#it's like 25k or something already | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flux1563 · 3 months ago

Text

Best choice of my life ft tzuyu

Something new part 2

Words: 25k

The digital clock on the nightstand flickered to life, casting a blueish hue over the room. 6:00 AM. The time had come for him to rise and prepare for the day ahead. With a gentle sigh, her husband's eyes fluttered open, his gaze immediately finding hers in the dim light. He offered a sleepy smile, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "Morning, love," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. Tzuyu sat up in bed, the sheets slipping down to reveal the swells of her breasts. She returned his smile, trying to ignore the heaviness in her chest. "Already time to go to work?" Tzuyu ask. Her husband nodded and stretched, his muscular body flexing with the motion. "Yeah," he yawned. "Big meeting today. I'll be home as soon as I can." He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

As he padded towards the bathroom, Tzuyu couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anxiety build within her. She quickly grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her thumbs flying over the screen. Her heart raced as she typed out the message to y/n: "I want to feel you again this time. Can I come to your house?" She hit send before she could talk herself out of it, her stomach flipping with anticipation. She watched her husband's back as he disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Y/n's response is swift: "Just come to my house, Tzuyu." The simplicity of his message sends a thrill down her spine. She knows she shouldn't, that it's wrong, but the memory of his touch is too potent to ignore. Her mind wanders to what she should wear, something that would drive him wild with desire. She opens her closet, her eyes scanning the rows of clothes. Her fingers glide over the fabric of her usual attire, but she knows none of it will suffice for what she has in mind. Instead, she reaches for the drawer at the bottom, where she keeps her secret collection of lingerie. Her heart races as she pulls out a sheer, black set. The lace is intricate, leaving nothing to the imagination. The thong is so thin it might as well not be there, and the bra is designed to expose her nipples, the fabric barely covering the sensitive peaks. Tzuyu's body flushes with excitement and nerves as she dresses in the seductive ensemble. She looks at herself in the mirror, her reflection looking like a stranger, a woman bold and hungry for desire. With one last, deep breath, she grabs an oversized hoodie from her husband's side of the closet to cover herself. The softness of the fabric feels like a comforting embrace, a stark contrast to the naughty secrets it conceals. The short walk to y/n's house feels like an eternity. Each step is a silent confession to the betrayal she's about to commit. Yet, the anticipation is intoxicating, making her heart race and her breath come in shallow pants. The early morning light casts long shadows across the lawn, and the dew on the grass feels like a kiss from the cool, indifferent world outside her tumultuous thoughts. She tries to calm herself, focusing on the familiar squeak of the gate and the comforting scent of her garden as she passes by.

When she reaches y/n's door, she takes one final, deep breath before raising her hand to knock. It's a soft sound, barely louder than the whisper of the wind through the leaves. Yet, almost immediately, she hears the sound of the lock turning, and the door swings open. He's waiting for her, dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts that hang low on his hips, showcasing the trail of hair that leads down to the promise of his cock. His eyes widen with lust when he sees her, taking in the barely concealed allure of her attire. Before she can even say a word, he's on her, pulling her into his arms and claiming her lips in a kiss that's both fierce and passionate. His hands roam her body, tracing the curves of her waist and the swell of her hips. Tzuyu melts into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. It's as if her body has been waiting for this, craving the feel of his touch like a plant craves the sun. With a sudden jerk, y/n pulls her hoodie open, exposing her lingerie-clad breasts to the cool morning air. The contrast between the soft fabric and the roughness of his calloused hands sends a jolt of electricity through her, making her nipples peak into tight buds. He breaks the kiss to look down at her, his eyes dark with desire. "You came to me," he murmurs, his voice low and thick with need.

"Yeah," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I couldn't wait for you to take me again." His eyes flash with a primal hunger that makes her knees weak. Without warning, he rips her lingerie from her body, the fabric tearing like paper beneath his powerful grip. Tzuyu gasps, feeling the cold air against her bare pussy. He smirks at her, the sound echoing through the house like a declaration of his dominance. "If that's what you want, then that's what you'll get," he says, his voice a low growl. He grabs her by the waist and lifts her onto the kitchen counter, her legs wrapping around his hips. She gasps as she feels the tip of his cock, thick and insistent, press against her opening. Without further ado, he slams into her, his length filling her in one swift motion. The suddenness of it makes her eyes roll back in her head, a high-pitched moan escaping her lips. He doesn't stop, pounding into her with a ferocity that leaves her breathless.

