#it's easy for him to get people to do what he wants. not in a manipulative way. he's just got a commanding aura and he's pretty and he's

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SIX

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care; drug and alcohol addiction;

Rafe had been clean for the past three years.

Over the course of the year, things between him and you had been smooth sailing. 

It was almost easy, something he wouldn’t have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. There’d been a time when he was just too much—angry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.

He’d been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see who’d blow up first. You’d pushed him away, he’d pushed you harder, and you’d both crossed lines that should’ve never even been close.

Eventually, both of you learned to talk instead of shouting, learned when to back down instead of pushing buttons just to get a reaction. You’d gotten better at letting each other breathe. He’d pull back when he felt himself getting heated, and you’d do the same.

It wasn’t perfect; sometimes you’d still get into it, still end up in an argument that felt like old times, but it was different. There were no more lines on the bathroom counter, no disappearing at all hours. 

Until Ward died. 

Rafe didn’t know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? He’d done it before with his mom, now it was his dad’s turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasn’t pretty. 

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect. 

To Rafe, that meant something. Everything. 

Ward had shaped him, he couldn’t just forget that, couldn’t act like that wasn’t important.

At first, you were there for him, no question. 

He knew you hated Ward, you barely tolerated the thought of him even existing in the same room as you. You spent those first few weeks with him, making sure he didn’t spiral back into the shit that nearly destroyed him. He needed the support, even if he didn’t always know how to ask for it.

You were there, holding it down. You got through it, the late-night talk, but then, you started getting distant.

At first, it was subtle—small things. He’d catch you looking at him like you didn’t quite get him anymore. You’d pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.

He pretended he didn’t sense it, tried to tell himself you’d come around. 

After all, this was his grief, and no one else was going to understand it the way he did. His dad had been everything to him—maybe not in the way you thought he should’ve been, but that was just the reality of it.

For the first time in years, it felt like you weren’t there with him. It didn’t make sense to him how you couldn’t see it. 

Ward had been a tough guy, sure, cruel sometimes, but he was also a provider, a father who tried to teach him how to survive, even if it didn’t always come wrapped in the right way.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the most—knowing he’d never get the approval he’d always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that. 

He wanted to mourn in peace, but no one seemed to understand why Ward still mattered to him, not even Sarah.

Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch he’d stolen right out of his dad’s stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it?

He’d had people telling him he wouldn’t make it three weeks, let alone three years. Shit, his dad sure didn’t think he’d get this far. Only you.

Rafe squinted at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, then leaned back in the worn leather of his dad’s old armchair. It felt weird being in here, in his chair, in his office, breathing in that persistent smell of old cigars and varnish.

After the whole “funeral”, with everyone looking at him like he was a wild animal about to snap, this was the only place he could sit without someone judging him.

If you’re so clean, why are you drinking yourself half to death? He took a slow sip, letting it burn down his throat. 

It wasn’t like it used to be, that high that hit fast and hard, and didn’t care if it broke him apart.

This was different, a slower, quieter process.

Besides, he was in control this time. Just a drink, he told himself, fingers tightening around the glass. No powder, no pills. That was progress.

So what if he had to take the edge off? Who wouldn’t, if they’d just said goodbye to their only living parent and had to look at their younger sisters crying like that? 

He was practically swimming in alcohol. Rafe knew he was overdoing it, but he didn’t care.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

Grounded.

Nobody understood him; they just kept looking at him with that worried face, like he was on the verge of losing it like he used to when he was younger. Maybe he already had.

You watched him—really watched him—and yeah, he could tell you were pissed. He saw it in that little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he took another sip. But you didn’t say anything. 

Even Wheezie was on his case in her quiet way.

She was hanging around, throwing out old jokes and trying to make him smile, but he barely reacted. She was looking at him like she was scared, as if he was some stranger she was trying not to set off. And he hated that—God, he fucking hated it. So he kept his distance, hoped she would back off, let him get through this his way.

But then came that night at the beach bonfire, when everything changed.

He probably shouldn’t have gone, but he needed to get out and feel normal again—even if that just implied showing up and pretending, he was fine. He dragged you along, flashing that cocky grin you could see right through, but you followed anyway, probably just to keep an eye on him. He could feel it—the way you were watching him, worried as hell, that just made him want another drink.

Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.

“Guess Ward Cameron finally found some gold he couldn’t buy his way out of, huh? What was he thinking, running off to some country where people don’t just take bribes? Practically killed himself.”

It took everything in him not to lunge right there, but he was too plastered to keep the anger off his face. He pushed his way over to the guy, hands clenched into fists.

“You got something you want to say to my fuckin’ face?”

The guy shrugged, muttering something under his breath, people were looking now, everyone watching to see if he was finally going to give them a show.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving him back, hard enough that the dude stumbled, beer splashing out of his cup. The crowd around them stirred, murmurs, but nobody did a thing—they were just staring, waiting to see the blood spill. He felt tempted to hurt someone, felt that cameron fury crawling up his throat.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

He felt you grab his arm, long nails digging hard enough to pull him back, he jerked his shoulder, trying to shake you off, but you weren’t letting go.

“You’re gonna waste your time on him?”

Rafe gritted his teeth, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue. You hauled him back, forcing him away from the guy, who was still standing there with that smug look plastered on his face. 

“Get out. Now,” you urged him, voice calm but with the tone that even he didn’t want to test. He glared at you, mouth opening to argue, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “Rafe. Now.”

You were mad at him.

It was enough to knock some sense into him, and he let you reel him away, but not before you turned back.

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.” 

There was no bluff, no hesitation, and Rafe watched as the pogue’s smug expression dropped instantly, eyes widening as he realized you were dead serious, your family’s name always had an impact around town, old money and all.

As you dragged him to the car, he muttered that he didn’t need you playing bodyguard, but you ignored it, taking him out of the spotlight he hated but couldn’t seem to avoid.

His head was spinning, his blood boiling, and he couldn’t even look at you, not with how angry he felt.

By the time you pulled up to his house, you got out, guiding him inside with that hard, that silent determination he both hated and admired in you. 

You were there, right behind him with that look on your face—angry, disappointed, like he was missing something big, as if he was the one who didn’t get it.

He stumbled into the bathroom, holding himself against the sink, and before he could even catch his breath, you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. He jerked back, sputtering, wiping it with the back of his hand. When he looked at you, his anger burned again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snapped.

“My problem?” you scoffed head already shaking, “Are you serious?”

“You don’t get it,” he growled, barely controlling the rage, the shame—everything. “You don’t know a fuckin’ thing about him. I had the right to defend him.”

You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, “Don’t I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. You’re so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that you’re pushing the people who care about you away. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.”

Rafe laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the sink, gripping the edge hard enough to make his knuckles turn white.

“Don’t you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” you retaliated, stepping up beside him. “I stood by you through all of it, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. He’s the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why you’re always trying to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it. And now he’s gone, and you still can’t see it. You’re still trying to be good enough for him!”

He didn’t look at you, didn’t want to see the indignation—or worse, the pity—in your eyes.

“Just stop,” he muttered, but you were past listening.

“No, I won’t stop. I can’t. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself again. You’re better than this.”

He suddenly pushed himself away from the sink, and turned to face you, his blue eyes practically black with a hurt that was older and deeper than either of you could touch.

“You don’t get to stand there and tell me what I deserve.”

“I know what you deserve.” 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes again, though his face had gone a shade paler. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” he sneered. “Think you know what’s best for me? Get off your high horse.”

“You’re damn fucking right I know better than you do, I’m not the one who’s drowning every night in some pathetic tribute to a man who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

He could feel it now, the bitterness you’d been hiding for weeks. It wasn’t just about him drinking himself stupid. It was everything—every fucking thing you’d been ignoring, it had festered between you two while you pretended things were okay.

“You’re the one who’s just tired of me, of everything that comes with me.”

You took a step back, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t flinch.

“What?” Your rage momentarily dialed down, the sound gurgling, “You think I’m tired of you? I’ve been here this whole time, trying to make you see the truth, but you won’t even look at me. You won’t let me in. You’re too fucking blind to notice.”

His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it! I didn’t need you to fix me, I needed someone to stay. But instead, you—" His voice cracked, the anger choking him up, "Instead, you started to make me feel like I was a b-burden. Some mess you had to clean up. How am I supposed to deal with that, huh?"

You were shaking your head, your eyes had already been filled with tears, your chest suffocating.

“I’ve been here. I’ve been standing right next to you, waiting for you to pull your shit together. I didn’t walk away. You did.

His stomach churned, as if you’d taken every inch of space in his chest and twisted it, just for fun. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue with you. Not really. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, so obsessed with keeping everyone out, that he hadn’t even seen how far you’d already gone.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make this about me,” he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. “You don’t get to make me the villain in your story just because you’re tired of playing my fucking hero.”

“I’m not trying to play the hero!” you screamed, stepping closer, your eyes were cold. “I’m trying to help you see that you have to fix this. Not me. Not anyone else. But you. And if you’re so fucking broken you can’t see that, then maybe you really don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Rafe could feel his heart racing, that agonizing coil in his chest, but he couldn’t stop.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, voice quieter, but just as venomous.

He turned his back on you, walking to the door. The sound of his boots clamped against the wood floor like a countdown.

“Maybe I don’t. Grab your shit and go.”

"Don’t you fucking—" you snarled, but he was already moving, grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door and throwing it your way, “You know what? Fine. Maybe I will.” You shoved that stupid thing on, hands shaking as you yanked the zipper up. “Don’t come running back in two days like you always do. Don’t come crawling back.”

Rafe paused, hand on the doorknob, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t look back at you.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

“Good. Because I stopped feeling sorry for you a long time ago,” you replied sharply, every syllable punctuated with weeks of resentment. “What I feel now? That’s just disappointment.”

You watched his shoulders lock up; his whole body wound so tight it was like he was one wrong look away from completely losing it. He didn’t turn around either, even as you slipped out the door, but he knew.

That was it.

Two moths later, almost three, he was standing in front of the ER pacing like a complete fucking idiot after you passed out in his arms earlier.

He’d told himself he’d stay away, make it easy for both of you. 

That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topper’s. He’d seen that wild look in your eyes before—the one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dad’s gala came around, and he couldn’t sleep properly knowing he wasn’t going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.

He had stupidly thought that maybe, one day, you two could still be friends. But today? That shit blew up in his face, for the second time in the span of a week.

He forgot what you could invoke in him when you were standing merely an inch away. He promised himself that he’d moved on, forced to consider that the love of his life might not be someone he could spend his lifetime with. Maybe you weren’t meant for each other.

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting? 

No, no, no.

Sofia was what he needed.

Someone who didn’t know shit about his past, who didn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. She hadn’t seen him the way you had, hadn’t been there through every drunken rant and punch he’d thrown at the wall or someone’s face, hadn’t heard him rail against his dad or drag himself back from one of his darkest nights. 

She hadn’t called him a fucking idiot when he chose to throw his father’s ashes on the ocean. She wasn’t going to call him a coward for it. She didn’t have a clue about any of it, and that was supposed to be what he wanted.

He looked up at the ER doors for the millionth time in the past hour, his fingers clenched around his jeep keys so tight they left marks on his hand.

It was over between you two. He’d make sure to keep the fucking distance, two whole months. If he didn’t give you enough closure, you’d hate him faster and you’d both get over it. 

So why the fuck was he about to set the whole hospital on fire as he watched John B’s beat up twinkie pull up to the parking area? It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. 

Of course you’d call her, his own sister—his father's favorite.

Sarah had always been the golden child, Ward’s little angel who could do no wrong, while he was the family screw-up. Even now, you’d picked her, just like Ward would have. 

He didn’t think before he moved, closing the distance between him them in seconds. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He barked right up in her face, daring her to explain herself.

Sarah didn’t back down, though. She just looked up at him with that same cool, level expression she always had whenever he tried to get a rise out of her. 

“I’m here because she called me.”

“She called you?” He scoffed, eyebrows pulling together in disbelief. “You? She called you?” He took a step closer, “So what, you’re her savior now or some shit? Why the hell would she call you if I’m right here?” His eyes narrowed, searching her face like he couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding me?”

Sarah threw her hands up, a look of pure exasperation on her face.

“Are you dense, Rafe? You’re with someone else! Why would she want the guy who broke her heart to drive her home?”

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

“Oh, right. A favor?” Sarah cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That why you’re pacing out here like a goddamn lunatic?”

“Go away. I’m driving her home.”

She stepped closer, her voice steely as she looked him dead in the eye.

“No. She called me, she wants me here. Not you. So do yourself a real favor and go home before you do something even more stupid.”

A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, “She already hates me, Sarah. What’s the fucking harm, huh?” He threw his arms out, as if daring her to come up with an answer that would hurt less. “What’s one more screw-up on top of everything else?”

“You’re real dumb if you believe that. But if you wanna make it worse, then by all means, go ahead. You’ll just prove her right.”

He stayed rooted in place, chest heaving, the conflict ripping him to pieces. His hands shook, his throat tight with words he couldn’t even begin to understand.

But Sarah had already turned her back on him, heading toward the entrance.

“Walk away,” she warned him, looking over her shoulder, “That’s the only thing left for you to do right now.”

Rafe didn’t know why the fuck he listened to her.

It was as if his body had already made that decision for him, understanding that if he didn’t leave right then, he’d end up doing something stupid—something even more fucked up than what he’d already done. His tongue was locked in place, a curse on the tip of his pursed lips, but it never came. 

His feet wouldn’t move, his hands stayed at his sides, and that tightness in his throat wouldn’t let him get a single word out, not one that would make any fucking sense. He hated that. Hated that you still had this kind of control over him.

Hated that he just…felt like something was wrong.

You hadn’t been this frantic, so impulsive since he had to take you home after your sister passed. He didn’t want to remember that night—you damn near threw yourself out of his truck.

But he couldn’t ignore the memory, the desperation on your face, the screams, the fight in his grip as he pulled you by your shirt back inside.

He’d felt like he was holding on to something breaking apart in his hands, something he couldn’t fix but couldn’t let go of either. He’d seen it again in your eyes when he’d caught you earlier at the beach clean-up, the way you’d tried to dodge his stare, voice cracking, legs wobbling when he mentioned the hospital. 

Rafe still felt like he’d swallowed shattered pieces of glass every time he thought about you. And if he could just push it down, if he could just get through one fucking day without looking back, maybe he’d start to forget you.

His feet were glued to the hospital pavement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. If you were about to crash, if this was anything like before…He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do.

He had no reason to stay, you’d made it clear as day. He was supposed to be gone—out of your life for good. You’d told him you didn’t need him, he told you he didn’t need you. So why the hell was he still standing here? 

Perhaps because he remembered the last time he’d let you walk out, the way he’d watched you disappear, thinking he was doing the right thing—giving you the clean end you’d both needed.

Maybe that made him sick to his stomach now, thinking of you in there with Sarah, telling his sister things you wouldn’t say to him, letting her be the person he once was to you.

But you’d called her, not him. You’d picked Sarah to be here, and that hurt like a bitch, but it was what he’d asked for, wasn’t it?

This was what he deserved. He told you to grab your shit and go, forced you to leave because that was supposed to make it easier.

He’d impulsively made his choice the minute he’d wrapped his arm around Sofia, pulling her close in front of everyone who’d once known he was yours. He’d talked himself into it. It was the right call, moving on was the only way to finally get you out of his system. 

He was the one who decided it’d be easier to act like he forgot you than to actually try. He thought he could make it easy—pain-free.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back toward his Jeep. He gripped the door handle so hard he could break it in half if he wanted to, feeling his knuckles strain.

If he let go, if he closed that door and stormed inside, he’d just be right back where he started.

He stared at his reflection in the window, his hardened face staring back. His pulse was pounding in his temples, his gut twisting and turning as he tried to bury it all six feet under—the need to just go to you, to hold your hand or yell at you for making him care so fucking much.

He finally released the death grip he had on the door handle, forcing his fingers to relax, his knuckles still throbbing. He slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather you’d help him choose, mocking at his skin as he slammed the door shut.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the car into drive, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.

He drove like he was being hunted down. He wanted to get as far away from that place as possible, praying the miles between him and you would stop the churning inside him. 

You’ll just prove her right.

He hated her for saying it, hated Sarah for knowing exactly what buttons to push. 

As he rounded a curve, his headlights swept across Topper’s house. Rafe cut the engine and stalked toward the backyard. Topper’s sprawled-out form on a reclining chair, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses somehow still on evenly.

He stomped up and smacked the end of his chair.

"Wake the fuck up."

He jolted, nearly tumbling off the chair, ripping his sunglasses off and squinting up at him. “Jesus fucking christ, dude, ever heard of calling ahead?”

But Rafe didn’t answer. He just paced, hands in his growing hair, digging into his scalp like he could rip the frustration out of his skull. Topper sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, he didn’t even look at him, just kept muttering to himself, biting his lip, pacing.

“What the hell happened?”

Finally, he stopped, “I need you to find out what’s wrong with your cousin,” he muttered, not wanting to admit he cared enough to ask.

Topper blinked, brow furrowing. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with her?”

Rafe only shook his head, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “I don’t know, okay? She just…she’s acting off. And I can’t—I’m not supposed to care, Top. I’m not. I’m with Sofia now, alright? But she’s still…” His voice trailed off, as he scrubbed a hand down it.

Topper tilted his head, eyeing him knowingly.

“Right, yeah, whatever you say. I’ll figure it out.”

If Sarah Cameron didn’t walk through that hospital door within the next three minutes, you’d lose all the courage you’d summoned over the last hours. Or was it just an hour? You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, the IV needle taped uncomfortably into your arm. 

Your fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over you, and you wished—desperately—that you didn’t feel so…empty.

Ten minutes later, she strode in with a glance at the door, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get there on time. The relief on her face when she saw you was reassuring but it only made the confusion in your chest heavier.

She was so different from Rafe, yet still looked so much like him. She sat in the chair by the bed, eyes scanning your face like she was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Hi.”

You swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course,” She reached for your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, hesitating for a split second before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?” 

You felt a laugh bubble up, “Not even a little.”

She let out a small breath and nodded, squeezing your hand again. “I figured,” she said quietly, and you appreciated that she didn’t pretend to have some miracle answer, “I made him leave.”

She’d made him leave.

You could imagine his face distorted with anger.

You wondered if he’d put up a fight or if he’d just walked away,  giving in to his sister in that infuriating, self-pitying silence he’d perfected.

You weren’t going to ask, the less you knew, the better.

“Good.” You were relieved, but it felt bittersweet, “I didn’t want him here.” 

Except your voice shook, like it simply had to let her know you were lying.

You’d been telling yourself for so long that you didn’t need him—that you didn’t want him anywhere near you. But the second you pictured him there, waiting… God, you hated yourself.

Hated that tiny, pathetic part of you that still wanted him to care, even if it was just a sliver of anything that wasn’t anger or flat-out ignoring you.

“He threw a hissy fight, but don’t worry. He’s not coming back.”

You nodded, half in agreement, half in frustration, “He never listens.”

“Especially when it matters,” Sarah added, rolling her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I think he just likes to make things worse for himself. And everyone else.”

You recalled the sound of his footsteps trailing yours earlier, the way his hand had hovered near you when you swayed, the wild look on his face when you told him to back off. He had seemed…hurt. Like he wanted to fix something he’d already smashed to pieces.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

She respected that—she wouldn’t insist. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Rafe, but you didn’t need to go there right now. She could tell.

"Okay. Do you want to tell me why you called me and not Topper?”

There wasn’t any judgment in her tone—just plain curiosity, confusion. And you couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, you’d be asking the same thing.

You had to bite your lips to avoid crying for the hundredth time that day. You hadn’t planned on telling someone the biggest secret of your life in a public space, or after nearly having a mental breakdown.

Not like this, with the IV in your arm.

"I—" you started, the words tangled in your throat. "I don't trust him," you admitted quietly, "I don’t trust him with this.”

This.

You turned your head to look out the window, the late afternoon light pouring through the blinds, but it never touched the void you felt inside. 

“He’s too close. He wouldn’t get it. I needed someone who could just… not be involved, you know? I mean—You’re still his sister but—”

Sarah’s already frowning, interrupting your pitying party, “Sweet girl, you don’t have to explain your reasons to me. I’m listening either way. I don’t know what’s going on, but I get it, I understand why you’d want to keep him out of this.”

“You’re the only one I can trust to keep this a secret,” you confessed, “If anyone finds out—if Rafe finds out—it’s over. I’m not ready for that.”

A shadow crossed Sarah’s face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t ask questions about what you meant—about how Rafe had ruined things before. She didn’t need to. 

“I won’t tell him,” Sarah promised, her grip tightening on your skin. “It’s safe with me. I’ve got your back.”

You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly.

This was hard, harder than anything you’d ever done before, and that was saying something considering all the shit you went through when your family died. She had no idea what you were about to say, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it would change everything between you—between you and her, and you and everyone else.

"Sara, I—" The truth choked you once more, cutting you off. You couldn’t breathe.

Your chest felt vacant, something was missing, something that you didn’t know how to fix, but you had to say it. It was the only way out.

“Are you—" she started to ask, but you quickly shook your head. You could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Just… just let me tell you,” You begged, pushing the words out before you lost them. “I-I’m pregnant,” you finally blurted out, as if confessing it all at once could make it easier.

But it didn’t. 

You didn’t dare look at Sarah right away. 

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, blinking rapidly, you didn’t need her to see how much this was breaking you or how terrified you were. You could feel her eyes on you now, and your hand clenched around the blanket, your knuckles white from the lack of circulation. 

Then, slowly, Sarah squeezed your hand again, she was giving you a moment to breathe, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“Rafe’s?” she asked quietly, confirming what you already knew she understood.

You nodded, not needing to say it aloud; she could sense the truth in the way your chest hitched, how you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.

“God,” Sarah breathed out, "And you... you want to...?"

You nodded again. She wasn’t asking if you were sure; you could hear it in the hesitation of her question. She was asking if you were ready to make the choice.

“I don’t want this,” you choked out, the tears finally breaking free. “I can’t have it, Sarah. I can’t. I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I even know what I want anymore," you spit the doubt out with the brokenness you felt, wiping the traitorous tear that traced down your cheek. "I don’t know what to do."

“I’m here. Whatever you need, however you need to do this—I’m here,” she promised, making sure you wouldn’t float away.

“I can’t… I just… I don’t want him to find out,” you managed between shallow breaths. “If he knew, he’d… I don’t know what he’d do. Maybe it’s stupid, but I don’t want him to look at me like… like he owns me something.”

Sarah nodded, not a hint of judgment on her face, “He won’t know a thing from me, I swear. He’ll never have any say in this, not unless you want him to. This is your choice, no one else’s.”

You didn’t know you’d been holding your breath, but it came out all at once in a shaky exhale.

“Thank you. I just… I didn’t know who else I could ask.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “This? This is exactly what I’m here for. I’ve got you, no matter what.”

The empathy there, the way she held space for all your broken pieces.

“New Mexico’s clinic rules… they won’t let me go through with it alone. They said I need someone with me.” You took a shaky breath. “I can’t imagine anyone else but you there, Sarah.”

“Then I’ll be there,” she said, without hesitation. “I’ll get the tickets, we’ll go together. And if you feel like breaking down, then break down, because you don’t have to keep any of this in anymore.”

Her words broke something in you that had been holding everything so tightly. The relief, the gratitude— “You’re really… You’d really do this for me?”

“Of course,” she murmured, pulling you close so your head rested against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through your hair soothingly. “Sweet girl, I’d do this a thousand times over.”

“I mean—he’s your brother. I don’t want to mess things up between you two even more.”

She sighed, giving a small, sad smile, almost like she’d been waiting for you to say that. “You think he’s my priority right now? Don’t you worry about me and him, we always figure it out. Trust me, I’m used to it.”

“He might hate me for this. And if he takes that out on you…” You couldn’t finish.

“Listen to me,” she sighed, “I’m here because I care about you. Rafe and I, we’ll always have our issues—he’s stubborn, and he thinks he has all the answers. But that’s our problem. He’ll never have a say over what I do or who I’m there for. Especially not with this.”

You swallowed hard, “I don’t want you to regret it.”

She gave a wry laugh, brushing a piece of hair back from your face. “You don’t have to protect me from him, remember? He’s my brother, yeah, I love him despite all our shit, but I’m not here for him right now. I’m here for you.”

“You’re sure?” you asked, the question a whisper, almost childlike. You were afraid of the answer, terrified she’d eventually pull away.

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied, tilting your chin so you’d meet her eyes. “Whatever’s going on with Rafe will figure itself out—But right now, you need someone who’s all in, no strings, no doubts. That’s me. You focus on you. I’ll handle him.”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, “I don’t think he loves me anymore,” you admitted, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it, “I was so mean when your dad died.”

When you finally looked up, Sarah was watching you with a sad smile, one that made your heart hurt in both comfort and ache. “You really believe that?” she asked quietly, and you could hear the disbelief in her voice as if it was so obvious to her, something you couldn’t see.

You nodded, swallowing down the sting in your throat. “He doesn’t want me, not really. He’s…he pulled away. Like he’d rather hate me than be close to me. He’s with her.” 

The words tasted bitter, and made you want to hurt him twice as bad, but there was finally some relief in saying it out loud.

She sighed, looking down for a second, almost like she was thinking how to tell you something that hurt her to admit.

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” she murmured, with a knowing sadness. “I think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. He’s still hurting from dad’s passing, he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And you—you’re here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. You’re scared he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s scared you don’t need him at all."

Your lips quivered, your heart about to leap out of your throat, your tongue darted out, briefly brushing your lips.

You weren’t sure you should say it out loud, but maybe you had to. “We’re better off without each other, aren’t we?”

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

You were slipping, falling back into that spiral of guilt and shame, the one that told you maybe this was all you were good for. Maybe Rafe was right to break things off, perhaps he’d realized that, in the end, you weren’t worth fighting for.

And shit, you hated yourself for still caring. For still wanting him to want you, even though you knew it was poison. Even though you knew that being with him, needing him, was only dragging you both down.

“Thank you.”

And as you sat there, in the stillness of that room, with the sunlight dimming outside, you felt that maybe someday you’d be able to trust yourself too. To believe that you were worth more than the heartache you’d come to accept as your own.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[eclipsen-smiles]

I doubt any of you want to know but I love talking about them so-

Eclipse’s version (I’ll do Chai’s on my art account.)

Any variation of “I’m fine” or “it’s fine”

Basically never. They’re/we’re SHIT at verbal affection.

Also practically never, unless around either their world’s family or the bloodpack.

Childcare.

Yes. They don’t think of anything. They just can. Their human form is small and pathetic looking, they use it for pity. (I do. I’m tiny. I look young. It’s so so so easy to get idiots in trouble.)

