual subjects. Nothing similar to Heeseung asking you directly how flirting happens. 

“I think…” You sighed, fidgeting with the rings in your fingers. “It depends on the person…”

That reply was more open than Heeseung wanted, however, he didn’t press. 

Your tone was thoughtful, your gaze drifting to a random spot on the wall behind Heeseung and then you frowned, trying to recall how your other girl friends behaved whenever their crushes were nearby to give him a proper answer.

Heeseung studied your beautiful features intently, momentarily losing sight of his original purpose; his focus hovered longer on your lips, the same ones that taunted his self-control every single day, the same ones he dreamed about having attached to his own, the same ones he nearly said ‘fuck it’ and kissed.

Instead, keeping the natural and respectful approach and also using your words, he rephrased his question, bold and curious to explore furthermore.

“How do you flirt, then?”

You blinked your blurred, distant eyes back to Heeseung, widening them once you noticed not a single hint of hesitation within his speech, not even a drop of wavering as he held eye contact. Your furrowed eyebrows showed deep uncertainty, and Heeseung added, struggling a bit to sound firm, gesticulating with his nervous hands.

“Like, could you demonstrate?”

It hadn’t clarified anything. In fact, it only made everything more doubtable and chaotic, eliciting a tilt of your head and an even deeper frown.

What on earth was he talking about? Out of nowhere? With no precise context whatsoever? You hadn’t bought into his questioning from the start, especially because of how charming that guy in front of you could easily be, no shame at all. And now this – completely sudden and utterly unsubtle.

Heeseung hadn’t laid the groundwork before dropping this delicate bombshell in your lap.

“How do I flirt?” You retorted, emphasizing and pointing to yourself, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, like,” he shrugged, as if it was just a normal question to make to your best friend. “How do you normally flirt with your crushes?” 

You shook your head, your hands freezing in the air, your spinning head barely catching the mocking tone when Heeseung said crushes.  “No, like, I got that part,” you clutched your fists, narrowing your eyes, lips suddenly drying. “But…”

The tension clung in the silence and you could feel your heart ringing in your ears, almost ripping out from your rib cage. Your hands slowly dropped to your lap, resting there as you tried to find a recompose path out of that situation.

“But…?” Heeseung prodded, leaning ever so slightly closer, his curiosity palpable as much as his boldness.

“Do you want me to flirt with you?” You blurted out, struggling to understand the whole picture, a blend of dread and excitement swirling in your stomach that you failed to contain.

Heeseung’s breath rigged, apprehension heavy in his voice, afterall, that simple interaction had the strength, the weight of changing things between you two for good – and he was painfully aware of it. 

“It’s not like, flirt flirt,” he attempted to clarify himself, though it was clear he was growing increasingly nervous with each passing second. “I just wanna see how girls do it. And you’re a girl, as far as I know.” 

Heeseung was trying to sound nonchalant, to ease the tense air with his remarkable teasing smirk, as casual as ever, but the atmosphere had noticeably shifted and you weren’t sure about your thought process during that moment. 

You grabbed one of the couch’s pillows behind you and threw over him, both of you sharing a laugh that seemed a bit too forced to be real.

A rush of heat crept up your neck as you silently fumbled for the right words when the playful banter settled, leaving room for the reality of Heeseung requesting you to purposely flirt with him.

You also grasped with caution the way Heeseung’s gaze lingered on your figure, how it followed the movement of your teeth pressing on your bottom lip, how he mirrored your decision to wet the area with the tip of your tongue as well, drawing your attention towards his own attractive lips, planting, in your mind, a dangerous seed that had you considering a deeper, promiscuous touch. 

The whole moment felt like walking a tightrope in high heels and you were terrified of what might happen if you stumbled. Your friendship was too precious for you to lose it over a stupid mistake. But, God, why did it feel so tempting to surrender to it?

Heeseung looked at you with adoration and eagerness, his body surprisingly relaxed, or at least you read it like that, as if the scenery was as simple as one plus one, as though he had everything under control.

Little did you know he was extremely, ridiculously, intensely anxious of what cost he would have to be paying in order to not destroy everything. If you paid close attention, you would probably see his gray shirt moving to the strong beats of his heart, loud enough to make him wonder if he was going to survive the outcome.

Another sigh trailed off your mouth as you scratched the back of your neck, clearly torn between the open choices in front of you. You could easily opt to ignore that and shove Heeseung away with some joke, or perhaps answer his question without thinking too intensely about it; you could fake it, hiding your real feelings in a dialogue made up from your head. 

Or you could let your friendship fade into the depths of your lustful desire of having Heeseung for yourself as a whole man, shameless flirting with him the way you always wanted to. 

And then, it clicked. He was offering you the perfect opportunity, the perfect project to subtly guide your decisions, all while pushing you towards the inevitable conclusion: you were about to ruin that friendship.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath to yourself, and right after your sharp, determined gaze met his, leaving no chance for any possible retort. “I think we need to fantasize a scenario, then.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the shift in tone but too intrigued to ask questions. “Why?” he smirked, leaning in slightly. “Does the scenario where you flirt with your best friend in your living room not quite match the vibe?”

You forced an exaggerated look of disgust, but it was more for show than anything else. Neither of you was fooled by your performance. “No, it doesn’t.”

Heeseung chuckled, the tension slowly melting between you two. But even as the laughter filled the air, the uncertainty of what was coming next buzzed in the back of your mind, tempting you to run. Yet, your heart, much to a surprise, was urging you to stay, to follow this dangerous path wherever it might lead.

“Ok. So let's just picture we're in a club–” Heeseung started, straightening his posture. 

“I don't go to clubs.” You quickly deadpanned, eliciting a small “oh” from him.

“Right.” He agreed, frowning while trying to think of another situation. “So…”

You sighed in defeat, biting your lip briefly before saying. 

“I'm your classmate and I have a huge crush on you…?” You blurted out in one breath, yet hesitant, feeling your entire face heat up with embarrassment.

Especially because the said scenario had already played out before, making it easier to go along with – or worse, making it feel way too realistic.

“Nice! That's a good one.” Heeseung replied, his voice carrying a cheerful tone that had you scrunching your nose at his obliviousness, though it wasn’t entirely his fault that you were harboring bottled-up feelings for him. “So what would you do?”

You toyed with your bottom lip, grazing it lightly with your teeth as you tried to quell your nerves, all while struggling to ignore the way your friend sounded urgent, excited, and unmistakably eager. It was as if the entire script had been meticulously crafted long ago. As if he genuinely and wholeheartedly wanted you to flirt with him and walk past the friends line.

Dangerously close.

Before you voiced out, you cleared your throat not to waver on your words. “So, since we're classmates, we'd probably see each other everyday...”

Heeseung nodded, his bambi-eyes following your every movement as you shifted on your seat slightly. “Yeah.”

“As a girl with a crush on you, I'd try my best to stand out somehow and grab your attention first. And the most common way is…” You paused, casting a wary glance towards Heeseung, as though your next words carried a weight too immense to risk uttering lightly. “Eye contact?”

After some time, locking eyes with Heeseung became an increasingly challenging task because it meant having the opportunity to take in every detail of his impossibly attractive face.

The faint mole on his forehead and the ones near his nose were like tiny stars adorning a beautiful sky; that very nose that made you want to squeal from how adorable and rounded its tip was, all while provoking thoughts far too indecent to entertain.

His constant parted lips carried an unique charm, naturally inviting with their slightly reddish hue. At times, they took on a deeper tone, whether from the way Heeseung pressed them together whenever he entered the deep concentration state or nibbled at them to suppress a laugh after teasing you.

If you dared let your gaze wander further, you would notice the sharp point of his chin and, just below it, his prominent Adam’s apple – a mesmerizing detail you never imagined could have such an effect on you. The subtle movement of it bobbing up and down held your focus captive as though it had the power to dictate your every subsequent action.

A sigh slipped from your lips before you even realized the silence that had overtaken you, nor the way Heeseung, with his warm brown eyes, oozed affection and attentiveness your way.

“You’re not making eye contact…” Despite his observation, there wasn’t a trace of reprimand in his tone. It was soft, like a summer breeze brushing against your skin, gentle yet impactful enough to make your eyes widen as you leaned back in surprise.

You hadn’t even noticed how close you had unconsciously leaned towards him.

“Sorry,” you muttered after clearing your throat, redirecting your gaze to a random spot in Heeseung’s lap. Yet, contrary to what you expected, he shifted forward, closing the distance further, his knees nearly brushing against yours.

You looked up at him, confusion and apprehension flickering in your expression, ready to ask why he was coming so close, but he left no room for your question.

“Does the proximity of the girl interfere with flirting?”

His tone was low, soft even, each word drawn out with deliberate care. It carried a designed tenderness that nudged the borders of unexplored intimacy between the two of you, crafted perfectly to unbalance your soul.

Breathing became difficult as your heart raced, your body begging you to flee.

“N–normally, it’s not this close.” You cursed yourself for stuttering, but how could you not? How could you remain composed when Heeseung’s voice carried an intimacy you had never heard before? You had never seen this side of him, never had him like this.

Your gaze latched onto the way his long eyelashes fluttered with each deliberate blink, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the way his breath mingled with yours as he leaned impossibly closer.

“Yeah?” He murmured, his eyes dipping briefly to your lips in a silent, daring plea to let actions replace words. “Then why are you this close?”

You desperately tried to come up with a coherent response, perhaps to point out that it was he who had closed the gap. But your mind had abandoned rationality, leaving you to stumble over a weak, “B–Because you sat there, you idiot.”

You broke eye contact abruptly, reality crashing over you like a tidal wave. The sheer weight of the moment urged you to shift away, to reclaim your space and calm the chaos in your chest.

But Heeseung wasn’t ready to let you go.

With surprising swiftness, he shifted his body upright and gently pulled your arm so you could get onto his lap, his hands holding you firmly yet carefully in place.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head softly as his voice dropped an octave, steady and soothing, eliciting an immediate gasp from you. “I want to know how girls flirt when they’re this close.”

You found yourself awkwardly sitting sideways on his lap, blinking in confusion, hesitation etched into every line of your expression. All you could manage was a whispered “What?” that answered or replied nothing at all, it simply materialized into words something that reflected your genuine state.

Your breath hitched as Heeseung leaned in even closer, the heat of his body melding with yours like he was a powerful devil coming from the gates of Hell. His gaze, now tinged with something more potent that torn in between desire, yearning and  an unspoken question, stirred something wild within you.

And for a fleeting moment he hesitated, the weight of the uncharted territory between friendship and something deeper making him pause and analyze his possibilities, the small shift on his gaze betraying him. But as his fingers tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, his resolve solidified.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his words as soft as the pad of his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. He gently tugged at your bottom lip, leaving you breathless, lips parted, and trembling. “I’m sorry for the way I went about this,” he added, his voice feather-light, his warm breath caressing your skin. “But I couldn’t think of another way to put us in this exact moment.”

Your body froze, your mind unable to fully process what was happening. One moment, Heeseung was your charming best friend who eventually became your lifelong crush, the next you were on his lap, in a compromising position and with your faces inches apart.

You were suffocating in the heavy atmosphere, unsure of how to respond to the rush of emotions crashing over you; it left you in a state of emotional overload, in shock, utterly overwhelmed.

And then, with a softness that cracked the air between you, that broke your tensed nerves and fluttered your chest, you saw his eyes falter, waiting for a sign, a proper answer for his following question.

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining space yourself, your lips meeting in a collision of longing, and, so far, unspoken feelings that were buried deep in both of your souls, now lingering in the atmosphere as a quiet, yet delectable high voltage cursing over your body that you struggled deliciously to drift through. 

Torn in a conflict of decisions and a mutual desire, you had finally tasted what had been tempting you for so long. The softness, the warmth, the way Heeseung’s lips fit so perfectly against yours, tailored to match you as if they were meant to be.

Crossed everything you had imagined, now buzzing like a soft echo of reminiscences from when kissing Heeseung equated to a fever dream, to impossible, unattainable. 

Your body seemed to float in contact to soft clouds that gently embraced you; and then you realized that it was Heeseung holding you tenderly, kindly tracing the curves of your waist in a position that, now, was anything but comfortable.

Even so, the world outside felt like it didn't exist anymore. There was only the two of you, kissing with your breaths mingling intimately, with quiet sounds of contentment slipping out between that touch, one you had longed for far too long to waste the seconds that followed.

You deepened it, seeking Heeseung's tongue with yours almost desperately. The shock of the encounter of the two warm muscles was intoxicating, leaving you completely weak, and had you not been sitting, you would have easily fallen to the ground.

Kissing Heeseung at that moment felt like a relief. Relief in knowing that you were both on the same page when it came to the shared connection. Relief in realizing that his mouth desired you as much as yours craved his.

It was comforting to acknowledge how your body fit into his, in every possible way.

And it was then that you became aware of how your hands had automatically found their way into the soft strands of Heeseung's hair, pulling him just enough to draw the small grunts he released each time you did.

Your heart skipped a beat when Heeseung pulled away, tugging your lower lip with a soft bite. You opened your eyes slightly to search for an answer, fearing that regret had hit him like a powerful, striking bolt, but the truth was: he just needed to breathe in order to stay grounded and aware of what had just happened.

Shit. He was completely fucked, because now he knew how incredible it was to hear your breath hitch, to feel your fingers glide across his goosebumped skin with a tender, tempting touch, almost filthy, as your mouths melded together in an unprecedented rhythm.

He knew what it was like to have you intimately, and losing that feeling started to be his most intense fear.

Heeseung hadn't noticed, but there was a faint frown on his forehead that stirred conflicting emotions in you. He breathed heavily, almost panting while searching for air in his lungs. His eyes lowered, hypnotized by your parted lips, which willingly offered themselves to him.

It felt like a sweet indulgence, completely exposed, like someone on a strict diet, almost forbidden from indulging in the delicious taste of your mouth.

One simple kiss and he was completely undone, in the most delightful way possible. And beyond that, he began to crave you even harder. Dangerously harder.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, a mild frighten cursing through your veins, your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers continued to caress Heeseung's neck.

Your hooded eyes tried to pull an explanation for why he had stopped so suddenly.

He let out a low chuckle, a sound deep enough to make you shiver inside, sending a strange energy straight to between your thighs that made you unconsciously clench your legs, as your panties started to damp.

Heeseung’s hand, resting there, immediately noticed, making him smirk and lift his gaze. “You,” he sealed his lips with yours, “are unreal,” followed by another small kiss and, once again, a pause to admire you.

Heeseung looked at you with passion and tenderness, but mostly with desire. He wanted you.

No. 

He needed you.

You swallowed hard as you met his piercing gaze before he stood up, making you rise with him. Standing, he grabbed you by the waist and, still smiling, kissed the corner of your lips without any proper explanation. 

Your hands felt awkwardly frozen in mid-air, near Heeseung’s chest, as if you forgot how to function as a human being. To ease your visible tension and also taking some advantage of the moment, Heeseung lowered his mouth and planted a sweet trail of small, wet kisses down to your neck.

Your head immediately tilted to the side, almost as if he had typed the right password to gain free access to explore your body,  his large hands cupping your ass with just the right balance of respect and desire. While you allowed him this closeness, he was careful not to overstep, not when you both had only just begun to unravel that delicate part of your... friendship?

Gradually, you let yourself go, questioning less and following the flow deliberately; your hands now resting on Heeseung’s broad shoulders while he continued his project of driving you insane with his kisses.

“Hee…” You sighed softly when his teeth grazed a particular spot near your ear, too sensitive to keep you quiet, weak enough to make your knees nearly give way involuntarily.

“Don’t call me like that, baby…” Heeseung murmured softly against your skin, the vibration of his voice aligning with the tremor in your core, the endearment compelling you to clutch your eyes closed. Before you could even think of apologizing, he continued. “Or else I’ll get harder. And this fucking boner is already annoying me.”

For a brief, considerable second, you couldn’t comprehend his statement, your eyes opening in pure confusion as you stared at him, silently asking for an explanation. But Heeseung remained hidden in your neck, and you could even feel the ghost of his mischievous smile tracing your skin, rendering your mind incapable of thinking about anything other than his inebriating presence.

Then, he thrusted forward, just enough to press his hips against your body while gripping your waist to prevent you from stumbling back, and you felt it.

The layers of fabric between you two did nothing to mask the clarity of his intentions, not when he subtly, but unmistakably, demonstrated what he was referring to – a bulge sufficiently big to elicit a jolt of a quiver through your being, firm and clearly starting to grow painfully hard as Heeseung began to repeat that move.

So you had that effect on him? You turned him on? That was an unexpected delight. The warmth of it made you squirm in sudden discomfort, wishing you could feel it in a different way – one with fewer clothes.

Heeseung’s lascivious kisses on your neck switched to sloppy-messy ones, merging with the subtle grind of his hips against yours as he seeked for the smallest release to his thirst. The sensation made you let out a soft, almost teasing moan, provoking his restraint to the brim.

“Fuck…” he groaned, faltering by the way you were letting him grind shamelessly like a dog in heat, still fully clothed. “Tell me to stop, please..." His voice was ragged, like an aching, shaky plea that made his movements halt, since his focus turned inward in order to find some self-control.

But didn’t give such a command. Instead, you opened the door, not-so-silently inviting Heeseung deeper into the moment, into you. You couldn’t care less about your friendship, not when you craved to have your said best friend touching you intimately, to have his length twitching inside you while fucking your senses out of you as if his life depended on it.

You shook your head, a sly smile curving your lips when you whispered right in his ear. 

“Take me to my room, Hee.”

His desperation thickened as he surrendered to the overwhelming warmth between you two, a vocal groan cursing through his throat when he maneuvered easily your body by grabbing your thighs, inciting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he busied his mouth in yours, messily guiding both of you to your room. 

You found support on his shoulders and giggled in between the sloppy kiss, but you couldn’t quite enjoy the feeling of his strong grip surrounding your body with precision for too long, as your back quickly reached the soft mattress of your bed.

Heeseung's big figure towered over you, scooching up as a way to help you both find a comfortable position until your head was touching one of your pillows, lips still attached to each other in pure hunger.

You wondered if putting your feelings into words would add to the moment, but nothing truly needed to be said. The unspoken tension you shared with Heeseung had carried your relationship this far – this wasn’t the time to disrupt it with confessions of the obvious. Not when you had him kissing you so intensely, so voraciously, as though he were utterly parched and you were his only source of relief.

It felt exhilarating to have Heeseung this needy, his body reacting to every subtle motion of yours. You rolled your hips gently against his, seeking mutual friction in a desperate bid for release.

Your fingers wandered through his disheveled hair, occasionally trailing down his subtly muscular arms – the very arms that had always been your weakness.

Heeseung wasn’t bulky or overly built, but he had a lean, breathtaking frame, with just the right amount of definition in certain places. Supporting his weight on the bed, you could feel the tension in his arms under your touch, muscles tightening even more each time your hands dared to drift lower, grazing his back, your nails lightly scratching.

The slight scrape drew delicious sighs from him, each one lost in the fervor of your kiss.

Heeseung’s free hand explored wherever it could reach, teasingly brushing beneath the hem of your shirt, as though waiting for your silent permission to go further. And you took your cue right away.

“Hee…” you broke the intense, breath-stealing kiss to murmur his name, your voice soft, your eyes barely open as the world around you seemed heavier, hotter.

He reacted instantly to the familiar nickname, though now it carried a filthy weight that would linger with him forever. His hips pressed against yours in a motion that sent a shockwave through your core, the direct contact of his pelvis with yours setting you alight.

Lifting his gaze to meet yours, he found pure, unrestrained lust staring back at him. The words that followed made him falter, disbelief flashing across his features at the reality of what he had craved for so long finally coming true.

“I want you,” you whispered, eyes tenderly, yet oozing with desire looking at his brown orbs.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, his expression shifting to something taut, focused. He studied you with care, searching for hesitation, for any trace of doubt in your plea. But he found none, only mutual desire, raw and unfiltered.

A breath of laughter escaped him, quiet and disbelieving, as his lips, swollen and glistening with your shared kisses, curved into a cheeky, yet content and relieved, smile.

“Don’t laugh…” You whined, squirming beneath him in a feeble attempt to escape his teasing gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said with his voice low, gravelly, making you shiver. “It’s just… This feels like a dream.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you failed to hold back a smile. “So, you’ve dreamed about me?”

“Every single day, Y/N,” Heeseung admitted, his eyes dropping to your lips once again, heavy with yearning, with need. 

He looked intoxicated, or maybe hypnotized. Whatever it was, he felt as though his body had transcended reality itself. Because even in his dreams, he never imagined having you like this – so real, so wholly his.

“Tell me that again…” A delicate plea. “Please,” a desperate beg.

“What?” You whispered back in confusion, your eyelids feeling heavy with the proximity of the moment, making it difficult to keep admiring the tempting view of Heeseung slowly falling apart.

“That you want me.”

Heeseung’s perfume had taken over you, invading your senses completely like a flood, and you were the one feeling drunk right now, as a deep goosebump ran through your spine hearing – understanding – his request.

“I want you,” you repeated, your voice trembling with the weight of confessing something so intrinsic. 

Heeseung's breath mingled with yours, shaky, weak; the warmth of it ghosting over your lips as he hovered above you was making you dizzy. His gaze burned into yours, holding a quarter of darkness and contrastingly tenderness that matched his impossibly gentle touch on your waist. 

He moved deliberately, savoring the anticipation building up quite fast, stirring an ache that got your stomach bubbling with expectation and a weird anxiety. You tightened your grip on his hair when the tip of his cute nose brushed against yours and his reddened lips grazed over your mouth.

“Again, please,” he murmured in a husky whisper; due to the closeness, the movement tickled the skin of your lips and spurred you to lick the area, your tongue caressing both your swollen lips.

You sighed, closing your eyes.

You could feel your core pulsing in need, your skin prickling due to the insufferable tension that grew stronger, ticker, teetering the unbearable within each second, making you wonder how longer you would be able to hold yourself back. 

The magnetic tension surrounding you two made every breath feel like a desperate beg, igniting a hunger within you so fierce it consumed you.

Felt like the last thing you would ever crave in your life was right before you. But apparently, Heeseung longed to hear you speak a little more before taking any action.

“I want you, Hee,” you said again, quieter this time, though your tone was no less intense – it was even more raw.

Heeseung’s lashes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing the confession like it was his lifeline. He repeated the motion of rubbing his nose on yours, now tilting his head to the side and groaning. That couldn't be real. You couldn’t be real.

He needed one more. Just. One. More.

“One more, please…” he pleaded, the words slipping out between deep, controlled breaths that did nothing to mask the tremor of desperation in his tone.

“I need you, Heeseung.”

His forehead pressed lightly against yours as he exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging with the weight of restraint. The charged air between you seemed to thicken, wrapping you both in an intoxicating haze.

Despite the tenderness of the moment, the desire simmering beneath the surface was undeniable – present in the way his hands traced delicate patterns along your waist, in the way his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of yours, in the way his lips hovered, so close yet so agonizingly distant.

“I need you right now, Hee. Please.”

And with your last wish, Heeseung obeyed your command.

Followed by a passionate kiss, one he tried to take his time to appreciate your taste, he also held the waistband of your shorts and, after your silent nod amidst the clash of your mouths when he hesitated, he began to move it down to your thighs, revealing the softness of your bare skin to his curious hands. 

Thick fingers brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, the thin barrier of your panties doing little to dull the sensation. The whimper that followed barely met the real world, swallowed whole by Heeseung’s eager mouth as he drank in your expressive, delicate reactions, savoring every trembling note like a melody meant only for him.

“So wet.” Heeseung stated the obvious after feeling your arousal sticking across the fabric, playfully tapping just to tease and feel its viscosity.

If the room was quiet enough, he would be able to hear the wet sound of his pats. 

He dived into your neck since he couldn’t keep up with the pace of the shared kiss, not when you were letting out such beautiful noises as he pressed his fingers on your entrance over your clothing piece, taunting that release that seemed far to reach.

“Hee–” You whined in frustration, swinging your hips towards Heeseung’s fleeting touches as well as tightening your grasp on his locks.

“I know, I know,” he chuckled, deep and low. You pouted when he flashed you a charming smirk, matching perfectly with his amused, yet playful eyes. “Let me take care of you, mhm?”

And with that, Heeseung made quick work of removing the rest of your clothing, still caught around your thighs, panties included. He bit his lip, a soft sigh escaping alongside a subtle furrow of his brow in delight as he took in the full view of your pussy, glistening with your wetness – all caused by him. 

You wanted to close your legs and hide, but he held you open and exposed to his sight. Heeseung could feel his stomach fluttering, tightening with sparkling expectation. 

Beneath the teasing slowness of his movements, there was a Heeseung teetering dangerously close to the edge of insanity, warring to find some self-control. And it was entirely your fault.

The effect you had on Heeseung was nothing short of surreal. Even the simple act of your consent, given with every piece of fabric he slid away from your body, only served to fuel the fire within his desire, leaving his body, mind, soul, everything he had drunk on the sheer anticipation of what was to come.

“Fucking beautiful, baby.”

The compliment was common – Heeseung always praised your good looks. But the endearment slipped past his lips with extra ease, as if calling you baby – his baby – was as natural as a heartbeat, as expected as blossoming flowers during spring. 

By the way your cheeks warmed, you could tell your entire face was betraying your shyness, especially when Heeseung offered you a genuine, content smile, as if he were expressly happy that you had allowed him to see you in this form.

He still hadn’t unclasped your bra and had only removed his own shirt, dragging out painfully the moment of leaving you both naked.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help the small flicker of worry, a strong fear of disappointing Heeseung.

You had only had sex once in your life, with an ex-boyfriend you had trusted enough to take that step, believing that being in a relationship would make it less hurtful and more enjoyable. You were wrong.