His grip on her hips is like iron, holding her in place as he claims her body without mercy. "Yeah, fuck my pussy like that," Tzuyu pants, her nails digging into his shoulders. The wetness she mentioned was indeed still present, a testament to the longing she'd felt for him since their last encounter. She could feel her juices coating his cock, making each stroke smoother, deeper. "You like that, don't you?" He grunts, his eyes dark with lust. "You want me to make you squirt again?" Tzuyu nods frantically, her pussy clenching around him in anticipation. She's never felt anything like this before, the feeling of his cock hitting all the right spots, the way her body responds so eagerly to his touch. She feels a familiar pressure building within her, and she knows she's close. "Ajh, yes, y/n, I'm going to squirt," she moans, her voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. He quickens his pace, driving into her harder and faster, his grip on her hips tightening. The kitchen counter digs into her back, but she doesn't care. All that matters is the feeling of his cock inside her, the promise of the release that's just within reach.

Her pussy clenches around him, and suddenly, it's there. The intense pressure builds up, and then releases in a powerful spurt of liquid that soaks his cock and the counter beneath her. She throws her head back, her eyes squeezed shut as she rides the waves of pleasure that crash through her body. She feels it from her toes to her fingertips, a rush of euphoria that makes her tremble and shake uncontrollably. He watches her with a mix of amazement and hunger, his eyes never leaving her face as he continues to pound into her. "How long can I fuck you this day, Tzuyu?" he asks again, his voice strained with effort and desire. "Until 6 PM," she gasps, her voice barely a whisper. The thought sends a new wave of heat through her body, the anticipation of hours of passionate fucking making her pussy clench even tighter around his thick cock. Y/n smiles wickedly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He glances at the clock on the kitchen wall, the hands pointing to the 7 AM position. "Eleven hours," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Eleven hours of pure pleasure, just for us." With surprising strength, he flips Tzuyu over onto her stomach, her legs dangling off the edge of the counter. He grips her hips, pulling her back so that her ass is in the air, her pussy wet and begging for his cock. The sudden change in position makes her gasp, her breasts pressing against the cool countertop. He doesn't miss a beat, lining himself up with her soaking wet entrance and sliding back in, filling her completely. Her moans echo through the kitchen as he starts to fuck her in standing doggy style, his powerful thrusts sending her hips slamming into the counter. She can feel the bruises forming, but the pain only adds to the intense pleasure that is consuming her. Each time he hits her g-spot, she squirts a little more, the wetness making his movements even smoother, even more delicious.

"Already squirting countless times, Tzuyu?" he says with a smug chuckle, his grip tightening on her hips. "It's only been a few minutes. You're going to be a mess by the time I'm through with you.". Tzuyu can't help the moan that escapes her as she nods, her voice strained with pleasure. "It's your fault," she whispers, her words barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Your cock is so good inside my pussy.". Y/n's smug grin widens, and he starts to fuck her harder, his movements more deliberate as he watches the pleasure wash over her face. She's lost in the sensation, her body responding to his every touch with a desperation that she's never felt before. "Beg for it," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "Beg for me to fill you up again." Tzuyu's eyes roll back in her head, and she can't help but whimper. "Please, y/n," she says, her voice needy. "Please, I need your baby in me." It's a heady feeling, saying the words out loud, and she feels a new wave of arousal crash over her. She's never talked like this before, but with him, it feels so right. He grabs her hand, interlocking their fingers behind her back, pulling her closer to him. His other hand snakes up to her hair, gripping it firmly as he fucks her even harder. The tug on her scalp sends a bolt of pleasure through her, making her toes curl. She moans loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet of the kitchen. "You're such a good slut," he whispers, his breath hot against her ear. "Ask for it."

Her eyes widen, the pain mixing with pleasure as she begs, "Please, y/n, fuck me harder. Make me squirt again." He obliges, his hand moving faster, his cock pounding into her with a ferocity that borders on brutal. She feels the pressure building inside her, her pussy clenching around him like a vice. And then it hits her, the most intense orgasm she's ever felt, her body shaking as she squirts all over the kitchen counter, soaking his hand and the floor beneath them. He groans with satisfaction, feeling her walls tighten around his cock, the sensation of her release pushing him closer to the edge. Without warning, he pulls out and spins her around, slamming her back against the fridge. His grip on her hand tightens as he pins it behind her back, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies. His other hand tangles in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck, which he kisses hungrily, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. He enters her again, his movements now erratic, driven by his own need to release.