Favourite show: ever after high. They will never mention this. Ever.

Fuckshit. Probably. Or just “GET YO ASS OVER HERE.” With their gf…… the SpongeBob theme. Eclipse is still childish at heart.

There’s actually a list.

Nothing= anon

Friend= distant.

Name = talked once or twice.

Nickname= close

Hun/bud/pal/pet names= family or extremely close. Or if they’re concerned.

It depends on the situation. It’s a weird mix. They can be very rough, but they’re usually gentle at the same time.

Random facts about mental states. Usually things that make people feel better. (Ie; fun fact, you’re face is distorted through your eyes, so how you see yourself isn’t what other people see.)

Trust me. You’ll tell. (They’re already behind them.)

People being dumb. Or people trying to insult them. (Please. Try to. It’s hilarious.)

Always. I don’t think they know how to smile naturally at this point.

With their finger. Or hand.

Home: kinda dull, calm. Work: silent, disassociated. Friends: HYPER. ABABABA. MISCHIEF. PRANKS. alone: no facial expression.

Idiots.

Memories. Others, idk.

Luna. Believe it or not, but their version of lunar is almost MORE psychopathic than them…

Panic. Not because of the person, but because they’re trapped. (One, that shouldn’t be possible. two, agoraphobia.)

1:Unknown. 2: the astals. Specifically the higher ups.

Uhh.. eye contact, I guess. They’re fine with it, but they know others aren’t.

Hilariously, normal work hours. And taking breaks.

OHHH BOY LET ME TELL YOU- (reminder: luna is a ghost.)

Bold of you to assume they only took one.

Uhh.. random facts from plants and animals to history to cooking. They’re 600+, they’ve had a LOT OF FREETIME.

Laughter.

A “dont do drugs” pencil. Responded with heavy laughter.

A break. I pled the fifth (death.)

“Your funeral”

Heavily different because of the topic of their work. Personal= eh whatever. Work= oh fuck oh shit

.. seeing luna happy actually causes the most guilt.

MONEY PRINTING. WHO NEEDS A JOB WHEN YOURE GOD?

Silence and a glare

Family/not super close friends/people who look up to them: very calm but visibly happy. Close friends/people close to them/people who don’t necessarily hold them highly: ABBABABABABABAB

…so…many

Tartarus. “Can’t kill him yet. He still has use.” But DAMN DO THEY WANT TO. (Tar is a corrupt ass in their au btw.)

Actually nothing serious. Like… nothing. Besides secrets others have told them.

Hahehakfjkwnf. One that I have. Juggling.

Excluded. They hate having people include them just for pity. Though that’s if they know. (Same philosophy as me. Just being invited is enough. Even if I can’t come or I don’t have to actively participate.)

Depends. If the person looks annoyed it’s “what an ass.” If they look neutral or uncomfortable, it’s quickly “are they okay?” or “am I too imposing?”

Unknown at the moment.

Guilt and tragedy coping. Self explanatory

They’re quick to assume people being uncomfortable or afraid is because of them. They will not mention this.

Any. Since built in language processors, but probably Spanish since is such a direct translation language.

Shoes/socks in the house. What’s the fucking point. Take em off.

Listener. Make them talk? They’re autistic. You. Will. know.

EVERYONE FROM THIER ORIGINAL WORLD. EVERYONE. they either are still on the “glad they’re dead” bandwagon or the “holy shit he(moon) killed a mostly innocent dude.” Wagon.

Girlfriend. Friends. Family. Literally anyone they know. Hey, who coulda guessed, the person grappling with their past is a people pleaser!!

Nope. Politely decline

Hhhhhh….. past morals I guess? The old belief of corporeal punishment? (they don’t now.)

“Hun” when they’re concerned.

Self explanatory (mod is a lawyer…. Eclipse is at heart..)

The blood pack or their gf. (Too much shit has happened for them to NOT believe the pack. They’re safety is top priority)

Freeze to fight in normal situations. Straight to fight in dangerous situations. Freeze to “JEESUS” in safe situations.”

Destroying worlds. It’s their job, sure, but they’d much rather stop what’s CAUSING it.

Gf usually. But she’s back on the “hub world” so probably no one.

Eating. Sleeping. Drinking…. Self care.

ALL OF THEM.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

[imaginaryf1shots]

School Vigilante Pt. 1 | Oscar Piastri

WC: 5.2K

Oscar x childhood!friend!reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) Oscar is back from a weekend of racing. On the way back, he's stopped by jealous guys.

Warning: fighting, injuries, maybe cursing?

A/N: This request is one of my absolute favourite, so fun to write and once I started it was easy. I'm not linking the request until I post the second part

@ausie-brit this one is for you ❤️

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

When Oscar decided to take karting seriously, telling his parents that he wants to be an F1 driver, they told him that their condition is for him to finish at least school. So, when he moved to Europe to compete there, they enrolled him into private school. And when he wasn’t racing or training, he was there. Oscar didn’t mind his time at school. But since he missed so many days, he mostly only made friends with people in karting.

Oscar’s family agreed with the school to let him come and go, if he got good grades and they paid all his tuition, which they did. The school didn’t allow their students out of campus most weeks, including weekends, but every once and a while the students will have a weekend in town, depending on their ages.

Even though Oscar didn’t spend as much time in school as other did, but he’s one of the popular ones. It’s known that he isn’t there on scholarship like some of the students are. And everyone has seen the places he goes to due to racing. He’s known as the racer kid in school, people like to talk about him and speculate a lot.

You of course knew who Oscar was, like everyone in school, you also heard the girls talk about how goodlooking he is. Thankfully your parents had you in a single bedroom, so you had no roommates, it helped you study and focus on your extracurricular activities. Being top of your year and the smartest student in years, made it easy for you to do those extracurriculars you liked. Teachers and students often didn’t pay attention to what you were doing and didn’t check on you.

It was one evening, Oscar was returning from a formula 3 race. The sun has sat since he arrived back in the UK, Oscar only had a backpack with him. He was close to the school gate; the campus was huge and surrounded by high brick fence. The streets weren’t that well light, but there was enough light for Oscar to see around him.

Oscar heard them before he saw them, the sound of drunken guys being rowdy. He hoped that they wouldn’t cross his path, he wasn’t feeling up to having to talk to anyone, all he wanted is to shower and go to bed.

But it looks like luck wasn’t in his favour because they soon rounded a corner and saw him instantly. He couldn’t see their face, but he was walking towards a streetlight, so they clearly saw them.

“W-wait, is that? What’s his name?” The shorter one said and pointed at Oscar. “The driver!”

“Ooh, you’re right.” The taller squinted his eyes. “Oscar or something.”

“Yes! Oscar.” His friend said and they looked at Oscar, he was moving closer to them. “Looks like he’s coming back from a race.”

“I don’t get how he gets to leave most weekends, and we’re stuck here, every day.” The taller one complained. Oscar doesn’t know if it’s their drunken mind or if it’s just how they are. But they walked up to him and blocked his way. No Oscar isn’t a small kid, he’s not short, and he works out every day, but the guys looked both taller and bigger than him, it was intimidating, he was intimidated even if he didn’t show it.

“You’re Oscar, right?” The shorter one asked buffing his chest.

“Yes.” Oscar answered one of his hands gripping his bag’s strap tighter.

“So what you’re back from a race?” The shorter asked smirking, Oscar could smell the alcohol on them from where he stood.

“Yeah.” Oscar tensed up, he was simply hoping they’d leave him alone.

“Why do you get to do as you please and the rest of us are stuck?” The taller asked and leaned closer to Oscar crossing his arms in front of him.

“My parents made a dea-“

“Oh parents! Yes, forgot you come for money, doing rich people sports and all that.” The taller cut him off and he pushed Oscar’s shoulder back, making the Australian stumble back a step. “You know, it’s not fair, they can’t just allow you to come and go as you please and the rest of us are stuck because you have more money than we do, the system is messed up, and you just think you’re too good for a regular life just because you race and…”

You heard them before you saw them, they were loud, you could hear them from down the street, leaning over the edge you saw them come closer and closer before they passed you, you followed them around the corner and saw them look at another guy walking by the school fence. You saw those two sneaking out a lot, not only them, but they also usually had a couple more people with them. You usually come here for the open space to train, you can only do so much in your dorm room. They were still being so loud, you heard every word they said to Oscar, the guy the girls liked to fawn over. You adjusted the black face mask on your face and put your cap back on before you pulled your hoodie over it, the hoodie had the school crest on it, but you couldn’t risk wearing anything else in case you got caught after getting back on campus.

You saw how the guys moved, and from their stances you knew this was about to get ugly, and two against one is bad in your book. Getting to the pipe running down the side of the two story building, you swung yourself over the edge and held onto the pipe, placing your feet on the metal parts attaching the pipe to the wall. Moving swiftly you climbed down the pipe and moving in the shadows you got closer to the trio.

Thankfully you were close enough to them, because the moment the shorter one moved over his friend with his hand raised in the air you bounced. You ran over and pushed his harm to the side by his forearm, and sliding yourself in front of Oscar, the guy stumbled but regained his balance quickly.

“What the heck? Who are you?” The taller one asked taking half a step back, but not backing away. You tilted your head to the side but didn’t answer.

“What are you doing, hit him!” His friend pushed him closer to you and it took him a moment before he tried to attack you. Maybe it was the alcohol or they’re just stupid but it was obvious when he leaned to the right he was going to swing. You once more dodged, he didn’t stumble like his friend, just swung and swung the last one he stumbled. You’ve been backing up, making Oscar also back up. Oscar could only see your back, hew knew you were from his school but other than that he had no idea who you were.

The guys both shared a look and then came at you.

“Step back.” You told Oscar and he then realised you’re a girl, his eyes went wide but he did as you said. Clearly you knew what you were doing.

Your training kicked in as you swing under a hand flying your way before punching one of the guys in the stomach. Before turning in a spinning roundhouse kick that caught the first guy square in the jae, he stumbled back, shocked that soon turned into anger as he crashed to the ground. Your hood slipped off showing your hair under the hat.

“Whoa.” The second guy exclaimed, momentarily stunned, his drunkenness failing him. “Is that a girl?”

You didn’t give him time to process, you darted forward, closing the gap he made between the two of you. in a swift motion you dropped low, your knee shooting into his gut. He doubled over, gasping for breath and you followed up with a precise elbow to his back, he hit the ground sprawling.

The moment they were both on the ground you turned to Oscar. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yes.” Oscar looked at you confused by the whole thing, this is all happening too fast. Oscar tried to look at your face, but with the hat leaving a dark shadow on the little that was visible from your face he was unable to. But his eyes flickered down to the glinting of a necklace around your neck, his eyes flicker to your hands, and he sees a scar over your knuckles. There wasn’t time for him to say anything else, as the first guy scrambled to his feet, rage all over his expression. He charged at you, fist swinging wildly, you dodged easily. Your body is moving like water around him. in a seamless move, you sidestepped and swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing down once more.

The second guy staggered to his feet, his expression shifting from shock to fury. “You’ll pay for that!” He slurred, launching another awkward punch.

You sidestepped again, your training kicking in as you countered with a swift jab to his ribs, then pivoted behind him, locking your arm around his neck. With a quick twist, you sent him tumbling to the ground, gasping.

Breathing heavily, you looked back at Oscar, who was now staring in awe.

“Get out of here before they decide to get back up.” Oscar hesitated, he didn’t want to leave you alone with the guys, even if you took them on by yourself. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay.” Oscar turned and ran down the street to the gate, he heard you follow him. However, by the time he reached the gate, there’s no one behind him when he looked back.

The next morning, Oscar couldn’t get you out of his head. As he walked to the administrative office, every detail from the previous night replayed in his head: the swiftness of your strikes, the way you moved with precise control, you’re trained he knows that for a fact.

Oscar recounted everything that happened to the headmaster, he could tell that they didn’t believe him a 100%, he asked if there’s CCTV, and then the headmaster and the vice-headmaster all went to the security room. Pulling up the footage from the day before, they skipped to the time Oscar told them the altercation happen, and sure enough they saw the guys walk to Oscar. The looks on their faces turned from doubtful, to concern, the school was ‘good’ with security, parents leave children in their care but here they are drunk and out when they shouldn’t.

There was no sound, but everything was clear, the principle knew who they were, even though the quality wasn’t the best, both guys were in trouble a while ago. When you appeared on screen, everyone leaned forward to try and see who you were, but even when your hood fell, they couldn’t pinpoint who you were.

“Do you recognise her?” They asked him.

“No, but she’s from our school, had the jacket and everything.”

Now in a school that doesn’t have any gossip besides who dated who and who cheated on who, the news spread like wildfire around school. The teachers told the students that they wanted to know who the girl was, and for her to step forward and nothing would happen to her, no punishment or anything.

By lunchtime, nearly everyone had heard about the mystery student who had supposedly rescued Oscar from an attack.

It took three days before a girl stepped up and said that it was her. She showed the teachers where she sneaks out from, and you couldn’t help but snort when you heard. You usually jump the wall where no cameras are positioned, you don’t sneak out when the guards change shifts or wait for them to go on a bathroom break. It was ridiculous. But you didn’t bother saying anything, let them believe what they wanted.

She cornered him after going to the teachers. 

“I heard what happened.” She said flipping her hair back. “Crazy night, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess you can say that.” Oscar replied trying to keep the conversation short. He wasn’t really a big fan of all the attention now on him because of the incident.

“Well.” Saddie continued, leaning a little closer. “I think I know what you’re wondering… it was me who saved you.”

Oscar blinked, taken a back, he didn’t expect that. “You?”

She grinned nodding.

“Yep. I was out that night too, you know, I sometimes sneak out.” She smirked as if revealing some thrilling secret. “I saw you in trouble and couldn’t just stand by.”

Oscar frowned; not sure he believed her. The girl who saved him moved with a lot of grace and confidence, he’s not convinced Saddie was that person. But she kept talking, adding more details to the attack. She knew the number of people, where they came from, and even some of the things they said. The footage wasn’t released, something only those who were there or watched the videos will know. But he still was sceptical, her build was different from the one he saw fighting, especially the height. He wasn’t that tired to forget or get confused. But she did know about the fight.

To you it was obvious why the girl lied, it was in the way she tried to stick to Oscar’s side, trying to touch him and laughs at everything he says, even when they’re not jokes. It was also obvious to you how uncomfortable it made Oscar; he’d cringe or roll his eyes, and Saddie still wouldn’t care or notice.

Even so, the news spread, and everyone was calling her a hero. Saddie went around saying what happened, exaggerating her story with each time she’s asked about it, embellishing details and playing up her bravery as though she fought off an army And everyone just started shipping them together, to no avail it seems because Oscar isn’t the type to be pressured into anything.

Oscar was back from another weekend of racing; he found himself at the nurses office because his side was hurting from a crash on track that he was involved in.

Oscar walked in and didn’t see the nurse, but he saw you. You looked up at him before you went back to what you’re doing. You had sustained a few scrabs and cuts while you were doing parkour and fell. It wasn’t big or deep, all superficial.

“Uh, do you know where the nurse is?” Oscar asked closing the door behind him.

“She went to the toilet, will be back in a bit.” Oscar takes a look at you, while you paid him no mind, he knows you’re in his class, but he doesn’t know your name.

“I’m sorry, I forgot your name.” You looked up and drowned, no one ever asks you for your name or anything for that mattered. You were invisible to a lot of people in the school, and you didn’t really mind.

“y/n.” You tell him and finish putting the bandages on your hand. You turned to face Oscar fully, and something caught the light making him look down. His eyes went wide in recognition, you looked at where he was staring and saw your necklace. You pushed it under your shirt and sighed, but that gave him a view to your uncovered hand. A scar.

“You’re her.” Oscar said and you sighed, moving to get out of the nurse’s room. Oscar stepped back blocking the door. You stopped and glared at him, there’s a stiffness to your shoulders.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say through gritted teeth, getting annoyed with him. He’s always gone, which you don’t care about, and no one has figured or had any inkling to what you do during the weekend. Everyone just assumes you spend your time studying.

“You saved me two weeks ago.” Oscar crosses his arms in a challenge.

“No! what are you talking about? That was Saddie.” You shrug, and if Oscar didn’t know better, he would’ve believed you.

“I saw the necklace when you were fighting, it’s you.” Your hands went to where the necklace rested under your shirt. “Same height, same build, same hair and same scar.”

“That means nothing, it could be anyone with my hair colour or something.” You weren’t welling to back down, you were scared of getting exposed and then suffering the consequences, you’ve worked too hard for that to happen.

“y/n, it’s you.” Oscar was firm, and you knew there was no changing his mind.

“You can’t prove it.” Was all you said as you looked away, trying to come up with what to say to the headmaster. Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, it is you then. You’re the mysterious saviour, the one that jumped in even though you don’t know each other.

“I’m not going to tell anyone.” Oscar said softly noticing what’s bothering you.

“You’re not?” your head snapped to look at him.

“I’m not.” He gave you a smile and you slowly returned it.  “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh… you don’t have to.” You shrug not seeing it as a big deal. “They were too drunk to do anything, anyways.”

It surprised him how different your reaction is from Saddie, you don’t want the recognition, he understands your reasons. You want to keep to yourself.

“Maybe not to someone who trains like you, but my training is completely different.” Oscar said and you hummed.

“I hear Formula 1 drivers have great reflexes.” You tile your head slightly to the side.

“I’m not a Formula 1 driver.” Oscar counters.

“Yet.” That gets a smile out of him.

“Yet.”

The nurse comes in before you could talk more, you thank her for letting you use the bandages, and leave. 

Oscar later finds you in an empty classroom, with a book of advance calculus in front of you, your eyes were focused on the pages lost in your own world. And Oscar understood how no one would suspect you of saving him or of sneaking out. The smartest student in class, no friends, parties, didn’t even indulge in idle chatter.

“That’s the ghost.” Oscar looked to his friend; he had leaned over Oscar’s shoulder to see who he’s looking at. Oscar was confused, and it showed because his friend went on to then say. “She’s always there in class, knows everything before the teachers even explain, and disappears as soon as the class ends.”

It seemed to both you and Oscar that you were both everywhere. When you’re studying in the library, he’s there escaping from Saddie and her entourage. Oscar would pull up the chair across from you and sit down to study, you’d glance up before going back to your books. And then one day he had a question he couldn’t answer so then you started explaining it to him, that turned to you always helping him in all the things he either missed or just didn’t get.

You’ve never done that with anyone before, but unlike most if not all your classmates, Oscar is calm and collected. Something you didn’t expect from him at first. But other than the library you didn’t spend time together, you just met there and after your study session both would go their own ways. Oscar would go to the gym and you’d sneak out to train or train in your room. There was never any further talk about the night you met, and you were thankful for that.

Whenever Oscar spotted you around campus he tried not to stare, not to bring any unwanted attention towards you. He knew that you liked to stay as far away from the spotlight as you could. And he respected that about you, unlike many in school you loved to keep to yourself.

One evening Oscar was walking around campus, he walked in a section that rarely anyone went towards, he wanted to have time to think to himself. The night was silent, and calm, the weather was nice. It was only because it was so silent that Oscar heard it the sound of soft grunting and movement. Feeling compelled to follow the sound he walked around the storage shed. And there he saw you, you were focused, your movement fluid and precise as you practiced a series of strikes and kicks. Each punch, each kick seemed to release stress and energy, that you kept hidden the rest of the time.

Oscar started to feel awkward from just standing there for a few minutes, he took a step closer hoping not to startle you. You noticed him immediately, lowering your fists and meeting his gaze, clearly surprised.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, breathing heavily.

“I... I was just walking around.” Oscar tried to smile and seem as un-creepy as he could. “And then I heard you, and I got curious.”

“Oh, didn’t realise I was being loud.” You said and pushed your hair out of your face. “Are you still curious?”

“I am.” Oscar chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean you did save me, and that made me curious to see how good you are.”

You thought about his words, he already knows what you do, and he’s seen you out of school. After a moment you gestured for him to a few boxes nearby.

“Well, if you’re going to watch, you might as well sit down.” Oscar follows your orders and sits down; you return to practicing. Oscar being a detail-oriented person started to notice all the small things. He noticed how you balanced on your toes before delivering a powerful kick, how each moved was delivered with precision. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’re skilled, it’s clear to him that you’re not an amateur, this isn’t just for fun.

After a while you took your water bottle and went and sat next to Oscar. “So, do you think it’s weird or strange?”

“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “It’s impressive, I didn’t know you could do all that.”

“It just… helps me clear my head.” You said and took a sip from your water. “Plus it helps me save guys coming back from racing.”

Oscar smiles and lets out a chuckle. “But you have training, like with a coach and everything, right?”

“Yeah, I have two actually, since I do both Parkour and Muayi Thai.” You tell him and he looks impressed. “Don’t look so shocked, Mr. Future Formula 1 driver.”

“It’s not for certain.” Oscar shrugged; you bump your shoulder with his.

“I’m a 100% sure you will.” Oscar saw you smile for the first time, and he has to admit that he liked it. You continued talking for a bit before you had to go back to your dorms.

And so after that it was either the library or the spot behind the storage shed where you’d meet up with Oscar. You may have liked him, and he may have liked you. Yet neither of you made a move or said anything.

As the semester came to an end you both didn’t know this will be the last time you met each other. And it’s your timidness that you both didn’t ask each other for the other’s phone number. You had a competition during the summer that you came first then, and so your parents and you both felt like you needed to go to another school, where you’d be closer to where your new coaches are if you want to go pro in the future.

That’s how you lost contact with Oscar. You thought of him often as did he, but the chance has passed you both by. You’d look him up and see him winning races and championships climbing the ranks and getting closer and closer to reach Formula 1.

Oscar too decided to look you up one day after Hattie (his sister) insisted he do so, saying he won’t lose anything anyways, and Oscar saw that Red Bull signed you. You’ve gone pro, he followed you on Instagram and you did too, however you both had a lot of followers to check who followed you and who didn’t.

Even though time went on and years passed, you remember the best time at school being the year that you and Oscar became friends. He’s been your only friend from school, you had many others from training but he’s the one through school. You always cheered him on, and when you saw him get the McLaren seat, you DM-ed him a congrats, but never got an answer back, knowing he probably got flooded with messages.

Oscar kept up with your career, he saw you win a world title in parkour and almost win one in Muay Thai, it was close, you came in second. He was proud of you either way, he knew for certain you’d win one day.

When your manager contacted you and told you Red Bull were doing some promotions, and you’d get to see the team in another sport, you jumped at the chance to go to a Formula 1 race. And luck would have it that they agreed. So here you are in Japan invited to the paddock for a weekend of racing. You were introduced to Max and Checho and you were set to film some things with them on Media Day.

And that’s how you ended up in a car with the 3 times world champion on a hot lap. Did you scream? Define screaming. You squealed and you gasped, that was a fact, but I mean Max didn’t really have to break so late. He also didn’t have to laugh at you.

“I’d like to see you laughing in a ring.” You told him after he stopped the car and laughed at your hand clutching the seats.

“Is it bad I think I’ll be able to hold my own?” Max asked and you laughed, patting his shoulder.

“It’s like me saying I can hold my own racing you.” You tell him and he nods along.

It isn’t long before you’re out of the car and filming a challenge, let’s say the Red Bull boys aren’t really that flexible. It was a lot of fun you have to admit, and yet you didn’t get a single glance of the papaya driver.

Practice day came and you had more time to wonder around and do your own thing. The good thing is you weren’t a well-known sportswoman, so you weren’t bothered by anyone. Walking around you saw someone you knew, which was a surprise to you.

“Lilly!” You called to the golfer; she turned and saw you. She smiled and waved at you, walking closer you both shared a hug in greeting. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? What are you doing here?” She asked with a laugh, you both met at a sporting even a year or so back and spent a lot of time talking. “My boyfriend Alex is driving for Williams.”

“Oh shoot, right, you told me.” You felt stupid for forgetting, but to be fair you had been super busy.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Red Bull invited me, some promotion for the team’s different sports.” You told her, and she aah-ed, it made sense. “But we filmed everything yesterday, so I have time to do as I like today.”

“Good, stick with me then.” She locked your hands together and you followed her down the paddock to a café or sorts, where she greeted two other girls. “Girls this is y/n, a Red Bull Parkour champion and a Muay Thai runner up. y/n, this is Rebecca and Carmen.”

You all greet each other before they invite you to sit down, you learn who they’re dating, they ask you about the sports you do. The girls were all nice and welcoming, they found that you already have knowledge of Formula 1 and weren’t just invited here for the heck of it, even if it didn’t matter when you were asked to attend.

After a while Carlos dressed in his Ferrari team kit came by and following him was a man dressed in Papaya. Your heart skipped a beat before you realised it’s not the person you were hoping to see. Lilly saw the look on your face and nudged you slightly.

“Are you okay?” She lowered her voice; you nodded with a smile.

“Yeah just…” You didn’t know if you should tell her or not. It’s been years since you saw Oscar last, you don’t know if he even remembers you or not. Would it seem childish? “I went to school with Oscar and-“

“You went to school with Oscar!” Lilly exclaimed and you stared at her wide eyed, she places her hand on mouth shocked at her own reaction. It was too late though because the other people at the table heard her.

“You went to school with Oscar?” Lando asked interested, you nodded. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“y/n y/l/n, I do Parkour and Muay Thai.” You say with a smile and put your hand out for him to shake, he does and Carlos as well.

“A Red Bull world champion.” Lilly adds, Lando looks at the pass around your neck seeing it’s from Red Bull.

“Huh, another Red bull champion.” He commented.

“How well did you know Oscar?” Carmen asked curiously.

“Well, we were friends for a year, but we were very close until I changed schools, and we lost contact.” You told the group, the girls all felt bad for you.

“I’m sure Lando can help you.” Carlos said turning to his friend. You all looked at Lando, he looked at all of you before sighing.

“Fine, but if this is a plot from Red Bull to steal information, I’m blaming you all.” Lando pointed at his friend and the girlfriends, the girls were just amused, and Carlos rolled his eyes. Lando turned to you. “Come on, before he hops in the car.” Lando gestures for you to follow him which you do.

“Take a video!” Rebecca shouted and Lando rolled his eyes but raised a thumps up.

“I’m really not a Red Bull spy, if that’s what you’re scared of.” You tried to reassure the McLaren driver, who after a moment of silence spoke.

“I know, sorry, just a tense season.” You nodded in understanding.

“It’s all right, I know what you mean. Balancing rivalries while you’re competing and not is hard.” You smile at Lando to show him you didn’t take offence to what he said or his attitude.

“I’m starting to believe you’re friends with Oscar more.” You let out a laugh at that.

You silently followed Lando through the paddock and to the McLaren garage. He asked a few people for Oscar’s location, and you still just followed. Turning a corner you saw an orange 81 on a broad back, the fireproofs sticking to his body.