Not only had you suffered physically from his lack of care, but you hadn’t even come close to reaching your own orgasm.

Heeseung knew the rough outline of that story. He was aware that you weren’t a virgin anymore but hadn’t asked for too many details. Partly because he hated the thought of someone else being the one to take that from you.

A pang of jealousy lingered, even though, at the time – just a few months ago – he hadn’t seriously considered taking such a step with you.

It was only after your breakup, and the frustration that radiated off you, that Heeseung decided to act. He couldn’t stand the idea of you putting yourself down, settling for men who gave you less than the bare minimum, when he was right there, longing to give you the world.

“Let me see you too, Hee.”

Your soft request came accompanied by a gentle caress over Heeseung’s slightly flustered cheeks, his lovingly expression hiding the inner battle he was fighting to keep himself composed.

He gave a small nod, standing up from the bed to remove the last of his clothes, granting you the sinful sight of his body, a thin sheen of sweat accentuating the bronzed tone of his skin. Your gaze dropped slowly towards his erection, standing stiff, flushed, with the tip in a darker shade, glistening with leaking precum. 

“Hot,” you murmured quietly, the word barely leaving your lips. But in the stillness of the room, Heeseung heard it.

A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, shy and uncharacteristic – a glimpse of the awkward, reserved side of your friend that you loved teasing, the side that wasn’t used to receiving compliments and always got adorably flustered when they came.

You giggled, beckoning him with a curl of your finger. “Come here, hmm?”

And who was Heeseung to deny you?

In an instant, he reclaimed his place over your body, his mouth finding its way to the smoothness of your chest, lips grazing and tasting your skin. His hands slid behind your back, intent on finally removing the last piece of fabric that kept you hidden from him, and it took less than seconds for you to whimper, slamming your eyes shut as you felt Heeseung gently nip at your nipple.

“Hurry up,” you muttered within a squirm. “Please, Hee. I need you inside me."

You were quick and precise in expressing your desire, your contorted expression of pleasure blended with frustration making it clear that you didn’t want any more delays, especially since he had already dragged things out too much, and you were about to crawl the walls around you to feel him properly.

“Condom?” He murmured against your skin, smiling slightly at your desperation, though he was just as bad, if not worse.

“I don’t have it,” you moaned as he bit your stomach while lowering his hot, wet kisses. Your hands tried to find support in anything – the sheets, his hair, his shoulders – in order to ground yourself, while Heeseung seemed too calm for his own good. “But we don’t need it.”

Immediately, Heeseung froze. He stopped and lifted his gaze, scanning your face for any trace of teasing or hesitation in your words, half-expecting you to be joking or playing around, but instead, all he found was the raw, unfiltered desire of your soul exposed before him.

“I trust you,” you whispered in between your heavy breaths, a soft smile tugging at your lips that countered any remnant doubt resting inside Heeseung. You gently caressed his cheek, pulling him back to you, your eyes locking in a quiet promise that only you two knew the meaning. “I trust you, Hee.”

That was the tipping point. You, who had been wondering how Heeseung maintained such control, watched as his tender nearly relaxed gaze vanished entirely, swallowed by a wave of desire, as if pure lust had consumed his state completely.

“Don’t say that, love,” a murmur. His voice trembled, just as his arms struggled to hold himself still. He then kissed you intensely, shutting down any possibility of you retorting the pet name, barely giving you time to recognize how your heart skipped a beat.

Heeseung’s hips shifted in the precise motion to bring you closer, to claim you. You shivered.

“I’m going insane, you have no fucking idea.”

Though the choice of words said behind gritted teeth, it was clear Heeseung gravitated towards vulnerability rather than anything harsh; he sounded unsteady, but not in a worrying way. It seemed as if he had surrendered completely to your existence, almost like a personal devotion.

His soft, now familiar lips found home on yours again, pulling you into a singular kiss filled with unspoken emotions, while one of Heeseung's hands gently caressed your waist to keep you still, beginning to position his hardness against your aching hole.

Feeling the distinct pressure in that area generated an unconscious and uncontrollable tension in you, your shoulders stiffening, your hands gripping Heeseung's arms immediately and your mouth stopping properly working as the fear of the pain that would follow from that simple action started to creep up your spine.

“What's wrong, love?” Heeseung asked kindly, pausing his movements as he noticed the sudden rigidity in your body; he had only inserted the tip, and you had become completely tense.

“N–Nothing…” You shook your head, your eyes clenched closed as you tried to regulate your heartbeat and breaths. So far, there was no burning sensation where Heeseung had placed himself, but still, you were afraid.

By any means he was big, you had gotten a beautiful view of him just a few minutes ago, and although your mouth watered to have him fully inside you, there was a lingering feeling that held your soothness back.

“Baby…” Heeseung murmured softly, his voice carrying a subtle insistence as he sensed the clear discomfort and the blatant lie in your response, his concerned eyes searching for any hint of truth in your contorted expression.

“I’m sorry.” You pouted, refusing to open your eyes, the weight of vulnerability overwhelming you.

“For what?” He asked, a small trace of confusion in his voice, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he offered you the choice to end it without guilt or hesitation. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You blurted, snapping your eyes open, your pupils wide and searching his face. Your head shook vehemently, your hands gripping his shoulders in a reflexive act of urgency as well as your legs, wrapping around his waist to keep him in place.

“Then what is it, baby?”

Heeseung adjusted his body slightly, his movements deliberate and tender, ensuring he wouldn’t press into you too forcefully. He kept his tip brushing against your folds, the sensation teasingly close but never quite crossing the threshold. He silently made the decision not to push you further unless you signaled otherwise.

“It’s just…” You exhaled shakily, your eyes downcast, unable to meet his unwavering gaze. “I’ve never– I mean, I did have sex once, but it was so painful, and it hurt so much, and I didn’t even… Y’know…”

You spoke in a flurry, your words tumbling out in a nervous rush, and through it, Heeseung caught the part of the story you had kept hidden and he never dared to ask about. His heart clenched, it became clear that this was a truth that now needed care.

“He wasn’t even that big, but it hurt because he didn’t care about me, and–”

“My love.” Heeseung interrupted, his voice breaking through with a soft, comforting tone. You stopped speaking instantly, blinking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes that held so much unspoken trust. He smiled warmly, a reassuring tenderness in his touch. “I’d never hurt you,” he whispered, his voice firm with sincerity. “And I’d never, ever force you to do anything you don’t want.”

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, needy, desperate even. “I’m just… afraid.”

“We can take it slow, love,” he said, his words a mutual understanding between you both, the promise of patience in his voice.

He slowly began to press his tip into you again, the sensation soft but insistent, giving you time to adjust. You swallowed thickly, your breath hitching as you tried to calm the anxiety racing through you.

There were sounds threatening to escape your throat that you couldn't properly control, so you just let them out.

“Relax, alright? It’s me. I’m your best friend. I’m not going to hurt you. We can stop whenever you want.”

Through reassuring phrases and tender kisses planted over your face – and mainly on your parted lips –, Heeseung deliberately entered you whole, until his dick was being hugged by your clenching walls and his pelvis fully met your body.

You took a deep breath several times. The sensation was uncomfortable, strange; there was an intruder inside you, and you couldn't quite enjoy the so-called pleasure during sex due to it, but as the long seconds passed and your body relaxed, you began to adjust to the weight of Heeseung's length inside you.

And finally you noticed that Heeseung himself had buried his face at the crook of your neck, breathing as heavy as you, completely frozen in place.

“Hee?” You called and gave a soft stroke to his hair. 

“Give me a minute,” the words came rapidly and slurred, like an incomprehensible mumble.

You quirked an eyebrow, trying to find his face to read whatever was happening.

“Are you okay?”

Heeseung groaned. “Yes. It’s just…” He gulped, clutching his eyes closed and grunting a curse, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. “Fuck—You feel amazing, baby.” His breath hitched as his body tensed, muscles flexing under the strain of trying to hold back. “I need a minute.”

“Alright…” 

Although you couldn’t understand why, you just… Waited. But he made sure to add.

“So fucking tight–” Something about how desperate and lost he sounded close to your ear had your walls clenching even more. “I can’t– I don’t wanna cum right now.”

There was no plausible explanation for the flutter in your chest, let alone the heat that spread across every inch of your skin, hitting your core in a way that was almost overwhelming after hearing his confession.

Knowing that Heeseung was physically unable to move, simply because his release was so close – practically edging himself – made you feel more thrilled than you would ever admit out loud.

As the best of friends – after all, you hadn’t defined your relationship yet –, you chose the path of teasing, letting out a light giggle and giving a playful tap on his back as you said, “Take your time, big boy. I'm not going anywhere.”

Heeseung chuckled, though the sound was tinged with frustration and craving, the weight of his restraint still palpable.

Throughout the heated makeout moment, he was already far too affected – though he wouldn’t admit it now, having your lips against his had been more than enough to leave him ridiculously hard. The shameless grinding had teased his sensitivity with just the right intensity, pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

Now, finally experiencing the tightness of your pussy enveloping around his cock, it was a unique kind of downfall that made his control slip past his fingers, his entire body shivering as trying to contain himself. 

“I wanna– I wanna last longer for you,” a breathy, shaky moan escaped when he tried to move, pulling back just a little to shove back again. “Fuck baby…”

Heeseung was on the verge of insanity.

He couldn’t find the right explanation to how good your wet, warm interior welcomed him in an addictive sensation of fulfillment, as if he had found the exact place he needed and wanted to be.

However, as he began to set a slow, tantalizing rhythm, not only to himself but for you not to feel any pain, your soft, breathy noises became the driving force behind his every move.

Each sound you made was like music to his ears, embedding itself deeply in his mind and shaping his every decision; they spurred him on, a motivator to remain as steady and deliberate as possible, even as his own restraint threatened to crumble.

Heeseung was vividly avoiding to fall into the depths of his true needs of egoisticaly fucking you hard and fast.

And then, you begged.

“Can you go faster? Please?”

A guttural groan was Heeseung’s immediate response, primal and unrestrained, as if your request alone had sent him reeling like a starving hunter finally closing in on its prey.

He paused for a beat, letting the weight of your words settle between the thick air and then shifted the pace, growing more intense, aiming for a sharper, purposeful motion.

Heeseung straightened slightly, lifting his torso enough to pull his face from the haven of your neck and give himself a clear view of your beautiful pleasured face. His gaze met yours briefly before going downward, to the mesmerizing connection of your bodies moving together – your hips chasing his pounds like your life depended on it. 

Your hazed sight saw his brows furrowing as well as his pursed lips that reflected his immense concentration. Sweat clung to his skin, a few damp strands of hair got stuck to his forehead while the rest, equally damp, fell forward and lightly brushed your face with every thrust.

That sight was a sinful privilege; watching him completely undone yet intensely focused was enough to leave you breathless. And still, your slightly high-pitched whimpers harmonized with each precise thrust.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, and instinctively, you mirrored that grip in your hands, clutching Heeseung’s hair as you pulled him into a messy kiss. Tongues moved sloppily, chasing each other and swallowing his deep groans along with your incoherent pleas for him not to stop.

A mutual desire began to creep, one that neither of you wanted to escape, a longing as deep as two bodies yearning, painfully, to occupy the same space and merge together. It became evident in the way you clung to him, your arms wrapping around Heeseung's warm, sweaty body, pressing him down, not even caring about the slight pain in your sensitive boobs as you did so.

“I think I’m close,” you managed to announce amidst the intoxicating chaos of your senses.

There was a thick veil of lust enveloping you both, leaving you utterly dazed; the sensation was surreal, overwhelmingly good, and for the first time you truly understood what people meant when they talked about sex.

Heeseung had heard your voice distant and muffled, since his mind had drifted away, lost in the overwhelming mix of pleasure and the aching pain of edging his orgasm; his leaking precum started to blend with your sticky arousal as both of you reached over the edge.

Your eyes rolled when Heeseung started to pound into a specific spot in you, stirring your mouth to fall open with soft cries slipping past your throat, while your nails dug into the flesh of his back, scratching strong enough to leave marks. 

Heeseung barely registered it at first, though he would wear those marks proudly once he did. Still, it stung, a faint burn that somehow awakened his primal need to let go. Added to it, your pussy started to pulse and clench tightly against his painfully sensitive shaft. And so, he begged.

“Please, cum for me,” a small pause to breathe. “Please, I need you to– Please…” 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you trembled. Listening to Heeseung’s broken voice asking you for something you couldn’t quite control bordered the inexplicable and finally it snapped. 

You arched your back and went silent immediately, as if the entire world around you disappeared. You could hear and feel the weight of your heartbeats echoing through you, feel the vibrations of your body, hear the faint, distant noises of Heeseung’s moans and curses and the sound of your bodies colliding.

The intensity of your climax had you gasping for air right after you managed to regain a small portion of your consciousness, your legs squirming as the pleasure took over. 

Meanwhile, Heeseung barely pulled out in time, ensuring he had guided you through your high enough to leave you satisfied.

He would blame himself later for not giving you his absolute best. For now, his focus was on relieving the unbearable, painful tightness in his balls and dick. And so he did, releasing a guttural groan that seemed to resonate from the depths of his soul before spilling out into a delicious sound.

The wave that coursed through his body was devastatingly intense, leaving him trembling and unsteady to the point where his arms briefly faltered in holding him up.

You parted your tired eyes just enough to watch as he came all over your stomach – so much of it that it trickled down onto the sheets beneath you, leaving you completely sticky.

Both of you fought for air, desperately panting as your bodies surrendered, sinking into an overwhelming state of relaxation. A genuine urge to drift into sleep washed over you, your arms falling limply at your sides as your heavy-lidded eyes fought a losing battle to stay open.

You gave up to the exhaustion, watching through half-closed eyes as Heeseung collapsed into the space beside you. 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured softly, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

You tried to blink away your fatigue, but only managed to respond in a low, drowsy whisper, “For what?”

“I lost control. I didn’t do as well as I wanted to. I ruined your sheets. And… you’re all sticky. I know you hate being sticky.”

A quiet giggle escaped your lips at his string of concerns, your body vibrating with a warm, joyous satisfaction at the depth of the bond you shared. It was the expected contrast: Heeseung, overthinking every detail of his performance, and you, utterly smitten, finding his anxieties endearing.

“I loved it, Hee.”

Your praise was genuine, carrying a soft hint of reassurance to ease his insecurity. There wasn’t a single part of you that could ever truly mind the things he listed – not even his so-called mistakes.

“You were gentle and loving,” you continued, brushing a hand against the arm that sweetly wrapped around you, avoiding the result of the earlier moment. 

Heeseung’s face pressed against yours with his breath tickling your skin – an intimacy you could easily grow used to, but for now, had your heart fluttering. 

“And even when you ‘lost control,’ you stayed here. With me.”

Heeseung hummed with a hint of contentment, a faint smile creeping through his tensed barriers after your comforting words. He shifted like a puppy snuggling into a cozy corner, a gesture he did with you a few times before, but never when you were both so intimately bare in that way.

You both remained silent for a while, absorbing the reality of what had just unfolded.

No openly affectionate words were exchanged. Instead, actions took the lead, allowing you to share an intimate, deeply personal moment guided by mutual pleasure. There was no need for a romantic confession – it felt unnecessary.

Every small gesture during the earlier moment – from Heeseung's steady calmness as he talked you through it, easing your anxiety, to the way you reassured him after the end about how well he did – spoke volumes. It was more than enough to prove that the love between you burned far beyond the bounds of friendship.

Heeseung was lost in thought, exhilarated by having been able to share such a profound connection with you. The mutual desire for each other was undeniable, and no words could ever compare to the overwhelming sensation of, now, not simply having the facility to say he loved you – as he had so often as a friend – but to show it.

To demonstrate to you how every fiber of his being, his soul, his existence, was drawn to you, yearning for you, consumed by you.

“Hm, this sticky thing on my stomach is really bothering me,” you broke the silence as the haze cleared and the awareness of your body set in. You pushed his arm aside, preparing to leave the bed and clean yourself up.

“Shit,” Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he got on his feet before you could.

As he had  mentioned earlier, you hated feeling sticky. He realized might had fucked it up by neglecting to help you clean up, by not providing the aftercare you deserved.

Yet, he couldn’t blame himself too harshly; everything about the moment had left him utterly dizzy in the best way possible. It felt like he had lived out a dream once thought unattainable, and the surrealness of it all still lingered.

Your soft, familiar voice snapped him back to reality, reminding him there were consequences to address, and he wanted nothing more than to face each one with you, in every detail, if it meant staying by your side.

“Let me help, okay?” He eagerly offered, reaching out to steady you as you sat up. He barely suppressed a laugh at the grimace that overtook your face as the sticky fluid slid from your stomach to your thighs.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you teased as you walked to the bathroom together. “You’re hot, and all of this was ridiculously amazing, but I really don’t like all this cum–”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Heeseung interrupted, gently but insistently pushing you to sit on the toilet. 

“Pee,” he instructed firmly, yet calm.

You blinked up at him in confusion, one eyebrow raised.

“It helps prevent infections,” he clarified.

“I know,” you rolled your eyes, staring at him for a moment. He stared back. The scene was unexpectedly comical – both of you naked, exchanging deadpan looks.

“Get out of the bathroom, silly.”

“I don’t think that’s really neces–”

“I can’t pee with you here,” you cut him off.

He narrowed his eyes at you but eventually let out a quiet, “Fine, fine,” leaving the bathroom with an exaggerated huff, though he didn’t bother closing the door.

You giggled at his childish behavior, marveling at the man who had once been your friend. Friend.

It wasn’t the right word anymore. Something more significant had blossomed between you, unspoken yet undeniably present.

Once you finished, Heeseung returned to the bathroom and began to bathe you. It was endearing to feel his gentle, careful touch as he cleaned your back, giving you the space to take care of yourself properly.

You helped him wash his hair in return, complaining when he tried to use your expensive shampoo. But you relented when he deployed his infallible tactics: wide, pleading eyes and an exaggerated pout, softly begging, “Please,” in a tone so whiny it was impossible not to laugh.

Your heart ached with love for this man. The one who had once been your friend and, now, the one with whom you had crossed the line.

When you returned to the bedroom, Heeseung had already changed the sheets, leaving the bed fresh and inviting, ready to welcome you back into its warmth.

“Lie down here with me?” You murmured softly.

The sun was already below the horizon, and the air was pleasantly cool. A gentle breeze slipped through the slight gap in the window, rustling the curtains and brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps

The warmth of your recent shower made you extra sensitive to the chill, and noticing this, Heeseung moved to close the window before settling into the empty space beside you.

It didn’t take long for you to naturally nestle into one another, as though this kind of closeness was second nature. And it was.

You had always been comfortable with affectionate touches – warm hugs and innocent caresses were a constant part of your daily routine, alongside the playful teasing that defined your relationship. But now, something new lingered in the air: a tension, subtle and undeniable, that neither of you seemed brave enough to confront.

It felt as though acknowledging the shift, putting words to the new dynamic between you, might unravel it entirely – like opening Pandora’s box and being swallowed by its consequences. Neither of you knew what “dating” the other would look like, nor could you say for certain that this was even the stage you had reached. The unspoken remained deafeningly loud.

Your heart raced as you melted into the comforting warmth of Heeseung’s embrace. The familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach now mingled with a bittersweet sense of uncertainty about what lay ahead.

Despite that, you were usually the one to take control in slightly uncomfortable situations – like when Heeseung started bringing certain acquaintances into the apartment you shared, one of whom had wandered into your room uninvited, sparking a minor conflict that Heeseung quickly accepted responsibility for.

“If you promise to stop ignoring the elephant in the room, I promise to do the same,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Heeseung had been waiting for you to speak first. You always did. And that thought made a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. Even after everything, you were still... you.

Always you.

He was afraid, of course, that things might change drastically. There was a gnawing fear that the friendship you shared could crumble in the worst possible way. But in moments like this, when you unconsciously reminded him that no matter what, it was still the two of you, he felt a sense of calm.

“Go on a date with me tomorrow,” he murmured suddenly.

You blinked, caught off guard by his directness. His voice was quiet, a little tentative, but firm enough to make you pause. Even with a slight tremor of apprehension at the thought of stepping into the unknown with him, you nodded.

“Only if it’s not a movie date,” you replied with a light tone.

Heeseung laughed, his chest rising and falling as the sound escaped him, and the sensation of your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his abdomen made him shiver.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured you.

You tilted your head to meet his gaze. The way he looked at you, dripping with unfiltered affection was almost overwhelming in the best way. And you knew, just as he did, that the feelings you held for him were reciprocated in full.

You had crossed the line, yes. But now, together, you were venturing into new territory, ready to claim and navigate this uncharted space in your relationship. And somehow, it didn’t feel so terrifying when you remembered that, no matter what, it was still the two of you against the world.

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I don’t think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. It’s not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and I’m not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I don’t think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then I’m never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because I’m a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI

You don’t know how you got here, but you know you’re mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You don’t think it would be wild to assume it was Wade’s fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life it’s on him. 

What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and you’re still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spiderman’s face plastered all over them?

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Wade,” you growl at him. 

He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, “Save that for the bedroom, pookie.”

You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck he’s dragged you. “Where are we?”

“The void,” Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat. 

“What the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?” You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasn’t stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Okay, wow, language, Flux. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Eat me-”

You’re cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. “Flux?” He demands, voice so low you almost can’t hear him. Both you and Wade’s heads whip around to face him. Thus far he’s been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute. 

“It’s her X-Man name,” Wade tells him, gushing like it’s some big deal. “Impressive, huh?” You don’t bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Can’t exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero. 

Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. “You,” he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. “You’re Flux?”

Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. “Alright, peanut, let’s put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, he’ll heal. “You,” he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. There’s no humor behind it, he's just a dick. “You are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.”

The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so he’s not in the line of fire. “Yeah, well you’re just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.” 

You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and build…

The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. “Shit,” you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head. 

Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. “Oh,” he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, “Just one big fuckin’ joke!”

You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. “Wait, wait, wait we can talk about this!” Wade shouts, but it’s too late, he’s already on the ground getting his head caved in. 

You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. You’re drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals. 

You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like they’re aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. It’d save you a hell of a headache.  They run past you, Logan’s got his claws buried in Wade’s gut while Wade’s desperately firing off his gun into Logan’s chest. 

Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, “No, stop. Don’t kill each other.” As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping. 

There’s a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wade’s throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if he’d somehow manage to survive that. 

Wade doesn’t seem interested in testing out the theory, “They can fix it!” Wade shouts, “They can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.”

Your eyes widen and you meet Wade’s masked gaze over Logan’s shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that. 

You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. It’s the only reason he would say something so stupid. It’s a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wade’s ass you’re genuinely surprised that Logan can’t smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpool’s mouth. 

It’s a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, “That was fucking stupid,” you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet. 

“Not a goddamn word,” he warns, but you aren’t exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Logan’s claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan. 

Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all. 

You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. “And,” Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, “there she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?”

You groan and let your head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. “Oh fuck off, both of you. I can’t do shit right now and you know it, Wade, I’m drained.” 

Logan is glaring at you, but there’s less hate in his glare and more confusion now. “Can you do anything?”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if he’s being an asshole or genuine. “Hard of hearing or something old man? I’m drained,” you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy. 

Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. “She had an accident, her brain’s a little broken now. But it’s fine! Whose isn’t?”

You huff and throw yourself back against the cage you’re all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. “Hey, you know I’ve met one of your variants-”

“Don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasn’t Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isn’t such a prude he won’t cuss. 

For the next five minutes, you’re on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. He’s still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.

Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people you’ve put away or killed in your world. But there’s something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off. 

The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnny’s elbow digs into your ribs. 

Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and you’re dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again. 

A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe. 

The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wade’s skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnny’s a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to. 

You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second she’s in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. “Woah,” you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand. 

“Careful,” Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. “Flux here has a pathological fear of bald people.”

You nod, “It’s true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.” Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox that’s made its way into your burrow. 

“Curious,” she mutters. “I’ve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,” she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, there’s an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someone’s taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. “None of them have been so weak.”

Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way she’s plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesn’t like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, it’s like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector. 

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until you’re looking at something you’ve tried to forget for years. “Here it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.” She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. “It would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?”

Your teeth are clenched so tightly you’re surprised they haven’t cracked yet. It’s hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. “Fuck you,” you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately. 

You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. “Well, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, I’m afraid Alioth must eat.”

Before you can ask what she's talking about there’s a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover. 

You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust. 

“Shit!” You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. There’s no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you. 

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. “No time for consent, we’ve got to get the fuck outta here!” Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Logan’s legs as you’re all shot into the sky. 

You’d scream if you weren’t trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until you’re plummeting headfirst towards the ground. 

Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like you’re laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath. 

“Nailed it,” he mutters weakly. You’re pretty sure he can’t breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here. 

Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. “Fucks sake,” he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wade’s blood on your back and grimace. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him. 

He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 

The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. “Well, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,” Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, you’ve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good. 

What’s got to be the fugliest dog you’ve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”

Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepool’s Honda Odyssey - much to Wade’s chagrin. Logan’s in the front seat, Wade beside him. You’re sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine you’ve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain. 

You’ve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield. 

Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. “Buckle up, princess,” Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously. 

“Did you just say if?” Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what you’d missed. 

Wade lets out a weak chuckle, “Slip of the tongue?” Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, “Okay, let’s put a brake on the crazy train. I wasn’t lying it was just an educated,” for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. You’re shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out you’ve ever heard. “It was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?”

Logan doesn’t give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wade’s thigh. “You motherfucker!”

“Hey!” You shout, jumping forward and ripping Logan’s claws out of Wade’s leg. “Look, we’re trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?” You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately. 