Tzuyu's eyes roll back as he fucks her relentlessly, his cock hitting that spot deep within her that sends waves of pleasure crashing through her body. She feels his desperation, his need to claim her fully, and it only serves to increase her own desire. Her body responds, her pussy clenching around him, begging for more. With a final, primal roar, y/n releases himself inside her, filling her to the brim with his hot, sticky cum. Tzuyu gasps, her body spasming with the force of her own orgasm, her walls milking him for every last drop. She feels him swell and pulse, his seed painting the walls of her pussy with his brand of ownership. For a moment, they stand there, chests heaving, bodies entwined. But the reality of their situation crashes down on her like a tidal wave. She's just cheated on her husband with her neighbor, a man she's known for years but never felt this intense connection with before. Her legs threaten to give out, and she's certain she would have fallen if not for his iron grip holding her upright.

"Is so good, y/n fuck," Tzuyu whispers with trembling voice, her eyes fluttering shut as the aftershocks of pleasure wash over her. Her words are a mix of English and her native language, a testament to the overwhelming nature of their encounter. She leans into him, her naked body pressing against his, desperate for his warmth and the illusion of safety that he provides. "You're amazing," he murmurs back, kissing the side of her neck gently. His voice is filled with genuine admiration and lust. He releases her hand, letting it fall to her side as he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her tightly as he slowly pulls out of her. The feeling of emptiness is stark, and she can't help but whine softly. He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.

They both take a moment to catch their breath, the only sound in the kitchen the ticking of the clock on the wall, a constant reminder of the time slipping away. Tzuyu opens her eyes to find y/n looking at her with a smug smile, his chest still heaving from exertion. "Are you okay?" he asks, his eyes searching hers for any signs of distress. She nods, still trying to process the intensity of what just happened. "Yes," she manages to murmur, though her voice is hoarse from the screams of passion. He releases her from his embrace, and she wobbles slightly, her legs still unsteady from the powerful climaxes. He chuckles again, and this time it's a gentle sound that doesn't make her want to run away. Guiding her to the living room, he pulls a soft blanket from the couch and wraps it around her shoulders, leading her to the plush cushions. They sit down, their bodies still touching, the heat between them palpable. "I don't usually do this," Tzuyu says, her voice still shaking. "But I couldn't resist you." Y/n nods, stroking her cheek gently. "I know. It's like we were made for each other." His words hang in the air, filled with an unspoken understanding that this wasn't just a one-time thing. They share a knowing look, their eyes locked in a silent promise of more to come.

"Are u want to take a rest first?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down her spine. She nods again, her body aching from the intense passion they've just shared. They move to the couch, the plush cushions a welcome respite from the hard kitchen counter. He settles her into his arms, the warmth of his bare skin a stark contrast to the chill in the air from the open refrigerator door. Tzuyu takes a moment to appreciate the sight of her sprawled across his couch, the blanket barely covering her splayed legs and the wetness between them. He traces a finger along her collarbone, watching as goosebumps rise along her skin. "No, just fuck me like a slut I am," she whispers, her voice needy and raw. He leans in, his breath hot on her ear as he says, "Are u sure? U can't take back what u say tzuyu." His words hang in the air, a challenge and a warning. She nods, eyes blazing with desire. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice thick with lust. "I want it all. Every part of you, every dirty word, every rough touch." He stands up, towering over her, his cock still hard and glistening with their combined juices. "Which room do you want me to fuck you, Tzuyu?" he asks, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. She swallows hard, her heart racing. She's never been so brazen, but with his, she feels like she can be anyone, do anything.

"Maybe the work room first," she says, her voice low and sultry. "Fuck me above your desk." The thought sends a thrill through her body, a delicious mix of excitement and naughtiness that only fuels her desire. She watches as his eyes darken with lust, the challenge accepted. With surprising gentleness, he picks Tzuyu up, his arms cradling her against his chest as he carries her through the house. Her legs wrap around his waist, the blanket slipping away to expose her nakedness to the cool air. She nuzzles into his neck, her lips leaving a trail of kisses along his collarbone as he navigates the hallway. The anticipation builds with every step, her pussy clenching with need. He kicks the door to his work room open, the sound echoing through the house. The room is cluttered with paperwork and the faint scent of ink and leather, a stark contrast to the garden's serenity. He lowers her onto the sturdy desk, the wood cool against her skin. His eyes are dark with desire as he takes in the sight of her laid out before him, her legs open and welcoming.