“Hey Osc, there’s someone here to see you.” Lando had his phone opened to video, it was aimed at Oscar.

Oscar turned and saw Lando, his brow furrowed, before he turned to look at you. There was a moment of silence, Oscar just took you in.

“y/n.” He said simply and you smiled, he recognised you, didn’t forget who you were.

“Hey, Oscar.” 

Taglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat . @directioner5life . 

[beloveds-embrace]

Noon, babe, I have such bad brain rot right now and need to share it. Right, going on an undercover intel mission with TF141, its a big fancy charity gala and as the daughter of an billionaire its easy to get on the guestlist and you need to pick a plus 1. The boys all argue on who it should be but ultimately you pick Gaz (you dont want to make Simon uncomfortable by making him take of his mask, people you know are there and they'll know Price is older than your usual dates and Soap is too crass). So you to the gala in a beautiful backless dress that matches the colour of Kyles tie and you begin your mission. You eventually make your way to an office where you download documents but get warning that someone's coming so in an attempt to make it seem like you werent snooping, you grab Kyle and sit on the edge of the desk, slotting him between your legs and messing up both your hairs and his tye before placing one of his hands on your tight and hitching it around his hip while his other one goes to your lower back and you pull him into a heated kiss. You do get interupted but manage to play it of as you just wanting to get frisky with each other and when you return to the party and immediately leave Kyle has a hardon the whole time and you propse to finish what you started putting the divider up in the limo and fucking Kyle in the back. When you get back to base, its obvious what happened and the others are jealous and raging they didnt get to fuck you first so they all take turns until you can barely remember your own name

I can’t hoard this any longer but lord. Anon. I need to make out with your brain it’s just too good 😩 imagine also wearing lace lingerie or- or those thigh jewelry with the letters and you are wearing one with K on it?? Im abt to go feral like Kyle would also be the second he notices all the little details.

A lil offtopic but the best song for this? Petition by beyonce because also imagine talking dirty to Kyle in french?? Lord forgive me im abt to BUST

the dress and lingerie aren’t surviving once you return to base though <33 they gotta show you how nicely they can fuck you too <33

[hunieday]

Momo - 16PRODUCERS Rabbit Chat

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Yuki: Thanks for your hard work

Yuki: Anyone here?

Okazaki Rinto: You’re early, Yuki-kun!? I’m here!

Yuki: Okarin, you’re online. Yuki here

Okazaki Rinto: Yeah, I know. There’s still time before the interview though...

Yuki: That’s true, but today’s an important interview day and I finished composing, so I thought I’d camp here early.

Okazaki Rinto: How wonderful. Momo-kun will be thrilled when he reads this!

Yuki: Yeah, who’s the star of the show today after all? Are you at the recording booth with him?

Okazaki Rinto: Actually, the recording ran longer than scheduled so Momo-kun should be back to the dressing room right around the interview time!

Yuki: Is that so. So it’s just the two of us for now.

Yuki: So what should we talk about until he’s back. Shall we have a competition to list what we find the cutest about Momo?

Okazaki Rinto: There’s no way I’m winning that. Let’s talk about what we like about you instead!

Yuki: Are you doing a bit

Okazaki Rinto: Momo-kun himself actually suggested it. He said "There’s a chance I’m gonna be late, you two can just talk about how super handsome Yuki is!"

Yuki: We thought the same thing.

Okazaki Rinto: I’ll start with my opinion! You used to say you weren’t good with people, but now you’re so approachable it’s amazing!

Yuki: Thanks. Do I have to say something too?

Yuki: I can write music

Okazaki Rinto: Next! I also think you’re an incredible actor. I feel so proud seeing you soar even beyond the idol world!

Yuki: Thank you. More new rivals keep popping up, so I can’t slack off anymore.

Yuki: Now’s my turn

Yuki: Now I’m out

Okazaki Rinto: That’s it!?

Yuki: That’s it

Momo: You barely scratched the surface!?!?!?

Yuki: Here comes Momo

Momo: Here comes Momo-chan!! Sorry for making you two wait 🥺🥺 I couldn’t stop smiling reading all the rabbichat notifications 🥰

Momo: But really, just three or four points don’t even compare in the sea of Yuki’s charm!?!?!?!? Like, his beauty mark is beyond handsome, the way he looks at me with such intensity makes me fall in love all over again. He’s so beautiful from the tip of his fingers to every strand of his hair?!?!?!?

Momo: And the way he calls me his “precious partner” is just too handsome…!!!

Yuki: You type really fast, Momo.

Momo: Lightning fast!!!!!

Yuki: I appreciate you saying all that, but today is all about you, Momo.

Momo: That’s trueee~

Momo: You’re gonna share,,,, what feelings you poured into producing my project right,,,,,,,,

Momo: aaaaaaaaaghhh can my heart even handle this ‼ Yuki, Okarin, please take it easy on me ‼

Yuki: I’ll be gentle.

Okazaki Rinto: Let’s get started! As requested, we’re aiming for a casual, relaxed vibe for this interview, as if you’re not even working. So we decided to do it over rabbichat!

Okazaki Rinto: First off, Momo-kun! Please tell us how you felt when you found out Yuki-kun’s gonna produce your song!

Momo: Hmm...he usually composes for Re:vale as a whole, but he did it just for me this time. To think that he created not just the song but also the lyrics, costumes, and the whole concept...I feel so lucky it’s almost too much to believe.

Momo: The person I’ve admired for so long brings me so much happiness now. I want to take that a hundred, a thousand times and deliver it back to all my fans.

Momo: Wait a sec is this real? I’m not dreaming, right?

Okazaki Rinto: Don’t pinch your cheeks so hard, Momo-kun!

Yuki: It’s real, Momo.

Momo: It is...

Momo: This is so special to me that it always felt like a dream! I mean, just singing with Yuki already makes me so happy, but I didn’t know there was even a possibility to ascend to another level of happiness.

Yuki: I’m just as grateful for the opportunity to focus on a project entirely for you, Momo.

Momo: Yukiiiiii~

Momo: Wait a sec, how come my darling is the most handsome guy in the world !?!? 😭😭😭

Yuki: I know. So what did you think when you heard the song?

Momo: It was so cool... I thought it’d be more cutesy

Momo: But it was completely different! And it has this super stylish dance number, I could picture us dancing together the moment I listened to the airy melody.

Momo: Even though we sing in a high pitch, the deep bass was so powerful, I love it soooooooo much…

Yuki: I’m happy

Yuki: I wanted to capture all your different sides

Okazaki Rinto: Interesting…! I’d love to hear more about your creative process!

Yuki: You could say it’s about Momo’s “switches”, in a way. A switch for when he’s singing, when he’s performing.

Yuki: A switch for when he’s pressing close to my side, thinking about lyrics to write. Working earnestly and wholeheartedly.

Yuki: They’re all different switches within Momo. It all shifts. The gap between them all is intriguing.

Momo: My “switches” huh... So that’s how you see me. 

Momo: You’re right though, I do change depending on the person or situation without even realizing. The gap between the melody and the high pitch reflect that.

Momo: And the electronic sounds are supposed to represent little switches, right? That’s just like you, it’s fascinating!!!!

Yuki: Thank you. It was challenging since I wasn’t allowed to compose the entire thing myself, but it was worth it.

Momo: And the lyrics moved me deeply. I could feel your message of wanting to face the future together, and to keep singing for an eternity and beyond.

Yuki: That’s right. This song is for you, who pulled me forward and shone your light upon me that day.

Momo: That’s because

Momo: Yuki’s music gave me the push I needed back then

Momo: So that’s why I

Yuki: Momo. You always say you’re thankful to me but

Yuki: "Beneath the countless stars, I can reach anywhere as long as I’m with you." Being with you lets me sing anywhere, Momo.

Yuki: Just like that day we sang together on the sandy beach of a deserted island, the place where you and I sing, the place where Re:vale is, will always be the best stage ever. (1)

Okazaki Rinto: Momo-kun’s crying.

Yuki: Don’t shed tears when I can’t be with you to wipe them.

Momo: Wh

Momo: Whoa stop stop stop stop hold up wasn’t that way too smooth?!?! That line was so hot my tears stopped on their own!?

Yuki: Hello, it’s me, the handsome Yuki.

Momo: Kyaaaa!! Please look my wayyy!! 🤩✨

Yuki: Yep. I’m looking straight at my phone.

Momo: lolololol thanks! I totally feel your eyes on me 🤩✨

Okazaki Rinto: Alright, I’m sorry but let’s get back on track. I’d love to hear about the concept behind your outfits and promo shoots!

Momo: I’m so excited to hear about it! I was hyped the moment I walked into the room for the photoshoot! It looked exactly like a gaming room 🎮

Yuki: The song doesn’t fit an outdoor setting. I felt like even indoors would still be too bright, so I went for a moody, neon-lit setup the moment I found out something like that existed.

Yuki: It was perfect for Momo since he loves gaming, but the gentle neon light reflecting in the dark felt especially very Momo-like to me

Momo: I’m so happy!!!! I really do love those kinds of lights toooo~~ I see how it is, hehe~~~~

Okazaki Rinto: Yuki-kun, your idea of what “feels Momo-like” is always very diverse.

Yuki: Is it? I think it’s normal

Momo: And don’t forget the outfits, I loved them so much >u< Yuki doesn’t usually wear clothes in that style so I snapped a ton of photos of him!

Yuki: I thought we might as well embrace the Momo vibe for this shoot too. We even took tons of pictures together.

Momo: Yup! We were dressed like Player 1 and Player 2! 🪄

Yuki: It's been fun trying a style I don’t normally wear

Momo: You looked amazing!! 😍 💚 Why don’t you start wearing clothes like that more often?!

Yuki: Then how about we try some different combinations next time? (2) 

Momo: Huh?! W-w-ww-w-ww-we don’t have to go that far!!!!!!!!!???

Yuki: Why not? Matching outfits always have a wide variety

Momo: Huh!!!!!!!!!! Okarin !!!!!!!! What do I do !!!!!!!! Work is one thing, but a private setting is totally different?!?!?!?!?!

Okazaki Rinto: I find it funny that you’re typing what you’re muttering in real life, LOL.

Yuki: How nice. I wanna be there too

Momo: You have work after this right? so Momo-chan will wait for you to finish!!

Yuki: Yeah. Thank you

Okazaki Rinto: The request was to make this a more relaxed conversation, but you might be a bit too relaxed right now, or maybe you’re just acting like you always are….

Yuki: Is that a problem? It’s fine, right, Momo?

Momo: Right, Yuki! 🫶

Okazaki Rinto: That’s right! It’s totally fine! And finally, please share a message for the fans!

Yuki: This new direction may surprise some fans, but from where I stand, Momo is strong, gentle, and full of warmth. Just like a sunrise that blends the dark and light, he’s a mix of many wonderful qualities.

Yuki: That’s why the song plays tricks with a variety of rhythms, melodies and singing tones. They reflect Momo’s ever-changing expressions. I hope you enjoy “Get in the Groove.”

Momo: I always spend every day thinking about how happy I am ever since Yuki and I became Re:vale. Sometimes so much so that I wish time could stop.

Momo: But you know, listening to “Get in the Groove” made me feel even happier! I know this project was born all thanks to our fans’ unwavering support. Thank you so much!!! I feel like the happiest person alive right now!

Momo: And that’s why I want everyone who supports us to feel as happy as I do, always and forever! I hope that you never get your feelings hurt! And if sadness ever comes your way, I hope our songs will be able to heal you!

Momo: Re:vale will always be a warm light, shining on everyone like the sun that rises each morning. Now and forever, with Yuki by my side!

Momo: That’s all I got!

Okazaki Rinto: Thank you both! This was Re:vale in full force!

Momo: Yup! I feel Yuki’s love overflowing more than usual 🥹❤

Yuki: Really? I’m not really good with words

Momo: Well no, you’ve gotten dangerously much better at that recently!!??!!!

Okazaki Rinto: It’s hard to believe you once had to practice saying stuff like this.

Yuki: Yeah, that sure did happen.

Yuki: Momo, promise me you’ll keep smiling by my side now and forever

Momo: Yeah. I promise!!

For those who are confused, the sandy beach of a deserted island refers to a specific plot point in part 5 of the main story.

I. am frankly not entirely sure how to interpret this. Because judging by Momo’s reaction I believe Yuki was Most Definitely Not insinuating an actual change of color combinations but. A Different Kind of “combinations”. 

[skzdarlings]

content info: the much requested follow-up. the dynamic is the same as earlier. they've been sleeping together for a week so assume safe sex is handled if not mentioned. making love, light dirty talk, nervous but excited reader. explicit sexual content. word count: 2000 words.

enjoy <3

-

Minho crosses the finish line seconds before you. 

He emerges from his vehicle without much pomp.  His expression is stoic as ever, only the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.  He draws a leather jacket over his shoulders as his little entourage congratulates him, jumping up and down like the over-hyper groupies they are.

You sit in your car, tightly gripping your steering wheel.  You are still hot from the thunder of the race, heart still pounding with adrenaline, and a new sensation throbbing under your skin.  

The crowd believes this is about money and status.  In the week since your quasi-truce, that is all you have bet out loud.  Between you, the stakes are very different.

If you win, we fuck, Minho said that night.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?

You told him there was no difference, then he put you on your knees and made you admit otherwise. 

You tied that first race and he conceded to your whim.  You have won every race since and not because he let you.  After all, he freely admitted you were the better racer.  This isn’t about that anymore.

You look out your window.  He is surrounded by people but looking at you, that smirk strengthening when he meets your gaze.  You feel a punch of heat that has nothing to do with car engines, a skip of the heart that has nothing to do with racing. 

You get out of your car.  Minho says nothing, simply holds out his hand for the cash winnings.  You put the money in his hands.

You refuse to look at him.  You are not scared you will accidentally reveal the truth to the crowd.  You’re not even scared you will reveal the true depth of your feelings to him. 

You are scared that looking in his eyes will force you to see the truth – that you want this, want him, in this way and so much more. 

“Until the next race,” he says, winking and clicking his tongue. 

Ugh.  You want to claw him to pieces – preferably up and down his backside as he fucks you. 

But that’s just it, isn’t it?  He isn’t going to fuck you tonight.  He isn’t going to bend you over the hood of his car or put you on your knees and yank your hair while fucking your mouth.  He isn’t going to keep his hand between your thighs until you’re sobbing and begging for reprieve and he isn’t going to tear through your clothes and mark your skin with his teeth. 

What are we doing? he asked that first night.  His fingers were on your tongue and his eyes were on you.  He looked at you like you were the only prize that ever meant anything to him.  

Making love, you said. 

The words were unfamiliar, not suited to your fast lifestyle. 

The words somehow came naturally with him. 

When the night draws to a natural close, he approaches where you are leaning against your car.  Your arms are crossed defensively over your chest and his hands are in his pockets.  His canter is nonchalant, his smirk subtle, but his eyes intense. 

“Your place?” you ask.  You are desperate to speak first, as if that might hide your nerves – more importantly, that it might hide your excitement.

“Mmm, no,” he says, crinkling his nose.  He tips his head and that smirk gets even meaner.  “Your place.  You drive.  I’ll follow.”

He walks to his car before you can retort. 

The last two nights, you went back to his apartment, and that already felt like a major concession on your part.  Backseats and the night sky is more your style.  You like liminal, empty spaces, a no-man’s-land, a place that can easily be left behind.  Agreeing to go to his place was daunting.  Even before he laid you out and made you come an easy dozen times, you knew it would feel different, feel more. 

Now you are going to your home.  There will truly be no escaping him. 

It is terrifying how much you don’t want to race away. 

You pull up outside the apartment building.  He follows you inside, hands in his pockets, still so casual.  You stand on opposite sides of the elevator, staring at each other in the silence as the floors tick and tick one by one, higher and higher.

The elevator doors open and he smiles. You are out of smart remarks.  

You walk quickly but he keeps pace behind you.  He is the only one who could ever keep up with you. 

When he brought you back to his place, he wasted no time.  He pressed you against the door and tore through buttons, working you up right there in the hall.  It was fast and dirty, just like always. 

He keeps his hands in his pockets tonight.  You can feel him looking at you, his eyes burning on your backside while you fumble uncharacteristically with your key.   It would be easier if he just shoved his way inside and took what he wanted and left again. 

But that’s the other thing – he doesn’t want fast, does he?  He’s a good man, much to your chagrin, and he has been happy to let you take the lead, to do what makes you more comfortable.  But he wants this, every breath loud between you, every heartbeat counted in the long moments, aching with anticipation.

It feels like forever before you get your door open.  The apartment is small, a bathroom on the immediate left, a little kitchen ahead of that, then the main studio.  You don’t spend much time in here, really just for sleeping, so the walls are landlord special white and the bed is plain and neat.  Everything is functional and necessary.  You are not one for indulgence.  You are always racing onto the next thing.

“Well,” you say, flipping on the light.  “This is me.” 

He turns off the light.  The windows are tall and there is plenty of moonlight but it still startles you. 

He touches your waist and you lose your breath.  How is that even possible?  You have raced and run and dashed headlong through faster fucking and it never winded you.  Now, he holds your waist, pulls you back against him, fits his whole body behind yours, and you can hardly breathe. 

“Easy,” he says.  His other hand comes around you, cups your throat lightly.  It is not mean, not nasty, not hard choking or demanding dominance.  It’s soft, just a quiet request. 

Your body answers, softening against him.  You whisper his name.

He kisses your exposed neck.  It’s a soft press of his lips, over and over, and it leaves you shuddering. 

“Is this it?” you say, aiming for snark but landing shakily.  “Making love is just slower fucking?”

“It can be,” Minho says, his voice unexpectedly gentle and light.  “It can be like this—”  He bites your neck but it feels different than usual, not mean for the sake of it, but like a claiming.  You feel yourself get tight, every muscle clenching, a gasp bursting out of you.   “If that’s what you like,” he finishes, punctuating with an amused little giggle like the menace he is. 

“And if…”  You take a breath.  “If I don’t know what I like?” 

He pauses.  His hands fall away.  You hear the shuffle of leather as his jacket hits the floor.  Then his hands are back on your waist and he turns you around. 

You have seen a range of expressions from this man.  You know his exasperation, his anger, his sarcasm, his laughter.  The look he gives you now is devastatingly tender, even with a sparkle in his eye that is so distinctly Lee Minho. 

He flicks his thumb over his bottom lip and winks. 

“Then we better find out,” he says. 

At first, it’s not so different.  Minho kisses you breathless and strips you slowly.  You stumble to the bed and sprawl across the sheets, on your back, holding his face as he makes his way down your body. 

He is not slow here, no doubt feeling the tension in your thighs as he puts them over his shoulders.  You are keyed up and ready, desperately bucking towards his mouth.  He is thorough, finding a circling rhythm with his tongue that never speeds or slows. 

You are careening over the edge of climax in a matter of moments.  It is almost embarrassingly fast, but he never gloats or teases, at least not about this.  It just makes him moan into the skin of your thighs, his wet mouth moving across your skin.  He climbs up your body and kisses every inch of you on the way. 

Now, now, it’s all different.   Now his eyes are dark and intense, staring down at you while he gets his jeans off.  You touch his bare chest, feeling more exposed when he stares into your eyes than when he looks at your body. 

You close your eyes, instinctively squirming when he pulls your leg around his hips. 

“No, no, no escaping,” he says, pinning you in place, not just with his hands but with a push of his hips.

Hip to hip, his cock nestled inside your pussy, you are aching for him to move or come or do something.  He just looks at you, kisses you a few times, and lets the reality of every inch of him settle inside your mind as much as your body.

“Minho,” you say, in a whimpering voice you hardly recognize as yourself.  “Please.” 

“Tell me,” he says, finally, slowly rolling his hips against yours.  “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good.  Good.” 

“Just good?” he asks, those rolling thrusts a little sharper, his skin against yours, chests touching, mouths close.  “Tell me you love it,” he says.  “Tell me you need it.”

“I need it,” you say.  “I love – I love it.”

You almost say I love you, which is insane and impossible.  You obviously don’t love him.   You definitely don’t hate him anymore, but love is a foreign word.

You start to understand it, just a little, with your legs around his waist and his whole body snug against yours.  He feels deeper than usual somehow, or maybe you just feel it more, as he takes his time, as he drags his cock slowly in and out of your throbbing wet heat. 

“That’s it,” he says, so infuriatingly precise with his hip movements.  

No matter how extreme fucking got, you always kept your wits, perpetually armed even then.  Now, you feel like all your usual weapons have disintegrated.  You are vulnerable and open and you just want more, especially when he sighs so sweetly, especially when he moans into your skin, when he is as uncharacteristically soft and loving as you are. 

Of course he is.  Your depths run as deep as your hearts run fast. 

“You’re going to come,” he says, holding your gaze, his hand between your bodies.  “Baby,” he says, voice breaking with his own need. 

It makes you gasp, squeezing him, your hands pressing into his shoulders as he makes you see stars. 

“Yes, yes, baby,” he says.  “Get so tight for me when you’re so sweet.  Come for me.  You want it.  You love it.  You need it.  Show me.”

You do, clinging to him when you come, calling out his name.  It seems to last longer than usual, one crest rolling into the next, extended by the relentless rocking of his hips.  He chases his own pleasure inside you, looking at you then kissing you.  He comes with his mouth on yours, tongues touching, wet and messy and hot. 

After, he lays on top of you, both of you catching your breath.  You run your fingers through his hair without thinking.  You are about to stop when his whole body seems to get soft, a breath leaving his lips, his head pillowed on your chest. 

“Not bad,” you eventually say. 

He laughs, lifting his head to look down at you.  You can’t help but smile back, though you also force an eye-roll because that’s just how you are. 

Then he kisses you, soft, taking his time, like he has nowhere else to be tonight, like he intends on staying forever. 

You surprise you both by kissing back as softly.

You don’t know about forever, not yet, but you want him to stay right now. 

You roll over together, kissing and tangled up, hearts pounding against each other, and ready for another race to the next adventure. 

bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

Sure, you are a little insufferable. 

But Lee Minho is worse. 

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally.  Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night. 

You were content until this fucker came along.  Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals.  Ugh.  You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you.  The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women.  You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.    

He arrives with his usual entourage.  A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle.  He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches.  He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance.  His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say.  “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer.  He laughs sarcastically. 

“Not worth the mileage,” he says.  He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim.  “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.”  He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him. 

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot.  Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too.   It was inevitable.  You were hostile when first meeting.  You challenged him to a few too many personal races.  You were a sore loser and even worse winner.  What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry. 

You won the last couple races.  You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again. 

“Sure,” you say.  “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.” 

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back. 

You decide to keep your distance tonight.  If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm.   So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings. 

But, ugh.

He is right there. 

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air.  When you are looking at him, he captivates you.  When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again.  You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters. 

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy.  Not a single race has satisfied you.  You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough.  It is never enough.  You already know how good you are.  You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded. 

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho.  The only victory that matters is that one. 

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him.  He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming.  He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away. 

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face.  When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation.  He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car.  He shakes his head as you stomp up to him. 

“One race,” you say. 

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat. 

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.”  He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave. 

“Wait,” you say. 

You heart is racing.  Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night.  Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs.  Stupid hottie.  You will have him and his attention.  You will get the better of him, one way or another.  It was all leading to this. 

“One race,” you say.  “A bet worth the mileage.” 

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply. 

Finally, he closes the car door.  He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth. 

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you.  The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body. 

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking.  Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize. 

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue.  It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing.  You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way.  But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings. 

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut.  No, lower.  Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess.  Heat that is curious about the look in his eye. 

Then you shake your head.  You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off.  You were in control and now you are flustered. 

“Not me,” you snap. 

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up.  He meets your gaze eventually.  Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you. 

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality.  “I bet my car.” 

He blinks at you.  Long, slow blinks like a cat.   It takes him a second to find a sentence. 

“Your car,” he says.  He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy.  “And what do you want if you win?” 

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say.  The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth.  You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy.  You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered.  “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides. 

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone.  It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead.   You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other.  It is intense and all-consuming.   

You hold out a hand.  He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says.  “Since it’s the truth.  You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock.  You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind.  Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual.  He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car. 

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention. 

The heat rushes back in a hurry.  You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs. 

-

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words.  You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other.  You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed.  Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight.  You bet your car.  What were you thinking?

You weren’t.  And it was all his fault.   

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him.  You smack the steering wheel with frustration. 

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline.  Thoughts like that are not like you.  And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want.  Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want.  He is always the highlight of your night. 

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser. 

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car. 

He is not gloating because he is not the type.  He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you.  He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies. 

“You got in my head on purpose.” 

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist. 

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt.  “I bet myself.” 

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again.  Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat. 

“You,” he finally says.  His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?” 

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy.  It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate. 

You cross your arms stubbornly.  You look away.  You even stomp your foot. 

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone.  “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer.  You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.   

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch.  Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy.  Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite.   It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his.  You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes. 

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says.  He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil.  “I don’t have to make bets.  I make love to people because they want it.  Sorry.”  He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat.  “You can keep your car.  I don’t want or need it.  Good night.” 

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it.  He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely. 

“Now, now,” he says. 

“I’m a big girl,” you snap.  “I don’t need you protecting my honour.  I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.” 

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes.  He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says. 

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels. 

“I heard you,” you say. 

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time.  You take a step back. 

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step.  Step by step across the tarmac.  The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours. 

You find it difficult to catch your breath.  Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady.  He is intoxicating. 

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek.  He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer.  You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little. 

“So,” he says.  “If you win, we fuck.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?” 

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say.  You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation. 

It seemingly works.  His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.” 

“Yes, there—”  He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder.  He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.   

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you. 

“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll race.” 

Your heart is already revving like an engine.  You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly.  You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise.  It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head.  You hold your breath. 

“You have to pass my test first,” he says. 

“Excuse me!”  Your own incredulity resounds.  You smack his chest but he does not move. 

“It’s just two questions,” he says.  “You’re a smart girl.  You’ll figure it out.” 

He is tormenting you.  You hate him.  You hope he never stops. 

“Fine,” you snap.  His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation. 

“Good,” he says, then stands back. 

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness.  At least you can catch your breath in the space between you. 

Then he says, “Get on your knees.” 

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race.  There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle.  Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road. 

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response.  You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you. 

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back.  He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth.  You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his.  His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy.  Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows. 

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips.  Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath. 

“Well?” he says. 

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.” 

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin.  “That’s one out of two.  How about this one?” 

He drops to his knees.  You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night.  There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets. 

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable.   Your breath stutters before he even moves.  He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch.  He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste.  Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take. 

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second.   He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more.  Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets. 