You should have just stayed out of this, it wasn’t any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan shouts at you. It’s so startling, coming from him. You’re still associating him with the man you’d looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, it’s nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew. 

But it's easier now. Because the man you’d known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, you’re worth nothing. It’s a fucking joke that you’re alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.”

Your eyes water without your permission. You don’t know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who you’d grown up hearing stories about. It’s like facing everything you’ve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. He’s just confirming something you’ve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it. 

Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you won’t be able to get air in but he doesn’t care. No, he keeps going. “You follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. You’re never gonna save your fucking timeline. You can’t even make a few rocks float.” It’s not the words that hurt you next. It’s the way he says it. “You’re pathetic.”

He spits them at you. There’s venom lacing his tone like he’s seen into you and knows there’s nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because he’s looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with. 

He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and he’s forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything you’ve ever feared about yourself is true. You don’t have anything to say to him, you can’t. 

Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. They’d rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted. 

Logan’s face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isn’t speaking, he’s just staring at you both. “I,” he starts, but Wade cuts him off. 

“I’m gonna hurt you now.” Wade’s never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldn’t be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Logan’s throat. 

But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, you’re throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting. 

Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other. 

Logan’s words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. You’ve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long. 

You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt. 

There’s this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you can’t breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp. 

“Shit,” you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm. 

You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda. 

Leaves are suspended in the air. They’re not trembling from the breeze, they’re completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow. 

The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, you’ve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. You’ve turned something you shouldn’t be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose. 

You haven’t had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone. 

You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, it’s gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where you’d left the two men. 

There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldn’t willingly leave you behind, not here. You don’t know if Logan’s just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here. 

You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. “Fuck,” you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage. 

You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. There’s blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way. 

You don’t even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You haven’t seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. You’d practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different. 

Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, it’s like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air. 

You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. “Who is-” 

You don’t let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade. 

You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, “Read the fucking room!” Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people you’re holding, “Good guys!”

“Oh shit,” you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. “I am so sorry.” Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off. 

You don’t want to be out here with him, but it’s better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. You’d noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves. 

They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind. 

She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but she’d conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. You’d never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men. 

Because that’s all you’d ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas weren’t so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You don’t feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman who’d worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline. 

“Don’t want company,” Logan snarks, without even looking back to see who’s coming up to him.

You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. “Good,” you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat. 

“Alright,” Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much you’ve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, “Look, I’m not interested in hearing about your sob story or why you’re suddenly drinking all my liquor-”

“Gambit’s liquor,” you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. “And I’m not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and that’s impossible because Wade hasn’t stopped running his mouth since we got here.”

He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, “Alright,” he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. It’s like that for a while, you don’t bother keeping track of time. 

All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire. 

He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. “About what I said,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, “back in the car.”

“Don’t,” you snap, voice low. “Just,” you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you don’t want to hear it. “Just don’t, I deserved it all right.”

“No, no you didn’t.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. “I was wrong, I don’t know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.” He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but angry. 

Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor you’ve been in. “What was she like?” You ask, tone earnest. “Your Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just can’t,” you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just can’t see myself as a real hero. 

He groans and leans back on the log he’s resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. You’re surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand. 

“Well,” he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. “She was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.” You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you. 

It’s not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. He’s got a shine to his eye that you haven’t seen in the whole time you’ve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, there’s an easy smile on his face that you can’t miss. 

“Ah, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,” he trails off and shakes his head. You can see you’re losing him and you don’t want this to end. You’re in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend there’s a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential. 

“Her powers,” you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. “Did she have, um, good control over them?”

Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. “Yeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,” he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. “She could have been great.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to pry.” But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him. 

“Look, kid, she would have liked you. I’ll tell you that much,” he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isn’t used to being genuine with anyone. 

You shake your head and look down at your hands. “I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.”

Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. “I think I would know, bub. ‘Sides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.”

You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. “They’ll take fucking anybody. And I still wasn’t good enough for them.”

Logan shakes his head and frowns. “If what I saw in there,” he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what you’d done, “is any indication, then I’m sure you were plenty good.”

You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. “You don’t even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that I’d be more useful as fertilizer.”

He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. “Yes, you did. And you were right. I’m fucking useless, powers or not.” The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. “We’re irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.”

There’s a twinge of hurt on his face but you can’t make yourself feel bad about it. Since he’s such a fan of brutal truth, you’re sure he can handle it. 

You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. You’re nearly back to the den when he calls, “The suit looks right on you,” over his shoulder.

You pause at the threshold of the door. He’s already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. “What happened to her, your me?”

Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly you’d meant to him. “She married me,” he mutters, voice cold and closed off again. 

“Goodnight, Logan,” you whisper, finally walking inside the den. 

You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave. 

There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernaut’s helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why you’re so confused when you’re standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you. 

You don’t have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and you’re both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandra’s lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you. 

You’re both holding your breaths and praying that he’s sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void. 

You take in the carnage of Cassandra’s evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey. 

You throw yourself in the driver’s seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, “What do you do to entertain yourself around here?”

You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didn’t really need much else. 

You’re pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind you’ll fall into a depression that you’re never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you. 

Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you. 

“Flux,” the man glanced from you to Laura, “X-23?”

“Laura,” you both correct at the same time. 

The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, “Come with me, please.”

You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. “Why should we?” You demand. 

Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. “Hiya, peanut!” 

“Wade,” you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. “You fucking left me,” you hold up your hands and his eyes widen. 

His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, “Hold on now-”

You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, “Been wanting to do that for a while.” 

Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened. 

It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then you’re expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you don’t know how long before you hear someone behind you. 

You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. “Shit,” you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. This is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. “Uh, Wade doesn’t have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.”

You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin. 

You look back at Logan and he’s waiting expectantly for your answer. “Yeah,” you take your keys from him and unlock the door. “I’ve got a spare room but there’s no bed in it right now.” Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment. 

You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. He’s smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. “Um,” you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. “You can take the sofa tonight and we’ll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. “Shower?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. “Yeah, right, of course.” You show him down the hall, “Here. I’ll go get you a towel.”

You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wade’s left over when he’s crashed before. They’ll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldn’t mind seeing that. 

You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesn’t even run through your head. It should, honestly, but you’re already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-

You cover your face and turn around. “Sorry,” you mutter again. God, you’re such an idiot. You still haven’t even left. You’d just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you don’t even have the decency to walk out. 

You really can’t help it though. It’s been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wade’s little show hasn’t helped you at all.  

You hear Logan laugh behind you. “It’s alright,” he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close he’s gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you can’t place. “It’s alright,” he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking. 

He’s got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You don’t even realize how he’s gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet. 

You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so you’ll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer. 

You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You don’t know where it’s coming from, what’s brought it on. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you. 

No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like he’s been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him. 

It’s unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesn’t matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss he’s all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours. 

You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them. 

It’s odd, feeling so vulnerable even when he’s the one who's completely naked. It still feels like he’s holding all the power. 

His lips are moving frantically over yours like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you can’t identify. 

One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back. 

He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know there’s going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I can’t.” He won’t look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. “This was a bad idea, I can’t do this.”

You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like you’ve forced yourself on him somehow. It’s a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide. 

He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. “Kid-”

You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. “Sorry,” you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath. 

Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately he’d kissed you. It doesn’t make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?

You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you won’t sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release. 

You’re completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while he’s getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse. 

You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mind’s eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room. 

You suddenly remember that you didn’t lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but there’s not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least. 

He’s up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you don’t have. Finally, he settles on the couch. You’re awake for another hour, unable to relax until you’re completely sure he’s asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesn’t. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. You’re not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why you’re so pissed off that you’re being forced to get up at seven in the morning. 

You’re used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. You’re already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. You’ve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.

You don’t want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You don’t even want to use the other one after what happened last night. It’s too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin. 

You’re sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. When you can’t stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room. 

The curtains in your living room are open and he’s in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and you’re astounded about how little he’s done and how much more homely your apartment feels. 

It’s never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But he’s somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it. 

“Morning,” he grumbles from the kitchen. “Coffee,” he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until you’re sure it’s sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you don’t have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like you’re going to have holes in your temple. 

When you can’t take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesn’t smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. “Didn’t know you cooked,” you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence. 

It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, “Not really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,” he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff. 

The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now. 

You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’d just heal. “Sorry,” he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words. 

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere. 

He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually don’t eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. “Thanks.”

He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. “Look, about last night.”

You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know it’s just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized he’s not attracted to you, either way, you’re fucked. But, it’s also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak. 

You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. 

“I just couldn’t kiss you, not when I wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. “What?” You demand, disbelief coloring your voice. 

His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. “You look like her,” he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. “There are,” he clears his throat like he’s trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably. 

“There are a few differences, obviously. You’re not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, you’re so similar. And I,” he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks you’ve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesn’t make you feel any less uncomfortable. “And I just wasn’t doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and that’s just not fair to you.”

You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didn’t think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself you’ve always wanted to be; the hero. 

But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. He’d briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wife’s face staring at you and she doesn’t even know you. 

“I,” you don’t even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. “I appreciate the honesty, really.” You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up. 

“Clearly,” you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, “It was a mistake. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like there’s more he wants to say but you don’t give him the chance. You can’t take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. You’re a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness. 

“I gotta get ready for work,” you tell his back because he isn’t looking at you now. 

He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. “Right.” You wait for him to say anything else but he doesn’t. 

You walk past him and head back to your room. You don’t even have a job, you don’t have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you don’t have to look at him anymore. 

You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, that’s not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, you’re still a completely different person from who his late wife was. You’re someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy. 

It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wade’s hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you don’t trust Wade’s sense of fashion at all. 

After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch. 

You don’t initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest you’d gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadn’t really minded that bad. 

Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You haven’t made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like. 

You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding asking about her. But you also don’t want him to think you’re obsessed with discussing her. 

He’s right, you two weren’t carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants. 

Sometimes you think he looks at you like he’s really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you don’t want to put much strength behind the thought in case you’re wrong. You hate the idea that when you’re thinking of nothing but him, he’s just seeing her reflection on your face. 

There’s nothing you can do about it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. 

Tonight, at Wade’s suggestion, you’re both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that you’re ninety percent sure is never going to happen. You’re also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa don’t really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. You’re already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm you’re going to have to clean up after.  

There’s a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. He’s got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but you’re pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months. 

“Think this is actually going to happen?” You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. “Probably not, but I don’t mind being out here.”

There’s an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me either.” You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. “It’s peaceful.”

You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you don’t want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You don’t mention it but you do feel like you’ve noticed he’s been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly. 

He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, “Do I have something on my face?”

There’s a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking back out at the night. “You mind if I ask you something?”

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

He still doesn’t look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is he’s going to ask. He doesn’t ease you into it all, “Wade said your brain was broken?” A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderin’ about it.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. You’re relaxed enough that you don’t mind answering. You don’t want to pop the soft bubble you’ve managed to create around each other. “Here,” you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over. 

You unscrew the cap, “This,” you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. “This used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. That’s what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, “I assume your wife never had problems like that?”

There’s always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. “She wasn’t perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,” he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you promise quietly.

But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. “No, I want to. And I don’t want you to think you’re the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I don’t even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.”

You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. “Well, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.” It’s quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed. 

But he lets out a rough laugh, “No, I guess not.” He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. There’s no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. “But what happened to you? Why couldn’t you use your powers?”

“Oh,” you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn. 

“Um, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I don’t know. Something was this different this time around.”

You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you can’t save them every time you go to sleep. 

You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. It’s gentle, he’s barely even touching you and he’s not even acknowledging what he’s doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, it’s nice, grounding. 

“Long story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I don’t know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldn’t,” your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. “I,” your mouth hangs open and you don’t know what you could possibly say. 

There’s no excuse for what happened. “I just couldn’t,” you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. “Hadn’t been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,” you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug. 

Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to comfort you and you’re honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because that’s not a fucking excuse. There’s no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you don’t appreciate people giving you cop-outs. 

You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You don’t get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face. 

He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. “You fucked up,” he tells you. It's so shocking that you can’t help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure you’re listening as he speaks, “You fucked up, kid. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your fucking hardest. And it doesn’t erase all the people you did help.”

Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t real. You don’t deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life. 

You’ve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you don’t care because he is saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it. 

Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. It’s tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesn’t want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own. 

It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you. 

You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. You’ve never felt more secure in someone’s arms than you do right now. He’s got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isn’t a desperation born from grief. It’s something else, something you’re not ready to identify yet. 

His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you. 

You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. “Didn’t know I was such a good kisser,” you tease. 

But he doesn’t return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. “What?” You whisper. “Do I have bad breath?” You joke, trying to keep the mood light. 

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “No,” he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. “I think I need to take this slow, just because of…”

He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You don’t know if he’s still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasn’t earlier. But if every time you kiss he’s gonna pull back you’re not sure that you can do this. “Of course,” you mutter with a bite to your voice. It’s hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this. 

You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. “You don’t have to get up.”

You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But he’s so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. 

He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and he’ll take care of you. 

“Goddamn,” he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, “he wasn’t lying.” For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, “It’s so beautiful.”

Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, “Yeah, it is.”

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

”Wade,” you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. “Just let us in, you freak.”

He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.”

You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. “It’s share circle, dumbass.”

”Not the way I do it,” he moves to the side and lets you both in. “Well, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockin’ sex in your bed last week.”

He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. “I fucking knew it,” you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party. 

Logan chuckles behind you, “How did you two ever become friends?”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him. “I moved in next door,” you respond dryly. “This was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.” You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen. 

You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, “I’m gonna need a drink for this,” he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You don’t get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. He’s got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor

Wade says your name with disappointment. “You know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I can’t have you two fighting like this.” He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue. 

“If this thing licks me, I’m putting her down,” you warn him gravely. 

He gasps and snatches her back. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When he’s out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan. 

He’s by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. “What’re you doing?”

”Come with me,” you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks. 

Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, “Where are we going?” Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wade’s room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray. 

You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 

“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 

You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 

You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 

“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”

Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 

His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 

He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 

He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 

Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 

The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 

He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 

You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 

His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 

Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 

He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 

He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 

You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 

To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 

He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”

He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 

“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 

He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 

You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 

You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 

He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 

He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 

You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 

He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 

There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 

You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 

You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 

You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 

God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 

He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 

And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 

You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”

“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 

“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 

“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”

The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 

You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 

When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 

You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 

You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 

You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 

His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 

You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”

You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 

“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 

You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 

a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself

I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus ♡

[itoshiexx]

when you call them "husband" - part 2

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you call them "husband" - part 2

pairings: itoshi rin, michael kaiser, mikage reo x fem!reader (no descriptions tho, just the words "wife" on rin's part) (separate) | warnings: established relationship, fluff, lovesick boys

notes: I'M ALIVE! i cant believe how long it's been since i had time/energy/creativity to write something, ohmy goddddddd. i'm so sorry for all the time it took to post this, but i wanna ty all so much for all the love on part 1 and all the requests for part 2! hopefully this will meet your expectations ♥ as always, i went a lil' overboard with rin's part. enjoy!

part 1 / masterlist

ITOSHI RIN

rin was not a fan of social media. it was clear with the way his instagram only had 8 pictures despite being years since his career started, and even more so by the fact he had no other social media besides that. if he wasn’t so famous, people would say itoshi rin was a ghost or some artificial intelligence invention. 

it was one of the reasons people were very shocked when he started dating you, an influencer with millions of followers on every platform. rin was a private person, and you… well, you shared your life on the internet for everyone to see. to say you were polar opposites was an understatement.

however, you never forced your boyfriend to appear in any of your socials, only recording things for your own fun and memories and posting only what he allowed. rin was glad for that. he didn’t mind doing dumb things with you to see you smile, as long as the rest of the world couldn’t see how whipped he was for you.

also, you were kind of glad the professional athlete was so unaware of social media, because it meant you could do a lot of tiktok trends without the risk of him already knowing what was coming — which made everything more satisfying. 

and the trend you chose that day was especially good.

“hey everyone, it’s y/n here!” you chirped, waving your hands in front of your phone. however, you were actually recording rin, who was at the other side waiting for your sign to appear on the screen.

you continued speaking. “today i have a very special guest, who i’m sure you’re all very familiar with.” you gave the camera a little cheeky wink, and your boyfriend rolled his eyes with all your theatrics. “please welcome itoshi rin, my handsome husband!”

rin gave a step forward to start his way to you, but suddenly, his whole body froze, brows furrowing in what you could only call utmost confusion. silence took over the room for what felt like an eternity, and you had to suppress your laugh seeing the imaginary ‘loading’ wheel on his head.

rin.exe stopped working.

“baby?” you decided to intervene, honestly a little scared of how immobile rin was.

“you— i’m— did you just— did we—”

you could no longer hold your laughter, and rin’s favorite melody echoing through the walls of your shared apartment was probably what snapped him out of his trance. he immediately scowled and crossed his arms, cheeks burning red from his pathetic stutter.

“i am never doing these dumb videos with you again.”

“no, no, i’m sorry!” your giggles kept going, and you approached your pouty boyfriend, squishing his cheeks between your hands. the smooch you gave him was almost enough to make him melt. almost. rin still had some self respect.

he also didn’t want to admit how abnormally fast his stone heart was beating with the mere thought of being referred to as your husband — and, even better, referring to you as his wife. 

fuck. that certainly did make him feel lots of things. those stupid butterflies that were born the minute you met were roaming freely in his stomach, soaring with all the love he had harbored just for you. 

“i’m sorry, baby,” you said again, smiling like you swallowed the sun and all things good in this world. you might as well have. how else could rin explain the way you were his everything? “it was a prank i saw on tiktok.”

he arched his eyebrow, arms uncrossing to put his hands on your waist. “oh? so you don’t want me to be your husband?”

the itoshi was satisfied to see you flushing this time. “i— w-well, you see…”

and then you started rambling, just like you did every time something made you nervous. and rin could only look at you as if nothing else was worth looking at, because really, to him, it wasn’t. 

…well, maybe the sight of you walking down the aisle would get the cake. he might have to find out soon. 

MICHAEL KAISER

once you started dating bastard munchen’s star, michael kaiser, it was natural to have his world collide with yours. everything from football to blue hair dye to weird sleeping habits became a part of you as well, and you nourished every expanse of your world his presence alone was able to give.

your favorite part, besides learning all of him — his little habits, quirks and love languages that seemed to be crafted solely for you — was definitely immersing yourself in his culture. germany always seemed distant and quite detached from your life, and you loved to learn new things from different perspectives. 

food, traditions, language… michael loved teaching you things, giddy and secretly grateful for your excitement. it was his sparkly eyes that prompted you to learn a few things by yourself to surprise him and make him happy. 

the tiktok trend was just a nice coincidence. 

you phone was hidden on the kitchen balcony, camera recording and waiting for the moment your boyfriend would arrive in your shared apartment. luckily, kaiser was very punctual, and you didn’t have to wait much longer.

“liebling, i’m home!” you heard him scream from the front door, and you giggled to yourself, pretending to be busy chopping vegetables for dinner. 

you waited for his footsteps to near where you were, and, as soon as you felt he entered the camera frame, you answered:

“welcome home, ehemann!”

you didn’t have to turn around to see the way kaiser completely froze; arms stopping just before reaching your waist as if your figure was an illusion created by his tired mind. you fought hard to suppress your grin.

“what… did you say…?” his voice was low and uncertain, but there was no annoyance in it; just pure confusion. 

turning your head around to finally look at him, you were pleased to find your mikka with rosy cheeks and a bashful expression, so extremely unusual for a guy like him you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter on your chest. 

you gave him your best innocent look. “huh? isn’t that how you say boyfriend?”

“i-it’s husband, liebe. you called me husband,” his tone was still incredulous, and this time, you couldn’t keep your smile off your face. 

“oh, did i?”

your countenance seemed to finally snap him out of his trance, and michael’s eyebrows shot up, scoffing slightly — albeit still endearingly. his arms circled your waist and he pressed a kiss on the side of your neck. 

“how mean of you, baby. playing with my heart like that.” he trailed more kisses on your neck and jaw, making you squirm. “you tryin’ to kill me or something?”

you giggled again, both from the ticklish kisses he was giving you and the huge amount of love you had harbored just for him. “of course not, baby. i need you alive to make you my husband,” you jested.

“oh, yeah? you wanna make me your husband?”

“yes.” you shifted, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek. kaiser hugged you a little tighter, feeling something fuzzy inside his chest. “is that a problem?”

“never,” he answered immediately. because it was true.

boyfriend, fiancé, partner, husband… michael didn’t mind what title would be bestowed to him — as long as he could keep being yours.

MIKAGE REO

being the heir of one of the biggest corporations of the country and a professional football player made your boyfriend’s schedule pretty busy. therefore, thursdays like these, where you and him could have a nice walk around the park under the warm sunlight, hand in hand, were extremely rare — hence why they were so appreciated.

reo knew how much his frenetic agenda was a hard toll on your relationship, affecting both of you with distance, longing and short periods of time together. and, well, everyone knew how much of a goner he was for you, so it wasn’t surprising to see him give in whatever spare time he had in his hands — even going as far as making such time exist if there wasn’t any — to be with you for as long as he possibly could.

how could he deny your pretty little eyes pleading to have a stroll in the park with him ‘just for a few minutes?’

god, you were so selfless. he wanted to give you all of his minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years. and for all that’s worth, reo would never deny you of such a thing — he’d rather shoot himself than make you think you weren’t loved with every fiber of his being.

the weather was nice; a gentle breeze kissing both of your faces and making everything more pleasant. you were both chatting and appreciating the calm environment when you spotted an old lady a few feet ahead, selling different colored roses for the passersby. a smile was etched onto your lips, and you impulsively let go of reo’s hand to run towards her. 

“why hello, dear. would you like to buy a rose?”

your boyfriend watched you beam to the lady and slowly approached you, though still keeping his distance and trying hard not to intervene and buy all the roses for you. 

“yes, please! a red one would be perfect.”

“oh, who will you give it to?” asked the woman, already taking one flower from the bunch to hand it to you. 

your smile became slightly more bashful, “it’s for my husband!”

and fuck, if reo wasn’t already completely in love with you and thoroughly believed you were his soulmate until then, he certainly would after that very moment. he could feel his cheeks burning and his tongue rolling inside his mouth with how speechless he became. his heart soared with your words, excitement coursing through his veins with a love so overwhelming he nearly fell on his knees right there. 

heavens, he loved you so fucking much. and you made him realize it was about time he proved it to you (once again).

his hands easily found his phone in his pocket, and a quick call to the jewelry store was made while you busied yourself with paying for the flower. reo couldn’t stop smiling like a lovesick fool, but he didn’t mind.

“hey, mr. fuji, it’s mikage! you know, i think it’s time for that visit i mentioned a while ago…”

he might not fall to his knees right there, but he would drop at one knee very soon.

© 2024 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

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[acid-ixx]

brutus: out for blood (villain au concept)

ft. neglectful yandere! bruce wayne x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: did anybody ask for this? no! did i decide to write this anyways? abso -fucking-lutely. is this a rantfic? mayybee. anyways, this is not my best piece nor will anything i write be my best piece but i just love destroying my happiness with angst and altho writing a very anxiety ridden mc is fun, i also love to dabble in sadomasochistic traits for a main character. like i said, i am not proud of this but i figured i should post something. erm... leave comments bec i love reading whatever stuff u guys have in store hehe.

you've tasted blood on your tongue far longer than you've felt the loving touch of a family.

it's metallic. it's salty. it twists every vein in your gut.

it tastes of broken metal pipes in playgrounds, destructive tantrums and broken dreams, of skipped classes and detention rooms, of ripped test papers and missed diplomas. it reminds you of your bitter past every single time; one you swore you've buried six feet deep into the ground. a burning memory with nothing more than heartaches and heartbreaks.

you taste blood whenever they reject your advances for even a single moment of bonding time. you feel it pumping slowly, steadily, painfully whenever you stumble upon a room, only to see them, smiles and all, huddled together in a group with junk food in their hands and a movie playing in that stupid flat screen tv. you know it's the only thing accompanying you whenever he misses another event in your school. it becomes the only friend you have whenever you're alone, inside your too-small room, with shatters glass scattered around and bruised knuckles.

blood, for most, is vile, utterly repulsive. it reeks in every corner of a room, its scent is overpowering, it stains, it's hard to clean. it imprints. and it will always remind you it's there, in the depths of your body, curdling and boiling and ready to burst out of the seems every time you rip at your skin with a razor sharp blade. blood has always been your only friend, like a scar that will never fade away.

yet you embrace crimson like it was the color of your soul, and accept how it's the only color you allow in your grim life. black has never provided you solace, but red allowed for a mantra of emotions to trail into your very being.

blood. it's more homely than you let it out to be.

and you're far more familiar with it than anything else. you cradle it like an unwanted child, you kiss its wounds, allow it to fester and grow into an abhorrent disease that crawls like a lump in your throat that you could never get rid of.

in moments of solace, of quaint prayers and hours of kneeling into the floor— it is the thing that slides on cold, hard tiles. it is the warmth, the numbness, the thing that seeps out of your bruised knees, your scratched neck and your thighs with fingernails buried deep into flesh.

you've come to love blood, cherish it even.

especially if it's your own.

especially if it came from the punch of none other than your father.

left, right, left, right.

his punches were cruel and his kicks can easily crush bones into powder. he demands answers with every strike he delivers, he exudes an energy far more adrenaline based than yours. batman is methodical in the way he moves, the way he acts, and you're not; you're impulsive, you had no plans to counter the towering man— no counter for the brutal hits he lay upon you. you let him, you open every doorway world to beat your body black and blue, with red painting the canvas as a finishing touch.

he's stronger than you, and every time he bashes your head into the wall, the urge to spit into his face, to piss him off, to laugh at him and his Idiocracy; it all becomes stronger.

yet all you do was allow him multiple openings, denying yourself the pleasure of attempting to even take your abandoned gun at the corner and shoot at his cranium— you want him to suffer, even if it costs you your mobility by the near future, fuck it.

up, down, to the side, then an uppercut to your jaw and you're nearly depleted of anymore moves to counter. you want to seem like you've given up; but you want him pissed off, enough to punch you 'til blood seeps into the fibers of your mask. until your face starts bruising, until your nose breaks, until he finally rips your mask off and sees your face.

and he'll come to regret.

you shift to the side, and ignore the sting of your throat, the lull of your head and the soreness of your entire body.

because if you hadn't dodged, then your head would've left an imprint on the walls. you would've preferred that now, rather than the disgusting feeling of sentimentality that creeps into your heart at the implication that his blows were slowly, but surely, weakening.

he's holding back, you hold back a sneer.

as if he actually cares about you.

maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. you know he cares far more deeply for his enemies than he does you, and you hate how glad you are at the pride that finally, just finally are you being acknowledged. at the opposite end of his side, as enemies. but for once you can feel the care he offers others, most of which were nonexistent back when you were just some... nobody.

batman never kills; but he can hurt, he can injure, and he can destroy. and right now, you feel all the air leaving your body as the cloaked vigilante delivers the last punch to your ribcage.

you fall, on your hands and knees, a loud thump resounding through the empty abandoned building. all you hear are your crackling joints, and heavy breathing. heavy, like your eyelids, about to fall, about to shut until black encompasses your vision. if not for the remaining adrenaline coursing through your veins, you would've fainted— but you won't, you wouldn't, not until you see him, see his face.

the thumping in your heart beats louder, and your hands. god, they feel like jelly, it's burning, it's one step closer on collapsing under gravelly concrete and piercing skin into rocks. yet you're forbidden any time for grace, not when he lightly shoves you out of your position, and not when you fall to your sides, hands paralyzed, tears prickling against your cheeks at the pain that burns throughout your body.