"Fuckk, so wet and tight," he groans, the words escaping him like a prayer. Tzuyu feels a thrill at his crude language, the raw desire in his voice making her even wetter. He grabs her hips and aligns his cock with her entrance, his hands trembling with restraint. The moment he enters her, she feels the familiar rush of liquid heat, her pussy squirting around him like a fountain. It's a sensation she's never felt with anyone else, a testament to the intensity of their connection. His eyes widen with surprise before a smug smile plays on his lips. "You're just too much," he says, his voice thick with lust. He starts to thrust, his movements powerful and commanding. She gasps with each stroke, her body bouncing on the desk with the force of his passion. The room is filled with the sound of their slapping flesh, the occasional squeak of the chair, and their ragged breaths. She looks down to see his cock disappearing into her over and over again, her juices coating his shaft with every plunge.

"You're not ruining anything," he growls, his eyes dark with desire. "You're just making it more interesting." He pulls out almost completely, only to slam back into her, making her cry out. His grip on her hips tightens, his nails digging into her skin as he finds a rhythm that makes her pussy pulse with each thrust. "Fuck, so fucking big," Tzuyu screams, her voice bouncing off the walls of the room. She can feel him filling her completely, his cock reaching places inside her that she didn't know existed. Each time he pulls out, she feels the emptiness keenly, only for it to be replaced with a wave of pleasure as he slams back in. "Yes, cum for me," she pants, her eyes fluttering shut as she feels the beginnings of another orgasm building deep within her. She can sense that he's close, his strokes becoming more erratic, his breathing more ragged. His hand snakes up to her throat, gripping it gently, and she moans, the sensation pushing her closer to the edge.

With a roar, y/n pulls out and sprays his cum across her face, painting it in thick ropes that cling to her skin. She opens her eyes, watching in fascination as he marks her, claiming her once again. The sight of his release on her face sends her over the edge, her pussy convulsing around emptiness as she squirts uncontrollably.

The room is a chaotic symphony of moans and wet sounds, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. His desk, once a bastion of order and productivity, is now a canvas of their desire, papers and files scattered haphazardly, drenched in the evidence of their passion. Her squirt covers the leather surface, pooling in the indentations of his chair, creating a mess that mirrors the tumult in her heart. Without a word, y/n picks her up, her legs still trembling from the intensity of their last encounter. His eyes burn with a primal hunger that makes her insides quiver.

He carries her to his bedroom, his strong arms a stark contrast to the softness of her curves. The room is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the shadows playing across the walls like a silent film of their carnality. The bed is unmade, the sheets tangled from his last encounter with his right hand. He lays her down gently, his cock still rock-hard and glistening with their combined juices. She looks up at him, her eyes glazed over with lust, and straddles him. Her pussy is a slick, swollen mess, begging for more of his thick, delicious cock. He watches as she slides down onto him, her walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

"Ahh...fuck," she gasps, her nails digging into his shoulders as she feels him fill her completely. She starts to ride him, her movements erratic at first, a mix of pleasure and pain. His hands roam her body, cupping her breasts, squeezing her ass, his fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake. His cock hits all the right spots, and she feels herself spiraling towards another orgasm. "Your dick is everywhere," she cries out, her voice hoarse from the screams of ecstasy that have already left her throat. She's lost in a sea of sensation, her body moving on instinct as he takes her to new heights. Her pussy clenches around him, and she feels the warmth of her squirt, the liquid proof of her desire. He takes control, thrusting into her with a ferocity that steals her breath away. His strokes are deep and demanding, each one pushing her closer to the edge. "Cum for me," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I want to feel your sweet cunt milk my cock." Her eyes roll back in her head as she feels it building again, the pressure in her core threatening to explode. Her pussy clamps down on him, and she squirts uncontrollably, her juices coating his shaft and their skin. He doesn't let up, his rhythm never faltering as he continues to pound into her.

Finally, with a roar, he pulls out and covers her back in his cum, his seed spraying across her skin like a declaration of war. But it's not war she feels, it's a strange sense of belonging, of being claimed by this man who brings her such exquisite pain and pleasure. And just as she thinks she can't take anymore, he turns her onto her back and slams into her again, her legs splayed wide. His cock is a beast, demanding and relentless, and she's helpless to resist. Her pussy clenches around him, and she feels another orgasm building, her body a live wire ready to snap. He fucks her with a brutal efficiency, his eyes never leaving hers. She can see the darkness in them, the desire that fuels his every thrust. And she knows that she's just as lost in this as he is, her own needs driving her to match his ferocity. "Cum inside me," she begs, her voice a desperate whisper. "I want to feel you fill me up." He grunts, his strokes becoming more erratic as he gets closer to his own release. And when it hits him, it's like a dam bursting. He fills her with his cum, each spurt a hot, thick reminder of his power over her. Her pussy clenches around him, eagerly drinking him in.