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers.  He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you.  You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye. 

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.   

The suggestion makes you throb.  You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright.  “Now we can race.” 

-

It is a perfect draw. 

You are both distracted.  When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind. 

Doors slam.  You meet in the space between your vehicles. 

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative. 

He is shrugging out of his jacket.  It his the ground.  He does not break his stride, already going for his belt.  Your knees nearly buckle again. 

“Fine,” he replies.  “Then get over here.  I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.” 

Fucking you is exactly what he does.  It is not making love.  He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra.  Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine.  You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you. 

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood.  He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him. 

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline.  It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you.  You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own.  He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line. 

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss.  It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off.  He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure.  He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.” 

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.   

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says.  “You sounded so good getting fucked.  I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that. 

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand.  He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?” 

[loganhowlettshousewife]

request for a logan x reader where logan comforts the reader after they come home from a mission all bloodied up? i see a lot of reader comforting logan fics but im curious to see how itd be the other way round :)

me? responding to a request like three weeks later? it's more likely than you think. also sorry it's so short. originally it turned into smut but i didn't know if you'd want that given the request was for hurt/comfort. (if you guys want i can publish the alternate smut version of this fic too).

solace

summary: you come home from a mission gone wrong and logan helps you through it.

warnings: death (offscreen), blood, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, reader has hair, pet names (logan canonically calls his love interests "darlin'" and this is me pushing that agenda), english is not my first language so please do not be rude

word count: 1004

you’re splattered in blood and grime, grey ash streaking your skin from the fire created by a little boy lashing out at the world. he had set his own house on fire, his parents dying in the most brutal of ways, burned alive.

“oh princess, c’mere,” logan pulls you into his arms. you’re in too much shock to argue, letting him manoeuvre you like a doll.

you don’t like going on missions, don’t like hurting people. you’re only ever sent on the easy ones, the non-violent ones, where you try to convince mutant kids to join the school. you’re good at talking to children, at getting them to admit their fears to you, at soothing their worries. but even the easy missions don’t always go well.

charles could sense that this particular child was powerful, and far worse than that, he was angry. he’d lashed out when he’d seen you, screamed in anger when his parents expressed a desire for him to go to xavier’s school, to learn to control himself before he came back home again. his parents were frightened too, scared of what might happen if things continued the way they were.

they’d all died in the explosion of his power.

he was so scared. he never meant to hurt anyone, you could see it in his eyes when the fire continued to burn despite him letting go. it was out of control, no longer a part of him that he could control like an extra limb, but something with a mind of its own.

it reminds you of yourself when you’d first discovered your abilities, scared and alienated from the rest of the world, from the non-mutants around you. you see yourself in every kid you save, and in every kid you lose.

you stay in logan’s arms for a long while, the only sound in the room his steady breathing contrasting with your ragged, choked out sobs. his chest rises steadily against yours, a rhythm that you try to imitate but you can’t, and with every failed inhale you feel your frustration grow, your panic increase.

he picks you up easily, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, clutching onto him so as not to fall. he would never drop you, you know that, but it’s always a slight surprise when you’re not expecting him to lift you from the ground.

he leads you to the bathroom where he helps you strip out of your clothes, so gentle with your shaking form. his hands trace each new sliver of skin revealed to him, keeping a firm pressure on you always, grounding you, reminding you of where you are. not in a burning house watching a child’s corpse go pitch black from the flames, but in the house that logan bought the two of you, not too far from the school but enough to give the two of you privacy.

in the shower, the blood rinses off your skin, pink rivulets swirling down the drain. yet you can still feel it, thick and sticky and warm. you want to scrub at your skin until its red and blistering, until you have to grow a new layer of skin, a fresh one that hasn’t been touched by death.

logan doesn’t let you. he catches your hand and whispers, “let me take care of you, darlin’.”

you lean into his bare chest and he massages shampoo into the roots of your hair, over your scalp until it foams, and then rinses it away. he runs your conditioner - the one he always claims is too expensive and why would you spend so much on hair products - through your hair, tugging gently at the strands when he notices you disappearing into your mind.

afterwards he pats you dry, and kisses every inch of your skin, reverent, on his knees before you. and then he rises to his feet and finally presses his lips to yours, soft and intimate, not rushed or heated, just reassurance that he’s here, he’s got you, and he’s not going anywhere.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks eventually.

you shake your head, “he was just a kid.”

“i know,” logan says, rubbing his large, rough hands over your arms, up and down, “but it’s not your fault, you know that. you can’t control what other people do. d’you blame storm for what happened?”

“no!” you exclaim, eyes wide at the implication that one of your best friends could have caused the boys death.

“but she was on the mission with you,” logan comments, and you shake your head, “if you don’t blame her, you can’t blame yourself. neither of you knew, you couldn’t’ve stopped it.”

“maybe,” you say. you don’t really believe it, but logan knows it’ll take you time to get back to your usual happy self, and he’s fine with staying by your side, whispering praise and reassurance until you start to believe him again.

afterwards, he puts on your favourite movie. he spends the whole time making fun of the characters and their decisions, grumbling about how movies will base their entire plot progression on actions no real, rational person would ever do, until you giggle wetly and slap him in the arm, telling him to shut up and let you watch the film.

you lean back into the circle of his arms and he holds you tight, occasionally wiping stray tears that run down your cheeks. there’s less tension in your muscles now, but you’re not quite relaxed, so he shuffles the two of you around until he can massage your shoulders and back.

you moan at the feeling, sinking into the sensation of his large hands working at the knots, until you’re putty for him. you feel warm and fuzzy by the time his hands start to stray down, massaging your thighs.

“feelin’ better?” he asks as the end credits roll, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“yeah,” you sigh, “thank you for taking care of me.”

[suzukiblu]

Day ten of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean–it’s nice,” Kon says, smiling just as helplessly into his collar and keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as they walk. “Just, you know, it’s not the kinda stuff you usually get me. Like–it’s just, you know–pretty, or whatever. It’s not for anything. Like, I can’t wear it for you and it’s not, you know, food or a game or anything.” 

Tim did not actually realize that he hadn't bought Kon anything that didn't count as “useful” yet, though given the video games and candy and jewelry he's pretty sure they just have different definitions of what “useful” actually is. Also he needs to take a moment to not burn alive over Kon saying the phrase “wear it for you” again, which definitely takes the full moment, because Jesus Christ. 

That has not gotten any less affecting, yeah. 

“Oh, I guess,” he says in his best imitation of a normal person's normal voice. “I didn't really think about that. I just thought you might like it, so I got it for you.” 

Kon somehow finds a new shade of red to turn that honestly might actually be a Kryptonian-related one, considering the intensity of it. It is, unfortunately, cute as fuck. 

“I mean, I do like buying you clothes and stuff, obviously. You look really nice in that outfit, for one,” Tim says, and Kon glances away again, still smiling helplessly and still just as red-faced. He really does blush so easy. It’s weird, Tim thinks, given how much flirting he does. But maybe Kon’s just the “can dish it out but can’t take it” type, he guesses. 

Alternately, maybe people just aren’t complimenting him as often as he deserves and he's not used to hearing it. 

. . . Tim makes a mental note to pencil in some affirmations in Young Justice’s next training session and also to buy Kon even more flowers than he was already planning to. Flowers that come with little hand-written cards that say nice things about him, specifically. 

“You better think I look nice in it, pretty boy,” Kon says, biting his lip around another grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me all fancied up.” 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked the crop top too,” Tim allows, and Kon bursts into laughter and then lets go of his jacket collar and just–beams at him, actually. Just–literally actually beams, brighter than anything in Gotham that doesn’t run on electricity. 

Tim manages not to step off the sidewalk into traffic by Robin-reflexes alone and literally nothing else. 

Jesus, that expression. 

“I like, uh–that,” Kon says, and then blushes a little darker again. “Um–I mean, I like that you, uh . . . like to get me stuff you think I look good in. Uh. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding weird, fuck, just–just I like it.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. The warehouse district in his brain is a lost cause; the fire has officially spread to the docks and across downtown. His mental Gotham is going the way of 1871 Chicago, he’s pretty sure. “Uh–um, good. I’m glad.” 

“It’s just, um–I dunno, it’s just nice to look nice for somebody,” Kon murmurs a little bit shyly, tugging his jacket collar up over his mouth again but still obviously smiling behind it. Tim isn’t sure if that’s a line of thought he should be concerned by after the kind of things Kon was saying earlier, if–“Instead of, you know. For everybody.” 

. . . Tim decides that actually, never mind the concern. Kon can look as good for him as he wants to, if what Kon’s used to is being stuck having to look good for some stupid ad campaign or magazine shoot or what the frick ever. And like–it’s not like he has a problem with Kon wanting to wear things he thinks he’ll like. That is pretty much the opposite of a problem for him, in fact. 

It probably explains the makeup, too. There were definitely not any ad campaigns with glitter eyeliner or nail polish involved. 

. . . not that Tim’s seen all the ad campaigns or anything, just–

Alright, fine, he’s seen all the ad campaigns. That’s just Bat SOP, alright? And definitely only Bat SOP.

[divasae]

Encarcéré

yandere capitano x reader

desc: imprisonment, forced pregnancy, yandere capitano, possessiveness, failed escape attempt, etc.

word count: 1.2k♡

As a small child, you had always clung onto a wish, which would have seemed insignificant to an outsider, but was one that gave you hope. You would wish that one day, you would be able to see the snowfall with your own eyes, as you had only ever read about it in books.

When you had first learned that there were nations outside of your own, different in both culture and climate, a sense of contempt washed over you, knowing deep down that you would never be able to see what the world truly had to offer. Seeing the snow was a naive dream you harbored, but when you had said you wished to see the snow, it had truly meant that you wished to see the outside world, and escape from your cage.

What you had described as a cage years ago soon came to be something you wished to go back to. The days you were safe and cozy, in what you could call your own home were long gone, now replaced with days in an unfamiliar place.

You never once had an inkling, that one day, you would find yourself to be lost and freezing in what you once wished to see. You found yourself huddled in currently what appeared to be an oak tree, as you did your best to conserve the little warmth you had left in your body. The thin layers of clothing you had worn were sopping wet, making you much more colder from within, as it clung onto your skin.

You hugged your body even tighter as it was getting colder, and you breathed raspingly as clouds of water vapor escaped from your chapped lips. Your hands instinctively reached for your swollen belly, as you felt stronger gusts of wind hit your figure. Your vision was beginning to get spotty, and you were unsure how much longer it would be until you would lose consciousness. Your mind immediately went to the thought of your baby within you, scared that you would lose it in the process of trying to escape your husband.

Just the word "husband" would bring a bitter taste in your mouth, and you thought about how by now, he would likely be looking for you, once he had realized you were missing. You had escaped with the hopes of never seeing him again, but now, you wished he would find you and bring you back to his manor, in fear of your baby's life. There was a time when you would say hurtful words to Capitano about his baby, how you had never wanted it, and how it would end up to be a monster, just like him.

However, he knew you never truly meant the cruel words you would utter from your mouth, and deep down, you knew it too. Despite having to carry your baby under twisted circumstances, you couldn't bring yourself to hate it. In the end, all you could do was feel sadness for it, sadness that you had to bring your baby into such a cruel world.

In a way, you felt connected your baby, being in a similar situation as you were. You both were unwillingly placed beside Capitano in the name of family, and had nowhere else to go.

You had married the Captain unwillingly months ago, and all it had taken for him to force you into such a marriage was being in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

When he had first laid his eyes on you, back in your home nation, all it took for him to be attracted to you was the way you had acted towards him. You were one of the only people he had come across who were kind enough to not look at him with eyes full of fear, and that was enough for him to yearn for you.

When he wanted something, it would always come to him, no matter what it took. And for a fragile little thing like you? It was all too easy. You put up quite a struggle as he had brought you onto his ship heading back to Snezhnaya, but once it had set sail, you knew that your fate was sealed in place.

You had always imagined that if you ever got the opportunity to see snowfall with your own eyes, the first thing you would do was throw yourself into it, and enjoy the feeling of the cold. However, that vision was soon shattered, being far from what actually happened when you first saw snowfall for the first time. Your eyes were glossy and distant as snow fell into your hair, too cold and heartbroken to admire the miracle in front of you.

Before you could process your unwilful marriage to the captain, your belly had already begun to swell. When he had first taken in the sight of you with symptoms of morning sickness, he embraced you tightly, peppering kisses all over your face. All you could do then was look at your belly with disgust, wondering how you could give birth to a child with a man like him. Perhaps the reason why you had decided to flee the Captain so late, despite fearing him, was in consideration of your child.

Which was how you now found yourself stuck in your current predicament. With the little strength left within you, you did your best to heave yourself up. As you looked ahead, all you could see was snow blowing itself into your face. As your surrounding began to get blurrier, you suddenly lost strength in your knees, and your legs completely gave out as you fell onto the ground. Before you had completely lost consciousness, you heard a distant sound, but was unable to make out the noise as your eyelids closed.

You didn't think you would wake up. Maybe it would have been better that way, then you and your child would have finally been freed from the Captain. Unfortunately for you however, you had much more strength left in you then you had thought.

As you opened your eyes slowly, after being blinded by the light, your eyes began to adjust slowly to the brightness. You were disoriented for a few seconds, before slowly taking in the sight of a maid placing a wet cloth to your forehead. Suddenly, you heard footsteps coming towards your direction, and as you turned your head weakly, you saw Capitano before you. A sudden feeling of dread creeped upon you, as you wondered what he was going to do.

Unexpectedly, he took his hand, and caressed your cheek. Your cheek stung as he touched it so lovingly, but you were too tired to swat it away. You felt a lump forming in your throat as your eyes met his face, tears suddenly formed at the corner of your eyes.

"Let me go home" you pleaded with a weak voice, as your tears fell onto his hand. He sighed as he took in the sight of your tears, wiping them with his thumb, before responding with "You are home, darling".

What a fool you were, for ever thinking you could be rid of Capitano.

[boopjuice]

They all break their rules. Within about 6 weeks.

Wes, obviously, meets Red Robin and charms him with his word vomit. He's also charmed by Red Robin because damn, that suit does wonders for him, and because Red Robin is intentionally flirting at the adorable idiot he just saved.

Next is Tuck. They haven't been able to find the book in the private library but they know Tim has the book. They know because Tucker found signs of hidden doors. And, well, they really need to get Danny back in Amity Park, so he figures Sam will forgive him for a little hacking.

Que then using Wes to distract Tim, who gets an alert halfway through the conversation that someone's hacking into his home security system to try and gain access to his Nest. And unfortunately, he can't find a way to excuse himself to defend his own system.

Tuck gets to duke it out with Oracle. He loses, and hightails it back to where they were staying. With the laptop he was just hacking with.

That Oracle is definitely tracking now.

Then Danny. Sam find out about Tuck breaking his rule and goes on a very long rant before they realize the laptop Tuck was using? Yeah, that's probably compromised. Good thing it didn't have any personal information on it, we'll just leave it here and go find another spot to stay!

Cut to four teens dragging luggage behind them in the middle of Gotham, all trying to find a place to stay. They looks like tourists. They look like easy targets.

So a gang jumps them, and while none of the team are slouches in a fight, there's just too many to reasonably take on. So Danny, while Sam is screaming about "Not you too!", becomes Phantom just long enough to knock out and tie up the gang.

Sam gives him the biggest earful when he's done. AND they still need to find a hotel while they look for another apartment.

The Bats are searching. They find the first apartment, trace it back to the teens, and are now actively hunting them down because why are four teens trying to hack into the Bat systems?

They manage to track them back to their hotel, which was pretty hard with Tucker covering their tracks, but not impossible. They find them right as Ivy decides to attack this block because it was originally contracted to be a green space for the city for at least another 50 years, but someone did some shady shit and broke the contract.

Sam? Is so tired. Wes broke his rule. Tucker broke his rule. Even Danny, who was the one to suggest having rules in the first place, broke his rule. AND HE'D COME UP WITH THAT ONE!

So Sam figures it's about time that she gets to break her rule too.

And in the middle of a fight between Poison Ivy, Batman, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Orphan, Sam Manson marches out onto the battlefield and rips Ivy a new one. What good is she doing, harming innocent people and reducing the amount of places they could stay? Fixing the coral reefs would have significantly more positive impact on the world, so would fighting deforestation, which seems much more up Ivy's alley. But no, she's actively harming her cause by destroying people's lives, in the process making activism harder for other people, like Sam, who also want a greener planet.

Ivy tries to attack Sam, but she's Undergrowth's student. That's not about to happen. The plants can like Ivy all they want for her ties with the Green, they aren't going to attack someone personally tied to the Grey (I saw a head canon somewhere that instead of Sam being associated with plants, she should be associated with the Grey, which feeds into decay and reintroducing nutrients through that decay and I'm sticking with it).

Once the fight is over and the dust settles, all four Bats corner the teens, ignoring the stars in their eyes, because they really need to know why four high school juniors decided to try and break into their systems.

To which Tucker says, very helpfully, "We weren't? We just needed to get into Tim Drake's private library so we could find a ritual to help our friend."

The Bats have many, many more questions.

DCxDP Fic idea: What's the Rule again?

It starts with Wes Weston accidentally banishing Danny from his haunt. He didn't mean to, and he panicked along side Sam and Tucker when Danny was effectively evicted Danny from Amity Park.

See the four have become tight-knited friends every since the trio started talking to Wes back during the summer between freshman and sophomore year.

During that time, Wes's other friends had drifted apart once Wes' attention moved from basketball to ghosts- specifically Phantom. Danny had felt at fault that he was left a loner because of his secret identity and had invited Wes to sit with them at the Nasty Burger the second week of Summer break.

Wes was suprise to find out that Sam, Tucker and Danny were much better friends then the ones he hanged out with since third grade. He was used to people only speaking to him in class or the few times they hang out on breaks but the trio would message him about every single thought or meme they had. They could laugh togther until tears fell from thier eyes and they couldn't breath over the silliest of topics.

Wes also found out that the trio was supportive of all their interests. Sure, his old teammates and friends didn't make fun of him for crocheting or painting, but they wouldn't accompany him to an art market. Nor would they actually wear the scarves and gloves he made them.

They sure as hell didn't volunteer to help him run a booth to sell his own crocheting pieces after encouraging him to get a table. And they wouldn't cheer loudly when he made his first sale.

Wes also wouldn't have happily gone with them to an observatory, a Dark Poem Night, or even a tech expo. But he found that he had the time of his life watching Danny, Sam, and Tucker nerd out at the events much as much as he did at his own.

He also never had anyone he knew would be down to do him favors or even take notes for him when he was out sick.

So he became close friends with them, passing sophomore year with far more enjoyment than any other grade, then Junior year came and went just as fast and as fun. It was their last summer as high school students, so Wes wanted to do as many new activities as the four could together before Senior year.

Who knew what would happen to their little group after graduation? He wants to think they would all remain best friends but he's heard so many stories of people drifting apart that Wes was afraid of risking it.

That's why he researched urban myths and legends around the world regarding ghosts- more then any research paper he's ever done- and jokingly asked Danny to partake in some of them as a halfa.

They joked and laughed- throwing salt in a circle around Danny, lighting a candle for him to use Morse code with- but it wasn't until Wes got to the one where he tried smoking Danny out with a banishing spell he found in an old book that things turned from funny to horrible.

It worked

Danny was flung from his haunt- effectively banishing him from the area he was haunting. Dann just happens to be haunting all of Amity Park, so he ends up on the outskirts of town, unable to cross the invisible line.

Wes practically choked on his tears as he apologized for Danny not being able to cross back in, but the other three quickly informed him that they, too, took part in it, and it was no one's fault. Danny just had to find a way to reverse the banishing spell.

The only problem was that the book pages Wes found online were only on the banish spell itself and nothing else. He couldn't even find the whole book since it belonged in a private family library.

The family library was located in the most dangerous city in America. Gotham.

The library also belongs to a very wealthy family that had recently all but perished except for their lone heir- Timothy Drake.

Now Wes attempted to contact Timothy Drake in hopes of having the other teenager send him copies of the book, but he never got a reply. He thinks it was due to not explaining why he needed the book and ending up sounding like a bot or a scam.

With each passing day of Drake not responding Danny's situation grew worse. Jazz luckily covered for them, claiming to have signed Danny up for some camp so his parents wouldn't think he was missing.

That would only work until school started, which was a time limit that was weighing on all their shoulders as they tried to find a counterspell.

Jazz, Tucker, Sam, and Wes each took turns driving out of town to bring him food and a change of clothes so Danny could figure out his situation, having to do it in shifts to not alert any of their parents.

However, without his haunt to pick up natural exoplasm, Danny was growing weaker and weaker by the day, looking half stave out in the little motel room Sam rented for him as they tried to get him back into the town.

Danny needed to either make his way back to his haunt or go somewhere that was so infected with ectoplasm that it actually felt cursed.

Tucker found the solution to all their problems with a few hacking skills that he learned to fight off Technus' invasive attempts of his personal tech.

"A full ride to Gotham Academy?" Wes' mom gasped staring at the acceptance letter her son eagerly showed her. "With a promised full ride to any university in America?!"

"Yeah, Tucker, Sam, Danny, and I all got accepted for our work on clean energy generators. We sent it in for the Wayne scholarship, and we won! The only thing is that it's a requirement to graduate from high school in Gotham. I have to go!" Wes gasped, eyeing both his dad's and Kyle's doubtful frowns. He couldn't afford for them to say no when Tucker had worked so hard to bump them up as Winners. Bruce Wayne's computer security is no joke. "This is the once in a life time opportunity!"

"But where would you live?" His dad asks, shaking the letter. "Wes, this is clear across states, and it only covers school expenses."

"Sam's parents bought her a house. She's going to rent us some of the extra rooms." It was a lie; her parents would never let four boys- especially these boys- rent from their daughter. She told them that the school provided co-dorm rooms "I can get a job at the local library- I already sent them my resume and got a call for a interview."

"What will you do for food?" Kyle asks. "We both know you can't cook."

"I can't, but Danny does. He's amazing in the kitchen."

Here, his parents share a loaded look. "So you'll be living with the Fenton boy....."

"Well. Yeah? I already said that?" He returns, confused, and Kuule coughs to cover a laugh. Confused he stares at his older brother, who quirks a grin at him.

"Don't worry about it." Kyle laughs, but his wiggling eyebrows tell Wes he should worry a lot about it. He would inisit a little more to find out what Kyle knew, but he needed to convince his parents more.

Eventually, after five days of attempting, Wes got their permission and could tell his friends, who all shared the same results. The remainder of the summer is spent preparing for their move- finding the house, getting it furnished, packing their things, transferring schools- it's a lot, and he's never been so grateful for Sam's wealth.

She hires people to get it all done for her-including hiring a trailer to take their four cars-, so he only has to worry about his packing. The four meet up at the airport on the day they live, flying first class thanks to Sam's grandmother.

Tearful goodbyes and good luck from their families leave them all a bit down but they board the plane and take off without too much trouble.

While on the plane, Sam turns to the boys. "Does everyone remember the phases of the plan?"

"Phase one: Blend into Gotham until we find Timothy Drake" Tucker states, pushing up his glasses

"Phase two: Get Drake to invite us over to his house and find the book," Danny tacks on, tapping his foot on the ground.

"Phase three: Find all the pieces for the counterspell- usually scattered around the magical family's ancestral home- and get Danny home!" Wes shouts, raising a fist in the air.

Sam nods, looking satisfied. "And what are we not allowed to do? Danny?"

"Become a vigilante when my ectoplasm is on a limited intake" Danny grumbles, sinking into his chair. "Let it to the Bats and keep my head low."

"Good. Tucker?"

"I'm not allowed to hack into anything because it can gain the attention of the Bats or Mr.Wayne, and then we'll be on a wanted list" Tucker sighs "No matter how much fun it would be to battle it out with the legendary Oracle."

"That's right. I'm not allowed to go anywhere near Poison Ivy no matter how much I want to yell at her to go fix the coal riffs and cut down forests instead of wasting her powers on the stupid heist." Same all but bites, and then she turns her attention to Wes, who startles.

"Wes?"

"Wait, I have a rule?"

"Course, man," Tucker laughs. "We all have rules."

"But I'm not interesrted in anything in Gotham besides the Drake grimoire!"

"Wes," Danny says gently, his soft baby blue eyes making him a little hot under the collar as they stare into his soul. "You're not allowed to fall in love with any of the Bats."

Wes mind blanks, then reboots, "Excuse me!?"

"We know you had a crush on all of us here Wes and Val" Sam laughs when he turns wide eyes at her. "It's cute but you really shouldn't try for the Bats. They're the violent sort"

"What?!"

"Yeah, you have a type, and it's a hero or hero adjacent." Tucker shrugs "It's cool."

Wes can only gape at them, no matter how much he tries to convince them; otherwise, the three refuse to remove his rule. He is highly offended by it.

Yes, he's never really gone out with Team Phantom, just because when he joined the group, most of Danny's rouges were long gone leaving behind the tiny ones that he could handle on his own, but he wasn't into heroes!

And okay- maybe, maybe at one point or another he may have had slight crushes on his friends but they were quick and gone before the first school year together!

So the rule is utterly ridiculous!

At least, he thinks so until five days later when he's trying to find his way around the new neighborhood and gets caught up in a mugging. He could have quickly taken the mugger- humans had nothing on ghosts- but he attempted to talk the young adult out of it when Red Robin swooped in like a knight in shining armor.

He may have just stared at the hero's tight-skin outfit instead of letting the hero know that he could handle it, and he may have made a fool of himself when Red Robin asked if he was right.

"Yeah tots fine" He babbles. Ugh, who says tots?! He wants to stop talking but when Wes gets nervous he tends to just word vomit and he could hear himself doing it now. "You know who else is fine?"

Red Robbin raises a brow, likely knowing the pickup line. Cowering, Wes changes the answer in a panic. "Timothy Drake!"

Red Robin stills. "Come again?"

"Timothy Drake, a boy in my class! He's fine that you think he was part siren or something. You've seen him, right? I mean you have eyes!" He repeats with a squeal "I want to get into his private liberty!"

"Do you?" Red Robin tilts his head, a slight smirk forming on his mouth. "You should try flirting with him then. Maybe he can give you a tour."

"Oh, I want more than a tour!"

Why did he say that?!

At least the hero in front of him laughs until a shout has them both looking away.

Danny is running down the street screaming his name, thank the Ancients. When Wes turns around to wave at him, Red Robin vanishes without a sound or trace.

Like a ghost.

Oh no, that's hot.

"Danny, I broke the rule"

"For Ancient's sake, it hasn't even been a month."