"you don't deserve peace after shooting that family in front of that child, you know it."

his voice, domineering, absolutely fucking vibrating with a tremor of sheer anger. he directs his words at you, without empathy, without mercy. he wants you to learn to never mess with him in the streets of gotham. but you'll never... not until he notices you. fuck, you just want him to notice you. and now, he is, with utter vexation that causes a lump in your throat to form.

shit, you've never felt so happy.

it's when his tussled form — heavy, pitch-black boots slathered with crimson liquid — enters your sight that you cough, violently, out of breath, and you can feel it one second, then taste it in your tongue the next.

blood.

you grin, and slowly, ever-so eminently, did you spiral into a cackle. your throat gurgles crimson liquid, and yet it only builds into a cacophony of a broken record. you move your head, look through your nearly shredded domino mask, with so little strength to accompany you, to look at the man above you, eyes glinting with a glow never so alive until now.

you're genuinely so fucking happy.

batman, he who strikes fear into the hearts of gotham villains and civilians alike. he who protects the city at night. he whose name is said with wavering uncertainty— he's looking at you, only you.

'bruce wayne: my dad— is finally looking at me.'

and you! you're laughing, the sounds that emanate from your throat are so scratchy, so utterly decimated that it sounds like vultures feeding through a dead corpse; but you don't let your chuckles die down, because you're so, so happy.

he looks at you, with contempt, with disgust, you don't know; but you're still so overjoyed.

"y-yeah... it's me, i did it. are you proud of me...?" you ask as you look up, through the tears that flow out your eyes, through the grin that couldn't die down. he looks at you like you're insane, and you know he's confused, shifting uncomfortably as he gives someone a status update through the comms, his eyes never leaving your pathetic form—

you look at him like he means the world all throughout.

"call for red robin, i have one of the culprits," he orders through the intangible device, eyes squinting as he takes you in— you whose chuckles slowly calmed down, as your breathing finally becomes heavier, as blood, yours, seem to seep into clumsily made apparel. you, who bruce realized seem too oddly familiar, too small, too childish, whose moment of spiraling insanity is too damn innocent to ignore.

you're not like the typical rogue he encounters, no. and right before you finally allow sleep to overcome you, you muster the last of your energy, to stare back at him with shining eyes, expectant, and like a child's, you ask with the meekest voice.

"hey... dad, i have a surprise." scratchy, absolutely broken, yet spilling with joy, with... your last word right before you continue, bruce's heart thumps ever the slightest faster.

"take my mask off, please?"

crimson began to overtake your entire body, and bruce should've never complied with your... request, but as he kneels and finally gets a grasp of what you truly look like, he notices the frailness, the vulnerability, as if you were never built for... combat. with just how quickly you succumb to the depths of rest, with how oblivious you are to the fact that if it were anyone else, they would've killed you.

you're not properly trained, you fight out of impulse, and he knows it with just how swift you gave up midfight.

when he pulls the domino mask (which seems oddly inspired by the shape of... his vigilante partners, the robins...) off your face, did his heart finally hastened its pace, loud thumping crawling its way to his ears, his eyes registering your face: its form, its shape, your eyes, your nose—

all similar to his, all an amalgamation of your mother's, too.

no... wait, no.

it's not...

it's not his... child?

you?

your eyes, flickering one last time stared at him, softly, like that of a child who looks at their father with pride like nothing else. your hand, it shakes, it shivers, as your fingers find its way creeping to his hand, holding your mask. fingers so dainty, now pulverized bones lay atop his shivering hand, tenderly, as if trying to comfort the very same man who has nearly killed you.

batman— no, bruce looks at you. at what he's done, and only now did he realize his greatest mistake. a child, his child, one whose innocence retained through heinous acts, now a villain, whose actions were all a testimony to merely wanting their father's attention.

he failed you, his child. he failed to protect you, who he has never held up close until now— as your body is hastily taken into his arms. so small, so easily wrapped around his body, so unbefitting of committing criminal activity. now bloodied and laid into barren ground by their very own father.

bruce wayne never felt this much terror, for nearly killing his child.

this, this day marks his sin.

and you? dearest you feel like today is your greatest day.

crimson, nearly every part of you is stained with that putrid color.

yet blood has always been your best friend, no? and right now as you bleed into the arms of your father, you find yourself grateful that it is the last thing you see before a black cloak wraps around you, before black fills your entire line of sight.

short rant ahead: another author's note??? wow. yeah this was such a hard drabble to write. plsplspls leave a comment or some sort of input. anything will do. ive been so demotivated to write lately and i feel like anything i write is just, so bad 😭 like is my pacing good? are the emotions out of place? am i even doing this right ?? i don't know, and i feel like every time i post something i always put up expectations on myself that I should've done better so yeahh. is this attention seeking behavior? probably. but i don't get how people have come to like the stuff i write when i hate whatever i write hence why im in a constant cycle of hiatuses and short breaks. and really, it's just so hard to come into terms with things and i need input lest i accidentally get into a year or two of hiatus, lmaoo.

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you've never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he's so much more than a crush, he's your soulmate. one | two (section 1) (section 2) | three | four | five 🔗read on ao3✨ across stardust pinterest board

note: please enjoy this truly self indulgent romance. will be four five parts total, and i'll post each as soon as they are ready to go. happy comeback week, and i hope everyone enjoys this 💖

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, a lot of fluff and tenderness, love at first touch, shared feelings/emotions/physical sensations, anxiety/stress over what to do, reader's family isn't the best, kq is not the best company for the purposes of this fic!, light smut including - heavy makeouts/grinding, hand kink, size kink, phone sex, sexting, fingering, jacking off, dirty talk, praise, use of good girl, use of pet names like baby/jagiya/sweetheart. basically this fic is an excuse for me to write star-crossed desperate love so i would say it's the literal opposite of a slow burn lmao

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

It’s eleven in the morning when your day starts, hiding in the green room of a concert venue in Berlin, and the day feels lost already. With Eunji and Dahan ill that only leaves you and Iseul to handle makeup for all eight members and with how exhausted you are from yet another night of little sleep, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep up. You’re trying to stay awake, but while the members are all out on stage learning their marks and rehearsing the improvisational moments for this tour stop, the green room is quiet and you keep nodding off. 

“Bad night?” Iseul’s voice startles you out of one of your dips into sleep and your body jerks up right. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

“Here,” She pushes a bright can into your hands, an energy drink, “you need this.” 

“I need to be sedated,” You grumble, taking it from her, “the time difference is never this hard,” 

“Mm,” She shrugs, “it’s unpredictable,” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

The thumping music outside as they run through another track is starting to give you a migraine. You take a long sip of the drink and then leave the can on the table in front of you, choosing instead to hide your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt and let out another long sigh. 

“Girl,” Iseul nudges you, “you look like shit. Your station looks like shit.” 

“Thank you?” 

“In thirty minutes we’re going to be busier than we’ve been since that Inkigayo stage for Answer,” She points out and you grimace at the reference. Back then it really was just a skeleton staff and one of the makeup artists quit on the spot, too stressed to continue the work and walking out in the middle of doing Yeosang’s foundation. 

What a mess those old days used to be. Nostalgia sometimes makes you forget how late those nights were and just how impossibly tired you had been. This feels too reminiscent of that for sure. 

Iseul taps your shoulder to get you to lift your face as she continues, “I know you’re tired, but I can’t do this shit on my own. I need you.” 

“Okay,” You breathe, scrubbing your hands over your face to jolt yourself awake as best you can, “you’re right, I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be sorry,” She gives you a sympathetic smile, “I get it.” 

This tiredness feels different though, so deeply ingrained in your body. Something’s been keeping your adrenaline running like a long, drawn out anxiety attack and you can’t understand it. You’ve been on tour before, you’ve been on planes, you’ve had long days, and you’ve worked with this exact group for years. There’s nothing on paper that should be making you so anxious, but the threads of it are humming in the deep back of your brain even now. 

“Come on,” Iseul prompts again, pulling you to your feet, “let’s get you in gear.” 

“Right,” You take another long sip of your energy drink and pray it starts kicking in soon and that the effects won’t make you feel crazier, “let’s do this.” 

She helps you put your station together with ease and then pull yourself together. Within those precious thirty minutes of calm before the storm you’ve downed two cans of pure caffeine, assembled your station and strapped on your brush belt, and tried to make yourself some form of presentable by slicking your hair back into a smooth knot and adding a coat of lip balm. 

As always, the boys have used the ladder game to determine hair and makeup order which means those at the bottom of the list have more time to relax fresh-faced on the couches before getting poked and prodded and wrapped up like presents for thousands of screaming fans. With only you and Iseul available it’s about to be a race against the clock to get them ready. 

Their managers hustle them from the stage to the back rooms where the rest of the staff waits, and the members gather around you and Iseul and your makeshift makeup stations. 

“Alright,” Iseul says as the members quiet down, “we’re down some staff as you know,” 

They nod attentively and you trade a close lipped smile with Hongjoong. 

“We’re just going to do the best we can as quickly as we can,” She explains, looking down at their names on a slip of paper, “Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho, San,” she recites, “you’re with me in that order.” 

You run through the names on your slip, “Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, that leaves you with me.” 

Iseul nods as you finish your words, “Please be ready to slot in when the person in front of you is finished, and then you can go directly to wardrobe for your soundcheck outfits,” 

“We’ve got it,” Hongjoong nods, “and if there’s anything you both need,” 

“We’ll be fine,” Iseul assures him, “but it’s definitely going to be cutting it close,” 

“We should get started,” You cut in, “if you’re ready?” 

Hongjoong jumps to your chair immediately and Wooyoung steps to Iseul’s, and before you know it you’re off. 

The room is alight with activity while you both work, only you don’t have a relaxed pace and only two members to perfect. You’re used to working with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, they’ve been your assigned members for as long as you’ve worked with Ateez, but when staff shortages or timing gets tight, it can be a bit of a free for all. 

You stay focused and execute each member’s makeup like a well rehearsed dance, and you do your best to ignore the buzzing anxiety in your veins. For a little while, you handle it like a professional. 

When Yunho finally settles into your chair, about a single second after Mingi leaves it, the exhaustion careens back into you sideways. It takes you a minute to prep your tools this time, and you’re pretty sure that without the artificial pick me up of the energy drinks you’d be passing out on the spot. 

You steady your hands against the vanity in front of you and take a deep breath, and when you look up you catch Yunho’s eyes in the mirror, a tiny crease of concern between his brows. 

“You okay?” He checks. 

You give him a smile, albeit a tired one, “The jet lag is really hitting this time,” you explain, “but I’m fine,” 

He looks sympathetic immediately, “Same for me, I feel like I’m barely sleeping,” 

“That’s not good,” You tell him as you prep your stainless steel palette, “you have a long night ahead,” 

“I’ll sleep tonight,” He says, “I’m sure,” 

“After dancing for three hours I’d hope so,” You smile and pick up your first set of tools before turning towards him. 

“Do you have anything you could take?” He asks, studying your face, “A sleep aid?” 

“I usually don’t like to,” You admit, “I always feel groggy the next day,” 

“And we have another show,” He finishes for you, his lips coming together in a thin line as he thinks. 

There’s nothing really for him to do, but it’s kind of him anyway to be so concerned. They always are, this rare group of eight idols who remember staff birthdays, bring coffee on the early morning schedules, and always, always take extra time to clean up after themselves so it’s not left to anyone else. 

You take a step closer towards him and glance over his bare face and then it occurs to you, “You know what’s funny?” 

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever done your makeup before,” You smile, it’s a ridiculous thought. 

“No way,” He blinks, thinking back, “it’s been… forever, are you sure?” 

You nod, “You’re usually with Eunji,” you tell him, “and even when we’ve swapped around, I don’t think so. I think you’re the only member I’ve never done,” 

“Wow,” He laughs, eyes bright, “well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.” 

“Is there anything,” You start to ask him if there’s anything he prefers, anything special about his makeup that he gets done with Eunji that he asks for, but Iseul catches you idle as she pats foundation onto San’s forehead and answers for you. 

“His skin gets dry,” She jumps in, “don’t use too much powder,” 

Yunho grins, a laugh on his lips at the directness of her words. 

“And don’t use that oil,” Iseul adds, “that primer oil you like, he’ll break out by tomorrow,” 

“Thank you, Iseul,” Yunho says, and you watch San’s face as he stifles a chuckle. 

“Noted,” You smile, and you swap out two of the products in your hands before taking up your position by his side again. 

You’ve gotten used to working with idols, to working with Ateez and with Yunho specifically, and yet when you get this close a little flutter of nerves rocks through your belly. He’s handsome, and if you’re being honest he’s just your type. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or this weird feeling in your chest that you’ve been dealing with all week, but for the first time in a long time you think about what it would be like to kiss his lips. 

“How do you want me?” He asks, breaking your thoughts, and you have to shake off the impending blush at the way his words make you feel. You have work to do, and you had gotten over your silly little crush on him years ago, you need to get a grip. 

You recover fairly smoothly though with a quick smile, “Right,” he’s never worked with you before, and he’s looking to you for direction, “head back a bit, please, and eyes closed,” 

“Alright,” He follows your instructions to the letter. 

“Okay,” You tell him, “primer first. Let me know if anything bothers you,” 

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

He has the loveliest eyelashes, that’s the thought that echoes through your brain as you start working on him, and you wish it never occurred to you at all because you keep glancing up at his closed eyes. He lets you work, he knows you’re exhausted so he doesn’t push you for conversation, and you’re strangely grateful. You know he’s chatty sometimes in the chair, an extrovert through and through and always keeping Eunji company or talking with the member beside him, but right now he keeps still and gives you respite on a hard day. 

You’re patting foundation into his skin with a large paddle brush when Iseul interrupts your thoughts, “Do you have that eggplant liner?” 

“Check my table,” You offer, but with how sluggish your brain is feeling there’s no way you remember a single thing on your station without looking.

“Mm,” She pivots around and pokes through the products and tools behind you, and you glance over as San opens his eyes to watch Iseul rifle through things. 

“Damn,” She mutters, “how much time do we have?” 

“Um,” You glance down at your watch, “twenty?” 

“Perfect,” She scoots behind you and disappears into the hall, no doubt to find your traveling makeup case and the liner. 

You sigh, chewing the inside of your lip at the idea that you only have twenty more minutes, but you really don’t want to rush and have his makeup melt off on-stage. 

“You’re fine,” San assures, his body angled towards you and Yunho now while he waits, “don’t worry about the clock,”

Yunho hums his agreement from below you, “Plenty of time,”

You refocus on Yunho’s skin and notice a long black and white hair from the paddle brush affixed to his cheek, mixed in with the foundation. You take the brush again, wiping off any excess foundation and checking to see if more fibers are loose, and then you work the brush against his cheek in an attempt to free the loose hair but it isn’t coming off easily. Every attempt you make just slides the hair into a different spot on his cheek and covers it with more foundation. 

“Um,” You usually don’t like to do this, but you might have to, “can I just…”

His eyes open but his expression stays smooth, “Can you?” 

“Sorry,” You shake your head, “do you mind if I touch you?” 

“You already are,” He smiles, a small, amused crease between his brows you’ll have to pat out momentarily. 

You tuck your brush away and gesture with your hand, “You just have a hair,” 

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

You’re just supposed to touch his cheek, brush away the hair with the pad of your finger and then get back to work, that’s all it is, so you’re completely unprepared for the feeling that rockets through your chest when your skin finally touches his. 

Yunho gasps softly as your fingers brush over his cheek, his eyes blowing wide and his expression blanking, and it’s the only indication you have that he feels something too. A tightness wrenches in your chest, like someone pressed something hot and hard directly into your breastbone and your stomach does a somersault. Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest now that it’s started up again. 

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

“You,” Yunho manages, his voice shaky and you know for sure he felt it too. 

You rock back a step, “I don’t understand,” 

“Shit,” Someone else says, and then you realize that it’s San and you’re not alone with the only other person in the entire world, you’re in the middle of work in front of at least one other person and it’s only your existence that just got tilted on its axis. Yours and maybe Yunho’s. 

“Oh,” You glance to the side, taking in San’s wide eyed expression, “oh my God,” 

“I’m not insane, am I?” Yunho smiles, his focus entirely on you, and you think you might just pass out, “You felt that?” 

There’s a noise in the hall and San scrambles up to his feet, “Iseul,” he says heading for the door, “do you need help looking?” 

He’s covering for you both, but thoughts are slow to form and all you can manage is blinking at the man in your chair. 

“You did, right?” He asks again, eyes soft and hopeful, and then his fingers brush over the center of his chest. Squarely over his breastbone.

He’s yours. 

You want to reach out and yank up his shirt, check the tattoo over his heart to see if it’s the same looping knot shape as yours, but you don’t need to see it to know for sure. It’s him. 

San says something about forgetting the liner altogether, a little louder so you both know the room is going to get crowded again, and you shake your head to jolt yourself out of your paralyzed position. 

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

“I did,” You rush to correct, “I’m, I don’t know,” 

He nods, wetting his lips and shifting in his chair. He moves to reach for you, but reason and sense click back into place immediately and you realize that no matter what your tattoo feels like and no matter what this means, you’re at work and about to have a very private moment in a very public place if you’re not careful. 

You shake your head with a glance at his hand and jerk your head towards the door, “Later,” 

“Right,” He leans back from you, “of course, right,” 

Footsteps to your right draw your attention and Iseul is huffing, checking her own watch, “We’ll do brown,” 

“That’ll be fine,” San assures her, but his eyes are glued on the pair of you. 

Iseul moves to step around you again and realizes you’re just standing there, “What’s with you?” 

“Sorry,” You manage, blinking hard and refocusing, “I just got dizzy,” 

It’s not entirely a lie, given that you felt the entire earth shift under your feet thirty seconds ago and your life is completely changed. Dizzy is the least of how you’re feeling. 

Yunho’s expression shifts immediately, concern across his face, and he curls his fingers into his palms to keep himself from reaching out again, from being too familiar. 

“Oh,” Her eyebrows raise high, “do you need me to finish Yunho?”

“N-no,” You take a breath, “just give me one second,” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yunho asks, and in the back of your brain you wonder if his voice has always sounded this good. 

“Here,” San cuts in smoothly, cracking the seal on a fresh water bottle and passing it over to you, “do you need to sit a minute?” 

San’s hand rests on your upper back between your shoulders as you take a long sip of water, the cold shocking your brain back to reality in exactly the way you need. 

“Thank you,” You tell him honestly, “I think I’m okay, just a headrush,” 

San nods, and when you refocus your eyes on Yunho, you almost laugh. His gaze is squarely on San’s hand where it sits on your back, and you watch the fast, silent exchange between the two men when San drops his hand and Yunho realizes his own reaction. He blushes, ears running red and he dips his head to avoid both your eyes. 

“Iseul,” San steps around you both and distracts your friend, “ready to wrap?” 

“Yeah,” She agrees, “let’s finish up. You’re sure you’re okay, y/n?” 

“Mhm,” You hardly trust your own voice, but you nod anyway, “I’m good now.” 

Yunho tilts his face back up as you step close, and the tension between you is so palpable and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. Your tattoo feels warm and heavy and something tells you that his does too, you can see it in the tenderness of his brown eyes. 

“Dizzy?” He asks quietly, keeping his words just for you. 

You shake your head, “No,”

“That’s good,” He murmurs, but he lets whatever words he wants to say rest on his tongue. 

Your tattoo throbs and you don’t dare touch his bare skin again. 

His makeup takes fifteen more minutes and his eyes don’t stray from your face the entire time. You barely finish on time, and wardrobe is standing by to get them into their first outfits of the night, so when you put the final touches on he’s already being pulled out of the chair before you have a chance to say anything. 

You want to corner him and ask him exactly when he’ll have time to talk later, but despite working together for the last few years, you and Yunho aren’t that close. You’re friendly, but you’re not familiar enough to casually ask what he’s doing later and not have it seem strange. While friendships between staff members and idols are not discouraged, even between the opposite sex, being overly familiar or suggestive would certainly leave a question in everyone’s minds, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself that quickly. 

This is between you and Yunho, no one else. You don’t want an audience for this. 

So he goes, pulled away by wardrobe and his other members, fitted quickly into his Soundcheck outfit. He has his game face on, so do all the members, and you watch him disappear down the hall without a second glance back at you. 

You collapse into the couch and press your eyes closed, focusing on the singular feeling of heat and soreness from your chest.

A soulmate. 

The tattoo on your chest was one you barely looked at anymore, too focused on living your life to sit in the mirror and wonder about the person who would be your other half, the person that would slot into the gaps in your spirit with a simple brush of skin on skin. But now, it aches. It pulses to remind you that it’s real and that you’ve found him. 

Everything in your life is about to change. Has already changed.

On the couch you don’t sleep as much as you disassociate, still stunned, your buzzing brain filtering out everything Iseul says as she cleans up around you and preps both of your brush belts for touch ups. There’s such a small amount of time between Soundcheck and the concert that you barely get to process, you just exist, playing the moment you touched him over again and again in your mind. Despite how utterly changed you feel, the world is just continuing on around you like a regular day.

Once again, you and Yunho miss each other for every brief moment between Soundcheck and stage.

The shift happens in the wings, in the underbelly of the stage where you and the other staff members for hair, makeup, and wardrobe wait for any last minute quick fixes. The eight of them are almost ready, pumping themselves up between rows of technical equipment and stage scaffolding. 

There’s so much commotion around you and yet your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet, the feelings you once had for him coming back to you full force in a blurry torrent. 

He shifts, stretches, swallows hard, and then looks up directly into your eyes. There’s a question in them that you can’t read, but you manage to smile. 

His shoulders relax just a little. 

You raise your fist, giving him the gesture for ‘fighting’ and he returns it with a wide grin. 

“Alright,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through, the final step of their pre-show ritual as the concert hall starts to roar, “huddle up.” 

The eight of them circle up with each other, one leg in and one out. 

“We’ve practiced hard,” Hongjoong starts, patting his members on the back, “let that practice pay off, and have fun out there,” 

“Okay!” San hypes them up, getting the tension high. 

“Let’s give it our all,” Hongjoong continues, a wide smile on his face, “fighting!”

They echo it back, and a tense feeling starts to roll in your gut. 

“Alright, one,” Hongjoong starts the count and you feel the tension in your own body rising, enough to make you take a soft step back from the group, “two,” 

On three they chorus it, moving their feet in a synchronized step,  “Eight makes one team! Fighting!” 

They break apart, clapping each other on the back, and your eyes meet Yunho’s for one more fast second before he’s jogging after the rest of the members and finding his mark on the stage risers. 

You feel the sensation of his eyes on you even after he’s gone. You have the length of four songs and their opening ments before members start swapping out on stage for makeup touch-ups and technical adjustments. The sound of the audience is intense, the start of the first song keying up, and you stumble back from your post to get a breath of air away from it all. 

There’s a bathroom along the hallway two doors down from the green room that’s meant for staff and you blissfully find it empty. With shaking hands you flip the lock and sink down into a crouch, your back braced against the wall as you breathe through the sudden wave of feelings filling your chest. 

Adrenaline, that’s what the bitter taste on your tongue is. 

Your heart is thumping, double time like you’re running a marathon, and then you realize it. You can feel him, even now with the bond between you unfulfilled you can feel his emotions coming to you like a wave. Adrenaline, anxiety, euphoria, exhaustion, it all roils through you and you brace your hands on the wall to get your composure back. 

They say the first time you feel your soulmate link it takes you by surprise, but this is an intensity you couldn’t have imagined. It’s all encompassing and honestly terrifying, and you’re struggling to understand which parts of you are you and which are him. You can’t conceive of how an accepted bond would make this feeling stronger when it already feels like your emotions and his are knit together so tightly. 