They lay there, panting and spent, their bodies entwined. The world outside their bubble of passion doesn't exist, and she's never felt more alive. She knows that this is wrong, that she's playing with fire. But she can't help craving the burn.

"Again," she whispers, and he's only too happy to oblige. He rolls her onto her stomach, her breasts pressed into the damp pillow. His hand traces the curve of her ass before he slides into her from behind. Her pussy is still sore, but the pain only heightens the pleasure, making her squirt uncontrollably with every thrust. "Ahh, yes," she moans, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Your dick is so deep. " She can feel him stretching her, filling her completely. It's a sensation that's both terrifying and exhilarating, like riding a rollercoaster with no safety bars.

He fucks her with a fierce determination, his strokes deep and punishing. Each time he hits her g-spot, she feels her body shudder, her juices soaking the bed beneath them. The sound of their skin slapping together fills the room, a testament to their carnality. His grip on her hips tightens, and she knows he's close, his thrusts growing more erratic.

He pulls out, and before she can even register the loss, he's flipped her onto her back. He's still hard, his cock glistening with their combined arousal. He looms over her, his eyes dark with lust. "Look at me when I cum," he commands, and she can't help but obey.

He starts fucking her again, his strokes slower this time, more deliberate. She can feel him savoring every moment, every inch of her. His cock slides in and out of her, the friction setting her nerves alight. And then he explodes, his seed spraying her body like a fine mist. She can feel it on her face, her neck, her chest, a warm, sticky mess that only makes her want more.

They lay there for a moment, their breathing the only sound in the room. Then he leans in, kissing her softly, his cock still semi-hard between her legs. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. Tzuyu opens her eyes, meeting his gaze. She can't find the words to respond, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She's torn between the guilt that weighs on her and the intense desire that still thrums through her body. "For what?" she finally asks, her voice a mere whisper. "For letting me be the one to give you what you truly crave," he says, his eyes searching hers. "For letting me be the one to make you squirt like a fountain."

The truth of his words hits her like a sledgehammer, and she feels a mix of shame and excitement. She's never felt so used, so owned. And she can't help but want more.

They move to the living room, the plush carpet beneath them a stark contrast to the harsh reality of their situation. He takes her from behind, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he pulls her back onto his cock. She's so wet that he slides in effortlessly, filling her up in one swift motion. The couch cushions sink under their weight as he starts to pound into her, each thrust sending her body rocking forward.

The TV flickers in the background, the mundane sitcom playing out its canned laughter as Tzuyu's own cries of pleasure echo through the room. Her pussy is a river, gushing around him with every push, and she knows that the sound of their fucking is only adding to the illicitness of the moment. She can feel her orgasm building again, and she tries to fight it, to draw it out as long as possible.

He's relentless, his hips moving like a piston as he fucks her with a ferocity that borders on the violent. She's lost in the sensation, her body moving with his, her mind a blur of need and desire. And when she does finally come, it's like a dam bursting, her squirt soaking the carpet beneath her.

Yet he doesn't stop. If anything, his movements grow more intense, his grip on her hips tightening as he speeds up. He's like an animal in heat, his need for release all-consuming. And she's his prey, willingly offering herself up to his every whim. The sound of their skin slapping together fills the air, punctuated by her cries of pleasure. She can feel him swelling inside her, his cock thickening as he nears his climax. And when he does finally come, it's with a roar that shakes the walls. He pulls out and sprays his cum all over her, painting her back and ass with his seed.

The warmth of his semen on her skin is the final straw, sending her over the edge once again. Her pussy clenches and spasms around his cock, her squirt mixing with his cum to create a sticky mess that she knows will be impossible to clean up. As they lay there, panting and covered in each other's juices, she can't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. This is wrong, she knows it, but it feels so right. And as she looks over her shoulder at the man who has just claimed her in the most primal way possible, she knows she's in too deep to turn back now.

He scoops her up, his cock still hard and covered in their combined arousal. She wraps her legs around his waist as he carries her to the balcony, the cool air kissing their sweat-slicked skin. The lights from the sun cast a soft glow over, and she can see the silhouettes of people going about their evening routines, oblivious to the depraved acts unfolding in her neighbor's house. Her heart races at the thought of being caught, but it's the thrill of the risk that fuels her arousal. "What if someone sees us?" she gasps, her voice a mix of fear and excitement.