[ganxiously]

So, it turns out what I needed to get out of my writer's block was soul-wrenching grief and heart-crushing disappointment. And while I am happy about that (to an extent), I also wish my muse wasn't angst because I think I am hurting myself writing this fic and I need to now make it everyone else's problem.

Sitting there in the dark, on Eddie’s sofa, curled in on himself like it’s supposed to do anything to hold him together, one thought pops into his head, bright, neon red and in bold among the constant litany of boorish, black ‘This is all my fault’ — All of this is because I didn’t know what a Kinsey six is. The thought is unexpected enough that Buck unfurls a little, wondering where it came from and then he remembers their anniversary date. The memory leaves him breathless but he is curious enough to push past the newly burgeoning hurt and take out his phone. A quick Google reveals it to be the rating for ‘exclusively homosexual’ on the Kinsey scale so he looks that up next and as he’s debating whether to start from Wikipedia first or dive right into the Kinsey Institute website, his eyes land on the conspicuous ‘test online’ button right below the search bar. A part of him doesn’t want to find out, doesn’t want anyone else telling him what he is but the taunt is too much. If you had known, if you had just taken a moment to figure yourself out, maybe you could have said something. Maybe you could have stopped him before he walked away. He clicks on the first test that pops up, looks at the first question, goes to select option 1 and then stops and stares. ‘To whom are you attracted?’ should be an easy question to answer but the confidence to not think much has left him. He could easily choose ‘Both men and women’ but would that even be correct? He’s been so sure that he has felt attraction towards men a few times in the past but what if that was a mild interest at best? After all, no one had really pinged his radar the way Tommy had. He looks at the next question and that’s when the panic really starts to set in because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he prefers men over women or if he just prefers Tommy over women, over everyone else. What if Tommy is the outlier and he prefers women over men after all? The pressure in his chest becomes more and more painful the longer he stares at it so he closes the test and opens the next one on the list. That one starts off mild. The way the first question is framed makes it easy to answer that yes, while he mostly notices women, the occasional man does turn his eyes. The next one asks what he would be comfortable in calling himself and he thinks he could get away with calling himself bisexual but then there’s an option saying ‘could be bisexual but not sure if that’s correct‘. And again the thought hits, What if it’s just Tommy? He debates it briefly and then gives in and chooses the latter option. He breezes through the next couple of questions because he is at least sure that he would find it desirable to kiss people from both genders but then they hit him with the sexual preference question again. He backs out so fast his phone nearly slips out of his hand and with a sigh of frustration, he clicks on the next test. That turns out worse because the very first question stalls him and so it continues again and again and again until tears start prickling at the corner of his eyes and his breath starts coming in sharp, short bursts pulling his throat tight but not taking any air to his lungs. He keeps at it until there’s one more nameless person behind one more useless test clamouring at him, Tell us, tell us, tell us. Tell us you know what you want. He hurls the phone across the room, thankful when instead of landing on the floor, it silently hits the backrest of Eddie’s armchair and slides down into the crease with a swoosh. He should get up and retrieve it, he should go home really but what he does instead is let his head fall forward onto his raised knees and give in to the caricatured voice of his mind telling him, Of course, he thought you would break his heart. Look at yourself, you idiot.

This is basically just the set-up for the fic but rest assured I am dragging Buck down to the trenches before I let him swim up to Tommy again.

[nocasdatsgay]

A Lesson in Heartbreak

2 of 3: Words are Painful Weapons

Rating: T | Word Count: 3983 | Pairing: Azris/Reader

Summary: Eris and Azriel made promises they didn’t keep. When you confront them about it, Eris says some things he instantly regrets. Now him and Azriel have to fix what they broke.

Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist| Read on A03| Part 1| Read Below

Warnings: Angst, Eris has a sharp tongue, alcohol, drunk!Eris

A/N: HI so… yeah… I am alive. Sorry this took so long. A second shout out to @daycourtofficial for inspiration with Azriel and his comments when he comes back.

Tagging: @myromanempiree @pit-and-the-pen @lilah-asteria @thisblogisaboutabook @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @paleidiot @div94 (if you are tagged by accident or want to be tagged in the future, let me know)

“There. A letter to Tarquin and a letter to her.” Eris sent them with a flick of his wrist. 

Azriel calmed enough to sit while Eris penned the letters. They needed you to come home so they could talk with you in person. Deep down, Eris was thoroughly embarrassed over the whole situation. Not only at himself but for you leaving to another court. He wondered if this was how Tamlin felt all those years ago, when Feyre ran off to the Night Court. Eris suddenly had empathy for him in retrospect. 

He slumped back in his chair and sighed. He needed a stiff drink. But he wanted to be sober if you came home. Azriel sat across from him, arms  crossed against his chest and brows furrowed like he did when he was deep in thought. His eyes were still rimmed in red from earlier. The Shadows were nowhere in sight. 

“What?” Eris looked at his mate. 

Az cut his eyes to Eris, still frowning. “I want you to tell me exactly what you said to her.”

“I’m surprised your shadows didn’t already tell you.” Eris didn’t hold back his eye roll or his sigh. “I don’t fully remember.” 

Everything was a blur from earlier. When he got like that, he never remembered what he said. 

“Well think fucking harder.” Eris could see Azriel’s fingers dig into his sleeves. 

“She came in screaming at me about missing dinner.” It reminded him too much of his mother. The way she would yell at his father when he was a youngling. Eris tried to focus, to put that aside. “I told her the high lord meeting was more important. We were hosting, and.”

After a moment Az said, “And what, Eris”

He cursed under his breath. “I said she would understand that if she had bothered to help. Since she isn’t helping, she doesn't get to complain that we are busy. She knew what she was getting into when we mated.”

Azriel recoiled where he sat. “How could you say that to her?” 

“It’s the truth, Azriel.” Eris brushed back his hair with his hand. “This is what it’s like to be mated to a High Lord. We have responsibilities. Yes, I was wrong for implying she didn’t want to help because she asked and I told her she didn’t have to. I admit that.” 

Shadows came out as Az replied. “And we made promises we didn’t keep.”

“I know I did. It eats me alive that I broke them but what else am I supposed to do? It’s our first time hosting, I’ve only been High Lord for a decade and a half. She’s worked for multiple courts. She knows these things have to be perfect or others will talk.” 

“That doesn’t mean we can’t take a break to have dinner with her.” Az countered. 

Eris glared at him. “Do not act like you are any better. You weren’t there either.”

He winced. “You’re right. I wasn’t.” Then he glared back. “But maybe I would have been there if you let other people do their job instead of making it our problem.”

“Oh you’re going to blame me?” Eris was on his feet. “By the gods. I’m always your scapegoat because it’s easy to blame me than for you to look in a fucking mirror.”

“Eris.” A warning, as shadows built around him. 

“Am I wrong?” Azriel didn’t answer. Eris and his sharp tongue kept going. “You blamed me for centuries when it came to Mor. To this court. To my father. Let’s just add this to it.” He paused. Before he could stop himself he added. “It wouldn’t even be a fucking issue if it was just us.” 

Eris felt the shock through the bond from Az before he shut him out. Even the shadows recoiled from around Az.

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t have to repeat myself. We work well together,” he gestured between them, ��because we know what to expect from each other. She wants so much more than either of us are capable of.”

Shadows shrunk back again. “That’s not true.”

“It is!” Then words spewed from his mouth like viper venom. “I wish Elain never told us. I wish I never let you get your fucking hopes up, looking for a third bond in every fucking fae you brought to our bed. But I love you, so I let you do it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Azriel was on his own feet, siphons on his hands flashing. “I always got your consent, you said it was fine. You brought your own-”

Eris’s mouth ran away from him again. He didn’t raise his voice; his tone did the work for him. 

“Maybe I lied. I only took other lovers so you wouldn’t feel guilty. I was just trying to make you happy because I was never enough for you. Even the Mother herself knew. She knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent us her.” 

Az looked like he’d been struck. Guilt and insecurity Eris had buried for decades laid out on full display. At that moment Eris hoped Azriel hurt just as much as he did. The silence between them was heavy and loud. It was finally Azriel who spoke, his own words sharp and stinging. 

“I never asked to be mated to you. You say this is easier for me and you, but it’s only easy for you. What’s easy is loving her. It’s not my fault you’re too fucked up to know that too.” 

Shadows grew thick around him and he winnowed out of the room. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You showered and changed into a soft seafoam colored nightgown, given to you by Samira. She was sitting by a small side table reading when you came back into the bedroom. She set her book down and got up from her seat. 

“Did you tell him, Tarquin?” You asked. 

In your haste to get away, you didn’t think about the implications of your actions. Namely as High Lord’s mate seeking refuge in another court. You liked Tarquin a lot. He was kind and you were so happy when Samira and him hit it off. But he was still a High Lord of another court. Samira didn’t look you in the eyes from where she had sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I only told him what you told me.”

“That’s fine,” you said quickly. You got onto the bed and crawled up beside her. “I understand. If you hadn’t told him, I would have.”

“That said,” she put her hand over yours. “You’re here as my guest. Any correspondence will come directly to me unless there is a threat to the court.” 

You winced and she gave you a sympathetic look. Your mates were both known for their tempers. Azriel was well known for his impulsive behavior. You prayed to the Mother that neither of them acted irrationally. A hard thing to hope knowing you sealed this room the moment you entered. 

“Did you want some tea or do you want to rest for the night?” 

“Tea. I need to talk if you’re willing to listen.”

“Always,” she smiled. 

You grabbed a light robe and moved into the small sitting room. She waited as Samira had tea brought to the room. She fixed you a cup, and then she sat down and took her own in her hands. 

“So what happened?”

You let out a heavy sigh, trying to figure out where to start. 

You explained the best you could. How they both made a promise to go to dinner and neither showed. You explained how distant they’d been for months. You explained how Eris told you that dinner wasn’t as important as whatever he was working on with the upcoming summit. 

“He said I knew what I was getting into when we mated. As if I’m not managing his court while his nose is stuck in itinerary lists.” You added bitterly. 

She winced. “And Azriel? What did he say about all this?” 

“He said he was sorry. He lost track of time. Conveniently he was silent when I asked why his shadows didn’t remind him.” You stared down at the tea in your hand. You could feel your eyes water again. “He hasn’t- he has always been more physically affectionate than Eris. Out in public, at least. But he hasn’t even-“

You stopped yourself, your face burning. Samira didn’t need to know how Az hadn’t even called you by a specific pet name in weeks. Eris even longer. And how was you supposed to explain they even stopped just casually touching you? It was childish, to be upset about something so silly. Yet thinking about it just made you cry again. 

You wiped your eyes. “It just feels as if  they don’t want me anymore.”

“They're your mates, of course they want you.”

“Mates doesn’t always mean love, Samira. They did just fine without me for what? Two decades? Maybe longer. Maybe they miss it just being the two of them.” 

“Now you’re talking nonsense. Stop it,” she gave you a pointed look. 

“What if it’s the truth?” You were so sick of crying. You sniffled and wiped your eyes. “They know each other so well. What do they need me for?” 

They didn’t.

That was your whole issue. They didn’t need you. Eris and Az could practically communicate without words. They moved around each other seamlessly. Eris knew exactly how Az liked his tea. Az knew to move papers closer to the inside of the desk when Eris was on a rant, his hands moving about as he talked. Eris knew when to make the spare room without even asking Azriel if he needed it. You tried to watch, to listen. Five years and you still weren’t in tune with them. 

Samira shuffled in her seat, drawing your attention back to her. 

“Eris wrote a letter to Tarquin. I got it while you were bathing. It wasn’t much, just him requesting to know if you were here and if so, that you get this.” She held up an envelope with his seal on it. “I wrote back that I would handle communication and you’d be staying the night.” 

She laid the letter on the table in front of you. Your chest ached, begging you to open it immediately. You shoved it down. 

Samira added, “I informed him that if you want to stay longer, I can’t make you leave. Tarquin has already agreed to allow you to stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” you whispered and stared back down at your tea again. 

“Sleep on it. You can have breakfast with us and decide what you want to do in the morning.”

You nodded. Sleep sounded nice now that the adrenaline of the evening had crashed. You drained the rest of your tea and bid Samira good night. You left the letter on the table. You’d read it in the morning. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris poured himself the stiffest drink he’d had in decades. The shame and embarrassment of everything was still burning in his chest. He downed his drink in one swing and poured another. Both his mates were gone. He walked over to his desk where the correspondence with summer sat. Your friend had written back instead of Tarquin. He downed his second drink. 

To make things less complicated, I will be handling correspondence until this is resolved. Unless there is a threat to the court, I will not involve the high lord. I promise I will give her your letter in the morning. She was distraught when she arrived and I’ve just gotten her calmed. She’s currently bathing and I will get her some tea to help her sleep. 

There was a break in the letter and she added. 

She has yet to tell me what happened fully, but as her friend I am warning you both that you two better make this right. I will try to convince her to return in the morning, but she is a grown female. If she requests to stay, Tarquin has already told me she may. 

Eris tossed the letter back onto the desk. He doubted once you found out Az left too that you’d come home. It’s what he deserved. 

He was a fool to think he could do this- have two mates. To think he could be any better than his father. Three years mated to you and he still couldn’t control himself. Couldn’t toe the line between work and leisure. Fifteen mated to Az and he still spewed venom in his direction the moment he was cornered. And Eris finally got a taste of his own medicine when Azriel spewed it right back. 

With a heavy sigh, Eris pulled out more parchment and ink. There would not be a high lord summit- not with all of this happening. He’d draft the letters and send them in the morning. If he could sleep at all, with no one sharing his bed. He went and made a third drink. He opened his bonds and see if you or Az would respond. 

Still shut out. The urge to down that third drink was strong. He needed to be sober in the morning even if he didn’t want to be. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Azriel flew until his emotions settled. Eris’s foul words rung in his ears still. ‘I wish Elain never told us’ he’d said. ‘Even the mother herself knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent her.’ 

His eyes watered and it wasn’t from the wind in them. There was an ache in his chest- both bonds were shut out. He and Eris fought plenty, before and after they reconciled and the bond snapped. Somehow this was still the worst. He ignored his own words that spewed like venom in response to what Eris had said. 

Azriel was angry and hurt. He left- if he stayed any longer the whole Forest House may have been burned to the ground. He circled the border between Autumn and Winter. He couldn't go back, not tonight. He landed in a clearing, stretching out his wings before tucking them back in. He didn’t want to go to Valeris. He had one other option. His shadows seemed to agree, as they circled him and he winnowed. 

He landed outside the wards of Rosehall. The fae lights shown through the window. 

She is awake. a shadow whispered. 

He thought about turning back. He didn’t want to disturb his mother, to bother her with his problems. Yet his feet carried him forward, the wards rippling around him. He tucked his wings in tight and walked to the door. He didn‘t have to knock; the wards were designed to let only few in and to notify her when someone arrived. He could hear the rush of footsteps inside and braced himself as the door opened. 

“Azriel?” His mother answered the door, a navy shawl you made for her wrapped tight around her shoulders, sides shaped to accommodate her wings. “What has happened?”

��I had a fight with my mates.” He said quickly. “They’re fine; I just- I couldn’t stay.”

His mother brushed back loose hair to tuck it behind her ear. He realized her hair was half braided. She nodded, and stepped aside to let him in. 

“I’m sorry, I can go.”

”Nonsense, come in. I just made tea.”

His shadows swirled past him, one or two weaving around his mother. They always loved her; probably more than him if he was honest. He stepped through the frame and looked around. He had visited two weeks ago and already things had changed. His heart skipped, looking into the sitting room. Feyre had taken to decorating his mother’s house with portraits and paintings. The one above the fireplace was of him and his mother. It was a new one on the wall to the left that wasn’t there two weeks ago that made him stop in his tracks. It was of his mother, himself, you, and Eris. From your mating ceremony, based on the clothing and how close together you all were. 

“The High Lady spoils me,” his mother said from his right. “Says my house is too empty. You should see the garden painting she had mounted in the hall a few days ago. Come.” 

He felt her hand grab his own. He could only grip back loosely. He didn’t realize how cold his fingers had gotten from flying. If she noticed, she didn’t say. She led him to the kitchen where a kettle sat on the stove. He sat at the small table and watched almost numbly while she gathered cups and poured the tea. 

“Zemër, tell me what happened.” 

Az looked down at the cup as she sat it in front of him. He wrapped his hands around it, letting the warmth ease the stiffness in his hands. If he was home, Eris would do it for him. He pushed that thought away. He took a few sips, relishing in how the warmth flowed through his chest. His mother waited patiently across from him, braiding the rest of her hair for bed. 

“I said some things I shouldn’t have.” His shadows nudged him on the shoulder. “I made a promise and didn’t keep it.” She hummed and tied off her hair. His voice cracked a little when he added. “I don’t know if I can fix it.” 

There was a beat of silence and his mother took a sip of her tea. “Why do you think such a thing?” 

“Because she left!” He snapped. His mother flinched and shadows hissed at him for raising his voice. “I’m sorry. She left and he- we’ve been so busy and she asked for one dinner and neither of us went. Then she left. And Eris said things. So I said things back.”  

He hated that hot tears fell down his cheeks. And that his mother was looking at him with pity. She reached over and took his hand, holding it tightly in her own. 

“Words are painful weapons and you are the best warrior in all prythian.” That made Azriel snort and she smiled softly. “This is a fight. Not a war. You haven’t lost yet. They are your mates. You love them. If you haven’t given up your love for them, what makes you think they have so easily given up their love for you?” 

She had him there. He gave her hand a squeeze, a gesture of thanks. Then a shadow swirled up his arm quickly. 

We must go. He furrowed his brows. He walks to our balcony. We must stop him. We must go. Go. 

“Shit.” Azriel winced at himself. He hated cursing in front of his mother. “Mama, I have to go. Thank you. For the tea.” 

She watched him stand, not letting go of his hand. “Be careful, my love.” 

Despite the tugging of the shadows he gave his mother a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you in two weeks. I promise.” 

She nodded and he winnowed away. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At some point, Eris wasn’t sure when; he grabbed the whole bottle instead of pouring himself a glass. He couldn’t sleep. Not alone, with his thoughts and past memories hovering around the edges of the bed. They we’re waiting in the dark to grip him when he was most vulnerable. So instead he drank. Drank to numb the emptiness like he used to in the days before. 

One minute he was in his chambers and the next he was stumbling up stairs. There were several balconies in the forest house but there was only one nearest to the roof. He built it for Azriel. It had no railings, just a place for him to take off when he went flying. Az swore he didn’t need it; but he still used it. In Eris’s mind, Az would use the balcony when he came back home.

Because he had to come home. You both had to come home. Eris didn’t think he could bear it if you didn’t. It took him a moment when he reached the door to focus enough to grab the handle. Gods, he hadn’t been this drunk since his youth. Pushing into the room, it was bare- save the single old couch, rug, and unlit fireplace. His gaze fixated on the double glass doors that led to the balcony. If he could just get out there, he could wait. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Eris nearly fell over, balance upended by Az’s voice behind him. He grabbed Eris by his shirt to pull him steady. Shadows that had been absent swirled in his vision, grazing his hair and neck as if checking him over. It took a moment for the world to stop spinning and his focus fixated on the male before him. 

“You came back,” Eris whispered. 

“Of course I did.” Azriel’s nose crinkled at Eris’ breath. “You're drunk.”

“Can’t sleep.” He felt his eyes water. He reached for Azriel’s shoulder but Az held him in place. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.” 

“Look at me,” Az’s hands were cold as they cradled Eris’ face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

“Your hands are cold.” He muttered, his own reaching up to cover them. He wasn’t sober enough to focus his magic like he wanted to. 

“They are.” Az gave him a soft smile. “I’ll live.” 

Eris frowned. “Why did you come back?” 

To Azriel’s credit, he didn’t seem shocked at the question. 

“I came back because I love you.” And Azriel meant it. 

“But you said-“

“I said it’s not easy.” He paused for a moment. “It’s not easy but I choose you. I will always choose you. Because I love you.”

There was silence between them for a moment. 

“She’s not coming back.” 

Az grimaced. “Eris, it’s late. She’s safe in Summer and probably sleeping. Like we both should be.”

“But I need her here.” Eris could hardly bear it. He needed you back. He needed to apologize. “Can’t we go get her?” 

“So you want to start a war with Summer?” Az’s face was serious but there was a tilt in his voice. 

“You’re laughing at me.” Eris replied solemnly. 

“You’re drunk. It’s hard not to.” He sighed, his wings slumping and shadows buzzing about them. “Let’s go to bed and sleep this off.” 

Eris was silent but seemed to concede. Az guided him out the room and back to their chambers. He would have winnowed if Eris hadn’t been so inebriated. He really didn’t feel like cleaning up vomit. 

“You’re too good to me,” Eris muttered as they made their way down the hall. 

Az tightened his arm around him. “I could argue the same.”  

More silence passed. “Do you think she’ll come back?” 

Azriel didn’t reply. He could only hope. His shadows whispered as much as he helped Eris undress in their chamber and get him to bed. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In Summer, you tossed and turned. The air was too warm even with the cool magical breeze that floated through the open windows. The bed was too small. Too empty. You finally cast a spell on your blanket and pillows, making them colder. How funny you’d gotten used to Autumn's colder climate.

The spell worked too well. You were suddenly too cold, too cold without Eris and Az’s body heat to keep you warm. Tears fell on your pillow. They were probably sleeping fine without you. Your mind went to the letter you left in the other room. You were too afraid to open it. They probably only wanted you home until after the High Lords’ meeting. Or maybe they never wanted you to come back. You pulled the blanket tight around yourself. Whatever the letter said could wait until morning. 

You sighed and tried to go to sleep. 

Part 3

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Samba's Death by Cheese Class Notes 11/09/2024

So generally when we get these classes, Samba shares BTS info. This is what I could write down when I wasn't making the Mac.

Pic Source: Samba's Instagram of his dish

Questions:

What was the longest scene to film?

First episode of Stede going down the steps talking about "mentally devastated". They were spending a lot of time riffing and figuring out the characters. They asked everyone to make something up-- Roach said: "First you skin them alive"- each Swede - "First you keep it in side, and then you go home, and then you take it out on your loved ones"

In S2 = The torture scene took the longest to film. Samson and Roach had those clamps on their head the whole time (multiple days of shooting and it sucked) Rhys pulled his shoulder being tied to the mast. Vico and Madeline were nauseous from laying with their feet up in the air for so long. Con and Kristian were tied together, and Samba was saying how con came up to Kristians knee (affectionately)"

What was the story behind the first run of Stede being glammed up by the crew and the sexual tension (before calypsos birthday was written).

Wee John was gonna glam up Stede, add eye shadow, give him a makeover - pierced earring, wear a low cut shirt, and then Blackbeard would notice him-- but then they all decided that it would be better that Blackbeard and Stede bond over this scene of Stede coming into his pirate captainness (or the trauma from it)

More BTS:

The cast hadn't worked together before (except like Rhys and Taika, David Fane and Taika, and Sampson and Joel)

Apparently Samson almost killed them when he threw a sword up in the air. They decided after that the guys wouldn't be doing any major battle scenes or stunts. "You can do yardies that's as far as you go"

They didn't get to learn too much ship work, besides belaying, that's why it always looks like people are just like mopping or hammering in the background. Samba, Kristian, and Nathan wanted to practice throwing rope in the water to save people, Kristian threw it like Hodor, Nathan threw it "GAY" (and he has a video-- but didn't say anything about sharing it)

Talked about making the dish in New Zealand for Rhys and the cast:

He did a lot of impressions of Con, and said "Oh Con, didn't see you there" Looking at the floor "This is delicious, how much cheese is in this?" - Con "Hey! Stop kicking me!" - Samba" "15 Cups"- Samba "15 cups!?" - Con, and then Samba said he just had to pick Con up and calm him down. "Ok put him in the corner!" - Samba (All of this said affectionately)

Mermaid Jizz

People asked about Mermaid Jizz in chat, and the ASL Interpreter was being very good at interpreting things (Berto is the man!)

Funnily enough, apparently this wasn't the raunchiest chat, Felicia Day had people talking about lightning bolts coming out of their Anus, and Berto said something like "nothing can top Jewel" We need this story Berto. Please.

Silly Pronunciations:

Co-Land-Err, and Pap-Ree-cah

Dirty Jokes While Talking about the dish:

"You want it to be nice and sticky like Lucius' Sheets"

"Nice and coated, like blackbeard on calypsos birthday, and the inn happening right now"

"Gentle and easy, like the gentleman pirate"

"Moist, Lucius' favorite word"

Love being sent to all of us:

We need to band together and support each other. Thank you for supporting the LA food bank, it means a lot to Samba personally.

Love Conquers all Cast and Fans are Bonded for eternity "You and I we are like Lucius and Black Pete. Nothing can keep us apart-- or not, never mind that's too sticky".

Love to everyone, he is not leaving twitter because actors HAVE to have multiple socials-- but he'll look into if he can hop onto BlueSky

If you attended the class and shared your results, please tag Samba Schutte and Momentus on the socials!

If you all remember anything I missed please let me know or reblog with it please! I was trying to write everything down while making this monstrosity lol.

[alchemistc]

@liminalmemories21 - this isn't exactly what you asked for but:

Abby C. 8:51 PM: So how'd it go? With the talking?

Buck stares at the message. Stares at the milk frother sitting in his counter, and the candlesticks he'd really considered dropping off the side of his upper balcony, ten minutes ago. (He's a firefighter, he knows how that ends. But, like. Still)

Bad, he texts back. So bad. But he also won't give me my sweatshirt back and I know he has it. Any sage advice?

It's a little weird to be texting her. She'd been one of the first people he'd ever talked to consistently on the phone, and he'd grown to enjoy it, grown to appreciate that voice in his ear.

Abby texts back immediately: I'm not entirely sure I know what that means. He actually LIKED you.

Buck can feel the buzzing under his skin, the rush of adrenaline at remembering Tommy not only not denying he'd loved Buck, but admitting off-hand that he still did.

It means I'm getting my man back, Buck sends, and then stares at the slippers he can see poking out from the right side of the bed.

His phone rings.

"You know," Abby starts, before Buck can so much as greet her. "I spent a long time beating myself up for not seeing this as a sign, but that's not the point."

"What... is the point?"

Abby chuckles. She sounds good. Happy. Buck is far enough removed from it to feel glad for her, and jealous of her, and then he's rolling right back around to being fucking livid that Abby and Tommy had both run. Different reasons, same result. A first of Buck's that'd just walked away.

"He used to watch movies with my mom constantly. All the terrible schlock that I couldn't stand - Hallmark movies, and D-Lister rom coms, all those trite based on true events Lifetime shows."

Buck nods. Waits for her to continue.

She doesn't.

"I'm not picking up what you're dropping down."

"He and my mom would just critique them all the way through. Just tear them to shreds. What was unrealistic, what was just plain stupid. She - mom was never more lucid than when she and Tommy were bemoaning the lack of reality in those movies."