Anxiety strikes down the link and you realize it’s not stage fright, it’s for you. He can feel your panic and your fear just like you can feel every ounce of his performance and if you don’t get yourself in check you’re going to be distracting him even more than you already are. 

You yank yourself up off the floor and collapse against the sink, turning on the cold water tap and taking slow and steadying breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Counting slowly, relaxing your body with every pulse of oxygen through your system. You hope he can feel it, but you have no idea how this all really works. You’ll have to call your sister when this is all said and done, find out what she felt when she met her wife, but right now in this bathroom in Berlin you have to do this by yourself. 

You hear the pulse of another song thrumming through the stadium as they keep performing, and you feel the thundering beat of his heart in your chest, but you breathe into it this time and try to keep yourself calm for his sake. You splash cold water on your face, keep breathing low and slow, and eventually you pull yourself back up to standing tall to look at yourself in the mirror. 

You look the same as you did a few hours ago, before him, but the warmth in your chest is still present and you wonder if that will ever go away or if that’s just a permanent part of the link. 

With shaky hands you unbutton your blouse and pull your bralette down in the center to reveal what you already know is there. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

The tattoo nestled at the base of your sternum is the only one you were born with. Every other line of ink on your body was put there with intention, but this one you’ve had for as long as you can remember. The maedeup knot is small, but intricate, and until this moment it had always been colorless. Loops of black and gray twining together to make a rounded diamond, unbroken with no beginning or end to the threads. 

Now the ink has changed, a deep red against your skin that makes the knotted josephin soulmark look even more traditional, but the skin is slightly inflamed, tender to the touch as you brush your fingertips along it. It feels like a fresh mark, not something you’ve had since birth, but considering how it’s changed, maybe it is new. A soulmark shifting color is common, you know that, but it still stands out so starkly against your skin and your other black tattoos. You can’t look away from it. 

A pounding on the bathroom door makes you jump and you fix your shirt, covering the mark back up and buttoning it away. You wonder if Yunho’s mark is the exact same like other couples you know and if it too turned red, if it’s warm to the touch, if he felt you brush against your mark through the link. 

“y/n?” A voice comes through the door and you shut off the tap. 

“Coming!” You wipe the excess water on your hands onto your jeans and take one last, fast look to make sure your mark isn’t visible, before opening the bathroom door. 

Wonshik, one of their many managers, is waiting for you on the other side. His eyes narrow when he sees you, “Are you ill?” 

“No,” You assure him. 

“You’re sure?” He presses, “We can’t afford to lose any more staff or risk getting the members sick if you are,” 

“I know, Wonshik,” You nod, “I promise I’m just tired, jet-lagged. I was putting cold water on my face, that’s all. I’m not sick,” 

He exhales in relief, his expression softening, “Thank God,” he says, “I can only take so many surprises.” 

A little sickness is nothing compared to a staff member and an idol under a dating ban being soulmarked, but you hold your tongue. 

“They’re about to come off,” He says, “Iseul was looking for you, she seems like she might start climbing the walls if you don’t get back to help her,” 

“No, of course,” You start back towards the side stage entrance, “I lost track of time, but it won’t happen again,” 

“Make sure you sleep tonight,” He adds, following you closely, “no sleep means no immune system, and no immune system means sick.” 

“Don’t worry,” You promise, winding your way through the dark backstage, “you won’t lose me,” 

“I better not,” He sighs, and then Iseul comes into sight. 

“There you are!” She hisses low under her breath, “I was about to have a panic attack,” 

“I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m good,” In the commotion, your brain starts to ease into normalcy. You’re used to this pace, the speed of lightning fast makeup touch-ups and assisting wardrobe when things start to go awry with their quick changes. The audience feels none of this, they just see smooth change-outs on stage and cool idols in new clothes, but backstage is a wild flurry and it always puts you on an entirely different plane of focus. 

“Here we go,” A stage director starts, gathering everyone’s attention, “four minutes… starting…” 

The stage goes dark and in the venue a video starts to play to the crowd to fill the space between costume changes. You prep your hands, making sure your kit is ready to go and you see the wardrobe specialists out of the corner of your eye readying themselves to help facilitate the quick change. 

Suddenly they’re here, and the stage director interrupts once more, “Now, four minutes people, let’s go.” 

“Mingi,” He gets to you first and he crouches down to drop his face to your height, “stay still one second,” 

He says nothing, but he nods as you pat powder across his forehead and the bridge of his nose, checking him over for any other defects. He looks good and you nod, “Go, go,” 

Mingi peels off to the left of you and you hear the sound of fabric swishing as he and Wooyoung rip off the top layer of their outfits behind the privacy screens and trade garments with the wardrobe team. It’s a fast shuffle, but you stay focused on who’s in front of you. 

“Seonghwa,” You wave to him, pulling blotting tissues out of the pack on your belt, “here,” 

He knows this drill well, you’re used to working with him and you have a clean routine down. He blots the sweat off his brow himself and starts to unbutton his jacket while you shift focus to Yunho. 

For a split second you almost forget what happened earlier in the buzz of backstage, but the minute your eyes hold on his awareness floods you. 

“Hey,” You say, but there’s a time clock shout behind you and you beckon him down, “come here, let me fix things,”

He drops down to your height just like Mingi did and stays steady while you work, but his eyes flick up, “You’re okay?” 

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

His expression clears a little and you guess you have your answer about the feeling of the link going both ways. 

Hongjoong clears his throat behind you both, “We’re short on time,” 

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

He’s out of your eyeline a split second later, and you’re grateful for the distraction of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa, otherwise you’re sure you’d dwell a little bit too long on the fact that Yunho’s half naked next to you, privacy screen or no. 

“One minute,” The stage director announces, “everyone’s doing great,” 

The boys are almost done, flying through the last of their zips and getting their hair smoothed down by that team as they finish. You put the last pat of powder on Seonghwa’s nose and give him a nod before he’s gone too, dropping his jacket as he goes and giving you all a quick flash of his bare back. 

You turn back towards the group as they prepare and your eyes zero in on Yunho again. His expression is serious, it’s his game face before he gets back out on stage, and you watch as he corrects the placement of his in-ears and ensures that his mic pack is secured. He runs through his pre-stage ritual and you can’t help but be a captive audience. 

“Good work,” The stage director says as Seonghwa rejoins the eight, fully dressed and ready for stage, “fifteen seconds for act two,” 

The crowd heats up again as the video starts to fade, and the members do their final checks. Yunho doesn’t look back at you once, his eyes forward and focused as he and the other members find their places on the rising platform that will take them back out to the main stage. 

You can see him a little though, in the low light in his white trousers and blue satin shirt. He lifts his hand, adjusting his microphone once again, and then as he drops it back to his side he lets his fingers skim over the familiar hollow of his chest. 

Your mark warms, you feel it as if it were your chest he brushed his fingers over, and your breath stops. 

The platform rises, the crowd roars, and your heart starts beating to a new rhythm. 

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

You manage to get out of dinner with some of the other staff members, but that just leaves you anxious and alone in a hotel room trying and failing to eat room service. Iseul would be back soon to take up her place in the other bed, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have Yunho’s number. 

Now that emotions are a little smoother, you can’t feel him. Or maybe you can, but it’s so faint that you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s definitely in the hotel, but that’s partially the solid feeling of your link with him and partially the YouTube live being broadcast from Seonghwa’s room where all of the members are. 

You put the live on and watch, feeling strangely disconnected from the men on screen. You’ve known them for years, but suddenly with this new truth everything feels foreign and confusing. 

You should call your sister, but it’s only six in the morning in Korea and even though this is an emergency of life altering and epic proportions, you can’t bring yourself to wake her on a Saturday. 

You try your best to eat the pasta you ordered and watch as the live eventually ends. Your phone dings and for a split second you think it will be him, but it’s just Iseul telling you she’s heading back to the hotel. 

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

There’s another knock, a little firmer this time but then you feel the warm touch against your mark and you’re on your feet, your hand on the door handle before you can think. 

He looks tired, that’s your first thought. His face is bare again, and his eyes are rimmed in a little bit of red like he just removed the day’s stage makeup. Despite all that, he smiles when he sees you and sighs, leaning against the door frame, “You’re awake,” he says. 

“I waited,” You manage. 

He grimaces, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” his eyes flick behind you into the room and he swallows, “are you alone?” 

“Yes,” You nod, “but not for long, Iseul’s on her way,” 

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

“We need to talk,” He nods, “can you get away for a little while?” 

Iseul will probably expect you to be asleep, but you can’t let this go until morning. If you’re ever going to sleep you need to talk to him now. 

“I’ll think of something,” You tell him, “what room?” 

“2606,” He answers, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope from the front desk, “take this,” 

He passes you one of his room keys and you nod, “I’ll be up in five minutes, but you should go,” 

“Okay,” He breathes and neither one of you makes a single move to step away from the door until a sound down the hallway pushes you into it. 

“2606,” You repeat and he nods, swiftly moving down the hall before anyone can see him standing at your door. 

You have no idea what you’re going to tell Iseul that would make sense, but you don’t care. You stack up your room service for collection, kick on a pair of slippers, and give yourself the fastest look in the mirror ever on your way out the door. You want to be gone before she gets back, the idea of facing her and lying ten times more difficult than an empty text. 

No problem - I can’t sleep, I’m just going to walk a bit. Don’t wait up.

You don’t stick around to see if she’ll believe it. 

You try to seem casual when walking to Yunho’s room, like it's yours. You don’t want anyone to give you a second glance and wonder where you’re going, so you keep your head up, smile at anyone you pass, and when his door comes into view you scan the card like it’s any other day. 

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

“God, finally,” His voice startles you, and you look up to see him pacing, “I’ve been going insane all day,” 

Your shoulders drop, you aren’t alone, “Me too,”

He runs a hand through his black hair and finally stops pacing, but doesn’t come any closer, “So, this is real?” 

“It feels pretty real,” 

“How did we never feel it?” He manages, “I’ve known you for years,” 

“We’ve never touched until today,” You tell him, and that has to be the reason, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You’ve been turning it over in your mind all night, and with the exception of bumping into him last week in the hall, it’s all been polite bows and waves. 

“How is that even possible,” He breathes, “team dinners? Holiday parties? Work?” 

“Skin to skin,” You murmur, “I think that’s what it was,” 

“I had no idea,” He swallows, gesturing in the negative space between your bodies, “I always liked you, but I thought it was just, you know, a crush,” 

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

“Well,” He backtracks, “not like that, it’s not like I’ve been holding a candle.” 

Your face stays neutral, but he grimaces at his own words. 

“I’m fucking this up,” He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I’m really nervous.” 

Your stomach warms, “Yunho, it’s okay, honestly,” 

“I just meant I’ve always liked you, I thought about asking you out when our contracts loosened up if you were still single.” He clarifies and then you watch his face blanch, “You are single, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” You nod, “we don’t have to worry about that,” 

He nods and you see him searching for the next thing to say, the right thing. 

“Your mark,” You cut in, taking a few steps further into the room, “did it change?” 

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

“Yeah,” You wonder the right way to ask him if you can see. 

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

“Like a fresh tattoo,” You take another step in. 

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” He confesses, “but I’ll take your word for it,” 

“Can I,” The words are stuck on your tongue, “maybe this is weird, but I mean, I guess we’re soulmates,” 

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

Heat twists in your gut and you wonder if he can feel that too. If he does he doesn’t say it, but you watch as he pulls the black t-shirt off over his head. 

You’ve never seen his chest. Any inch of his skin except for his neck and arms really, and you guess that was part of keeping his soulmark covered. Idols always do, even when they’re in the most inconvenient locations, there’s always makeup or flesh colored tape or editing to take care of it. The idea that someone could replicate it and try to fake a connection is far too real for someone famous. 

He drops his shirt onto the bed and pink tinges his cheeks as he gestures towards it, “Well,” 

Your mouth drops, it’s the exact same, down to the size and the placement and every little loop and you stumble forwards to get a better look, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Has yours always been red?” You reach out, your fingertips hovering just over it. 

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

“Mine’s the same,” You tell him, your eyes glued to his sternum, “just the same,” 

You know every centimeter of this tattoo. You’ve studied it a thousand times in the mirror, tracing over every curve with your eyes, trying to find the place where the cord starts and ends. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers brush gently along his mark, and you feel the ghost of the sensation against your own. 

“I can’t believe we never knew,” You murmur, sliding your finger along each rounded edge. 

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

You’re nodding and moving to tug off your sweater before you can even think it through. He starts to shake his head, to say that you don’t have to, but you’re already tossing the sweater next to his discarded shirt and tugging down the front band of your bralette so he can see the whole mark. 

His eyes flick over you fast, but with the matching mark in front of him he doesn’t focus on anything else, “It’s exactly the same,” 

“I know,” You reach for his hand, but the minute more of your skin connects with his you feel your chest throb and you drop it like it burns you. 

He winces, touching his chest again, “Is it supposed to hurt?” 

“In the beginning,” You nod, “I think?” 

“Does it always feel like that?” 

“I’m not sure,” You admit, “I was going to call my sister and ask, but it’s too early at home,” 

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

“In highschool,” You smile back, “they’ve been bonded together since they were eighteen,” 

“Older or younger?” He asks, and you realize just how little you know about each other despite how long you’ve worked alongside him. 

“Younger,” You say.  

“I have a little brother,” He replies, “but he’s still in school,” 

You nod, painfully aware that this is such a strange conversation to have with your shirts off just standing in the middle of a hotel room, but somehow it’s easier than any date you’ve ever had. 

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mark and he reaches out a hand again, “Can I?” 

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

His fingertips graze over the edge of your mark, mimicking your touch from before, sliding along the edges of the tattoo. His eyes widen and you know he’s feeling the sensation in his own mark, a mirror image of each other. 

“This doesn’t hurt,” He observes, letting his fingers linger. 

“I think we have to get used to each other,” You remember that fact from somewhere, “the link has been dormant for a long time, I think it takes a minute to get used to having it,” 

“Makes sense,” He murmurs, his eyes still squarely on your mark, “I’ll be honest though, I still really want to touch you,” 

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

His fingers fall away and he nods, “Don’t you?” 

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

He swallows tightly and takes the smallest step forwards, before offering out his hand, palm up and waiting for you.

Your eyes flick from his face down to his outstretched hand, and you reach for him slowly. You let your fingertips skate over the skin of his palm, down each digit, ghost the pads of your fingertips together. It’s warm, sharp and dizzying even just to brush against each other. 

You wonder what more will feel like. 

“Can I try something?” He murmurs, his voice nearly a whisper even though you’re all alone. 

You nod. 

He wets his lips unconsciously and moves a little closer, your bodies now only inches apart. Anxiety, anticipation, thrill, it all runs through your gut like a whirling wind and you shiver at the torrent of his emotions, a grin breaking out over your face. 

His smile mirrors yours, “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute,” 

“You can feel that?” 

“Yeah,” He breathes, grin widening, “this is crazy,” 

You laugh, a little nervous, a little elated, and he finally reaches out his hands. 

He takes a steadying breath, and then his fingertips brush along your jaw. 

You suck in a sharp gasp at the sensation, electric and hot, the feeling rocketing through your entire body. You tilt your face up to his as he continues his gentle touches, your eyes watching him as he studies you. His plush lips are parted, brown eyes wide with awe as he grows a little bolder to brush over your cheeks, down your throat, and back up to your jawline. 

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

You nod into his touch and he starts to lift off but you reach for him, “Don’t stop,” 

Your hands land safely on his hips, still covered by his sweatpants and you watch him swallow again at the sudden contact, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Warmth fills the bond, no doubt the first threads of his arousal, and you wonder if he can feel your own. If he can sense how much he’s affecting you with just his fingertips on your face. 

His hands settle back on your skin, this time smoothing across you with his palms, one hand cupping your cheek and the other sliding over your shoulder and down your bare back. 

You can barely breathe, the room so silent and around you, like the only thing in the universe that exists is the two of you orbiting each other, standing at the precipice of something so catastrophic and wonderful. 

Your hands adjust, resting on his taut abdomen as you move a little closer together, and his eyes flutter shut as he breathes through the sensation of your hands on him properly for the first time. 

“You’re so warm,” You murmur, your hands softly tracing his abdominal muscles, instinct guiding you to touch more of him, seek out every inch of him as you unconsciously make a map of his body in your mind. 

He hums pleasantly, eyes reopening, “So are you,” 

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

Yunho wets his lips softly with his tongue, and a nervous thrill passes through your belly. His eyes flick over you, the pad of his thumb sweeping a line over your lips. You suppress a needy sound, still trying to keep your head amidst the thrumming emotions and steady thumps of your heart. 

He doesn’t stop, just stroking your skin slowly, fingers on your back pressing just a little as he sighs. 

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

“N-no,” Your body is all but pressed flush against him now, and you have to lean your face up even more just to see him as he stands tall over you. 

“I…” He starts to say something but lets the words die off, like he’s thinking something through, but then he sighs, “forget it,” 

His lips are on yours. 

Yunho lifts you, wrapping his arms around your back and tugging you up into his embrace. You gasp against his mouth, finding his shoulders to hold onto as one of his arms bands around your lower back. 

The kiss is shattering, the world tilting once again, a new frequency humming between your two bodies. It’s hot, your skin buzzing from the contact, but the way you move together is fluid and easy. Your legs part naturally, settling around his hips and his free hand finds your plush thigh as he tugs you into place, slotting your bodies together like they were always meant to be. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your lips when he draws in a quick breath, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. His nose nuzzles against yours, and his lips part at the same moment yours do, tongues meeting in the space between your mouths to flick against each other. 

“Don’t,” You push closer to him, fingers knotting into the back of his hair as you kiss him back. 

He hums, the hand on your thigh sliding up to cup your ass and you shiver as his wide hand stretches across your backside, squeezing your pillowy flesh. 

A tiny whimper does leave you then, liquid heat spreading through your body, the combined sensation of both your arousals giving you a headrush. 

“So beautiful,” He sighs between kisses, “you’re so beautiful,” 

“Yunho,” Your voice is thready, his name a stretched out sound. 

He holds you close, nearly stumbling as he moves. You blink your eyes open just as he spins you both, pushing you up against the hotel wall and pinning you in place with the weight of his body.  You should slow things down, but nothing in your life has ever felt this good and you find yourself diving back to meet his kiss again. 

 His arm slides out from behind your back as he pushes closer, your body fully supported by the flat of the wall behind you and his hips under yours and one hand firmly anchored on your ass. With his arm free he cups your cheek, a pleased sound on his lips as he dips you back into the wall and deepens the kiss. 

Heat blooms through you, your kisses getting needier, artless and desperate just to get a little closer together. The kind of kissing that sounds as messy as it is, tiny pants and moans muffled between you, skin on skin, tongue on tongue. 

“God,” He shudders, his lips breaking away, but his eyes only flick over you for a second before he dives back in. This time his lips travel, hot kisses across your jaw and back to the hollow of your ear, down your throat as he holds you a little higher on the wall for the right access. 

You grip his shoulders with one hand and lock your fingers in his mess of black hair with the other, your head falling back against the wall. He pants against your throat, a soft groan as he kisses, and your stomach tightens pleasantly. 

“Y-Yunho,” You gasp, arousal rolling through you, and unconsciously you rock your hips, desperately seeking some kind of friction. 

He hums low in his throat, kissing back up your neck fast to get to your lips again and his hand slides off your cheek as he crowds you tighter, bracing himself against the wall above your head. His abdomen presses against your core, and even through layers of fabric you feel his heat. Hungrily, you roll your hips again and catch a little pressure, moaning in earnest against his mouth. 

Yunho makes a tight sound and then he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he takes in slow breaths, his body all but trembling with need as he holds you. 

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

You can’t find words, not yet, but you nod against him. 

“You deserve better,” He says, “dates, presents,” 

You laugh softly, your hand in his hair softening from a grip to a gentle hold, carding through the long locks at the base of his neck, “I don’t need all that,”  

He smiles wide, brushing off your words, “Still,” He sighs, still recovering from the heated make out, “I think I have more self control than fulfilling our bond by fucking you into the wall,” 

Reality bleeds back in at that. Soulmarks were just that, indicator marks. A way to find your person amidst a sea of thousands, if not millions. All the shared sensation and emotion a precursor to something more permanent and binding, something only sealed together by sex. 

You lift your head up, and he leans back to mirror you. 

“I lost my head there,” You admit, warm blush in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,” 

He smiles, and you take in his expression. His hair is a mess, mussed and disheveled and his face is pink from his nose down to the dark, well-kissed curve of his lips. His bare chest is flushed bright pink and his eyes are bright and warm. You fight the urge to kiss him again. 

“Me either,” He shakes his head, “it’s incredible,” 

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

He makes a soft sound to agree and then starts to push back from the wall gingerly, letting you slowly unwrap your legs from his waist and ease down to the floor. 

He lets you go when you’re steady on your feet and clears his throat, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants and running a hand through his tangled locks. He’s hard, that much is obvious from the distinct outline of his cock through the gray fabric, but you do your best to look away and not think about how thick and heavy it looked just from kissing you. 

“Jesus,” He adjusts his sweats again, “sorry,” 

“It’s fine,” You cup your own cheeks with cool fingers, “I promise you’re not the only one,” 

His eyes hold yours for a lengthy beat and then he swallows, taking a wide step back and nodding, “Right,” he shakes his head, “we’re supposed to be slowing down.” 

“Slow,” You lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to steady your thumping heart. 

“I’m going over here,” He grins and walks to the far wall by the door to the bathroom, leaning back and crossing his own arms, “we really should talk,” 

A pulse of anxiety flickers through you, and you realize just how quickly you went from his hotel room door to nearly falling into bed. He’s handsome, a kind man, your once upon a time crush, and certainly fated to be a good match for you, but that doesn’t mean you should throw out good sense and rush things. No matter how much your impulses were screaming at you to do just that.

You try to ignore the fact that there’s a bed between you, and you nod, “You’re right,” you finally say, “we barely know each other,” 

Yunho’s smile fades just a bit, “I wouldn’t say that,” 

“We’re coworkers,” The words tumble out, “I know what we’re both feeling, but,” 

His brow furrows as he thinks through your words and he shakes his head, “y/n,” he cuts you off, “do you believe in soulmates?” 

“Yes, of course,” Even if you hadn’t before, the way you’re feeling now would be enough to dispel any skeptic. 

He takes in a quick breath, the sound sharp as he draws it through his teeth and he cocks his head slightly to the side, “You’re scared,” he massages the top of his sternum with his fingers, and you recognize your own chest is tight with anxiety, “I can feel it, talk to me.” 

The instant vulnerability of the bond is startling, and you can feel your own expression crumble. It’s suddenly a bit like being an ant caught under a magnifying glass, too much sharp attention all at once and you swallow tightly, eyes flicking away from his tender gaze. 

“y/n,” He murmurs, “I’m not pushing for more, not tonight,” 

“Yeah,” Your voice is soft, too quiet for your own liking. Something about the way he sees you so clearly and so quickly makes you feel exposed, nervous and strangely childlike. 

“Hey,” He breaks through your little thought spiral, “look at me,”

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

“I’m just happy I found you,” He tells you, and you feel the truth of it in your gut, “we can figure everything else out together, and at our own pace, okay?” 

Relief spreads through you, the knot in your chest loosening, “Promise?” 

“Promise,” He nods, raising one hand with his pinky extended, “I just want us to try,” 

You nod, extending your own pinky to seal it, “Me too.” 

He smiles at that, “Barely know each other,” he scolds softly, “I’m offended.” 

“Oh yeah?” Tension bleeds out of your shoulders. 

“Mhm,” His expression is full of cheek, “I’m the one with a crush, remember? I notice things,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly and your arms relax from their tight position crossed over your chest, “What things?” 

“Let’s see,” He starts, and for a brief moment you think maybe he’s bluffing, but the moment he starts you melt and he holds your gaze as he warmly recites all the little things he’s noticed about you over the years. 

“You only wear silver jewelry,” he notes first, nodding towards you. 

Your tight hands uncurl. 

“You have a ridiculous sweet tooth,” The more he talks the more he relaxes against the far wall, “and you start getting flushed after the second shot of soju, you really are a lightweight,” 

“You always pick a Big Bang song for karaoke, and you’re late to work every Monday,” He laughs a little at that and keeps going, “you don’t wear a lot of color but when you do it’s red. We’re both from Gwangju but you moved to Seoul when you were five,” 

Your heart starts to beat a little faster, warmth filling you again and you don’t know if it’s your affection or his anymore, but it hardly matters. 

“Um,” He takes a deep breath and glances away for a moment and then catches more threads from his memory, “you’re a Sagittarius, you’re a runner, and the last book I saw you reading was Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. I bought it, but I haven’t had a chance to read it just yet,” 

“Yunho,” You find yourself smiling, a hand over your surprised lips. 

“I’m just saying,” He shrugs a little, “we aren’t strangers. I know this is scary and fast and going to change the rest of our lives,” 

Elation, pure joy, spills over unfettered from his side of your new emotional tether. 

“But I like you,” He confesses, “I have for a while, and this,” he brushes his fingers along his soulmark, “just changes the timeline.” 

He’s yours. 

You push off the wall, crossing the room and all but leap back into his embrace, your arms looping around his shoulders again as you push up on tiptoe to kiss his lips. 

“This is real,” You murmur. 

“Yes,” He cups your cheeks, nodding as he pecks your lips again. 

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

“Oh, this is crazy,” You laugh, forehead against his again. 

“We’ll go slow,” He assures you again, “we’ll figure it out together,” 

“Together,” You nod. 

He dips low once more, this kiss more tender, and he separates you both before things can heat up again. “Hmm,” He glances across the bed and makes a small face at the time displayed on the digital clock, “did you eat?” 