He smirks, placing her on the edge of the balcony railing, her legs draped over his broad shoulders. "Just hope there's no one watching," he says, the challenge in his tone making her stomach flip. His cock, still slick with her cum, slides back into her pussy, and she gasps as he starts to thrust again. Each movement sends her a little higher, the railing digging into her back as she holds onto the railing for dear life. "AHHHHHH..." she screams, the sound echoing through the night air. She can feel the cool breeze on her face, the stars above seeming to pulse in time with her heartbeat. The world outside fades away until all that exists is the feeling of his cock inside her, the way he fills her completely and owns her body. She's lost in a sea of pleasure, her moans and cries the only sound in the universe. Tzuyu's nails dig into the wood of the railing, leaving deep grooves as she tries to hold on. Each thrust from he sends her closer to the edge, not just of the balcony, but of sanity itself. "FUCK Y/N," she moans, her voice hoarse and desperate. She's never felt so alive, so wanted, so utterly consumed by another person's desire. Her orgasms come in waves now, crashing over her like the tide, leaving her gasping for air.

He grunts in response, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he pumps into her with increasing ferocity. His cock hits her g-spot with each stroke, and she can't help but scream his name as she feels another squirt building inside her. "Cum for me, baby," he whispers in her ear, his voice a dark promise. "Show me how much you love it." Her eyes squeeze shut as she feels the pressure building, the world around her fading away until all that exists is the sensation of his cock inside her, the warmth of the sun on her bare skin, and the sound of their bodies slapping together. The orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, and she squirts again, the warm liquid spilling over the railing and down into the garden below. She gasps for air, her entire body trembling with the force of it. "Look at that," y/n says, his voice filled with dark amusement. "You're like a fountain of pleasure." He pulls out of her, his cock glistening with their combined juices. He strokes himself, watching as the last drops of her cum fall to the ground. "The world will know," he says with a wicked smile. "They'll all know how much you love my cock”.Tzuyu gasps, trying to catch her breath, her legs still shaking from the intensity of her climaxes. She watches him with a mix of fear and desire, knowing that she's lost control, that she's become the slut he's always wanted her to be. And yet, she can't find it in herself to be ashamed. Every time he fills her, every time he makes her squirt, it's like he's filling a void she never knew existed.

Her eyes widen as he takes her hand, guiding her to the bedroom, his grip firm yet gentle. He lays her down on the bed, and she can't help but whimper as he climbs over her, his cock still rock hard. "Please," she whispers, "please fill me up."

Y/n grins, his eyes gleaming with lust. He lines up his cock with her entrance and pushes in, filling her to the brim. She gasps, her eyes rolling back in her head as she feels him stretch her open once more. He starts to fuck her slowly at first, drawing out her moans, her pussy still quivering from her previous orgasms. He picks up the pace, and she feels herself building again, her body responding to his every touch. She begs him to go harder, faster, to fill her up until she can't take anymore. He obliges, pounding into her with a ferocity that makes the bed shake. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by her desperate cries. Her orgasms come in waves, one after the other, each one more intense than the last. She can feel him swelling inside her, his cock pulsing with the promise of release. "Cum inside me," she whispers, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I want to feel your seed." His eyes narrow, and he gives one final, powerful thrust. With a roar, he empties himself into her, filling her womb with his hot, thick cum. She clenches around him, her body milking every last drop as she squirts uncontrollably. Her pussy spasms, gripping him tightly, and she arches her back, lost in the sensation of his seed flooding her.

For a moment, they lay there, panting, their bodies slick with sweat and cum. He pulls out, and she feels the warmth of his release spilling out of her, down her thighs. It's a messy, delicious mess, a testament to their carnality. She can't help but smile, even as guilt starts to creep in. This isn't who she is, but she can't deny the thrill of it all.

"Tzuyu, the next of tomorrow, I will go to the Maldives for two weeks" he says, his voice breaking the silence like a sledgehammer through glass. Her eyes widen, and she sits up, pushing her hair out of her face. "What?" she asks, not quite understanding what he means.

"I want you to come with me," he says, his eyes searching hers for a hint of what she's feeling. "I know it's sudden, but I can't bear the thought of being apart from you for so long."

Tzuyu's heart skips a beat at his words. She had never felt this way before, not even with her husband. The idea of being with him for two weeks, just the two of them, is both thrilling and terrifying. "But what about your job?" she asks, already knowing the answer. "I can work remotely," he says, his eyes never leaving hers. "All I need is you."

Tzuyu's cheeks burn with a mix of excitement and fear. "But what will I say to my husband?" she whispers, her voice trembling. "Tell him you're going on a gardening retreat," y/n suggests, his tone casual despite the gravity of his words. "You can say you need some time to yourself to focus on your hobby. He won't suspect a thing."