"Listen, I already know asking him to move in with me was a dumb idea. I'm the himbo, remember?"

Abby pauses. "...that's what he called you?"

"Apparently all your mutual friends did."

Abby sighs. "The point is, Buck. They liked watching them because they liked talking about what real relationships were actually like. What happened after a curtain close kiss, how much a couple was gonna fight over the financial sustainability of a Christmas themed donut shop, what the fiance that got left behind in the big city was gonna do now that they were finally free of the person who'd spent the holiday season losing their entire brains. Tommy's a realist. He wants to be stopped before he gets on the plane, but he wants to be stopped because you already have a ten step plan to make things work. And he's terrified of giving too much of himself away to someone who thinks he shits rainbows and puppies and hasn't reckoned with the fact that he's just as screwed up as the rest of us."

"You swear more than I remember."

Abby laughs. " But you see my point?"

Buck doesn't want to. But he does. "Well, I definitely don't think he's perfect anymore."

"And you still love him." She says it like she knows. She says it like she'd once expected to spend a life with Tommy Kinard.

"And I still love him," Buck acknowledges, and they both drift into silence. It's comfortable. Easy. He sort of misses being able to talk to her about shit like this.

"Call me if you need anything, Buck."

Buck hangs up the phone with a million new, vaguely more hopeful thoughts swirling around in his brain.

Twenty minutes later he texts her one more time: This is the only sex thing you're getting from me - that thing he does with your nipples? What the fuck?

Abby C. 9:22 PM: I taught him that. You're welcome.

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[fairyofhee]

the space between.

PAIRING. heeseung x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS. It was a mutual agreement between you and the boy with high status and reputation to say that the kiss you both shared was a mistake and meant absolutely nothing. But while trying to win over your crush, you were distracted by that mistaken kiss from the boy who's won over your heart.

WORD COUNT. 16.3k

GENRE. smut, slight love triangle, rich!heeseung, basketball player!heeseung, flower shop worker!reader, angst, hurt, fluff, bickering, some themes inspired by f4 thailand

WARNINGS. 18+ only. MINORS DNI. profanity, kissing, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), protected intimate sex

—

I. THE SPACE OF HIM

Everywhere he went, his presence was distracting, almost intoxicating.

It was pretty typical to say that Lee Heeseung had an infamous reputation of being the golden boy. Taking the captain spot of your school’s basketball team, the privilege of freedom to do whatever he wanted, and a lot of money based on the fact that he came from a pretty well-off family.

He had everything you didn’t.

He tended to get everything handed to him, considering how admirable he was to other people. They looked up to him as if he was a god, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it had to do with how rich he was. Everyone in his way stepped aside and would let him walk through wherever.

And literally everything was handed to him. A true spoiled kid, his mom hired a personal maid so he wouldn’t do a thing himself.

You didn’t live a life Lee Heeseung did. He lived easy in luxury, unlike you, who had to work your ass off. While he was out celebrating the win of the basketball game with his team, you were either studying for your exams or working your shift at the flower shop. You were a hard-worker, a perfectionist who simply wanted to please your strict parents. A life without luxury costed your social life, and it was difficult to make friends as freedom never came your way.

You were grateful to have your cousin Mina, who often helped to break you out of your shell with her popularity as one of the head cheerleaders. After much convincing to your parents, she would invite you to hangouts at her house which were merely cover ups to sneak out and attend parties.

Mina insisted that you both should attend tonight’s party at Park Sunghoon’s house. After working an eight hour shift at the shop, you were tired and didn’t want to attend. You let out a frustrated groan when Mina practically drags you inside the house.

The school’s basketball team won another game that made them advance into the playoffs — a step closer to championships. Of course, the players wanted to celebrate, or throw a rager perhaps.

The only thing that you were looking forward to tonight was seeing your crush who was one of the players on the team. Oddly enough, Park Sunghoon is aware of your crush on him because of Mina’s little slip up. It took a few weeks to forgive her but now that he is aware, Sunghoon began to initiate conversations with you and became your friend.

Based on the small interactions, it seemed like he didn’t find your feelings for him weird. It was also hard to tell if he felt the same way.

"I'm going to find Chae," Mina raised her voice over the loud music, "Go have fun."

You slightly rolled your eyes watching Mina disappear. "How fun," you mumbled after taking in your surroundings. There were a lot of people making out, drunk people running into you, and it smelt like piss. You’re starting to regret coming here.

Exploring the house, you try to find the kitchen to get a drink and hope to run into Sunghoon, but you were suddenly pushed and ended up on the floor.

“What the hell?” You exclaimed, looking up to the person who pushed you. It was a girl, someone you recognized because they were on the cheerleading team with Mina.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going bitch,” she laughed while leaving you on the floor, not bothering to help you up. You quickly brought yourself to your feet and grab the cup from the girl’s hand, throwing the alcohol towards her. But unfortunately it lands on someone else.

You cover your mouth with a hand, glaring at no other than Lee Heeseung who was looking down at his soaked shirt and already feeling a stickiness on his skin.

“Shit,” you mumbled, glaring at the boy who turned his attention to you. Surprisingly, he didn’t look pissed off — unlike the girl you wanted to cuss out who tried to drag him away. Heeseung still had his eyes on you but not one word came out of his mouth.

The crowd was beginning to build up as you scan the room, making you incredibly anxious.

“Are you okay?” announced a familiar voice who then stood in front of you blocking your view from Heeseung. It was Sunghoon, thank god, you thought. And before you knew it, he was pulling you away from the crowd of people and leading the way to the kitchen.

You finally got what you wanted tonight, a chance to talk to Sunghoon. But rather than excitement, you feel like shit. You were embarrassed about throwing alcohol into Lee Heeseung’s face. Out of all people, why’d it have to be him?

"Did you see everything?" You groaned out while washing your hands then whispering a 'thank you' when Sunghoon handed you a paper towel.

Sunghoon shook his head, "I heard there was a fight- or something going on, but then I saw the crowd with you in the middle and wanted to make sure that you were okay."

That giddy feeling was back again. “Thank you for checking up on me," you gave a smile. "Someone ran into me which made the alcohol spill.”

Sunghoon laughed, "Is that all what happened?”

“Heeseung's shirt was practically soaked." He didn't believe your half-assed story.

"No," you shook your head, holding in a grin.

"Everything's fine, Heeseung will get over it," Sunghoon declared after remembering how defeated you looked when he first found you.

Park Sunghoon was always the one to make you feel better. Even with the smallest acts from him, it was impossible not to like him.

You recall when your coding class test results were out and you failed, it was clearly evident in your face. Sunghoon noticed and approached you before giving you words of encouragement. “This is only the second test, Y/N, you’ll do better next time,” you remember him saying.

"So, congratulations on the game tonight." You changed the topic of conversation, hoping that he'll keep you company the entire night.

"Thanks," he grinned. "I haven't seen you at the games yet, you should watch us play." You sighed, "I've been so busy with work, but l'll the catch the next one. Playoffs right?"

Although it was exhausting, you were already thinking of another lie in your head to tell to your parents so that you can attend the playoff game.

Sunghoon nodded his head before reaching for the cooler in front of him, grabbing two drinks, handing a soda to you. "I'll try not to show off."

He carefully watches your reaction as you roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at his remark. You wanted to ask more about Sunghoon's position on the team, just to get the conversation flowing but he took your chance to speak.

"Someone's looking for me so I have to go. You should look for Mina," He says after finishing his beer. “Don’t run into anymore trouble," was all Sunghoon said before he left.

Your cheeks heat up watching Sunghoon leave.

The conversation was short, but it made your entire night. You don't feel so terrible anymore about the incident earlier.

You get out of the kitchen and search the entire house for Mina. She was in the living room dancing with a drink in her hand, having the time of her life. She was your ride home so you'd hope that she was sober enough to drive when it's the time to leave. You decided to wait for her outside, but before you could leave, you noticed Sunghoon standing in the corner near the DJ.

He wasn't alone. Your heart palpitates, watching as Sunghoon leans to whisper into a blonde girl's ear with a red solo cup in his hand. The girl reciprocated his action, whispering into his ear.

"If you stare too long, he's gonna notice," Mina murmurs when she catches you staring at the boy from across the room who was now dancing with the girl, bodies close and on each other.

"Is that his girlfriend?" You ask, hurt evident in your voice. Mina nudges your arm, bringing your full attention to her. "Do you want to go home?"

You thought about it for a while, "No, I'll just wait for you. I don't want to ruin your fun."

“Are you sure? We can go.”

After convincing Mina to stay, you sat on the stairs in front of house. You didn't want to make assumptions but the way that they were close and when Sunghoon was in a rush to leave makes you believe that they have something going on.

As you sit alone in your thoughts, you realize that it's getting late. You've only been at this party for an hour and so much shit has already happened. You had a feeling that Mina was already drunk so she was unable to take you home.

With this given circumstance and your parents expecting you to be home, you had to take an uber. As if your night couldn't get any worse, a couple started making out next you while you were trying to get wifi on your phone.

You walk upstairs and knock on a bedroom's door, hoping that inside was empty. Walking in the room when no one answered, your eyes widen unconsciously, looking at the one person that you didn't want to run into. Heeseung was sitting on the couch alone with a different shirt on, and the one that was soaked by you was laid out on the bed.

"Are you here to apologize for getting me wet earlier?" he broke the silence, not one hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Please don't say it like that," you scoff and cringe at the ambiguity. "And no, but if you want an apology you'd have to ask."

Heeseung paused at your response then tilted his head quizzically, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend?" He teased, trying to get a reaction out of you.

"He's not my boyfriend," you walked closer, taken aback. "He's with someone else tonight."

"So you wanted to find some company?"

"I'm trying to find signal since there isn't any in this house," you peered intently at him. "Mina is drunk and I have no ride home, I'm trying to get an uber," you say while taking a seat next to him.

You weren't sure why you stayed but Heeseung was probably right, you wanted some company.

As you try to order an uber you feel his stare, "Why are you here alone?" You ask.

"Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?" You think back about the girl who pushed you, who laughed about it then attempted to drag Heeseung away.

He let out a low laugh, "She's not my girlfriend.”

You turn your gaze to him, "Why not?" Your arms were crossed to taunt him, "Because Mr. Perfect doesn't do girlfriends?"

There was a long stretch of silence after your comment, Heeseung avoiding your eyes until he gains the courage to meet your gaze again. "If anything, you're Ms. Perfect.” He retorts.

"How?” Confusion crossed your face.

“Hmm,” Heeseung placed his hand on his chin as if he was thinking. “Perfect grades, working everyday to help your parents, and refusing to go out because you don't want lie to them."

Your brow furrowed, "How do you know all this?"

"Your cousin talks too much."

Of course Mina would tell him. Maybe it's best to not tell her anything from now on, you thought.

"My parents have given me a lot and I don't want to disappoint them," you explain the perfectionist side of you. "At the same time, they're always pushing me and sometimes I can't handle it."

"I get it," Heeseung stared at you, eyes filled with mutual understanding. You shake your head, not having a clear comprehension of his response.

"My mom pushes me to be this perfect business partner,” he starts. "I'm expected to attend these business meetings every week and listen like I understand what's going on just because I'm the son and future owner of the number one real estate company in the city."

"And honestly, I don't know shit. But I want to make my mom happy so I try my best to understand," Heeseung finishes and watches as you listen attentively without saying a word. "Sorry," he lets out low laugh while scratching his head, “You probably don't care-"

"No," you interject, "I-I didn't know that."

"You must have a lot of pressure. Especially balancing that with school and basketball. I'm sorry you have to go through this," you voice out your sympathy. You and Heeseung were more similar than you'd thought, and it was as if you were on different sides of the same coin. You felt sorry for how he has to run a huge business at a young age, but you can also relate with having to please your parents and expecting to be perfect.

"I'm also sorry for throwing alcohol in your face," you rush out, deciding to lighten the mood. He laughs, "It's fine, I should've seen it coming.”

Your phone then buzzes, it was a text from Mina.

mina: just saw park leave with a girl. i didn't see who it was but i’m sorry babe :(

Your expression flipped like a switch.

“What’s wrong?” Heeseung asked with an obvious look of concern on his face.

You shake your head and try to plaster on a fake smile, ignoring the heavy feeling in your chest, “It’s nothing, everything’s cool.”

He notices your pout and disappointed expression, “Nothing? You seem upset.”

A low sigh leaves your mouth as you place your phone on your lap. “It’s really stupid but Sunghoon left with a girl,” you shrugged while trying to forget the image of your crush leaving with someone else.

“He probably took her home.”

You try to meet Heeseung’s eyes, waiting for his reaction because you expected him to laugh in your face and make a stupid remark. Instead, he’s looking down and returning your same pout, possibly collecting his thoughts and words.

It was then too silent for a few seconds, except for the sounds coming from downstairs. You left Heeseung speechless but what was he supposed to say? He wasn’t even considered your friend.

You were maybe too open about your crush and Heeseung was probably tired of hearing it. You took his silence as a hint and decide to go back downstairs to wait for your uber. You stood from your seat and Heeseung finally looks up.

“How about we forget about him tonight?”

You return his stare, taking your seat back on the couch. “What do you mean?”

Your straight brows furrowed when he wasn’t answering. You almost flinch as Heeseung straightens his posture and moves closer to your face, training his eyes to yours then to your lips.

He’s leaning in and every second that he gets closer, you feel your heart stop. You were supposed to focus on your crush on Sunghoon. Kissing someone else wasn’t on your table.

“Heeseung, we can’t.” You shyly responded and guiltily avoid his stare, choosing to turn your attention to your hands.

“But you want to,” Heeseung softens, gently holding your hand to stop you from leaving. You look into his rounded eyes, filled with desire.

“All you have to say is ‘stop’ then I’ll stop.”

You subtly take a deep breath and study his face. Being this close was new and you can tell Heeseung wants this, he wants to kiss you so bad. You were uncertain if you wanted this too, but his look of desperation was almost too gut churning that you didn’t want to pull away and leave.

You cupped his cheek and made the move to meet your lips on his. First it was soft and languid, his lips tasting like cheap vodka. His fingertips were holding your chin as he sweetly returns your kiss. He was gentle like he wanted to take his time, but you were eager. Maybe it was the adrenaline from reading Mina’s text because you ended up on his lap with his hands on your waist.

You look into his eyes for any signs of discomfort, but his sure grip makes you continue. You reached for his nape to pull him in a deeper kiss, feeling the corners of his mouth raise into a grin. Your eyes roll knowing that he was thinking about your eagerness and how desperate you seemed. He was just smart enough to not comment about it.

A sound comes out of your mouth when Heeseung kisses you harshly before biting and licking on your lower lip, asking for entrance. His grip becomes more firm when you accept. The feeling of him on your mouth causes you to roll your hips, and Heeseung lets out a forced laugh.

You feel his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt and you almost freak out, not knowing what this is leading to. Before you both were able to do anything further, your phone next to you buzzes.

You broke the kiss, catching your breath to reach for your phone to check the notification.

“Ignore it,” Heeseung slurs out before trying to bring his lips on yours once more while adjusting his seated position with you still on his lap.

But you gently push on his shoulder, checking the notification on your phone. “My uber‘s here.”

It was all quick movements when you completely pull away your body and escape his grasp before standing and making yourself look decent. There was a slight delay in your thoughts, not surely processing that you kissed Heeseung.

Your flustered cheeks and beating heart causes you to hesitate, but you managed to move your feet and try to leave until Heeseung’s hand quickly wrapped around your wrist.

“Wait,” Heeseung lets out after a moment of catching his breath, his grip still holding onto you. You turn around to face him as he speaks.

“Let me take you home,” he pleads.

Afraid to look him in eye, you watched as his throat bobbled before moving your eyes to his contact on your warm skin. You’re shaking your head, refusing his offer and at that, he lets go.

“My uber’s already here and you‘ve been drinking, I can taste it,” you retaliate while licking your bottom lip, the taste of him lasting on your lips.

“What about your parents?”

You finally meet Heeseung’s gaze through half-lidded eyes, not noticing a hint of disappointment on his face. “I’ll be fine. Bye Heeseung.”

You left the party and lie in your bed, surprised that you’re not mentally cursing yourself out for initiating the kiss. It was difficult not to replay how his lips were perfectly in-sync with yours and the way he held your body.

You were in disbelief, not expecting yourself to makeout with anyone tonight — someone who wasn’t Sunghoon but let alone, Lee Heeseung.

With everything that happened tonight from Sunghoon leaving with someone else, to Heeseung practically comforting you with his surprisingly good kissing skills, it was unsure to you if what happened was a mistake.

Another notification sound from your phone interrupted your thoughts and you decided to turn off the ringer before checking the message.

Your eyes began to widen while reading Mina’s text.

What the hell? It was another moment of shock, the message confirmed that the girl Sunghoon took home tonight was his sister.

—

It was playoffs day, a few days after your kiss with Heeseung and the confirmation of Sunghoon not having a girlfriend. After finding out that Sunghoon was not dating anyone, that kiss with Heeseung long forgotten to you. It was a stupid mistake due to a rush of hurt feelings.

You were looking forward to the game tonight in which Sunghoon technically invited you to. It was also the first game of the season that you were actually attending, so tonight was going to be fun. With Mina’s help, as usual, you managed to convince your parents that you were going to study at her place.

Now you’re at your school’s gym, lining up to buy a ticket for the big playoff game. Since Mina was cheerleading tonight, you both arrived super early. Taking a seat in the student section, the junior varsity team’s game was starting which meant that the varsity team’s was after. Across from your peripheral vision, you see Sunghoon sitting near the bench. He gave a small wave which made the corners of your mouth upturn into a smile.

You feel your smile drop when you notice Heeseung taking a seat next to him. Sunghoon whispering something in his ear, Heeseung shot his head up and met your gaze. He barely moved a muscle in his face, not expecting you to be here.

You turn your attention to the game and fought the urge to not look in the direction of the two boys. However throughout the game, you didn’t miss the all times Heeseung moved his eyes towards you.

The junior varsity game was over and thankfully, they won. There was a small fifteen minute break until the next game started and the varsity team was getting ready to warm up. Walking back to your seat after taking a trip to the bathroom, you felt a small tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, can we talk?”

Your brows raised when the boy in front of you was not on the court where he was supposed to be, “Shouldn’t you be warming up?”

“We kissed the other night,” he spat out.

You’d hope the conversation that you were avoiding wasn’t happening so soon, especially now before he’s about to play. “We were drunk-“

“I wasn’t drunk- I was tipsy but you certainly weren’t,” he interjects, trying to meet you eye-to-eye but his height causes him to easily hover over you. “I remember everything.”

“Then try to forget about it,” You dismiss his words, “If you’re afraid of me telling anyone then don’t be. I don’t kiss and tell.”

Heeseung finds your remark funny as it was evident in his laugh. “I don’t care if you tell anyone,” he says, looking back to check how much time was left before the game started.

T-8 minutes until the game starts.

You sighed, “Heeseung, what do you want?”

“Why’d you kiss me?”

You feel a lump in your throat, recalling the moment when you initiated the kiss. “Why’d you kiss me back?” You asked, also recalling the moment when he was the one practically begging you to kiss him.

“Wait- you’re the one who actually started it.”

“I asked first.”

You let out a groan, “I was upset about Sunghoon and wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry that I kissed you, promise me that you’ll forget because it was a mistake and meant nothing.”

He was silent, his expression unreadable but you didn’t care to try to figure it out.

“Promise me,” You looked up at him with your pleading doe-eyes — now you were the one practically begging on your knees for a mutual agreement to forget the kiss ever happened.

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” You let out a big sigh of relief before noticing the clock had 5 minutes left.

“The game is about to start, captain.”

Heeseung left without saying another word and you head back to your seat. The game was about to start and you take out your phone to take a picture of Mina as she was cheering on the baseline in her cute uniform.

You watch Sunghoon play, or at least attempt to, since your eyes unconsciously land on Heeseung throughout the entire game. You noticed that something was off. He looked distressed and he wasn’t making any of his shots. It was probably his mother and the business on his mind, you thought. Heeseung’s look of frustration continued until the buzzer of the final second went off.

At the end, your school team won the playoff game and you can’t help but feel worried that something happened to Heeseung.

Once the team headed to their locker room, you and Mina walk back to her car to go home.

“Y/N, Mina,” a voice caught both of your attentions, and it was Sunghoon who was out of breath with sweat glistening on his forehead. He was in casual attire now, his uniform assumingly in his bag that was over his shoulder.

“You did so well tonight! How many points did you score?”

“I think it was 12- I don’t know, I wasn’t counting,” He laughs as a huge smile appears on your face. “Thank you for coming to watch. We’re going to the pizza place down the street.”

You turn to Mina, trying to hide the confusion on your face. “The team usually goes out to eat after the game to celebrate the win,” she tells. “I’m too tired to go, but I can drop you off there?”

“I can bring Y/N there,” Sunghoon murmurs to Mina before turning to you,” If you’re okay with that of course.”

“No- yeah, that sounds great.”

Fighting the urge to scream in excitement was difficult. Park Sunghoon wants to hang out with you? And he’s offering to drive you?

The drive was literally down the street, but the gesture was sweet and your heart felt warm. You weren't sure how you were going to go home but that was problem for later.

“Thank you for letting me hang out,” you say before entering the pizza place with Sunghoon behind you.

Sunghoon then catches up and leads the way, “You came to support the team, of course you’re welcome to hang. I’m glad you came to watch.”

You hold on a big grin, “I’ll make sure to watch more of your games,” your voice was surely going to crack soon.

“I’d like that,” he says before excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

You found Heeseung who was in line to fill his drink and approach him, “Hey, what happened out there captain?” You spoke to him softly after noticing the look of frustration still on his face.

But his expression quickly changed when realizing that it was you talking to him. “I think that was the worst I played all season,” he laughed.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No everything’s cool,” he shook his head, “I-I was just off today.”

“I think that you played well and helped the team advance to the championships.”

“Thanks,” He grins. “Where’s Mina?”

“She’s at home. She was too tired to come so Sunghoon gave me a ride,” you say while trying to hide the wide smile that slowly crept on your face.

Heeseung raised a brow, “He did?”

You nod. “I also forgot to tell you,” your eyes lit up, “The girl Sunghoon brought home was actually his sister. She was super drunk so they went home.”

Heeseung studied the light in your eyes, “You feel relieved?”

You nod.

“And you still like him?”

“Yes,” you nod again, hearing a breathy laugh coming out of Heeseung’s mouth.

“That’s- great,” he smiled, “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Heeseung quickly left the conversation and you by returning to an empty table. You watch as a girl who was still in her cheerleading uniform shows up and sits next to Heeseung. They’re in the booth laughing and you immediately recognize her.

The one who humiliated you, who called you a bitch. You feel a hint of bitterness and don’t have an exact idea as to why you felt this way.

“Who's that girl?” You turn to Sunghoon, “I remember you saved me from her at the party.”

“That’s Ji-ho,” Sunghoon says. “Her and Heeseung have always just been… friends, but I guess they’re finally dating now.”

His girlfriend? Dating? You think back to your kiss and knew how messy things were going to be if she’d ever find out.

—

A week goes by since the playoff game and the night when Sunghoon gave you a ride home, and still, no progress with Sunghoon. It’s as if everything went back to normal. Heeseung and his girlfriend seemed happy (not that you cared) and that kiss was never mentioned again.

The scent of fresh blooms enveloped you as were surrounded by vibrant petals. Working with flowers wasn’t just a job to you, it was a canvas for your creativity. You especially loved working with customers and hearing their stories, knowing that you were part of their special occasions.

It was an everyday routine to organize the cherry blossoms, and overtime, they became your favorite flowers and you hoped to visit a cherry blossom garden someday.

“Hello! This is ‘Our Happy Florists’ located in Seoul,” your voice rang through the phone. “How can I help you?”

“Hey, am I speaking to Park Sunghoon’s girlfriend?”

You jumped out of your seat, “I’m sorry, who is this?”

“The one you kissed at the party, does it ring a bell?” The voice laughs in amusement.

“Heeseung?” You raised your voice then lowered it, “I told you not to mention it again. I will end this call right now.”

“Wait- don’t hang up. Sorry, I won’t mention it again,” his laugh remains.

“Um,” you cleared your throat,” How do you know where I work?”

“Your cousin.”

Of course Mina would, you groaned. “Why exactly are you calling?”

“I need advice. Please,” he pleads.

You put the phone down for a second to look over at your supervisor who was busy putting away flowers. “I’m trying not to get fired right now, Heeseung,” you say, almost whispering. “But if it’s urgent you can stop by during my lunch break.”

“Really?” he sounds surprised, almost elated.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself, but my break is in an hour.”

You find it odd that he went out of his way to ask you advice, but you also found it odd that you accepted without hesitation.

And so exactly one hour later, you were on your break and Heeseung was standing outside with his hands in his pocket and eyes roaming around the shop.

“So why can’t you talk to me at school? Why come to my work?”

He crosses his arms, “I’m a busy person and you know that.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, busy at parties.”

“Ha-ha,” he says with sarcasm, “I’m free after school on Tuesdays so I’m not busy today.”

“Whatever, you said you needed advice?”

You weren’t sure if he was worth your time. Were you considered his friend? Friends don’t kiss right? Stop — Why are you thinking about the kiss?

“You’re a good girl right?”

His choice of words cause your eyes to squint and he notices while exhaling a laugh, succeeding at trying to get a reaction out of you.

“I meant that you have perfect grades and you’re a good daughter to your parents. I need help with my mom.”

“I want to work on bigger projects and show her that I am responsible enough to handle them. And maybe even speak at meetings, but she doesn’t trust me. How can I earn her trust?”

Now you furrow your brow, intrigued while also in thought.

“Be consistent and confident. If you show her you’re working hard, she’ll start to trust you.”

“But does that work? Do your parents trust you?”

You shrugged. “They definitely trust me, but they’re just overly protective.”

“That makes sense,” Heeseung replied, nodding slowly as he processed the advice.

A period of quietness hung between you two, the noise of the wind fading into the background.

“Anything else you need?” You finally asked, breaking the silence.

Heeseung shook his head. “No, nothing else. I will take your advice, thank you.”

“Sure,” you said, trying to gauge where this was heading but he simply left and you returned to the shop.

He took his own precious time to drive to your work and have a conversation about advice on how to handle his mom. Weird, you thought.

—

A cold Monday morning, you were irritated and stressed out. Assignments piled up, deadlines loomed, and the weight of expectations — both from school and your part-time job — felt heavier than ever. However, your parents seemed to leave you alone and minded their own business lately, which was a glimmer of peace amidst the chaos.

In the bustling hallway, you spotted Sunghoon leaving his locker as soon as he spotted you. He started waving and approaching you.