“I tried to,” You confess, “I was nervous,” 

“You need to eat,” He snaps up his black shirt from the bed and slips it back on, and your chest warms. It’s strangely domestic, strangely commonplace like you’ve been in this position a thousand times before. 

Yunho adjusts his shirt and then kisses your hair as he passes by you, padding over to the hotel microwave and searching through the assorted snacks and instant meals, “It’s too late for room service,” 

“I’m okay,” You pull your own sweater back on and sit on the edge of his bed. 

“y/n,” He glances back, a softly scolding tone. 

“Really, you need to sleep,” You offer. 

He dismisses that thought, “But I’m hungry, eat with me?” 

You concede, and while he starts whipping up two servings of ramen, you wonder if this is what he’s going to be like. It makes sense, he’s always been a caretaking kind of person, but having it so tenderly directed at you feels right. 

“When we get home,” He says as he pours in the spice packets, “I’ll take you somewhere nice,” 

“This is nice,” You smile. 

“y/n,” He sets the ramen on a side table and sits next to you, “this is cup noodle from a hotel microwave,”

“The company is nice,” You take the ramen happily though, and tuck into the warm meal.

“It is,”

“Mm, you know,” You slurp back some noodles and softly clear your throat, “you weren’t the only one with a crush,” 

He freezes, letting his noodles drop back into his cup, “What?” 

“I’ve always liked you,” Your own confession feels easier after his, “I put it aside since we work together, but I guess, I mean, what I’m trying to say is that we both felt it before the mark, you’re not alone in that.” 

 “I had no idea,” 

“I’m very professional,” You tease him lightly. 

He nudges you and tucks back into his noodles, “How long?” 

“Hmm,” You get more comfortable, crossing your legs and scooting back a little onto the mattress, “I thought you were cute when we first met,” 

“God,” He groans, “we were such kids,” 

You nod, swallowing another bite, “Mhm, you had that blonde hair,” 

He laughs. 

“I remember thinking, ‘that one’s trouble’,” You confess. 

“Me?” His eyebrows perk up, “I’m perfectly nice,” 

“Trouble as in you’re my type,” You roll your eyes, “but I don’t think the crush properly came until later. You’ve always made me laugh, and when I realized how I was feeling I just did my best to keep some distance,” 

He nods, face getting a little serious, “I know what you mean,” 

That knowledge leaves you both a little quiet. The late hour, the adrenaline come down, all of it barrels into you at the same moment as the next anxious thought. How in the world were you both going to navigate this with a contract as tight as theirs and the public eye always watching? 

“Yunho,” You murmur, the last of your noodles left to go cold as you sit with that thought, “Are we going to be able to figure this out?” 

“Figure what out?” He looks genuinely confused by your question, “Us?” 

“You’re an idol,” You nod towards him, “I’m staff,” 

He rests a hand on your knee, “We’ll be fine,” 

“Aren’t your contracts,” You trail off, letting him fill in the blanks. 

“They’re strict, yes,” He nods, “year seven,” 

Dating, romance, even the perception of it was more than discouraged by companies in this industry, their artists contractually obligated to be single and available and dedicated only to their fans. Five years would have been the industry standard to prevent any idol from being caught out with a partner, let alone a potential soulmarked one, but seven is excessive. 

You blanch, “That’s almost two years away,” 

“We will find a way,” He says, “we’re not the first people in the industry this has happened to,” 

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

He falls short, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but it’s bound to have happened.” 

“And then ruined their careers,” You groan, flopping back flat on the mattress and covering your face with a hand, “which is why we’ve never heard of them,” 

Yunho laughs, earnestly laughs, and takes the half empty ramen cup out of your hand to discard, “Maybe, but for now, let’s just stay positive. Get to know eachother better,” 

You nod. 

“Nothing can change the fact that we found each other,” He points out, dropping down onto his side on the bed next to you, “and I’m okay with that.” 

“So we just lie to everyone?” You chew at the inside of your lip, staring up at the white ceiling. 

“Hey,” Yunho’s fingers tuck under your chin and draw your eyes to him, “I know you’re anxious,” 

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

“I know,” He repeats, “I am too, but we don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re both tired and it’s been an emotional day,” 

“Okay,” You nod, “okay, yes, you’re right,” 

His thumb strokes over your cheek again, and you watch him exhale and sink further into your touch, “Will you stay tonight?” 

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

“Just to sleep,” He assures you, “I just… I don’t want to be without you yet,” 

“I need to get back before Iseul wakes up if we do that,” You note with a grimace. 

“What time?” He glances back to the clock. 

“Seven,” You say, “her alarm is set for seven-thirty,” 

“We can do that,” He grabs his phone off the side table and sets an alarm, “we’ll get up,” 

The pull between your bodies is so strong you’re fairly sure you would have stayed no matter the consequences, but you nod, “Then I’ll stay,” 

He grins and pushes himself off the bed, “I’ve got clothes, if you want to get comfortable,” 

“Sure,” you sit up and wait for him to find things in his still packed suitcase. 

“Um,” He pulls a pair of black sweatpants from the bag, “these should work, and if you get cold,” 

You smile as he grabs a gray hoodie and comes back to you. 

As you start to pull off your sweater again, he turns around and leaves his back to you, “Sorry,” 

“Thanks,” You chuckle, making short work of changing. You’re swimming in his clothes, but his sweatshirt smells like him and you just want to bury your face into it, “you can turn around now,” 

His shoulders relax as he turns back, and you watch his lips part as he takes you in. 

“What?” 

“You look cute,” He clears his throat, shrugging off his reaction. 

You smile and ease back onto the bed, “Oh, I get it,” you laugh, “is your guy brain on fire because I’m wearing your clothes? Is this some kind of… you won the competition, ownership thing?” 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, kneeling on the bed to shuffle closer, “No competition when you’re literally fated for me,” 

“Right,” You let the word drag out on your tongue to tease him. 

“But I like taking care of you already, and now you’re warm and comfortable,” He collapses next to you onto the mattress with a sigh, “and I know I don’t own you, but you are mine, just like I’m yours now. I won’t apologize for liking you in my clothes or in my bed, for liking when you look like my girlfriend,” 

Warmth blooms in your cheeks and you duck your face into the sheets. 

“Now come get under the covers,” He maneuvers the duvet, “it’s late, you were dead on your feet today,” 

His voice is so warm and familiar, and you slide into the covers beside him. 

In bed you keep a little distance, and despite the number of times both of you say that you should go to sleep, your conversation is almost impossible to stop. Yunho holds your hand in the middle space of the mattress between your bodies, and in the dim lighting of the hotel room you whisper thought after thought back and forth. A million things coming to mind you need to tell each other so suddenly now that you’ve found each other. 

As you talk his fingers travel, restlessly stroking your skin, up and down your arm and tapping out patterns. When his palm slides back and forth over the sharp lines of the tattoos on your upper arm, and you feel the question slipping out of your lips and revealing more about yourself than you intended before you can catch it. 

“Your parents,” You blurt out, “will they be happy?” He’s spoken about them so much over the past hour that you can’t help but ask him that question point blank. 

“So happy,” He responds with ease, a laugh on his lips, “they always worried me being an idol meant I’d never be able to find the one and settle down, they’re going to love this story,” 

You smile at the easy way he calls you ‘the one’, but the question you really asked still remains unanswered and you exhale softly, “But,” you manage, “will they be happy with me?” 

Yunho stills, reaching across the bed to hook his finger under your chin and draw your eyes up to his again, “Very happy,” he says, “just like I am.” 

Your muscles relax, his words a soothing balm, and you adjust your position on the pillow beneath you, “Just checking,” 

“Mhm,” He studies your face, “jagi, why wouldn’t they be happy with you?” 

The endearment slips off his lips with ease, and a burst of warmth spreads through you. You’ve never needed pet names and softness like this from a partner, but from him it makes your heart quicken. 

The momentary elation fades though, and his question comes back into your mind. You take a deep breath, you owe it to him to tell him now, “My family won’t be happy,” 

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

“It’s me,” You shake your head, “my parents have difficult ideals, and I’ve never pleased them. It wouldn’t matter who you were, they… they’ll find a way to not be happy for me.”

His eyes soften, and his thumb strokes along your jaw, “I’m sorry,” 

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

You shake your head, “No, they don’t really believe in soulmarks,” 

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

“Unless,” You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “the match is ‘fortuitous’,” 

“For status?” He surmises. 

“Status, money,” You shrug, “connection. But I think I could marry the next president and they’d still find a way to be disappointed in me,” 

His jaw flexes tense for just a moment, before his expression smooths over again. 

“Anyway,” You clear the bad thoughts away as quickly as they came, “my sister and I never went along like they wanted, like my cousins and the rest of my family, so we are the great disappointments. It’s not… it’s fine, but, I guess you should know before we, you know,” 

He smiles, a bit of amusement in his expression that you can’t place, “Did you think having bad parents would scare me off?” 

“It could,” 

“No,” He slides a hand under your side and tugs you across the mattress to press a fast kiss to your lips, “it never could.” 

“But I’m,” You start, all the reasons why a partner might care ringing in your ears. 

“Beautiful?” He cuts you off, “Just my type? If it’s anything else I don’t want to hear you say it,” 

Your stomach flip flops hard and you push lightly against his chest to get him to stop. 

“The thing is,” He brushes your hair back from your cheek, “my parents are soulmates. I grew up in a house full of a lot of love, even when they were being strict and scolding us.” 

Your smile at his warm expression. 

“So I know they’ll love you,” He explains, “they know what this feels like, what it means. I have plenty of family for us both,” 

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

“Your sister, though,” He grounds you out of the bad thoughts without even thinking, “you two are close?” 

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

“You two would get along great, my sister and her wife both, actually,” 

Yunho nods, listening attentively, “Do they have kids?” 

“Not yet,” You groan, “but I’m dying to be an auntie,” 

His thumb drags a comforting line across your cheekbone, his expression warm and affectionate, “Cute,” 

You sink into the pillows, a yawn creeping up to your lips, “She’s going to lose her mind when I call her,”  

“Yeah?” 

“Mm,” You huff a laugh, “she thought that when I started working here I should have found an inconspicuous way to bump into all of you to test possible bonds. She’s going to be riding the ‘I told you so’ train.” 

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

“Very,” You sigh, unconsciously cuddling into his warmth. 

“Has it been a while since you’ve seen her?” He asks softly, adjusting his arms around you so that you’re cradled against his chest with the pillows at your back. 

“Mhm,” You yawn again, the warmth of his body settling the last of the adrenaline inside you, “a while,” 

“Let’s find a day off after the tour,” He tucks the duvet around you. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

“Yunho,” You yawn again, dipping your forehead into his chest, “God, I’m so tired again,” 

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

You hum softly, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt just to feel a little skin, “I like that,” you murmur, “I like you,” 

“I like you too,” He chuckles, “now go to sleep,” 

A piece of you wants to protest, wants more time cocooned in this day with him, but something about his body feels so right. After a week of sleeping poorly, your body tight and anxious and heart fluttering for no reason at all, when he touches you, your mind goes blissfully blank. 

Your muscles relax, your breath dropping low and soft in your chest. 

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

You’re supposed to wake up to an alarm. Early enough that you could slip back into your hotel room and your own bed to yawn and stretch next to Iseul and make her believe you were there the whole night. That’s what was supposed to happen. 

Instead, you wake to the heavy sound of a hotel door and Seonghwa’s voice, Yunho jolting awake beside you. 

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa says for what sounds like the third time to your fuzzy sleep-addled brain, “oh my god?” 

“Hyung,” Yunho pushes himself up, his arms unwinding from around you, “hey, don’t freak out,” 

“Don’t freak out,” Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide, “are you fucking kidding me? Hongjoong is going to kill you,”

“You don’t understand,” Sleep is still heavy on him and he shakes his head to try to pull himself away. 

“I understand plenty,” Seonghwa counters, “how long have you been lying to us?” 

His reaction surprises you, and you ease yourself up to sit next to Yunho. You’re not sure what to say or not say, you don’t know what they’ve discussed in the past when it comes to dating and relationships, but by  Seonghwa’s outburst you can guess it’s honesty at a minimum. 

Yunho’s face falls, “No, it’s not that,” 

“I can tell you what it looks like,” Seonghwa lowers his voice to what amounts to a stage whisper. 

“Hyung,” Yunho rubs his eyes, running a hand through his mop of black hair. 

“It looks like you’ve been sneaking around,” He continues, “how long have you two been fucking?” 

“Hey,” Yunho’s voice sharpens, and his hand crosses your body to anchor on your opposite thigh. 

Seonghwa’s eyes track it and he shakes his head, “This is so stupid,” he steps back in surprise, “you’re both being so, incredibly stupid.” 

Yunho gives you a squeeze and opens his mouth to reply but Seonghwa keeps going. 

“Naive is what it is,” 

Irritation bubbles in your gut and you can’t stop yourself, “Seonghwa, will you shut up for one second?” 

He stops in his tracks, mouth falling open, “What?” 

“Can you please,” You hold his gaze, “please, just listen to Yunho for a minute before you jump to conclusions.” 

He shifts, taking a step back and crossing his arms, and then he looks to Yunho. 

Yunho finds your eyes quickly, silently asking, and you give him a nod. 

“Okay,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair again, “I’ll just say it.” 

Seonghwa waits, his expression completely neutral except for the irritated corner of his lips.

“y/n is my soulmate,” Yunho squeezes your thigh again and you slip your hand into his to twine your fingers together, “we didn’t know, but now we do.” 

Seonghwa’s brows go high, shock filling his features. 

“We’re not hiding,” You add, “we just… it’s just,” 

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

“Soundcheck yesterday,” Yunho says, “we haven’t known long enough to lie, hyung.” 

“You’re sure?” He looks between you both, and you know what he’s thinking. How could it be possible to know each other for years and not know. 

“We’re sure,” You answer confidently, calmly, “I swear,” 

“It’s real,” Yunho’s thumb strokes across knuckles, “it’s very real.” 

Seonghwa swallows, taking in the news and sinks back against the hotel dresser, “Well, fuck,” 

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

“You were off timing yesterday,” Seonghwa points out, “and distracted,” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Yunho grimaces. 

“No, but,” He shrugs, “I know you and you’re never off time.” 

“It wasn’t easy to focus on the show yesterday,” Yunho admits. 

“I’m sorry,” You nudge him with your shoulder, knowing a huge portion of that must have been the panic flooding his side of the link. 

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for,”

When you look back up, Seonghwa is smiling and he sighs, “Oh, you’ve both got it bad.” 

“Obviously,” You hide your face in your sweatshirt sleeve. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Seonghwa asks, “Because you can’t act like this around anyone else,” 

Your mouth feels dry. 

“We don’t know,” Yunho answers, “we have to figure that out, for now I think we just try to keep things normal.” 

Seonghwa nods and then leans forward, “Listen, I know you’re not asking for my advice,” 

You both wait. 

“But you're my brother,” Seonghwa says unequivocally, “so I’m going to give you some anyway.” 

Yunho nods. 

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Seonghwa points out, “and I’m sure it will be hard to act like acquaintances in front of everyone, but you have to do it, at least until you make a plan.” 

“Yeah,” Yunho’s cheeks are a little pink and he squeezes your hand. 

“No one fires the idol for things like this,” He reminds you both, “so for her sake, put it away for today.” 

“He’s right,” You nod, “today we go back to coworkers,” 

Yunho draws your clasped hands up and kisses your fingers, “Okay,” 

“You’re lucky I offered to check on you,” Seonghwa sighs heavily, “if any of the managers came in,” 

“Check on me?” Yunho perks up at that, “Hwa, why,” 

Things come into focus for you at that moment, how bright the hotel room is with sunlight, how well rested you really feel. You twist in the bed and look at the digital clock, “Oh no,” 

“You were late,” Seonghwa explains, “we figured you overslept, I offered to use the spare key to get you up.” 

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

“Iseul is going to fucking kill me,” You roll out of bed, your hands breaking apart as you scramble for you phone, “what the hell am I going to tell her?” 

Your phone reads nine-thirty. In thirty minutes you’re supposed to be packed into a van and on the way to the venue and when you look at the collection of notifications your stomach churns. 

Three calls from Iseul, and a lengthy string of text messages. 

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

I’m getting worried. I haven’t heard anything - You haven’t even read these? 

You better not be dead in a ditch, I’ll kill you myself. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your hands are trembling as you tap out the fastest reply - Alive, be right there.

Yunho’s a whirlwind behind you, stripping out of his sleep clothes and yanking on whatever outfit is at the top of his suitcase, “It’s fine, it’s going to be fine,” 

“Sure,” You search the floor for your jeans and dart into the bathroom, “my best friend is going to murder me though,” 

You change at lightning speed, swapping his sweats for your jeans and then tying up your hair into a messy bun before pushing back out into the main room. 

“Everyone’s downstairs,” Seonghwa offers, “you shouldn’t run into anyone on the way back to your room.” 

“Good, okay, good,” Your heart is pounding, “where’s my room key?” 

“Here,” Yunho darts forwards and finds the little envelope, passing it to you, “take a breath,” 

“I have to go,” You manage, “I have to think of something,” 

“Don’t kiss and tell,” Seonghwa offers and he’s being funny but it’s vaguely helpful. 

“Wait,” Yunho grabs your hand and tugs you back, snapping your phone out of your hand. 

“Yunho, I don’t,” You start to say but he waves you off. 

He types fast, adding himself as a contact in Kakao Talk, “My number,” he explains. 

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

You take the phone back and tuck it into your pocket, “I’ll message you later,” 

“Good,” He dips forwards and presses one warm, tender kiss to your lips, “now get out of here,” 

You kiss him back, just once and fast, a little shred of self indulgence before you have to act like he’s just another guy, and then you’re darting out of the room, shouting back a thank you at Seonghwa as you go. 

You navigate the halls fast, and opt to take the stairs to get down one floor faster and more inconspicuously. You take a deep breath when you get to your hotel door, and then you dive. 

“So you are alive,” Iseul’s waiting, just like you thought she might be. She’s sitting on your still made bed, her phone in her hands and a tense expression on her face, “I was just about to tell the managers you were missing,” 

“I’m so sorry, seriously, I didn’t mean to worry you,” You take a few steps into the room. 

Her eyes flick over you, and you realize at the moment her eyes widen that you’re still wearing Yunho’s hoodie, your sweater still discarded on his bedroom floor. 

“You hooked up with someone?” Her voice spikes, “Are you kidding me?” 

Thankfully the hoodie is plain, just a heather gray with no identifying attributes that scream his name, but you’re still swimming in it and it’s clear you’re rumpled from bed. 

“Listen,” You hold up your hands, “I didn’t mean to not text you, I just fell asleep,” 

“With some guy?” She stands. 

“Yes,” You settle on some version of the truth. 

“Who?” She flounders, “We’re supposed to text each other,” 

And you always did, when either one of you went home with someone there was always a little preemptive safety report. A name, an address, a shared location, something so that you weren’t completely alone in the world with a strange guy. 

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

She studies you, and it’s like she’s looking through you. 

“Oh my god,” Her eyes widen, “we know him.” 

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

“It’s not a big deal,” You skirt around her words. 

“The only reason you wouldn’t text me is if you were with someone we both know,” She narrows her eyes, “so give it up.” 

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

“Iseul,” You sigh, avoiding her gaze, “I just woke up in a panic, and I have like fifteen minutes to get showered, can you give me the third degree later?” 

“I’m not letting this go,” 

“Yeah,” You pull off Yunho’s sweatshirt and head to the bathroom, “I know, but we have work.” 

“Work with a coworker you slept with,” She stands in the doorway while you start the shower, and you realize her tone isn’t so much as angry anymore but probing. 

“I didn’t sleep with him,” You groan, “well, I guess I did, but we didn’t have sex, okay?” 

“That’s awfully cozy for a one night stand,” She crosses her arms, “unless you’re seeing someone? Are you seeing someone?” 

“No,” You test the water heat and unbutton your jeans, “I swear I’ll explain another time, but can you just drop it for today? Or do you want to stand here and watch me shower?” 

“Fine,” She concedes, “you will tell me?” 

“I swear,” You nod, “I want to tell you, but I’m not ready yet, okay?” 

Her eyes soften up at that, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You nod, “but I’m having big feelings about it and I need to work it out,”

“Oh,” In all the years you’ve known her, she’s never seen you in love or even close, and she just blinks, “got it,” 

“Can I shower now?” You gesture towards the running water. 

“Yeah,” She steps back, “yeah, but I’m still mad you didn’t text me.” 

“Okay,” 

“And I’m still going to guess who it is,” She smirks. 

“Fine,” 

Her smile widens and she rolls her eyes, “I bet it’s one of the BB guys, isn’t it? You always like a dancer,” 

She turns the corner before she can watch you blushing harder, so nearly on the money with her guess, but you put it all out of your mind for now and focus on your day. You’re late, and it’s about to be another long one. You’ll have time for everything else later, if you can just keep your cool. 

Work is bizarre to say the least. You and Yunho both do an excellent job of not looking at each other except for when he’s in your makeup chair, and you’re getting better and better at ignoring both San’s and Seonghwa’s nervous glances. 

This time you start the makeup early, less time pressure with the schedule adjustments, and the night goes off without a hitch. Soundcheck to stage to VIP benefits, it’s a whirlwind and you’re grateful for the distractions everywhere you look. 

You can still feel him, emotions from his side of the link ebbing and flowing throughout the day, but the sharp intensity of yesterday has dulled a bit after your night together. In quiet moments you find yourself thinking about his lips, or the way his hands held you as you tumbled into sleep, but you push it down and stay professional. 

As the show ends, Iseul ropes you into team dinner, desperate to observe who you interact with and how, still on her quest to find your mystery bed partner, but the boys aren’t there and so there’s nothing for her to really see. 

Later, with Iseul passed out from one too many shots of soju, you slip back into Yunho’s hoodie and cuddle into the warmth of your own bed. You need more sleep, you know that, but your brain isn’t cooperating. You toss and turn in the sheets, body feeling like a taut cord, and all you can think of is him. 

You miss him. 

It’s not even two days of having him in your life like this and you feel nervous and achy without him. There’s no way you’ll survive two years of this. 

Over an hour passes as you sigh, changing positions again and again, and then your phone finally buzzes. You scramble to see if it’s a message from him, nearly dropping your phone in the process. 

Can’t sleep? - He must be feeling your restlessness. 

Not at all - You reply, chest feeling warm at the contact. 

Little bubbles pop up immediately to indicate he’s typing and then another message pops on your screen - You’d think after last night we’d both be exhausted.

So you’re as awake as I am? 

Just can’t relax. I liked having you here last night. - He confesses. 

You roll over in the bedding onto your front and push the pillow under your chest before you keep texting - I liked it too. I’d come up except Iseul wouldn’t lay off guessing who I was with this morning. 

Oh? Did she guess correctly? - You can practically see the smirk on his face. 

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

At first, but I told her I would tell her soon I just needed some time - You reply. 

That’s good, honest. - His message makes you smile. 

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

Fine…. stressing and acting like a hyung, you know - He says. 

You smile and type out another message - Is he keeping this to himself for now?

Yes - Yunho’s message comes in, and then another - For now, he knows we need to decide things first. 

That’s good - You send back. 

Things lull for a moment, and you try to think of something more to say, but Yunho swoops in with a question that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing - Who did Iseul guess you were with? Was I even on the list?

I thought you’d be happy she didn’t guess - You reply. 

Bubbles appear immediately, then another message - I’m a little offended, I’m the obvious choice.

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

You feel something warm in your chest, and his next message flies back - I thought I was your type? 

You stifle another laugh - You are, she’s not very observant.

So who did she guess? 

Your belly flip flops and you hide your face in the pillow for a moment. His obvious jealousy, even just to tease you, is making your heart quicken and you can’t stop yourself from making it harder on him. 

You take a breath and reply - About half the BB crew and a few of your managers.

The replies don’t come for a moment, and you nervously refresh the chat. 

Finally a message comes in - I’m trying to think of something funny to say, but I’m actually just irrationally jealous. 

She was just teasing, no need to be jealous - You smile into your hand. 

Doesn’t matter - He says - Now I’m just here alone wondering which of our coworkers Iseul thinks you have chemistry with

He is jealous. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in your belly and press your legs a little tighter together. If you close your eyes you can feel the echo of his hands on you from last night, and all you want in the world is for him to come down here and kiss you hard like that again. 

With a slow exhale you return to your phone - Don’t be jealous, Yunho. We both know I’m yours.

Yeah? - His reply comes after a beat - No need to be jealous then.

Exactly - You reply. 

I bet you like it a little though - His message flies in as yours sends.

You feel warm all over and you run a nervous hand through your hair before replying - No, I don’t. 

Jagi, you forget I can feel how worked up you’re getting. 

Your stomach clenches, drops and twists. He’s going to be the death of you and you’re still just flirting.  

You work up the courage and finally send your reply - You’re the one that pinned me to the wall last night. 

I’ve been thinking about that all day - The message reply is fast. 

You smile and bite your lip, snuggling further into the mattress and trying to ignore the growing pulse between your thighs - You did seem distracted during rehearsals.

You feel warmth in your chest, and you know exactly how much your flirting is affecting him. Another text pings through and you shiver when you read it - How could I not be distracted with you there? All I could think about was the way you said my name last night. 

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

Or more whiny, was it? Yunho-ya? - You type it out fully, emphasizing the extended sound, knowing exactly what he wants to hear from the way he gripped you last night. 

The room is suddenly hot, and your heart beats faster to sync with his. 

It takes a moment for him to respond, bubbles popping up and then receding again and you wonder how he’s lying in bed. If he’s hard already, if he’s palming himself? You wonder if he sleeps naked when he’s alone and youre core clenches, arousal pooling in your gut and you know he can feel the threads of it. When he finally presses send on his message you have to cover your mouth to keep quiet. 