Tzuyu nods, her mind racing. It's a flimsy excuse, but desperation has a way of making the impossible seem doable. She looks up at y/n, her eyes filled with a mix of excitement and fear. "Okay," she whispers, her voice shaky. "But I need to make sure he believes me."

He leans in, his breath hot against her ear. "Just give him a little show," he murmurs. "Let him think you had the best sex of your life. He'll never question it." His words are a challenge, and she feels a thrill run through her body at the thought of deceiving her husband. It's wrong, but the temptation is too great. Tzuyu nods, her heart racing. "Okay," she whispers, the word hanging in the air like a declaration of war. She knows what she's agreeing to, but she can't bring herself to care. All that matters is the feeling of y/n's cock inside her, the way he makes her body sing with pleasure. She's addicted to it, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to get her fix.

He stands up, pulling her to her feet with him. "Let's go," he says, his voice gruff. "But remember, you're still my little slut." He grabs her by the arm and leads her out of the house, not bothering to dress her. She's naked and vulnerable, but she doesn't care. The thrill of being seen is a part of the game now, a part of the thrill. The short walk to her house feels like an eternity. Each step she takes is a silent confession of her infidelity, her bare feet leaving a trail of wetness on the ground. She can feel the cum trickling down her legs, and she knows that y/n is enjoying the sight of her vulnerability. His eyes are dark with lust, and she can see the smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at her. As they reach her door, he leans in and whispers in her ear, "Remember, this is our little secret." He kisses her, hard and possessive, leaving no doubt in her mind who she truly belongs to. His hand slides down to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "Now, go inside and get ready for your husband. I want you to think of me every time he touches you."

Tzuyu quickly dressed and returned home, her mind racing with thoughts of y/n's possessive words. She knew she had to clean up and compose herself before her husband returned. As she stepped into her bathroom, the smell of their combined lust still clung to her skin, a potent reminder of the carnality she had just indulged in. With trembling hands, she turned on the shower and stepped under the hot spray, the water washing away the evidence of her infidelity. She scrubbed herself clean, trying to erase the feeling of y/n's touch, but his presence remained, etched into her very soul.

With a deep sigh, she stepped out and dried herself off, feeling the lingering ache in her muscles and the sensitive throbbing of her pussy. She applied her makeup with meticulous care, painting a picture of innocence over her swollen lips and flushed cheeks. Her eyes held a secret, a glint of the depraved desires that now ruled her.

Choosing a dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, Tzuyu slid it over her head. It was a deep crimson color, a stark contrast to the white dress she had worn earlier, symbolizing the shift in her nature. The fabric was soft and luxurious, whispering against her skin, a silent declaration of her sexual awakening. She knew that her husband would not suspect a thing, but the thrill of her secret made her pulse race. The dress ended just above her knees, leaving her long, slender legs bare. She slipped on a pair of matching heels, standing tall and confident, the woman she had always been, yet somehow changed. The neckline plunged low, revealing the swells of her breasts, a silent invitation to her husband to take her in his arms and claim her as his own. Yet, she knew that even as she presented herself to her husband, her thoughts would be consumed by the neighbor who had so thoroughly claimed her body and soul. As she made her way to the living room, Tzuyu felt a strange mix of anxiety and excitement. She knew she had to keep her secret, to hide the dark thrill that now consumed her. The house was quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock, counting down to the moment her husband would walk through the door.

In those moments of solitude, she allowed herself to remember y/n's touch, his cock filling her up, his mouth on her neck. The guilt was a heavy weight in her stomach, but it was overshadowed by the desire to feel him inside her again. She took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts aside as the key turned in the lock. Her husband's footsteps echoed in the hallway, and she forced a smile to her lips, ready to play the role of the devoted wife once more. The door opened, and her husband walked in, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "You look beautiful," he said, his voice filled with love and admiration. She felt a pang of guilt, but also a thrill knowing that she had just come from the arms of another man.

Tzuyu stepped closer, her heart racing. "Thank you," she said, her voice a soft purr. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his, and felt a shiver of anticipation. The taste of y/n was still on her, and she knew she had to be careful not to give herself away. But as she pulled away, she couldn't help but wonder if her husband would ever be able to satisfy her the way her neighbor had. The rest of the evening was a blur of forced intimacy and stolen glances. Dinner was a dance of deception, her husband's hand on her thigh sending shivers down her spine, but not the same as when y/n had claimed her earlier.