“Y/N, hey!”

“Hey.”

“Have you started on Ms. Kim’s project yet?” he asked.

“No, not at all. I haven’t even found my partners yet.”

“You’re friends with Heeseung, right?”

You hesitated. “We talked a few times.” And kissed, but it was a mistake and we’re supposed to forget that it happened. “Did he say that?”

Sunghoon nodded. “We’re looking for a third person to join us, and he suggested you since he says we’re all friends.”

Friends? Does he mean it?

“Yeah, sure, I’ll join you guys. We can work on it tomorrow at my place? Since I know Tuesdays are free for you guys. And my grandma will just be at the house, not my parents.”

“That sounds perfect, just text me your address! I’ll let Heeseung know. Thanks, Y/N.” Sunghoon replied, a grin spreading across his face.

As he turned to leave, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Taking a deep breath, you pulled out your phone and sent a quick message to Sunghoon, your heart racing at the thought of him being at your house.

sunghoon: thanks for your addy!

sunghoon: can’t wait for tomorrow!

—

Today was your study date- or should you even call it that? You stood in the living room, glancing around with a mix of excitement and nerves. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the space.

You set to work, your science textbook and notebooks were stacked neatly on the coffee table, and you arranged some colorful pens nearby for good measure.

With a quick check of the clock, you raced to the kitchen to grab a plate of snacks — sliced fruit and a few bags of chips. You set everything out on a small tray, arranging it carefully to look inviting.

You were glad that your parents were away for the weekend at a work trip and that your grandma, watching you, was super chill, not minding that two boys were coming over for a project hang out.

The soft sound of the doorbell sent a jolt of nerves through you. You hurried to answer and as you opened the door, you glanced at Heeseung, who stood shifting on his feet with a tray of drinks in his hand.

“You’re 10 mins early,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“I can leave then come back,” he replied with a half-smile.

“Get inside.”

He walked inside, peering around your home and following you into the kitchen before speaking.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For the drinks? Thank you.”

“No, your boyfriend is coming over because I suggested that the three of us should work together,” he places the tray of drinks on the countertop. “And I figured that if I leave early, you guys can spend time alone.”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I thought it’d be nice.”

“Also your advice worked, my mom’s slowly but surely finally letting me handle the big projects and she even wants me to attend training workshops.”

“I’m glad to hear that my advice worked,” you chuckled, running a hand through your hair.

“It took a bit of convincing, but I didn’t think she’d actually take me seriously at first.”

“Well, you just need to show her that you are committed, that you could handle it,” You said, your eyes sparkling with encouragement which makes Heeseung smile.

“I have a few questions,” he suddenly says.

“Hmm let me guess,” you replied. “It’s not about the project or your mom?”

“Did you kiss him yet?”

You raised an eyebrow, confusion flickering across your face. “No, nothing’s happened between us.”

Heeseung chewed on his bottom lip and let silence pass by.

The air between you crackled with unspoken tension as Heeseung suddenly walked towards you. You could feel the electric pull of his proximity, a magnetic force that had been intensifying ever since he’d stepped inside your house. Your heart raced as you looked up at Heeseung, it felt like deja vu when his doe eyes are searching yours for permission.

You try to hide the fact that you were panicking when Heeseung leaned closer. You had nowhere to go, feeling the kitchen counter behind you. His breath was warm against your face and he licked his bottom lip. You knew he wanted to kiss you again and for a second, you would’ve let him.

“Heeseung,” you said, your voice betraying a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. “I still have feelings for Sunghoon.”

You reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm, “And you have a girlfriend.”

He laughs. “You’re trying to find excuses to not kiss me right now even though you want to.”

Your hands meet his chest as you gently push him. “You’re annoying,” the hint of a smile tugging at your lips, “You know that our first kiss was a mistake right? I don’t want to be a homewrecker.”

You watched as he took a hesitant step forward. “So you’re saying that if I was single, you wouldn’t be opposed to kissing me again?”

You try to find your voice, a simple response to reject him, but couldn’t.

“I’m not dating Ji-ho,” he shakes his head, “We’re just-“

The sound of the doorbell interrupts him.

“We’re just friends, it’s nothing serious.” He admits.

“That’s probably Sunghoon at the door,” you turn away and head for the front door, trying to keep your cool and shake off what just happened.

“Hey, glad you made it,” you greeted as Sunghoon stepped into your home.

“Thanks again for letting us come over. I think Heeseung should be coming soon,” he replied, glancing around.

“Oh, he’s here already- he’s in the kitchen,” you said, motioning toward the back of the house.

“Surprised he’s early, he’s usually late to things like this,” Sunghoon remarked with a chuckle.

You lead Sunghoon into the kitchen and he greets Heeseung. You all moved into the living room to brainstorm ideas for the project.

“So our assigned topic is biomechanics. Does anyone have ideas? Or something creative that we should do?” you asked, sitting on the floor leaning forward on the coffee table.

“I was thinking we can go the simple route with a presentation. It doesn’t have to be super detailed, but it can include our information or maybe we can show the concept with a video,” Sunghoon suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you agreed.

“Since Sunghoon and I are athletes — no offense, Y/N — we can record a video of us playing basketball while explaining the mechanism,” Heeseung added.

“That’s actually a good idea,” you said, your eyes lighting up.

As you continued to brainstorm ideas for the project, the weight of your feelings began to feel less daunting. With every shared laugh, casual touch, or agreement with Sunghoon, you found yourself enjoying it more than you should. Maybe this project would lead to something even more.

And after a while of working on the actual outline of the project, Heeseung stood and stretched, checking the time on his phone.

“I got to head out,” he said, glancing at you as he made his plan to leave early, hoping to create a moment for you and Sunghoon.

“I have to go too,” Sunghoon then chimed in, clearly wanting to leave together with Heeseung.

Sunghoon was oblivious, but by the look on your face, Heeseung could tell that you were disappointed.

“My mom is calling me to go over training, but Sunghoon, you should help Y/N clean up.” Heeseung suggested, still pushing to create a moment for you and Sunghoon.

“No, it’s okay, Sunghoon says he has to go.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” Sunghoon replied.

“It’s fine, there’s barely anything to clean up.” You couldn’t deny that you were disappointed, but there was no point in trying to force something that clearly wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m glad we were able to get a majority of the presentation done,” you exhaled, leading Sunghoon and Heeseung towards the door.

“Definitely. We make a great team,” Sunghoon said, looking back at you, his eyes sparkling. “We should definitely hang out again, just for fun.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You reached the door, opening it wider, you wanted Sunghoon to stay, to prolong this moment, but he left with a simple ‘goodbye’.

Heeseung lingered for a while and and you followed him onto the porch. “Sorry, my plan didn’t work.”

“It’s okay, Heeseung,” you managed to reply, forcing your lips into a smile, but your heart wasn’t in it. “You can keep out of this, you know? It’s all too complicated, so I’d rather have everything play out without any scheming.”

He nodded, but just as he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at you.

“Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Heeseung. You too,” you said, your voice soft.

As Heeseung disappeared around the corner, the quiet of your home settled in around you.

You sighed, knowing that the day had been fun and special, but feeling a bittersweet sting. It’s only been two months, but longing for him has felt like forever. Sunghoon was only meant to be your friend, he has always been clear about that.

With a heavy heart, you have accepted the fact that Park Sunghoon doesn't like you back and possibly will never catch feelings for you.

—

Two weeks later and the project was over with. The presentation went smoothly and you received lots of great feedback about the video portion of the project — thanks to Heeseung for his idea.

It was honestly a great time working with both Sunghoon and Heeseung. They were both smart partners and fun to hang around. You’d wonder if things would be different if feelings weren’t involved. Would you all be best friends?

Sadly, you will never know.

Today felt like a regular Friday, but the excitement in the air was evident as students buzzed about the upcoming basketball championship game tonight. You were at the library, studying for an exam, and in walked Sunghoon, a grin spreading across his face. He was the last person you’d expected to see, but perhaps he did mean it when he said he wanted to hang out more.

“Hey, Y/N!” he called, waving as pulled out the seat next to you and sat down. Although you accepted your one-sided feelings, you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey, Sunghoon. What’s up?” you asked, closing your textbook.

“I wanted to see if you’d like to come to the championship game tonight,” he said, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “It’s going to be epic, and I’d love to have you there.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Really? I’d love to, I’ve been hearing everyone talk about it.”

He nodded, a hint of relief washing over his features. “Great, I can save you a seat with my friends. Plus, I could use some support. You know, for luck.”

“Absolutely, I’ll be there cheering for the team,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement. The thought of being there, watching him play, made your stomach flutter.

“Great! See you then,” he said, standing up to leave. But just as he stepped out, he dropped something from his pocket — an old, worn-out bracelet that caught your eye.

Sunghoon!” you called, rushing after him. He turned around, his expression shifting from excitement to confusion as you picked up the bracelet. “You dropped this.”

He took a moment to process it, then chuckled, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. “Oh, that? It’s just an old lucky charm. I didn’t think I’d need it anymore.”

“It looks important,” you said, holding it out to him.

He hesitated, reaching for the bracelet but then pulling back. “You know what? Keep it. Maybe it’ll bring you luck at the game too.”

You blinked in surprise. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I want you to have it,” he said, his voice steady. “If you want, you can return it to me before the game. Just take good care of it.”

A warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I’ll take good care of it.”

“Good,” he said, flashing that charming smile again. “See you tonight, Y/N.”

Just as you thought you were sure on where you and Sunghoon stood on feelings, the whole conversation just made you even more quizzed.

Nonetheless, you were still going to give him words of encouragement and his lucky charm bracelet before the game.

T-25 minutes until the game started.

You stood outside the gym, the sounds of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor and the echo of basketballs bouncing filled the air. You glanced at the time; you were cutting it close, but you had to give Sunghoon his good luck charm.

Clutching the bracelet tightly in your hand, you pushed the door to the locker room open. The space was filled with the scent of sweat and liniment, it was empty except for one person.

It was Heeseung and he was shirtless with a towel draped around his neck.

You couldn’t help but study him, his abs were defined and taut. Each movement he made showcased the hard work he put into training — his core muscles flexing with each shot, the lines of his physique both sculpted and strong. When Heeseung noticed you, his face broke into a grin.

You felt a rush of nerves as you stepped forward. “Hey, I haven’t seen you since in a while. I feel like I only see you during Ms. Kim’s.”

“I’ve been busy. You know that.” He smirks.

“Were you looking for me?” He asked, staring at the piece of fabric in your hand.

“No, I-“

You were silenced as Heeseung suddenly closed the distance, backing you gently against the cool metal of the lockers.

“Heeseung, what are you doing?”

Heeseung was known for his teasing nature, but there was something different in his eyes today. He leaned in slightly with his arms resting on either side of you, effectively trapping you in place. He had a teasing smile on his face as your bodies were pressed against each other.

“Looking for your boyfriend?” his tone was light but laced with something deeper.

You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Shut up. How many times do I have to tell you that he’s not my boyfriend?”

He shrugged, clearly enjoying the banter. “I know. I just like to hear you say that he’s not.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s obvious that you like me. And you’ve been wanting me ever since our first kiss,” he replied, voice dropping to a softer tone with eyes locking more intensely onto yours. “Me and you have something, and you’re aware of it.”

“What?” You don’t understand his sudden change of boldness and cockiness but you give into the banter.

“What about your girlfriend?” you challenged, trying to regain some control of the conversation.

Heeseung sighed, leaning forward which causes your foreheads to touch. “How many times do I have to tell you that she’s not my girlfriend?” His expression was serious. “I told you, we’re not dating. She’s just a friend.”

“A friend that you kiss? Sounds a lot like me,” you said, raising an eyebrow while trying to push him away, but it resulted in him pressing against you harder.

“Didn’t know that you were my friend.”

“Forget what I said. I’m not your friend,” you insisted, but a flutter of uncertainty crept in.

He leaned closer, the tension between you two palpable that you could cut it with a knife. You felt your resolve wavering, caught in the pull of his intense gaze that you’re familiar with.

“Yeah,” a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“You’re not my friend because you’re so much more.”

The air thickened with unspoken words. And for a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, teetering on the edge of something that could change everything.

You’re silent as your eyes follow his hand that slowly crept under your skirt and you didn’t make any effort to stop him.

“Can I touch you?” The weight of his body keeps you pinned against the lockers.

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of uncertainty and thrill, his confession left you speechless. You could push him away, but nonetheless, you nod your head wanting to feel his touch.

“I won’t do anything until you tell me ‘yes’,” his voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling the tension release.

“Please touch me, Heeseung.”

His hand caressed your tender skin before he lightly pressed down fingers on your core. Even with your panties still on, he could feel your wetness soaking through.

Heeseung felt proud of himself, because even though he didn’t fully touch you yet, his words and body against yours were enough to have you drenched.

You felt him move your panties to the side and his cold fingers dipping into your aching centre.

“You’re wet for me?” He murmured as he withdrew his fingers and lifted them to you, revealing your glistening slick.

You stammered, “Don’t- make fun of me.” Your cheeks flushed, overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you, his gaze intense and playful.

“You do this to me too,” he murmured while pressing his obvious bulging crotch against you.

“Why would I make fun of you?”

Heeseung reached under your skirt and dipped his fingers again into your soaking wet cunt. You moan loudly in surprise as one of his fingers enter your heat up to the first knuckle. He starts to slowly finger-fuck you with his thumb slowly rubbing circles on your sensitive clit.

The noises you’re making seem magnified because they’re all that you can hear. You feel Heeseung muttering words onto your neck but you can’t tell what he’s saying, all you know is that suddenly he’s stopped moving his finger which drives you insane.

“Need more,” you croaked desperately.

“Hmm?” he exhales, aware that he’s trying to tease you, to try to make you beg for him to keep going — and it’s working.

“Need more, Hee,” you plead, desperately trying to move your bound body to provide some sense of friction. “Please move.”

As soon as you think that he’s stopped completely and ready to leave you in heat, he suddenly thrusts two fingers deep into your cunt. “Oh my, fuck,” you clench around him with a surprised shout.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” you nod, “Please keep going.”

It doesn’t take long for him to build you up to that edge, your body so needy and responsive to his touch, and he’s enjoying it.

You praise him by telling him how good his fingers feel inside you. You’re lost in the sensation of him pounding his fingers into you as he frantically starts rubbing your clit.

“Heeseung, I’m close,” you whined out.

You feel yourself clench around him, and he shifts the angle of his fingers a little bit to hit your sweet spot. “You’re doing so well for me, baby.”

“Let go,” he urges.

You let out a lewd moan when you back arches up sharply as you come undone around his fingers. He keeps thrusting, helping you ride yourself through it. You want the feeling to never stop but he halts his movement.

While you catch your breath, he starts to clean up the mess between your thighs with the towel that was around his neck.

“You did amazing, my love,” he praises, which causes your chest to sting. You felt this before except it was now because of Heeseung.

After he was finished cleaning you up, he helps to adjust your skirt. “My panties will be sticky the entire night now,” you laugh with a sense of worry.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, genuinely apologizing which makes you grin.

Once you felt completely relaxed, you couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge sticking through his basketball shorts.

“Um,” you clear your throat, “Need me to help?”

He noticed you staring at how hard he is and he gives a smile to break through the tension. “No, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure?” You shifted on your feet, biting your lip. “I mean, I can be quick.”

His expression softened, and he shook his head. “I appreciate it baby, but I need to warm up soon. I know the gym must be packed though, so you should find a seat to cheer me on.”

“You’re right, the game is starting soon,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“You dropped something,” Heeseung pointed to the ground. It was Sunghoon’s lucky charm that you planned on returning to him.

“It’s Sunghoon’s,” you gulped with an unknown sense of nervousness. “He dropped it so I wanted to give it back, but… I’ll just give it at the party.”

Heeseung nodded, his expression unreadable.

Before you exit the locker room, you walk up to him and give a small peck on his lips, hoping he’ll kiss you back and deeply. “Good luck, captain.”

But Heeseung doesn’t. Instead, he murmurs a quick ‘thank you’ and accepts the kiss with a hesitant look on his face, which immediately makes you leave. You don’t think anything of it, though.

The gym was electric, filled with the sound of cheering fans and the rhythmic thump of basketballs. You sat in the bleachers while waving at Mina, who was cheering at the baseline. The championship game had drawn a massive crowd, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. You could feel the energy pulsing around you, but your focus was entirely on what just happened in the locker room.

Suddenly, Heeseung stood near the center of the court, his jersey clinging to him as he bounced the ball, starting his warm ups.

You found him incredibly intoxicating, you couldn’t even focus on the game because the only thing on your mind were his fingers getting you off a few minutes ago.

The game clock ticked down, interrupting your thoughts, and the game started.

You could see the determination in Heeseung’s eyes, and it made your heart swell with pride. This was his moment, and you wanted nothing more than for him and the team to succeed.

As the whistle blew and the first quarter began, you leaned forward, holding your breath with every play. Heeseung darted around defenders, his movements fluid and confident. He made a quick pass to Sunghoon, who took a shot — missed. The crowd groaned in unison, and you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach.

“He’ll get it next time,” you whispered to yourself, willing him on.

The tension reached a peak when it was the second half. It was third quarter when the opposing team made a quick drive toward the basket, and for a moment, it looked like they might score. But Sunghoon slid in, blocking the shot with a perfect timing that had the crowd erupting into cheers. Your heart raced as you jumped to your feet and clapping.

Sunghoon turned briefly, catching your eye, and flashing a smile in your direction.

The final quarter ticked down and shortly, the score was tied with minutes left. The pressure was mounting, but the team seemed unfazed. Heeseung received the ball and dribbled down the court, dodging defenders with ease. The gym fell silent as he positioned himself for the final shot, and all eyes were on him.

“Come on!” you urged silently, heart in your throat.

He took a deep breath, the world around him fading into a blur as he focused on the hoop. With a quick flick of his wrist, he released the ball, and it soared through the air in slow motion. Time seemed to freeze as you watched, holding your breath.

Swish! The ball hit the net perfectly, and the crowd erupted into a frenzy. You jumped up, screaming with joy as the realization hit— there was 5 seconds left and you had just witnessed Heeseung’s winning shot in the championship game.

Those 5 seconds flew by and Heeseung turned to the stands, his face lighting up with a mixture of disbelief and triumph. As his teammates rushed to him, engulfing him in celebratory hugs, you felt a surge of pride wash over you.

As the team huddled together, you caught his gaze once more. This time, he pointed in your direction, a wide grin spreading across his face. Your heart swelled, and you couldn’t help but beam back at him. In that moment, amidst the chaos and elation of victory, you felt an undeniable connection.

The gym erupted in cheers and the team celebrated their hard-earned win, you knew this was a moment you would never forget.

You went down the bleachers and ran to Mina, hugging her. “That was insane,” you stressed.

“That game had me stressed, fuck! Are you ready to party?” Mina exclaimed.

—

The sound of music pulsed through the air, reverberating against the walls of the house, which was already packed with students buzzing from the excitement of the championship victory. Colorful lights flickered in rhythm with the beat, casting a vibrant glow across the crowd. You stepped inside, the energy wrapping around you like a warm embrace as laughter and cheers filled the space.

The living room was transformed into a party zone, with decorations celebrating the basketball team’s success—banners hanging from the walls, balloons in the school colors bobbing along the ceiling, and a table overflowing with snacks and drinks. Friends and teammates mingled, some already animatedly retelling highlights of the game, while others clinked cups in celebration.

As the night unfolded, the music thumped louder, and the laughter grew richer. You danced, celebrated, and lost yourself in the jubilant atmosphere. But amidst it all, you kept stealing glances at Heeseung, who was now animatedly recounting the game to a captivated audience. The way he lit up while talking made your heart swell.

As you scanned the room, you also spotted Sunghoon across the way, surrounded by a small group of his teammates. He looked effortlessly cool in a casual black tee and jeans, his hair slightly tousled from the night’s festivities. The sight of him made your heart stop. He was laughing, his eyes shining with excitement, and for a moment, you felt a surge of admiration.

You made your way through the crowd, weaving between familiar faces and beaming friends. The atmosphere was infectious, and Sunghoon caught your eye with a grin spread across his face as he waved you over.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice cutting through the music. “Come join us!”

You smiled back, your nerves easing as you stepped closer and noticing Heeseung also joining in. “Congrats on the win! That was so nerve-wracking, but you guys did so well,” you said, genuinely impressed.

Sunghoon shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. “Thank you! I’m glad it was exciting.”

Heeseung nudged him playfully. “Yeah, and don’t forget your lucky charm.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, but the laughter that followed was infectious, and soon everyone was caught up in the moment.

“Oh shoot, here’s your bracelet” you take the bracelet out of your pocket and give it to him.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you,” Sunghoon said, ignoring the bracelet in your hand.

“Why can’t you talk to her here?” Heeseung asked.

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but before you could say anything, Sunghoon grabbed your hand and led you outside in the backyard.

You stirred your drink, lost in thought, when you noticed him fidgeting. His usual calm demeanor had been replaced by something more vulnerable, and you sensed that something was off.

“Look, Y/N,” he started, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“What? Why are you sorry?” you asked, genuinely perplexed.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been leading you on. I was aware of your feelings, but got your hopes up by flirting a bit and never taking it further.”

“I realized that I’ve been leading you on, but I also realized that I caught feelings.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. “Sunghoon- wait.”

“Before you say anything,” he continued quickly, “It’s not out of pity. I caught real feelings.”

“Y/N, I like you.”

Your mouth was open to speak but no words came out, it was a sudden confession. The boy who you liked finally reciprocated your feelings.

Before you could process your thoughts and whirlwind of emotions, he started to lean in.

His eyes searching yours and his lips approaching yours. But you instinctively recoiled.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” You shook your head. “I- I caught feelings for someone else.”

The words hung heavy in the air. You could see the realization dawning on him, his expression shifting from hope to disbelief and disappointment.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, a forced smile creeping onto his lips. “I guess I’m too late.”

You looked down at the ground, your mind racing. You had always admired Sunghoon, enjoyed your moments together, but recently someone else had entered your life — someone who made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. You were just too afraid to admit it.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon. You’re such a good guy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve liked you for a while, but I think… I’m a bit confused right now.”

He nodded, arms crossed tightly. “It’s okay, really. If you have feelings for someone else, I understand.”

The moment stretched painfully, silence enveloping you both. You wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but the truth hung between you both like a chasm.

“Who is it?” he finally asked, his tone curious yet guarded.

“It’s someone-”

“Heeseung,” he answered for you.

“I don’t know- yes,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s complicated and I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it just did.”

He nodded slowly, “Heeseung’s a good guy. I’m not surprised that you caught feelings for him.”

“Please don’t tell him,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “I still haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he chuckled, a sign that he wasn’t too saddened about the situation and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon.”

“Me too,” he said quietly. “But maybe this is just how it’s meant to be. You and Heeseung are good for each other, you’ll realize it soon enough.”

With that, you both fell into a silence that spoke volume. You realized that you had a choice now. No matter what had transpired, you still admired Sunghoon and your feelings didn't just disappear, but now your heart was also longing for Heeseung. What’s important now is figuring out your feelings.

The conversation was left after your realization and you needed time to yourself. The soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the front porch of the house. You leaned against the cool brick wall, your heart still racing from Sunghoon’s confession. The laughter and chatter of the party faded into the background as you pulled out her phone, glancing at the time. Just then, the doe-eyed boy emerged from the house and walking towards the lot.

“Hey, captain,” you stop him in his tracks.

“What are you doing? You’re not leaving, are you?” you asked. “You know this is your party, you won the game. And that last shot was insane,” you beamed proudly.

Heeseung laughed, “I’m glad you were there to see that. I played well today, probably the best I played all season. Maybe because you were there.”

“And I’m actually heading home. I have a meeting in the morning and need to prepare for it since it’s the first time I get to speak,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he scratched his neck.

“Why are you outside alone? Are you okay?” He stepped before you, his expression softening. “I was looking for you after Sunghoon dragged you outside. What did he want?”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

“Sunghoon almost kissed me tonight.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened. “What do you mean almost?”

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice shaky. “I just… I rejected him.”

“Why? Don’t you want to kiss your crush?” Heeseung’s tone was a mix of disbelief and surprise.

“I’m not sure anymore,” you admitted, feeling a knot of uncertainty tighten in your stomach. The thrill of your moment with Sunghoon had turned into confusion.

Heeseung stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. “Y/N,” he said softly, “What’s going on?”

You grabbed the bottom hem of his leather jacket and pulled him closer. “Heeseung, I need you to kiss me.”

The words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you both. You visibly see his cheeks heat up as your heart pounds louder than ever.

“You want me to kiss you?” Heeseung asked, uncertainty lingering in his voice.

You searched his eyes, feeling the pull between you two intensifying. You knew that there was so much at stake — potential heartbreak or the possibility of something new.

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. “Yes.”

Taking a leap of faith, Heeseung closed the distance, you hesitated for a heartbeat before leaning in, your lips brushing softly, igniting a spark that sent electricity coursing through you. The kiss deepened, a mix of urgency and tenderness, and for a moment, the chaos of the night faded away.

You cling to the back of his neck and pull him close, mouth and lips mixing with his tongue and teeth.

You didn’t know how bad you needed his lips on yours again — it’s something that you’ve been craving ever since that party when you first had a taste of his lips.

Before you could press your body against his, wanting to experience the same feeling as what happened in the locker room, you feel him pull apart.

“We should stop.”

“I don’t want to stop,” You desperately urged, still feeling the remnants of the kiss linger on your lips.

“I want you.”

“I want you too,” he paused, “So fucking bad, but you’re confused about your feelings.”

You shake your head, “You're the one making me confused. The things you did to me in the locker room, this back and forth that we keep doing, and the way you keep-“ you groan in frustration.

“I want this Heeseung.”

Heeseung watched as you shifted nervously, concern etched on his face. “Do you still have feelings for Sunghoon?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. He just confessed that he liked me too, and a part of me wished I hadn’t rejected him. But I’m so glad I did because I’m here with you now.”

You process your own words, realizing that what you are doing wasn’t fair to him. “I’m sorry, I guess- yeah, I’m a bit confused right now.”

Without another word, he reached out and gently grabbed your hand, grounding you. “I’ll take you home.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his touch, the familiarity of his hand in yours bringing a sense of comfort when he led you to his car.

He opened the passenger seat and you sit down with a pang of regret.

“Heeseung, I didn’t mean to make this complicated,” you said softly, “It wasn’t fair to ask you to kiss me.”

“I know,” he replied, his gaze steady. “But whatever you’re feeling, I know you’ll figure it out. It will take time, but that’s okay. I can wait.”

“You’re willing to wait for me? Why?”

Silence passed by.