Feeling needy? Are you squirming around in that hotel bed wishing for me, sweetheart?

You feel that message from your top to your toes and you steal a fast glance at the bed next to you. Iseul is sound asleep, turned away from you and snoring softly, and you let out a relieved, shuddering breath. 

You could pump the brakes here, tease him and find a way to say goodnight, but you simply can’t. Need and arousal overwhelms you and you tap back your reply fast - I’ve been aching all day.

Do you have headphones? 

The question catches you off guard, but you write back - Yes, airpods.

Put them in - He says, and you swallow tightly, reaching for the little headphone case on your bedside table. 

Your fingers are shaking as you take them out of the case and put them in, making sure they’re connected before you reply - Done. 

His call lights up your phone, ringing in your headphones and you swipe to answer with a panicked glance at the bed next to you, but Iseul sleeps on, none the wiser. 

“y/n?” His voice is so rich and quiet, a little raspy edge after singing all night and you nearly moan. 

“Hi,” You whisper as soft as you can, “I can’t,” 

“Don’t talk,” He soothes you, “don’t wake Iseul up, I’ll talk to you and you can text me back, okay?” 

You minimize the call and open your chat back up, sending him a quick emoji to acknowledge his words. 

“Perfect,” He laughs softly, “this is way easier than texting. Listen, I know we said slow, but I’d love to help you relax if you want that. If not, I can just say goodnight, it’s up to you.” 

You exhale softly, a needy thrill in your gut - Let’s relax together. 

“Oh,” He sighs pleasantly, “yes, I’d love that.” 

You want me? - You ask. 

“You can feel how much I do,” He responds, “I’m sitting here convincing myself not to come downstairs and get my hands on you.” 

You hum softly, shifting in the sheets and relaxing deeper into the pillows. 

You hear his own breath, the way he parts his lips with a wet sound, “Can you tell me what position you’re in?” 

You tap out the reply - Lying on my front, on my stomach. 

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased, “I bet you look so cute, all twisted up in the sheets and blushing,” 

I was tossing and turning. 

“I bet you were,” He groans a little, “I tried everything. I hit the gym, cold shower, did some deep breathing, but you have me so keyed up I can’t sleep,” 

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

He laughs, the rumble of it too deep and warm in your ear with your headphones in. 

You tap out another message - What position are you in? Trying to picture it. 

You hear him shift around in the sheets, “I’m on my back,” 

Wearing? 

He chuckles, “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking what you’re wearing?” 

I asked you first.

“Fair,” He shifts again, and you picture him restless on his back in the bed you shared the night before, “just boxers,” 

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

You wish it were sexier all of a sudden, but that just wouldn’t be practical in a room with your friend so you tell him honestly - Pajamas, the button down kind, they’re gray. 

“God, you’re adorable,” The covers on his end shift again, “wish you were up here with me.” 

Me too 

“This is probably better,” He says though, “I don’t think I could hold myself back for another night.” 

Me either - You confess. 

“y/n,” His voice warms, low in his chest, “jagiya, can I help you? Can I tell you what I want you to do?” 

Your hands are shaking and you type the reply so fast there’s a typo that you have to fix - Pfease - Please.

He chuckles, “Alright, get comfortable, just listen to my voice, okay?” 

You message him one last thought - What about you?

“I’m… I’m, uh,” He lets out a shaky breath, “I’m already stroking for you,” 

You press your lips together to keep from making a sound, dropping your forehead to the pillow in front of you. 

That’s so hot - You text him quickly when you hear him say your name, probably a little nervous he came on too strong. 

He hums, “Good,” he says, “then don’t worry about me, just listen to my voice.” 

You set your phone to the side, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows just like he asked for, sparing one more glance at Iseul to confirm she’s still completely out of it. 

“Comfy?” He asks when you stop shifting around. 

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

“Good,” He sighs, “now slip one of your hands under your cute little pajamas, between your thighs.” 

You slide your arm down, tucking it under your body and into your sleep pants. 

“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky. 

“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words. 

“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,” 

You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit. 

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,” 

You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt. 

“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock. 

You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again. 

“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?” 

You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear. 

“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,” 

You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check. 

“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,” 

You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access. 

“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,” 

You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it. 

“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,” 

You gasp softly. 

“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,” 

You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong. 

“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,” 

Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm. 

“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before. 

Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close

“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,” 

You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak. 

“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?” 

You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan. 

“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,” 

Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks. 

“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,” 

Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own. 

Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling. 

In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?” 

He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs. 

He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?” 

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,” 

You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone. 

“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone. 

Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait

“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,” 

You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid. 

You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,” 

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut. 

“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,” 

“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone. 

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver. 

“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone. 

“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”

“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs. 

“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated. 

“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,” 

You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,” 

A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question. 

“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,” 

You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?” 

“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,” 

He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so. 

“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes. 

You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,” 

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?” 

“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them. 

“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,” 

“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it. 

“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,” 

“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.” 

He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams. 

In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.

[okaylikeschaewon]

Return

10k words, TPM Series Part 1, smut, Series Masterlist

There are days where everything just feels right and nothing can really dampen your spirits. When the sun shines just a little bit brighter and the air feels just a little bit cleaner. Today, unfortunately, was probably not one of those days. No, it definitely was not one of those days. That rock in your stomach weighing you down was all the confirmation you needed.

In a world where laughter echoed like music, Twice stood as a beacon of joy, their vibrant energy could light up every room they entered and every stage they took. Those infectious smiles that brought fans from across the globe together, a reflection of the bond Twice themselves maintained amongst each other - the perfect show of leading by example. Each individual member was like a fun little musical note, and the beauty was how they all came together to become a symphony of love, resonating far beyond the stage deep into the hearts of their fans.

Yet, none of that was present this morning. The air in the conference room was thick with an unspoken tension, each heartbeat echoing like a countdown. Sana, Nayeon, and Momo sat together, faces full of axiomatic unease. Sana fiddled with the hem of her shirt, eyes darting to the door every few seconds as if the solution to her worries were waiting to knock. Nayeon, attempting to maintain a facade of calmness, drummed her fingers nervously against the table. And Momo’s eyes darted around the room, unable to settle.

Isolated from the other three, Dahyun sat by the window - her usual bright demeanor dimmed, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. You walked across the room, taking a seat next to her in silence. She turned to you, acknowledging your existence with a nod before turning her attention back to the gentle raindrops spilling down the glass.

“I just don’t understand why they're taking so long,” Momo broke the silence, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

The question lingered, met by more silence as the girls exchanged glances. Their eyes felt fragile and the stakes seemed higher than ever. That bond they had built over the years felt more delicate than ever in this moment.

“Like I said earlier,” you replied softly. “None of them have said no as far as I know, they’re simply negotiating terms.”

“What happens if they don’t sign?” Sana added quietly.

“Hey,” Nayeon shuffled her chair closer to Sana, tilting her head slightly, her voice a soothing melody amidst the tension. “Whether or not they sign doesn’t change anything, but they’ll sign.”

Sana looked up, meeting Nayeon’s warm gaze. “But what if…”

“Let’s not play the ‘what if’ game,” Nayeon interrupted her with a reassuring smile. “It’s not like we haven’t faced challenges before, we’ll get through this one just like always. As Twice.”

“They’ll sign,” Momo added with confidence.

A half-hearted smile was all Sana could muster as Nayeon leaned forward in her chair, wrapping her arms around her. You stood up from your own chair and bent over, planting a gentle kiss on Dahyun’s forehead as she remained fixated on the window. You walked towards the door, pausing only to give Momo a quick and reassuring hug, silently informing her that everything was going to be alright.

“I’m going to get some updates,” you stated as you opened the door. “I’m almost certain everyone is going to sign, I’m just going to see how the negotiations are going.”

Nayeon flashed you an encouraging smile before picking her phone up off the table and distracting herself.

—

“Come in.”

Inside, in far better spirits than the previous room, sat Jihyo smiling up at you.

“Good news?”

“Great news,” Jihyo replied cheerily. “They’re basically giving me everything I wanted, they’ve even agreed to expedite the boring logistic stuff for my solo.”

“That’s great,” you smiled back. “They’re writing up the new contract with your lawyer I assume?”

“Yup, I even made sure to add some amendments to the others’, basically giving anyone who signs some more power.”

“All these years as the official leader has really instilled the values in you hasn’t it?” you chuckled. “Speaking of which, if you’re done with the negotiations, do you mind heading back to the main room and trying to cheer them up a bit? I’ve tried but…”

“I understand,” Jihyo nodded, standing up and walking over with a prominent spring in her step. “I’ve only spoken with Mina and Chae so far, I’m fairly certain those two are signing. Actually, I’m pretty sure everyone is signing from what they’ve told me before.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking as well, Chaeyoung just wants more freedom and I can’t imagine they’d have an issue with that,” you agreed, holding the door open for Jihyo. “Even though it’s mostly a formality at this stage though, I can’t help but feel a tiny bit nervous.”

“That’s fair, I am too,” Jihyo replied, for the first time showing a hint of unease. "You'll let us know what the others say as soon as you find out?”

“Of course, thank you Jihyo,” you answered before leaving her to make your way to the next room. 

As you waited patiently for the elevator, the doors opened and you were met with Chaeyoung stepping out while happily sipping on what you could only assume was an iced Americano. “Done with negotiations?” you questioned the unbothered girl.

“Yup,” Chaeyoung replied casually. “I’m free!”

Your heart sank.

“Not like that, I mean free from signing stuff,” she quickly explained after seeing your expression. “They agreed to give me full freedom.”

“Oh,” you sighed, your pulse quickly dropping back to normal as you took a couple of deep breaths. You paused, the curiosity weighing on you as your brain was working at half speed. “What does full freedom mean exactly?”

“Basically everything! Tattoos, piercings, boys, whatever I want,” she answered happily.

“Boys?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” she smirked before leaning closer to you and whispering into your ear. “Until I find a boyfriend, you’ll still be fucking my tight ass.”

“Jesus,” you laughed, giving her a little playful spank. “Well shit, keep me updated on that, yeah?”

“I guess now that technically it’s allowed, I’ll tell you something, but you can’t tell any other staff,” Chaeyoung continued before taking a drawn-out sip. “I’ve actually been talking to a couple of guys already.”

“Couple of guys? Imagine the headlines,” you teased. “Twice’s Chaeyoung confirms having a roster.”

“Oh stop it,” she hit your shoulder. “None of them are serious - well, except maybe one - we’ve just been messaging casually.”

“Yeah? Anything promising?”

“I think there might be? He’s actually in the industry,” she answered. “He reached out to me, but I’ll tell you more later, I’m still not entirely sure about it.”

“No rush, that’s your business, you already know I’ll be here for you regardless.”

“Thank you,” Chaeyoung smiled warmly. “Do you know where the others are waiting? I know they’ve been losing their minds unnecessarily, I wanna tell them to relax.”

After telling her where they were waiting, you gave her a quick hug goodbye and entered the elevator, continuing your journey to the next room. It wasn’t easy to explain, but you had a feeling this one wouldn’t be as cheery as the previous two, that this might actually be one of the trickier situations where your worry was stemming from. As you approached the door, you gave it a gentle knock just to be given no response.

About a minute passed before you gave another gentle knock. Again, no response, so this time you cautiously opened the door slightly. You peered into the room and saw Jeongyeon having what looked like a passionate argument with a lady who you assumed was her lawyer.

“I thought I made myself clear when I said I’ll come get you when we’re ready to keep discussing terms,” the lawyer hissed once she noticed you.

“It’s fine, he’s my manager,” Jeongyeon explained, making eye contact with you. “I’d actually like to speak to him in private, please.”

“You really shouldn’t be talking to anyone from the company without me being present right now.”

“I’ll be alright, trust me,” Jeongyeon reassured her. “Please.”

The lawyer looked more frustrated than ever, but eventually after seeing Jeongyeon’s persistence, she sighed and stood up. “Five minutes, then I’m coming back and we’re finishing this conversation.”

“Thank you,” Jeongyeon replied as the lawyer left the room, leaving just the two of you alone.

The room felt heavy with unspoken words as you sat down in front of Jeongyeon. She sat on the edge of her chair, her hands nervously folding the corners of the papers in front of her.

“Jeongyeon,” you began softly. “How are you holding up?”

She looked up, her eyes reflecting a mix of uncertainty and frustration with a hint of exhaustion. “I don’t know. I’m just… I’m not sure if renewing is the right choice for me.”

Slowly, you leaned forward in your chair. “Why are you hesitant?” you asked delicately, realizing this would be a very straight-to-the-point type of conversation.

Jeongyeon sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I… sometimes I just feel like there’s this weird weight on my shoulders, you know?” she began. “Like this stupid pressure to just always be perfect, always be happy, I just don’t know if I can keep that up.”

“I get that,” you replied. “As an idol it probably feels like the entire world is expecting you to - like you said - be perfect. But you don’t have to be, you’re allowed to be unsure just like everyone else.”

“But what if I’m holding everyone back?” Jeongyeon’s usual bravado breaking slightly as her voice trembled. “This would be my opportunity to step away, to stop being a burden.”

“You’re not holding anyone back, you’re part of a team. They need you just as much as you need them,” you reassured her. “And that doesn’t mean you have to renew.”

She leaned back in her chair, seemingly frustrated with the universe. “I just wish I could see the future, I’m kinda scared of making a decision that I’ll regret.”

“That’s understandable, but do you find yourself regretting your past choices?”

“Well,” Jeongyeon hesitated. “I mean, sometimes, but usually no.”

“Ah-”

“I just mean that there have been times where I’ve done things to… fit in… things that I probably wouldn’t have otherwise done,” Jeongyeon explained. “I just want to be like the others in that regard.”

“You don’t have to be someone who you don’t want to be, no one will hold it against you.”

“I know you’re right, but I just find myself worrying about it sometimes.”

“All we can do is take one step at a time, no one can know how things will turn out,” you replied, offering her a comforting smile. “Whatever you decide, I promise you they’re going to all support your decision.”

She took some time to think about what you said, seemingly taking it into very serious consideration. Or perhaps she was beginning to doubt herself? It was hard to say what exactly was bothering her the most, but all you could do was be patient - she had to make this decision on her own.

“You’re probably right,” she sighed eventually. “I think I’m going to do it.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Sorry, just to be clear…”

“I’m going to renew,” she answered your unasked question. “But my lawyer is probably going to make sure my new contract doesn’t lock me into anything. We were talking about having the final choice when it comes to schedules.”

“I think the company will be more than happy to comply, that’s not asking for too much.”

“Thank you for this,” Jeongyeon said quietly under her breath. “I feel like sometimes I understand what you’re saying without you even saying it.”

“I’m glad I could help, that’s my job after all,” you smiled, standing up from your chair. “But I’m going to get out of here before that scary lady comes back and yells at me.”

“She’s not that bad,” Jeongyeon chuckled.

—

“Two left,” you whispered under your breath, feeling a bit better about the remaining members

“Come in,” that beautifully delicate voice you knew so well came through the door.

Inside, you found Mina in her lonesome sitting on a couch with her legs crossed, hands in her lap as she stared up at the roof, not even bothered enough to look at you as you entered the room. It wasn’t until you walked over and sat down next to her did she finally lower her gaze and turn to you, a blank expression on her face.

“How’s it going?” you asked once she finally gave you some attention.

“Lonely as fuck,” Mina replied. “Excuse my French.”

“I’m sorry, they-”

“Don’t want us to influence each other, yeah yeah yeah I’ve heard it all already, I don’t need to hear it from you as well.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop…” Mina’s voice trailed off as she let out a frustrated sigh, pausing mid sentence. The silence was palpable, both of you acutely aware of the weight of the moment. Mina took another sigh before finishing her thought. “I’m sorry, it’s just that things are kinda complicated, I shouldn’t be lashing out at you.”

“What exactly do you mean when you say things are complicated right now?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Maybe the fact that I almost quit once already? This is a very real chance for me to leave this life behind.”

“Even if you felt that way before, what matters is how you feel now,” you replied softly. “Do you still feel like you want to step away?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then it sorta sounds like you know what you want to do,” you continued just as softly. “So, what do you think is bothering you? What’s making it difficult still? I can tell there’s obviously something.”

“There isn’t.”

“Yes there is.”

“No there is not!”

“Mina,” you spoke carefully after taking a pause. “You’ve snapped at me twice in the matter of seconds now. We both know this isn’t like you.”

“I know,” she sighed as if disappointed in herself. “Sorry, really, it’s just a lot…”

“We don’t have to talk about it, I was just checking in,” you added earnestly. “If you would rather discuss with someone else, I can leave.”

“Please don’t,” she muttered quietly before you could stand up. “Just stay and… just stay.”

“Okay.”

The room became unusually quiet, air thick with tension as the only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioning. Each passing second was stretched into an eternity as both of you waited in a feeble attempt to figure out who was supposed to speak first. You honestly were caught off guard with this, you thought Mina would be an easy one.

“So…” you started, but the word hung awkwardly in the air before both of you fell silent again.

Mina shifted her body slightly, a nervous laugh escaping her before she replied. “This is really odd.”

“Yup,” you replied, casually playing with a loose string on the armrest. “But it is kinda your fault.”

“I never said it wasn’t.”

“Good, because it is.”

“You’re not helping.”

“You’re not letting me help.”

The silence returned, heavier this time. You could feel your heart start racing as you desperately wanted to say something meaningful to absolve the situation of tension, but you knew you had to be patient.

Mina finally turned to face you, her eyes tender. “I’ve been thinking about… things,” her voice trailed off again.

“Things?” you echoed, leaning in slightly in an attempt to encourage her to continue.

“Yeah like, you know, things,” she repeated. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

“There really aren’t many things you can’t tell me, if any. You know this,” you replied casually but gently. “What’s making it so difficult this time?”

“Maybe the fact that I fucking love you?”

The room went silent yet again, the world turned still. Your heart stopped beating for a moment before rapidly catching up, making up for the missed beats by working twice as hard.

“Mina…”

“I’m serious,” she leaned in closer, her fingers brushed against your thigh, the tender touch that sent shivers through you. With each slow, deliberate movement, Mina seemed to ease the tension away, calming your heart rate, her presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. “I love you,” she whispered as she leaned in even closer, her voice resonating with sincerity.

As she continued to lean in, her breath warm against your skin, she began pressing her lips softly against yours. The kiss was tentative at first, a barely-audible whisper of affection, but it very quickly deepened as you started to feel her pouring her feelings into it. The intensity of her love was more than evident in every brush of her lips, conveying her feelings in a way words could never.

“Mina…” you murmured between kisses, barely taking a breath as your heart threatened to jump out of your chest.

“I love you,” she breathed, her whisper echoing in your ears.

She pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her own shining as her emotion became too much to handle. With dewy eyes and unspoken words, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to yours again, this time more fervently - Her timidness disappearing with each consecutive kiss.

“You make me feel safe,” she added as her hand inched upwards from your thigh towards your waistband. “Like I can be myself without any fear, without holding back.”

With that, Mina pressed her lips to yours again with a mix of tenderness and urgency that spoke volumes. Meanwhile, her hand delicately slipped into your pants, her fingers gently began caressing your shaft before they slowly pulled it out.

“Maybe now’s not the best time,” you gasped before Mina pressed her mouth against yours again.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” she mumbled into your mouth, holding her forehead against yours as she gently wrapped her fingers around your cock. Her fingers, hesitating for just a moment, began to slowly stroke your shaft, spreading the little bubble of your precum evenly along your length. Her lips brushed against yours one more time, softer than ever. “I’ve been thinking about how I felt when I thought you were leaving, how much it hurt.”

“You mean the world to me,” your words were met with one last kiss before Mina began sliding off the couch, dropping to her knees in front of you. “Are you sure you want…”

She hushed you with her eyes, almost angrily, as she began stroking you faster. As her movements became more confident, the warmth of her touch seemed to melt away any lingering awkwardness in the room. Each stroke was tender, almost reverent, the connection between you two deepened, and every heartbeat echoed in your ears.

As Mina continued stroking your shaft - eliciting a few quiet breaths from your lips - her expression reflected a blend of tenderness and vulnerability. Her eyes shimmered with affection, a hint of shyness in her gaze as if she was both thrilled and a little nervous about the intimacy of the moment. She looked right into your eyes, seeking reassurance, her cheeks flushed with warmth, wanting nothing more than to make sure you can feel her devotion.

Then, suddenly, a sharp gasp escaped your lips as Mina leaned forward and pressed her lips against your balls. As she planted countless tender kisses, her hands continued moving with purpose - each movement deliberate, infused with her passion for you.

“I fucking love you,” you moaned, closing your eyes as Mina wrapped her mouth around your sack, engulfing it fully. “Fuck… Mina… you’re fucking amazing.”

With a soft pop, she released your balls, her eyes widened as she looked up at you with joy flickering across her features. Then, that beautifully radiant smile of hers came out, illuminating her face as she was overwhelmed by joy.

Without even thinking, you leaned forward and cupped her face in your hands before pressing your lips against hers, shoving your tongue into her mouth to be met with hers, playfully intertwining and wrestling.

At the same time, with renewed energy, Mina’s gentle but firm fingers resumed working on your cock. She began rubbing her palm against your tip, clawing your shaft with her fingers, slowly moving up and down as the two of you kissed. With every stroke, you seemed to melt into the moment more and more, indulging yourself in the pleasures of losing your mind with sensation.

Mina leaned back, ending the kiss - truthfully leaving you somewhat disappointed. However, the disappointment didn’t last long at all, as Mina plunged downwards, wrapping her mouth around your cock before swirling her tongue around your shaft. With her brows slightly furrowed, her movements became completely fluid and confident, moving her lips up and down your cock with ease.

“Oh fuck, Mina…” you cried out as her hand began caressing your balls.

Her expertise really began to show as she worked your cock, applying just the right amount of pressure, washing away any remnants of tension, enveloping your cock in a haze of comfort and warmth. Each motion echoed the affection she felt towards you, it was like she knew exactly how to make you feel best - which she probably did at this point.

It was becoming difficult to concentrate on anything but the blissful feeling radiating from Mina’s throat. Your thoughts began blurring as you started slipping into a state of numbness, that rhythm of your connection with Mina taking over your world. It took all of the willpower you could muster to hold yourself back, to stop yourself from coating the inside of Mina’s mouth white.

Despite how fucking divine Mina felt in this moment, it was a blessing in disguise when she lifted her mouth off your cock, shifting her hand from your balls back to your shaft. She stopped mere moments before you were about to hit your point of no return.

“I need you to fuck me,” she moaned, tightening her grip on your cock, giving it a couple of final strokes before getting off her knees and grabbing your hand, forcing you to stand up as she pulled you towards the meeting table. “Right now.”

“Mina, your lawyer could come back at any second, this is already way too-”

“I don’t care,” she begged, letting go of your hand and turning around. She bent over at the hips, reaching up her skirt before tugging her sheer panties down to her ankles and leaning on the table. She looked back at you with eyes filled to the brim with love before letting out a single word in a soft whisper. “Please.”

She had you. It would take an act of God to stop you at this point with how hard your cock was throbbing just at the idea of fucking Mina right now. It no longer mattered that you were at the offices and anyone could walk in at any moment. You didn’t even care enough to waste time walking across the room to lock the door. As soon as you flipped Mina’s skirt up, seeing her perfect ass presenting itself to you, you knew you made the right decision.

Without wasting another moment, you stepped into her body, rubbing your cock between her ass until you found her entrance. You placed a hand on her lower back, holding her down as you slowly inserted your shaft into her pussy. It was impossible to keep count of how many times you’ve been in this position at this point with your cock inside Mina, but one thing was certain - she’s never been this wet before. Mina’s pussy has never felt better, as if it was perfectly made just for your cock.

As you began to slowly move in and out of Mina’s body, her head dropped down to the table, her arms flexed as her elbows dug into the dark mahogany. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she pushed backwards into your body slightly, enhancing the sensation of your thrusts. Her shoulders began to visibly relax, succumbing to pleasure before your eyes.

Every few moments she would moan out, her breath hitching each time you hit a particularly sensitive spot or when the angle was just right. She would look back at you, eyes half-lidded as she bit her lip, silently begging for you to keep going before facing forward and letting her face drop to the table instinctively.

Her breaths were becoming more shallow and quick, almost perfectly reflecting the pressure building up in your cock. You had to slow down your rhythm, focusing on pushing your entire length into her pussy in slow, drawn out movements, all just to hold yourself back selfishly to keep going just a bit longer.

The end was nearing rapidly as a few beads of sweat began falling from your forehead. Your hands, both gripping Mina’s ass, began trembling, pressing deeper into her softness. Her breathing grew deeper and more relaxed, the energy dissipating as she was dealing with her own overwhelming sensation as you found a rhythm that resonated between the two of you.

And then your mind went completely blank. There was nothing in the world other than the sound of your skin slapping against Mina’s perfect ass. It lasted for an eternity - or realistically just a couple of seconds - before a particularly sharp gasp escaped Mina’s lips, bringing you back to reality as you felt a rush of your warm cum leak out of Mina’s pussy right before your cock began exploding, launching white ropes inside her.

Pulling out was completely out of the question as you found yourself lost in the overwhelming bliss of it all. The electric blend of your cock releasing combined with Mina’s moans created this beautiful moment where you felt your body melting away at Mina’s touch. You felt your cock emptying itself completely in Mina’s pussy as the world began to creep back into reality before you slowly removed your cock, leaving you breathless but also acutely aware of the current situation.

“Shit, quickly before someone walks in,” you gasped, just as breathless as Mina, while reaching across the table to grab some tissues.

Mina lifted herself up off the table, turning around to face you before hopping up on the table with her legs spread, smiling brightly at you. Before you could wipe the mess you left on her legs away, she pulled you into a long, drawn-out kiss.

“Thank you,” she muttered as her lips gently parted from yours.

“Never thank me for this,” you smiled at her as you began wiping her legs clean. “I’m glad I… helped?”

“You did,” Mina giggled softly, taking the tissues from your hand and wiping herself. “I feel a lot better about renewing.”

“We probably should talk about-”

“Not now,” Mina interjected. “I just want to enjoy what we just did, that felt better than usual…”

“I’m fine with that,” you agreed, leaning forward and giving her a quick kiss. “Do you want me to wait with you until your lawyer comes back?”

“Wow, really in a hurry to leave after nutting in me?”

“What, no I-” you stammered before Mina burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding, get out of here before I have to lie to my lawyer about what you were doing in here.”

—

With that done, you’ve confirmed eight of the nine Twice members. There was just one girl left for you to meet with, the one you didn’t initially think you’d have to worry about, and you especially didn’t think you had to worry when just a few minutes ago you received an email saying all nine members have agreed to renew - albeit in varying degrees.

Yet she was nowhere to be found. No one seemed to know either. This was odd to say the least, usually you were the first person to know about anything happening with Twice, but right now you were as lost as you could be. Finally, after talking to an executive, you were informed that Tzuyu was in a private meeting with some of the board.

Was she in trouble? You wanted to just assume something positive, like maybe she petitioned to start working on her solo or something, but it didn’t make sense for her to not at least tell you about it. Maybe she was upset with you about the whole breakup thing and then you getting with Sana so soon after? No, that would be absurd, right? That was all in the past, she was probably just busy. All the negative thoughts were exhausting, you needed a temporary distraction until you could talk to Tzuyu. You flipped open your phone, and to no surprise at all, saw a few direct messages from the members.

Chaeyoung straight up messaged you saying she wanted to fuck - really lacking in subtlety at times - to which you teased her by suggesting she could just hit up someone from her roster. She wasn’t too happy about that one, but she’d get over it. If not, you’d just have to make it up to her by doing something you’d be more than happy to do anyway. Confirmation of her annoyance came when she messaged you saying she was taking Dahyun out to a secret club tonight. That piqued your curiosity, but she stopped replying. You’d have to remember to find out more about this club later.

Sana had also messaged you, asking if you wanted to watch a very specific movie tonight. This would seem harmless to most, but you knew Sana’s game all too well; With how the night goes every time you’ve tried watching this movie together, it was essentially code for something else. You replied telling her that you just had to take care of a couple of work-related things first, promising her that you’d watch the movie with her later tonight.

After sending a quick reply to Nayeon who was asking you to come in with her tomorrow for her solo practice by telling her you’d obviously love nothing more than to accompany her - to which she replied essentially saying she wants you to fuck her tomorrow - you scrolled a bit more down your contacts. The Twice girls were all so horny tonight, you had almost every option at your fingertips, maybe because of the whole contract thing and all the stress. Unfortunately you were still dealing with this insufferable nagging in the back of your head, one that you desperately needed a distraction from.

—

“Thanks for coming.”

“Don’t be stupid, you wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t think I’d come,” Momo replied without even looking up from the menu. “It’s just such a rare offer nowadays, ever since you and Sana started this whole boyfriend girlfriend thing.”

“We’re not boyfriend girlfriend,” you protested.

“We’re not boyfriend girlfriend,” Momo mocked you with a teasing voice. “Yeah, and I hate food.”

“Seems like it with how long you’re taking.”

“Well, have you seen how many different options there are?” Momo whined, pouting at the menu. Even though she wore a beanie nearly covering her eyes, you could see her rapidly scanning across the page trying to decide. “Can we just get like four and share?”

“Order the whole menu if you want, I’m charging it to the company anyway.”

And she did just that.

“That poor waitress,” you chuckled, leaning back into the booth. “I forgot how absurd you can be when it comes to food.”

“See, it is a rare occurrence, you’ve even forgotten the basics,” Momo nudged you softly in the ribs before sliding closer, resting her hand on your thigh. “So, any particular reason you called me?”

“You’re going to make fun of me and probably won’t believe it, but I really just felt like spending some time with you. Feels like life has just been so hectic lately.”

“No,” Momo replied with an unexpected softness. “I believe you, I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” you sighed before wrapping your arm around Momo’s shoulder. “Do you think there’s enough privacy here?”

“Yes,” Momo whispered as she leaned into you and kissed you, reading your mind.

The urgency behind Momo’s lips was intoxicating - like when you’re doing something you shouldn’t do, but you’re doing it anyway. She pressed harder, nearly knocking you out of the booth, forcing you to push back. Then, just as quickly as it started, she pulled back, leaving you desperate for more.

“You know, I enjoy spending time with you outside of work and sex,” Momo noted casually before reaching for her mochaccino and taking a sip. “I feel like you’ve gotten better at that, by the way.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

Momo gave you another nudge in the ribs, this time significantly harder as if there was actually a bit of annoyance behind the jest. “Idiot,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I just meant like, practicing so that I can be better for you!”

“Stop talking, my cake is coming,” Momo replied coldly as her eyes fixated on the tray of sweets being walked to your table. “Thank you so much,” she gushed in her most adorably cute voice towards the waitress, eyes scanning each plate as it was placed on the table, looking for her first target.

“You’re welcome,” the waitress replied with a smile before walking away.

“What should I try first?” Momo asked, seemingly no longer upset with you.

“Can’t go wrong with chocolate.”

“Coconut!” she reached forward excitedly.

“Or that,” you chuckled, reaching for a slice of what looked like strawberry for yourself.

To your surprise, Momo held up the first bite for you to try. You accepted the piece from her fork, nodding happily as the combination of coconut and chocolate hit your tongue.

“That’s good,” you mumbled, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Oooooh,” she moaned, widening her eyes in delight as she took a bite herself.

Each consecutive bite had you captivated with how her expression changed - she was completely lost in the moment. It was like watching a kid in a candy store, she couldn’t hide her happiness at all. Her eyes sparkled with each bite she took and with each bite she made you take from her fork.

“I don’t think we’re finishing all of these,” Momo began giggling with her cheeks full after taking what felt like her hundredth unique bite of cake. “Why’d you order so many?”

“What do you-”

“Kidding,” she wiped a bit of frosting on your cheek. “You have something on your face.”

“Oh do I?” you shook your head with an uncontrollable smile on your face.

“I got it,” Momo leaned forward and pressed her mouth against your cheek. “There you go!”

The two of you laughed, relishing in the light atmosphere, enjoying each other’s company. It became pretty clear to you at this moment - filled with cake and silliness - how much you enjoyed being around Momo. You’ve honestly missed this more than you even realized. There was a tinge of sadness in the back of your mind though, knowing you didn’t have the time to do this with her more often, especially knowing soon the group would be touring the world again, and you knew their next tour would last significantly longer than this one.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten that deal we made when I first joined the team,” you stated, playing with the chocolate frosting on your plate.

“Which one? We’ve made a few,” Momo giggled as she took another bite. “You mean the one where you’ll always take me out for food if I ask? Or the one where I get on my kn-”

“Yeah, breakfast, lunch, or dinner, I’ll never say no to a one on one meal with you,” you interjected. “Even with this thing I have with Sana, and she understands that.”

“Just because she understands, doesn’t mean I think it’s right.”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t it be?”

Momo put down her fork, smiling tenderly at you before speaking. “You mean a lot to me, obviously, but I can’t do that to Sana.”

“I’m so confused.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Momo scoffed, shaking her head. “Every now and then is fine, like we are now, I know Sana’s fine with that since it is technically part of your job, but there are still boundaries I have to respect.”

“Boundaries? You mean between us?”

“Yes.”

“Momo…” you scrunched your forehead in frustration, trying to understand. “I don’t want you to feel like that, not because of this Sana thing. I’m responsible for all of you.”

“And you’re doing a great job.”

“It doesn’t sound like it,” you disagreed. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to hold anything back around me. That’s kinda the whole point, me being intimate and all with you girls.”

“It’s not holding back,” Momo explained. “It’s just that things are obviously a bit more complicated now, especially since you’ve started doing more than just the physical with the members.”

“That shouldn’t change anything, it’s just some fun on the side.”

“Not everyone sees it that way, not that anyone would admit it,” Momo sighed. “The thing is, it’s totally possible that eventually one of us could… you know.”

“I don’t think I do. Could what?”

“Could maybe end up with you, like properly,” Momo explained. “Let’s just be honest with ourselves, you’ve become such an important part of our lives, some of the members have definitely started thinking about it. You mean a lot more than I think you realize, but we also have to balance the fact that none of the members wants to hurt another one. Everyone is trying to be fair in this weird situation, it’s just kinda hard.”

“And you girls mean the world to me as well, but when you say end up with me, do you mean like, exclusive? Live the rest of our lives together?” you asked, finally starting to understand what Momo was getting at. “I haven’t put too much thought into that, I think because it would make my job a lot harder if I did.”

“Well it’s a good thing we had this conversation then, because maybe you should start thinking about it, before you end up hurting someone,” Momo smiled softly. “Not that I think you’d ever do that on purpose of course.”

“Momo can I ask you something super personal?” you asked cautiously, waiting for her nod of approval before continuing. “Have you thought… could you see us… how do I say this…”

Momo smiled warmly, tilting her head slightly. “You can buy me gifts, you can take me out to dinner, you can…” she paused to look around for anyone listening before continuing, “...you can fuck me silly every day, but I can’t think about being something more with you, not while you’re with Sana. Out of respect for my friend.”

“You’re right, sorry, I shouldn’t be asking that anyway,” you began regretting what you said. “And you’re also right in that I should be more respectful of Sana.”

“I don’t think you’re being disrespectful,” Momo responded after thinking for a second. “I just think you do need to start taking this relationship stuff a bit more seriously. Even if we don’t-” Momo froze mid sentence for a moment before proceeding as if nothing happened. “Regardless of who you end up with, if you even end up with one of us, it’s ultimately a decision you have to make. At that point it has nothing to do with your job.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words as the possibilities began flooding through your mind. Could you really see yourself spending the rest of your life with one of these girls? There was no doubt that you cared for them, and maybe even loved some of them in that way, but would it even be possible? No, forget possible, would it be morally acceptable for someone with your job to even consider this? It almost felt wrong, but if the feelings were mutual…

“Not right now though,” Momo added. “You’re going to have to take some time by yourself. For now, let’s just enjoy the moment.”

“Alright,” you agreed, emptying your mind for now. “So, how’s the weather?”

“Idiot,” Momo chuckled, pushing her plate forward. “I’m so stuffed, this was way too much cake.”

“I’m going to remind you one last time, it was you who ordered it all.”

“Yeah but you suggested getting the whole menu.”

“Alright fair,” you smiled at her. “I’ll give you that one.”

“That’s right,” Momo laughed, taking the little victory. “Now what?”

“Earlier, you mentioned a couple of things that you’d be fine with,” you began with a slight smirk. “Gifts and dinner are fun and all, but what was that third one again?”

“Yeah?” Momo shifted her demeanor and began putting on her most seductive voice. “Is that what you want?”

“Maybe it is.”

“You want to fuck me silly?”

“I think we… would get caught…” you stuttered, blanking as Momo bent forward to give you a clear view down her shirt, taking your advance far more seriously and quickly than you had expected.

“Then maybe something more subtle?” Momo suggested, sliding her hand against the bulge in your pants. “I could quietly jerk you off, or what if I drop down under this table?”

“Well-”

“Is that what you want? You want me to suck your cock? Right here? Right now?” Momo purred into your ears. “Are you going to fuck my mouth for me? Cum down my throat for me?”

“Momo-”

“Is that why you really called me here?” she continued, not letting you speak, pushing harder on your pants. “I’m getting so fucking wet just thinking about how your cock feels in my mouth. I want that warm cum, I want your warm cum in my mouth.”

Your heart began racing, and all of a sudden the thought of getting caught didn’t matter. Your primal instincts kicked in and you felt ready to knock the spread of cakes in front of you onto the floor to make room for Momo, to bend Momo over the table in front of everyone.

“I can see you thinking about it,” Momo whispered, leaning in closer to your ear and giving your neck a small lick. “You want my wet pussy, I can feel it, you’re so fucking hard right now.”

“I do,” you moaned quietly, reaching your arm around her waist and pressing your hand against the side of her tit. “Tell me what you think we should do. Bathroom? Car? Alley? You decide.”

“I think we should pack the rest of these,” she suggested, completely flipping back to her casual tone, letting go of your cock and looking down at the assortment of cakes. “I don’t think there’s any chance we’re finishing them.”

“What?”

“Yeah, the cakes were amazing, I don’t want to waste them,” Momo said casually. “Did you want to take any of them with you? Maybe take the chocolate one for Sana?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” Momo feigned innocence. “You don’t think Sana would like that?”

“No of course she would,” you stammered, your voice an octave higher than normal. “But what about… what about…”

“It’s getting kinda late, we should really get going,” Momo giggled. “Thanks for this though, I had a great time!”

“I can’t believe you right now.”

“What did I do?”

“I’m going to get you back for this,” you gasped as reality began setting in, your cock still throbbing in your pants. “I swear.”

“We both know you won’t stay mad at me for long,” Momo teased before leaning over and kissing your cheek.

She was right.

—

“Tzu?” you called, opening the door to her room slowly. “Where have you been?”

“Hey,” she replied quietly.

“Is everything-” you stopped speaking and walked into the room up to Tzuyu who was staring out the window while covering herself up in her blankets. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answered unconvincingly before suddenly turning to face you, her eyes full of vulnerability and fear. “I messed up.”

“What’s wrong? How long have you been here? Have you been alone?” you asked, taking a seat on her bed.

“A few hours, Dahyun and Chaeyoung went to some club or something, I don’t know.”

“How did the contract stuff go? I heard you renewed but I couldn’t find you earlier.”

“It was fine.”

“Tzu,” you spoke gently and cautiously. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She looked up into your eyes, her pupils filled to the brim with despair. “At first I didn’t. I said no,” she explained.

“Okay,” you replied slowly, thinking about what the next best question would be.

“And then I changed my mind, but it was too late,” she continued, small tears forming in her eyes. “Some of the execs had… other plans for me.”

“Other plans?” your heart began thumping in your chest. “What do you mean by other plans? Did someone… what did they do?”

“There was no other way,” Tzuyu mumbled as a tear spilled down her cheek. “I had to convince the company… I had to do what they wanted.”

“Tzuyu,” you tried your best to remain composed, but inside you were burning up in rage. “Tell me right now, did any of them touch you?”

“No, not exactly…” she answered quietly, wiping her eyes.

“Can you tell me what exactly you did?” you asked, reaching forward and taking her hand in yours. “Take as long as you need, I’m here for you, but I need to know what happened.”

“I took some pictures for them.”

“Pictures?” you could feel your blood boiling, but you had to know exactly what happened. “What kind of pictures?”

“You know what kind,” she began crying. “It was stupid, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Who was there, tell me,” you kept your voice calm. “I’ll go deal with this right now.”

“No don’t, please.”

“What do you mean don’t? I’m not letting this go.”

“It’ll just come back to me,” Tzuyu pleaded, squeezing your hand. “Please, they didn’t force me, I agreed to it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay, they abused the situation and that’s not okay.”

“It’s all done now, they were respectful about it and everything. It’s fine.”

“Tzuyu it’s not fine,” your voice came out louder than intended. “Why would you do this? What the fuck-”

“Because I didn’t think I could keep sharing you like this.”

The room went silent.

“That’s why I said no at first,” she explained. “But then I realized how stupid I was being and changed my mind.”

“But you didn’t have to take those pictures.”

“Well I fucking did,” Tzuyu cried out. “Can you just let it go? I know I fucked up, but it’s done.”

“I…” you stuttered, pain stabbing your chest as you watched Tzuyu cry. “I’m sorry, come here,” you leaned forward and pulled her into your arms, “I’m really sorry, it’s okay,” you rubbed her back softly, holding her as she sobbed softly against your body. “I can still get the pictures deleted though, just give me some time.”

Tzuyu let go of you after a few seconds and looked into your eyes. Hers were bright red, but she wasn’t crying anymore. “And do what? Get yourself fired?” Tzuyu said, her voice soft and quiet. “Just for them to still have the pictures, ready to end my idol career at any point?”

“They’d never release them.”

“I know they wouldn’t,” Tzuyu smiled meekly. “That’s why I’m telling you to just let it go.”

“Even if they released them, we could just ignore them and have a team put out news stating they’re fake,” you suggested. “Not everyone at the company is a sick fuck, you’re not helpless here.”

“Are you really going to make me beg you?”

“Tzu, I can help-”

“How about you help me by getting my mind off it for a bit?” she interjected, tossing her blanket to the side, exposing her bare legs and bright blue panties. “Can you do that for me?”

Conflicted wasn’t even close to explaining how you felt right now. How could she possibly be asking for this right now, and why did you want her more than ever. It was her mascara, messy on her face, that vulnerability that made Tzuyu prettier than she already was, more beautiful than reality. Or maybe it was the thought of those pictures. No, you fucking hated that thought, the feeling that someone-

“How long has it been?” Tzuyu whispered as she spread her legs, derailing your thoughts entirely as she brought her fingers between her legs, toying with herself. “Have you missed this?”

“More than you could ever know,” you moaned, lunging forward and pressing your mouth against hers, succumbing to temptation. Your hands fumbled around her body, pausing at her hips, squeezing her soft skin before your fingers slipped into her panties and began sliding them off, slipping the fabric off her ankle with her help. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Tzuyu breathed into your mouth, her delicate fingers unbuckling your pants. She wasted absolutely no time, and before you knew it she had her slender fingers wrapped around your shaft, pumping you softly to life. Tzuyu kissed you again, her tongue explored your mouth while she grazed her fingertips against your tip. “Slowly, please,” she added with a whisper.

Your fingers replaced hers as you took hold of your cock, feeling around between her legs until your tip was rubbing against her entrance. She was wet, there was no doubt about that, but you could tell as you tried pressing in that she was tight. Too tight. After thoroughly coating your tip with her wetness, you lined yourself up and gave a hard push with your hips when suddenly Tzuyu let out a harsh cry, her eyes filling up again.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, immediately pulling out.

“No,” Tzuyu protested, digging her nails into your ribs. “Give it to me, please.”

There was no way. You’ve fucked Tzuyu plenty of times, but she had never been this tight before, it was impossible. But you had to do something, you couldn’t stop. Your cock would probably explode if you didn’t fuck her right now - you could partially blame Momo for that.

“I will, but first I want to taste you,” you whispered softly before kissing her again. “Is that fine?”

Tzuyu nodded slowly, and with that you slid down her body until your face tucked between her legs. You pressed forward, getting as close as physically possible, and gave Tzuyu’s pussy a lick from bottom to top before clamping your lips against her clit. She exhaled sharply and her fingers latched onto your hair as you sucked on her folds, immersing yourself in the salty tang of her pussy.

Her pussy began leaking onto your chin as you opened your mouth wider, pressing your tongue flat against her entrance, applying pressure in various spots, testing her body, using Tzuyu’s grip on your hair for feedback alongside her soft moans. With your tongue pressing against her pussy, entering her body just slightly, you could feel her body relaxing in your mouth - it was working.

Even though Tzuyu’s pussy tasted amazing to you, intoxicating even, it was clear that your soft strokes were not enough to keep your cock controlled. You needed her body, the pressure was becoming too much for you to handle. You gave her pussy one last kiss before leaning back, a trail of saliva and Tzuyu’s wetness connecting your bodies until you severed the strand.

With both hands at the same time, you spread her legs wide, as wide as they could go. Before your throbbing cock, Tzuyu’s pussy was absolutely glistening, calling out to you as you gripped yourself once more and lined up with her body. In your periphery you could see her beautiful face, biting her lower lip, staring at you, but your eyes were fixated on the sparkle of her folds.

Slowly, with tremendous care, you inched your cock into Tzuyu’s tight little pussy. Your eyes were completely fixated on watching yourself disappear within her body, pushing forward, deeper as her pussy spread itself for your length, Tzuyu’s warmth engulfing your shaft, opening up nicely. She was still tight, but it was more like a snug blanket now, pressing down on your cock beautifully.

“Oh fuck,” Tzuyu moaned, shutting her eyes tight. “Fuck, yes, fuck me.”

Her pussy was overwhelming - so beautiful and pristine. With your cock buried inside her, you fell forward, lunging into Tzuyu’s neck and sucking on her soft skin as you began moving your hips back and forth slowly. It felt so good, it felt fucking amazing, but it wasn’t going to last. Embarrassment, masked only briefly by intense pleasure shooting through your body, began flowing as you couldn’t even last a minute inside Tzuyu’s pussy.

“Fuck!” you cried out as your cock began convulsing inside her body. “Shit!”

It was overwhelming as you clenched your jaw, trying to compose yourself as you emptied your cum into her, waiting for your cock to stop throbbing. Once you finally stopped pulsing, you pressed your lips against Tzuyu’s neck again, desperately kissing every part of her as your half-stiffened cock immediately came back to life as blood rushed back into it. You fumbled around the bed with your hands until you found Tzuyu’s fingers and interlocked yours with hers.

With a quick squeeze of her fingers, you began aggressively thrusting your cock as deep as you could into her cum-filled pussy. She was warm, loosening up nicely for your thickness now, but she still felt as amazing as ever. Your mouth remained glued to her neck as your hips relentlessly fucked her pussy.

Tzuyu’s moans were barely audible over the sharp ringing in your ears as your body began struggling to deal with all the sensation. Your cock was getting completely overwhelmed, but you couldn’t stop. There was no way you could stop, Tzuyu’s pussy was too perfect and you were too insatiable. Her moans, warped into screams, mixed with the sound of her skin slapping against yours.

She began squeezing your fingers hard, painfully hard, but you kept going. You fucked Tzuyu as if your life depended on it as you felt her body pressing up against yours. Her chest shot up, those soft tits pressing against your body through the thin fabric of her shirt, her pussy squeezing harder than ever now against your cock.

Her climax didn’t slow you down at all, even as her pussy clamped down on your cock, you fought through it, making sure to keep up the same pace as your body pushed past physical limits. Your cock almost felt numb, a high that in this moment you believed only Tzuyu’s pussy could give you. Tzuyu kept on cumming - you could feel it. Her body squeezed tightly against your cock as you felt your second orgasm nearing. It really didn’t last much longer the second time, mostly thanks to Tzuyu’s pussy’s rhythmic squeezing, before you felt yourself ready to explode again.

This time, you let go of her fingers and pulled back, pulling your cock out of her. Immediately, a huge rush of your cum spilled out of her pussy as you reached for your shaft with one hand, slipping against the wetness, struggling to get a grip as you stroked yourself, aiming at Tzuyu’s perfect body.

But this time, you were able to look deep into Tzuyu’s eyes. The two of you locked gazes as you gave your cock a final couple of strokes. Tzuyu, without hesitation, reached up with one hand and began fondling your cock right before the first spurt of cum shot out, landing directly on her pussy. Without breaking eye contact, Tzuyu brought her other hand to her pussy and began rubbing circles against herself, spreading your cum across her body as your next few shots landed on the back of her hand.

With one final grunt, you fell forward onto her body, snuggling into her tightly as you gasped desperately for air. Tzuyu began moving her hips slowly, rubbing her pussy against your overly-sensitive cock, massaging it gently with the absurd amount of cum on her. It felt nice and soothing to say the least.

“Thank you,” she moaned softly as her other hand wrapped around your body, rubbing your back.

“Don’t… thank… me…” you gasped, turning your head slightly and kissing Tzuyu’s cheek. “Thank you.”

After a few minutes of silence and warmth as your bodies recovered together, Tzuyu spoke first.

“Sometimes I wish we kept going.”

Before answering, you rolled over off her body so that you were laying on your side next to her. “It was amazing being with you, even if just for such a short time,” you replied softly.

“But we both knew it couldn’t last,” Tzuyu whispered, turning over to her side and facing you, resting the side of her face on her arm. “And that’s okay.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked while reaching forward to push her hair out of her face and behind her ear.

“Because we both know I’m not the one you’re supposed to end up with,” she answered, a tear spilling down the side of her face.

“Tzu,” you paused to wipe her cheek. “You are one of the most amazing and beautiful girls in the entire world, you’re going to find someone who is perfect for you one day.”

“I really hope so.”

“It’s not a matter of hope, just time,” you continued. “You’re young and successful with your whole life ahead of you still, there’s absolutely no rush to jump into something.”

“I know,” she mumbled quietly. “It just felt really nice being with you, even if we were just pretending.”

“And you deserve to be with someone properly, not pretending.”

“But that someone won’t be you.”

Her words lingered in the air between you. It felt like for the second time now Tzuyu was breaking up with you, but in a weird way it didn’t hurt this time - not as much at least. It didn’t feel like either of you was making a mistake, you weren’t leaving something behind; Instead, it felt optimistic, like you were moving forward, separately but still together in a sense.

“I’ll still always love you, even if not in that way,” you said softly, wiping another tear from her face. “I still think the world of you.”

“Thank you,” Tzuyu whispered with a smile. “Spend the night?”

“Absolutely.”

---

A/N:

Really feels like a lifetime ago since my last update to this series. Part one of the final nine chapters before I end it and never write the manager trope again! It has been a lot of fun, I really really really hope that the ending is satisfying, especially for any of my readers who are still around from the beginning when I just started. This fic was my first one, my baby, and here we are years later with the end in view!

I'm going to try uploading a few fics in the upcoming weeks during the holidays, so keep your eyes peeled for that if you want. Not necessarily this series, but I want to try posting a few updates for my other ones as well, and maybe even a few one-shots!