“It’s been a long night. We can talk tomorrow, okay?” He shows reassurance through his eyes, and you appreciate his understanding.

The car ride was silent, both of you falling deeply within your thoughts of each other. Every now and then, you’d glance over at him. There was something about the way he held himself — so easy and entirely present — that made your heart skip. You weren’t sure if it was the quiet of the night or the way he seemed so at understanding with you, but in that moment, everything felt still.

The car slowed as he approached your house and he stopped at the curb. He turned to you, his expression softer now, a quiet sincerity in his eyes.

“Thank you for bringing me home,” you said, breaking the silence.

His lips quirk into a smile before he kisses your forehead. “Goodnight.”

You held his gaze, something unspoken passing between you, heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. You opened the door and stepped out of the car, but before you closed it, you looked back at him. He was watching you, his hand resting on the wheel, his expression a mix of fondness and something more, something hopeful.

The world outside was quiet, but inside your mind, it was anything but. You lay in bed, your thoughts were racing and tumbling over each other like waves crashing against the shore.

Every little moment from Sunghoon’s confession to admitting wanting Heeseung seemed to replay in your mind, each one a gentle reminder of the feelings that simply can’t be ignored. You turned onto your side, staring out the window, trying to make sense of the whirlwind inside.

The idea of something more with Heeseung doesn’t scare you anymore. You made your choice and for the first time in a long time, it felt right.

—

The gentle chime of the doorbell signaled the arrival of a customer, pulling you from your thoughts as you arranged a bouquet of vibrant daisies. The flower shop was a cozy haven, filled with the sweet scent of fresh blooms and the soft rustle of leaves. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful displays, but today, your mind was elsewhere.

You glanced out the window, lost in thought as you watched the street bustle with life. It was one of those quiet days at the shop, and as you worked, your thoughts inevitably drifted to Heeseung. You couldn’t shake the feelings that had blossomed between you.

You finished the bouquet of daisies when a familiar voice broke your reverie. “What are you thinking about?” Mina asked, plopping down on the stool across from you, a curious look in her eyes.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of your secret pressing down. “I... I need to tell you something,” you said, your heart racing.

“I have feelings for Heeseung.”

Mina’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “What? Since when? What about Sunghoon?”

You sighed, “Sunghoon made me realize that I like Heeseung. Heeseung and I kissed at the party, then again last night after Sunghoon confessed to me.”

“And yeah, I rejected Sunghoon because I like Heeseung.”

“Oh my gosh,” Mina leaned back, processing your words, her expression a mix of shock and excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You glanced around the shop, ensuring no one else was within earshot. “I’m sorry, but you have a big mouth. And I needed to figure my feelings out before it turned into something bigger.”

She grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you’re certain about your feelings for Heeseung?”

“I am,” you said, the confession feeling like a weight lifting off your shoulders.

Just then, the door swung open again, and you looked up, holding your breath. There he was —Heeseung, with his easy smile and a carefree energy that filled the shop. He looked around, his gaze landing on you.

“Hey, got any good recommendations for a perfect flower for a pretty girl?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

“It depends, who might that pretty girl be?” Your heart raced as you stepped forward, trying to sound casual despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

“It’s a secret,” he says, which makes your eyes roll playfully in return.

“Sure, I have the perfect one.” You gestured for him to follow you to the back of the shop, where the blooms were arranged in an array of colors.

As you guided him through the flowers, you couldn’t help but notice how the sunlight caught his hair, the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity. “I think a pretty girl would love cherry blossoms,” you said, pointing to a delicate bunch of pink blooms.

Heeseung’s expression brightened. “Cherry blossoms? Those are beautiful. Perfect choice.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his approval. “They symbolize the beauty of life and new beginnings,” you explained, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Plus, they’re just really pretty.”

“Definitely,” he said, nodding. “I’ll take a bouquet of those, then. When are you off?”

“In about ten minutes,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement at the thought of spending more time with him.

“Wanna get some ice cream after?” Heeseung asked, his tone casual but with an underlying hint of hope that made your heart leap.

“Ice cream sounds great,” you said, unable to hide your smile.

“Perfect. I’ve been craving something sweet since the game yesterday,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair.

You nodded, feeling your nerves fade as the idea of ice cream and time spent with Heeseung sank in. “We can go right after I finish up here. I’ll just wrap these up for you.”

As you moved to prepare his bouquet, the air felt charged with excitement. Maybe this was the chance you’d been waiting for to explore your feelings with him.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” Heeseung said, watching you intently as he gave you his card.

“Just doing my job,” you replied playfully, though the compliment made your cheeks warm. You carefully arranged the cherry blossoms into a beautiful bouquet, tying it off with a simple ribbon.

“Alright, all set!” you announced, handing it to him. “I hope she loves them.”

“I’m sure she will,” he said, taking the bouquet and flashing that charming smile of his before giving them to you. You try your best to hide your big smile at his cute gesture.

“Let’s get going then,” Heeseung said, motioning toward the door.

After clocking out, you stepped out into the warm afternoon, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of ice cream and a chance to spend time with him. Maybe this was the perfect way to discover where your feelings could lead.

The ice cream shop buzzed with laughter and the sound of scoops hitting cones. The sunset streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the pastel-colored walls.

Heeseung leaned against the counter as he waited for his mint chocolate chip ice cream, his brow slightly furrowed as he watched you asked for a cup with a swirl of chocolate and strawberry.

“You already got me flowers, you don’t have to pay for me,” you said, glancing over as he handed the cashier his card.

“I’m the one who invited you on this date, so I should pay for it,” Heeseung replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you,” you said, your eyes softening.

As you both took a seat at a small table, the sun warming your skin, you couldn’t help but be distressed, the memory of last night swirling in your mind.

“Heeseung, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for bothering you about my feelings. I was confused, but I’m certain now.”

“Hey, you didn’t bother me,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I should be the one apologizing. I kept teasing you about Sunghoon and actually helped to get you with him, but then tried to convince you to get with me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you replied, a hint of warmth in your cheeks. The memory of his playful jabs at your friendship with Sunghoon felt less burdensome now, more like a teasing lightness.

Heeseung took a deep breath, glancing around the shop as if searching for the right words. “Let’s save this conversation for later. We’re supposed to be enjoying ice cream, right?”

You chuckled, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “Right. Ice cream first, feelings later.”

“Deal,” he said, his smile returning, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “I want to show you something at home. My mom went on a trip and doesn’t get back until tonight.”

Your eyes squint in uncertainty, “You’re making it sound like-“

“It’s not what you think,” he laughs, “I made sure to make it look clean this morning.”

You chuckle at your own ambiguous thoughts.

“But just so you know, I’m not letting this go. You owe me a proper discussion about your feelings.”

“Fair enough,” you replied, enjoying the banter.

—

You stepped through the grand double doors, your breath catching slightly at the sight before you. A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting a soft glow on the modern art that adorned the walls. Your footsteps echoed softly as you followed Heeseung inside, feeling the weight of the place — the luxury and the quiet elegance.

Heeseung hadn’t said much since you arrived to his home, but there was an excitement in his eyes, an energy that made you curious.

"So," you said, breaking the silence, "what did you want to show me?"

He glanced at you with a half-smile, his fingers brushing against yours before he took your hand fully, his touch warm and steady. "Follow me," he said, his voice low, almost secretive, like he was leading you to something special.

You felt a flutter in your chest as you let him guide you to the back of his house. Eventually, he led you to a small archway, its intricate woodwork twisted into delicate, curling patterns.

The air felt cooler here, more peaceful, and as you stepped through it, your breath caught in your throat. It was a garden unlike anything you’d ever seen, a sprawling space filled with vibrant flowers in every color imaginable.

"Wow," you whispered, taking in the sight. "It’s beautiful."

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes softening as he watched your reaction. "It’s a butterfly garden," he explained, his voice filled with something like reverence. "My dad had this built for my mom on their tenth anniversary."

The butterfly garden was a kaleidoscope of colors, delicate wings fluttering against the backdrop of lush greenery and blooming flowers. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms and the soft rustle of leaves. You and Heeseung wandered along the winding paths, the sun filtering through the leaves and casting dappled light on the ground.

You turned to him, surprised by the tenderness in his words. "This is... incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this."

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. It’s been here ever since I was a kid. Every time I come here, it reminds me of them."

You glanced around, taking in the beauty of the garden — its winding paths, the quiet trickle of a small fountain in the corner, the vibrant flowers, and the butterflies that seemed to dance through the air, so effortlessly. It felt intimate, serene, like it held memories in the air itself.

"It’s perfect," you said softly, your gaze lingering on a butterfly that had landed on a nearby flower. "It’s like you can feel the love here."

He nodded, his fingers still holding yours, his gaze not leaving you. "Yeah. It’s a place where everything feels still. You know?"

He looked at you for a long beat, his expression soft but serious, as if weighing something important in his heart. Slowly, he stepped closer to you, the world around you fading into the background.

"It’s my favorite place in the world," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "When things get hard, I like to come here and escape from everything. I wanted to share it with you."

You felt your heart flutter at the words, the weight of his honesty settling in the space between you. This wasn’t just about a beautiful garden, it was about him trusting you with something deeply personal, something precious.

"I’m honored," you said quietly, looking into his eyes. "Thank you for showing me."

A gentle smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, it was just the two of you in that sacred space — no words needed, just the quiet, steady beat of your hearts. As you stood there, hand in hand, surrounded by the butterflies, you knew this was a memory that would stay with you forever.

“So, Sunghoon confessed,” Heeseung spoke, glancing at you.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice slightly subdued. “It was so sudden and made me even more confused. He was sorry for leading me on and I didn’t expect for him to return his feelings even if I wanted him to, but I appreciated his confession and honesty.”

“Bringing me home last night was a good idea,” you continued. “I was being messy the entire night and before I went to sleep, I thought for a long time.”

You remembered how you’d spent hours thinking about your feelings, trying to make sense of everything.

“Earlier, you mentioned that you were certain,”Heeseung began, looking at you, his expression earnest. “I’m certain about my feelings too. I’m certain about you, so whatever you tell me, I won’t be mad. I know I was an ass getting in the way of your feelings for Sunghoon, but just please be honest, and I’ll figure it out and leave you alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave me alone,” you said softly, looking directly into his eyes.

“Heeseung, I like you,” you blurt out without hesitation. The words hung in the air between you, bright and clear, like the vibrant butterflies flitting around. “I was trying to win over Sunghoon, but you kept distracting me.” You let out a playful scoff, trying to lighten the moment.

“You made me really confused and it was annoying — but in a good way. After being around you and knowing what you’re going through, I started to care for you and wanted to be there for you. And when we kissed or when you’re simply around me, I couldn’t handle it. I’ve always wanted more but was too afraid to admit it.”

“I want more with you,“ You confess,” If you want more with me.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flashing across his face before a grin broke through. He stepped closer, the warm sun illuminating his features, “I do want more with you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time, but obviously didn’t know if you felt the same.”

“I like you a lot… probably since our first kiss,” he laughed, a sound full of relief and joy, before leaning over, his forehead resting gently against yours. “If you give me a chance, I promise I will try my best to be good for you, because you deserve it. And even when things get complicated or messy or when shit gets in the way, I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere."

You swallowed hard, feeling your stomach flutter. His words were beautiful, something that was never said to you before.

“I know that especially for you, things will be hard but I’m not going anywhere either,” you promise.

Unable to think of anything else to say, you found yourself closing the distance between you and him. You reached up, your hand gently cupping the side of his face, feeling his warmth beneath your fingertips. His breath hitched, and his gaze softened.

Heeseung’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you could feel the pulse of his heart beating in time with yours. You kissed many times but this one felt different, it was slow, tender, full of warmth and everything that had been unsaid between you for so long.

When you pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting together as you smiled.

“I’ve said this many times, but I want you, Hee.”

He nods and lets out an exhale, “You have me.”

Without thought, Heeseung led you upstairs. You both haven’t spoken yet, the desire of wanting each other too strong. The heavy wooden door swung open with a smooth, almost imperceptible motion, revealing a room that seemed more like something out of a dream than reality. Your eyes wide as you take in the sprawling space before you.

You reach out and pull Heeseung back in, kissing him fiercely desperate. You move before him, making him walk backwards until he’s sat on the edge of his bed.

When you released from his mouth and pulled back for air, Heeseung’s eyes were glowing, shifting between yours in silence. He knows exactly what you’re asking him.

“Can I?” You asked, eyes drawn upon the tent in his pants. He nods in approval, and slowly, you begin unbuttoning his jeans and kneeling before him.

Your fingers drag lightly against Heeseung’s hips before pulling his pants and underwear down.

As your breath hitches with the reveal of his cock that sprung free, you feel him studying you intently. Your eyes widened, he was thick and big, and you weren’t sure if he was going to fit.

“Are you sure you want to?” Heeseung asked.

You nod, “I want to make you feel good.”

Heeseung let out a small noise once you took hold of his cock and started stroking him slow. Then you guided it to your mouth, the taste of his pre-cum salty but sweet.

You watch his eyebrows pinch together as you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock and circle the head with your tongue without breaking eye contact.

“Oh, fuck baby,” his groan sounds strangled, almost pained. You continue to wrap your lips around the head, tongue teasing around it before tracing along the slit.

“Been wanting to feel your mouth,” Heeseung’s voice, shaky when he reverently admitted. “Please don’t tease me, you feel fucking good.”

You take his praise as motivation when you slowly sink your mouth down on Heeseung’s cock, swallowing the tip deeply into your throat, trying not to gag, and holding it there before bobbing your head and repeatedly continue the motion.

You didn’t want to stop after hearing the pretty whines and moans spilling out from him. Heeseung guides you a bit, holding onto your head and pushing it down so you can take him even deeper.

You felt his dick twitching as if he was almost there at release so you continue to move up and down, reminding yourself to breathe through your nose.

“Doing great baby,” he praises, “I think I’m close.”

Heeseung clutches onto his sheets with a hand as he grips your head tighter with the other. Your movements are getting faster, more frantic, you want him to let go already and spill in your mouth.

But he releases his grip and tries to stop you.

“Hold on, I don’t want to cum yet,” Heeseung brought a hand down to cup your face, his thumb tracing where your lips stretched around his length.

“I want to cum while I’m inside you,” he says.

You pulled off of Heeseung with a pop, an eager look in your eyes as he brought you towards him so that you’re straddling him.

“Thank you, that felt amazing,” he brought both hands back to your face, cupping your cheeks. Heeseung leans towards you and kisses you again, taking his time to savor it as he tastes himself.

He nips at your bottom lip, running the tip of his tongue alongside the edge of your mouth. You melt against him, responding in kind.

Heeseung lifts you, turning both of you around until your body is placed gently on his bed. He hooks his fingers through the elastic of your waistband and then slides down your pants and panties, leaving you naked from the waist down. You’re uncomfortably wet, all from getting a taste of him.

He pauses for a second just to admire you with a soft look in his eyes before glancing back at you, and your heart starts pounding intensely in your chest. You’re suddenly nervous, but desperate to feel him in every single way.

As you lie there on his bed, you’re unable to take your eyes away from him. Heeseung leans down to place a soft kiss on your hip bone before starting to undress, wanting to be completely naked, and you follow his lead.

Heeseung kisses your neck and drags his mouth down to your bare breast, then your stomach. He pauses for a moment before ducking down, and suddenly his mouth is on your cunt, leaving a kiss. His breath and mouth warm, wet, and, fuck, he hasn’t done anything yet but it feels amazing.

You feel him placing a hand flat against your stomach, strong and steady, keeping you still as his tongue begins to slip in and out of you.

“Heeseung,” you breathed, hands immediately darting out to grab the sheets on either side, fabric clenched between your fingers as you felt his tongue confidently lapping up and down your cunt.

“Fuck… shit, fuck,” Your words came out in soft mumbles as you screwed your eyes shut, feeling Heeseung nudging your clit with his sharp nose.

He sucks rapidly and noisily, and his grip around your thighs tightened when your hand traveled down to tangle amongst his messy locks, tugging in appreciation as his tongue rolled against your clit in circles.

You felt him let out a moan against you, which makes your vision blurry and your core clench tight — you felt yourself close.

“I’m- gonna-”

Your fingers grasp his hair tighter, and you desperately pull him closer once you come undone on his tongue. Your legs tightened around him, hips started bucking wildly which made it hard for him to stay in place.

Heeseung pressed soft kisses along your inner thighs, watching you relax under his touch. He waited a few moments until your eyes met his own, the sight was something that you wished to engrave forever.

He was too pretty, too cute. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glossy — bambi eyes glowing. You were lucky to see him like this.

“Was that okay?” Heeseung broke the silence.

You nod, trying to steady your breathing, “It was perfect.”

“I want you inside me now, Hee.”

Heeseung felt the same way, wanting to be inside you. He pressed his lips against yours before a small smirk formed.

He reached to the dresser next to his bed and opened the drawer to find a foil packet. You left a watchful gaze as Heeseung opened the packet and slowly slid the condom onto his cock, pumping it a few times until he was shifting his hips.

He began to line it up his cock with your entrance and sliding his head along your soaking slit a few times for full preparation.

“Tell me if it hurts okay?” He murmured. He takes it slow, stretching you out and allowing you to get used to the feel of him, while carefully searching for any discomfort on your face.

The feeling was unexpected, due to his girth and size. But you nodded your head and kissed him, giving him the approval to bottom you out. Heeseung didn’t expect you to feel so tight around him. Your cunt clenching his cock so perfectly that he could have sworn that he came already.

“Baby-“ he gulped. “I don’t think I’ll last,” he lets out a chuckle mixed with a soft whine.

“Me neither,” you breathlessly laugh in response.

“I’m going to move now.”

You felt Heeseung begin to roll his hips, starting a rhythm, settling a hand at your neck. All it takes is a nod and mumble of the words, “Go faster,” from you for him to pick up his pace. You don’t have too much difficulty matching it, and soon, your hips meet messily and erratically. The pace is fast and the feeling indescribable.

“Hee,” You moan out, “Just like that-“

One of your hands unintentionally makes a mess of his back, nails scratching when he snaps his hips and hits your deep spot, and Heeseung’s brows furrow at the feeling.

"Oh my fucking god," you felt the his breath against your ear as he groaned out. You were approaching your high and Heeseung can feel it too.

You continue rocking your hips back and forth, matching his rhythm while biting down on your bottom lip to try to stop the sound that's trying to escape from your throat. "Heeseung," you finally let out a whine, "I'm so fucking close."

"I know," he felt your walls clamp around him, watching your face scrunch up, unable to hold it in any longer.

His rhythm gradually gets faster, and you feel him get deeper causing you to clench even more tightly to the point where you start digging onto his shoulder with your fingertips.

"You can cum now," he grunts while bucking up his hips. Just from your face alone, he notices how much you want to let go. He removed hair out of your face before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"Go ahead, my love," he whispered.

You feel yourself let go and your body spasming. He carries you through your orgasm with small shallow thrusts until he follows, eventually releasing himself into the condom.

The condom gets thrown in the trash and Heeseung grabs a towel from his bathroom. He cleans you up, and you watch with a smile on your face. Heeseung rejoins you, pulling you into his arms under the covers. You curl up into him, feeling relaxed and happy in his embrace.

“What are we?” You ask, unsure of the new status between you two.

“We can be whatever you want to be,” he kisses the top of your head, “But I want you to be mine.”

“Well, before we officially become boyfriend and girlfriend,” you began, hesitating slightly, “I want to know more about you. I want to know what goes on other than basketball and partying. I just want to know about Heeseung.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You’re asking a lot. But I want to know everything about you too. We can start tomorrow. Let me take you out on a date.”

“Another date? I’d love that.” A flutter of excitement stirred in your chest, but reality pulled you back.

“I want to stay here forever and I don’t want to leave yet, but I promised my parents that I’ll be home by 8.”

“Okay, let’s get ready. I’ll drop you off,” he said, his tone shifting to one of determination.

You shook your head, a playful frown on your face. “No, don’t worry. I know your mom is coming home soon, so- so just let one of your drivers take me home.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair, a mixture of frustration and understanding. “I don’t like the idea of you going home alone. Just let me drop you off. I promise I’ll have you back before my mom comes.”

You could see the concern on his face, and it made your heart swell. “Heeseung, I’ll be fine. I appreciate it, really. But I think it’s better this way.”

“Fine,” he relented, but his expression remained serious. “But we’re definitely going on that date tomorrow. No arguments.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his insistence. “Okay, it’s a date.”

—

”This is Seojoon,” Heeseung said, his voice casual but with a hint of authority. "He’ll be driving you tonight."

Seojoon gave you a polite nod, his eyes steady and respectful. “Miss,” he greeted, his voice smooth and professional, with just the right amount of warmth to make you feel at ease.

You gave a smile, feeling a little out of place in such a world of luxury, but his quiet confidence made you relax. “Hi, Seojoon. It’s nice to meet you.”

He opened the door to the waiting car, a sleek black luxury vehicle that looked like it could glide on air.

Heeseung’s hand rested briefly on your shoulder, his fingers warm. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow and everyday with you,” he leaned closer, his voice low and sincere. ”I want to know everything about you too, and I promise to share more than just basketball and partying.”

The moment lingered, the air thick with unspoken promises and the thrill of what was to come. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, giving him a kiss on his lips before getting inside the car.

“Call me when you get home,” he replied, his smile brightening as he closed the door.

The doors of the car closed behind you and the world outside was still buzzing, but the night felt different now — calmer, and more intimate especially after the day with Heeseung.

You felt happy.

—

As soon as Heeseung returns inside, a sharp voice sliced through the warmth of the moment.

“Who’s that? You never bring anyone home,” his mother demanded, her eyes narrowing at him.

Heeseung straightened, determination flashing in his gaze. “She’s my girlfriend— well, soon to be. But I like her a lot, and she’s special.”

His mother’s expression darkened, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Heeseung, we cannot allow this.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Heeseung shot back, a hint of defiance creeping into his voice.

“Me. The company. Our family,” she replied, crossing her arms, a look of disapproval etched on her features.

“But, Mother, she’s the first girl to make me feel this way. I’m actually really happy.”

His mother sighed, her expression softening for just a moment before steeling again. “Heeseung, we already had this conversation a long time ago. And I don’t want to have to have it again.”

Heeseung’s eyes bore into his mother’s, a mix of frustration and desperation. “Can’t you just try to understand?” he pressed. “I know what our family’s expectations are, but she makes me feel like I can be myself. Isn’t that what you want for me?”

His mother hesitated, her facade cracking slightly. “You know how things are in our world, Heeseung. It’s not just about feelings. There are expectations-”

“Expectations that make me miserable!” he interrupted, his voice rising. “I’m not asking you to approve of her right now, but I need you to at least try to see why I like her.”

“I need time to think about this,” she said, a reluctant sigh escaping her lips.

“Then time is all I’m asking for,” Heeseung replied, his voice firm but gentle.

As the air slowly eased, Heeseung gave glance with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

—

hee: can’t wait to see you, my love

hee: wear something warm :)

The next day was your and Heeseung’s date. He texted you that he was going to take you to a park that had pretty cherry blossoms, which is something you’ve wanted to do for so long.

As Heeseung stood at your front door, the afternoon air thick with anticipation. The soft glow of porch lights cast a warm hue over the two of you, and the world around felt still, as if it were holding its breath.

“Hey, you look cute in your scarf,” you giggle. “Is everything okay?” you asked, your brow furrowing slightly at the uncomfortable look in his eyes.

“Yes- no,” he replied, a mix of frustration and longing evident in his voice. He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “I just want to kiss you. I missed you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his confession, feeling warmth bloom in your chest before leaning in to kiss him. “I missed you too, Hee.”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“What’s wrong?” your tone shifted, concern creeping into his words.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he admitted. “I know you said we shouldn’t rush into being official, but I just want to be yours already.”

Your eyes widened, the spark of surprise quickly morphing into determination.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” he asked, his voice steady yet filled with an undercurrent of hope.

“Yes, Heeseung, you can be my boyfriend,” you replied, your words tumbling out with an undeniable certainty.

A grin broke across his face, and in that moment, all the uncertainty from the past few days melted away. He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until he cupped your face in his hands.

“Really? You mean it?”

“Of course,” you said, smiling widely.

Heeseung leaned in, closing the gap, and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened as the warmth of his mouth sent a thrill through you. You melted into him, feeling his hands move to your waist, pulling you closer as if he were afraid to let go.

When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other. With a renewed sense of excitement and belonging, you took his hand, intertwining your fingers. The future for you suddenly felt bright and full of possibilities.

As for Heeseung, he knew that whatever the future held, it was just the beginning of something even more complicated and uncertain.

But he knew that everything would be okay as long as he had you in his world.

—

© 2024, fairyofhee on tumblr

note, so excited to finally release this as i’ve been trying to finish for more than a year now lol. any reblogs and feedback is appreciated! feel free to share your thoughts, thank you <3

[icarusredwings]

Can't stop thinking about the scene where Wade takes Weasel to the strip club, and he's like, "How do you know she's here?"

Wade just says, "Cause i'm CONSTANTLY stalking that FOX," like damn, bro was NOT letting that kittycat get away from him that easily.

This leads me to also believe that he's so good at his job that he scopes out spots BEFORE the date of the mission.

That he would be a GREAT spy in the sense that not only can he hide his true emotions extremlt well so he wouldn't be amazing at devils advocate but this fucker is light on his feet. He's 6 foot 2 and still blends into the background when needed, and in the spotlight when he wants to be.

We all know that he couldn't sneak up on Logan since Logan has a wicked sense of smell, but I feel like if Wade ever had to give up Merc work (A COUGH COUGH COUGH like loosing his powers for what ever reason totally not foreshadowing COUGH COUGH COUGH damn I really gotta stop sucking dick so much-) he would be EXCELLENT at Narc work.

The only thing is he SUUUCCCKKKSS (literally and physically) at working for authority figures, so he would probably take up personal private detective cases. Snap pictures of people cheating, get a guy to confess to a crime on recording for a lawsuit, Track down missing persons probably.

But he would be bored. He would be incredibly bored. And a bored Wade is not a happy one. Infact a bored Wade is a DANGEROUS one. He NEEDS a job. A physical job. One that has strict end and strict beginings in which he can do quickly to get that rush of dopamine.

Stake outs that take 2 weeks is not a thrill.

Going to Japan and taking out the entire Yukuza IS infact a thrill. Job? Kill all of them. Done. Compelte.

He would need one that doesn't require blurred lines of completion. He thought that cars salesmen would be easy. You sell a car. You get paid. You go home. Boom. But no. Its more bullshit about being good at talking to civillians. Something he's not good at.

So- my question is.

What is a good job for Wade if he was forced out of merc work? Perhaps one he could do with Logan?