As the plates were cleared, Tzuyu leaned in, her eyes gleaming with a mischief that didn't quite reach her heart. "How about we have a little fun before bed?" she whispered, her voice low and seductive. She watched as his eyes lit up with excitement, oblivious to the dark desires that had been stirred within her. Her husband didn't need much convincing, his hand sliding up to cup her breast as they kissed, his tongue exploring her mouth. She responded mechanically, her body going through the motions of desire while her mind was elsewhere. In the bedroom, she undressed slowly, the crimson dress pooling around her ankles like a sea of forbidden passion. She felt his gaze on her, hungry and expectant, and she knew she had to perform. Their lovemaking was gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness she had experienced with y/n. His touches were tender, his kisses sweet, but they couldn't dull the ache inside her. She found herself imagining y/n's strong hands, his dominating presence, as her husband moved above her. She moaned and arched her back, trying to find the release she craved, but it remained elusive.

The act was a farce, a tragic play where she was the star, forced to hide her true desires. Yet she played her part well, her body responding to the familiar rhythm despite her heart's betrayal. She felt the beginnings of an orgasm, a pale shadow of the earth-shattering climaxes she had shared with her neighbor. She bit her lip, stifling a cry that was more frustration than pleasure. Afterwards, as her husband lay spent beside her, Tzuyu couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. She had once cherished these moments, but now they felt hollow. Her mind was a battlefield of guilt and lust, love and deceit, and she wasn't sure which side would emerge victorious. As the room grew quiet, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts racing. She had agreed to go to the Maldives with y/n, but the reality of her decision was now sinking in.

Summoning her courage, she turned to face her husband, her voice a whisper in the darkness. "I've been thinking," she began, her heart pounding in her chest. "I need some time for myself. A vacation, maybe two weeks?" Her husband stirred, his eyes half-open. "Two weeks?" he repeated, his voice thick with sleep. "Where do you want to go?". Tzuyu took a deep breath. "I thought maybe I could go to Maldives," she lied, her voice trembling slightly. "Just to clear my head and relax a bit."

He propped himself up on one elbow, studying her. "You sure you'll be okay?" he asked, concern etching lines on his forehead. "You've been so busy with the garden and work."

"I'll be fine," she assured him, forcing a smile. "It's just what I need." His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "If that's what you want," he said, his voice filled with love. "But don't overdo it."

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with relief. She had the green light for her illicit getaway, and she knew she had to use this opportunity wisely. The next few days passed in a blur of preparation and secrecy. She packed her bags, her mind racing with thoughts of what awaited her in the Maldives. Each item she placed in her suitcase felt like a piece of her soul being torn away from her husband and given to y/n. Yet she couldn't deny the excitement that bubbled up inside her. The anticipation of those two weeks of unbridled passion was a siren's song, luring her further into the depths of her own depravity.

When the day of her departure finally arrived, she kissed her husband goodbye, feeling the weight of her lie pressing down on her like a leaden blanket. "I love you," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine affection and a hint of sadness. He held her tightly. "I love you too," he said, his eyes searching hers for any sign of trouble. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

With one last kiss, she stepped out of the door, her heart in her throat. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the neighborhood that felt eerily deceptive. As she walked to y/n's house, her thoughts swirled like a tornado. Was she making a mistake? Could she really go through with this?

But when she saw his car parked out front, her doubts evaporated. He was waiting for her, a dark figure silhouetted against the early morning light. His eyes met hers, and she knew she had made her choice. With a final look back at her house, she stepped into the car, leaving her old life behind. The drive to the airport was tense, filled with unspoken words and heated glances. His hand found hers, and she felt a spark of electricity run through her body. It was wrong, she knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help the way her body responded to him. The thought of two weeks of unbridled lust was intoxicating, and she was already drunk on the anticipation.

As they boarded the plane, she felt a sense of excitement that she hadn't felt in a long time. This was it, the start of her secret life. A life filled with passion, danger, and a love that she knew she could never confess. She was about to embark on a journey that would change her forever, and she couldn't wait to see where it would take her. The flight to the Maldives was long, but the anticipation kept her awake. Every bump of the plane brought her closer to y/n, and she found herself leaning into him, craving his touch. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his breath warm and tantalizing. His words painted a picture of what awaited her when they arrived at the homestay, and she couldn't help but let her imagination run wild.

"When we get there, Tzuyu," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down her spine, "you won't be able to wear a single fabric. You'll be mine, to do with as I please." His hand slid down to her thigh, his fingers tracing the line of her panties, and she couldn't help but gasp at the sudden intrusion. The promise in his eyes was clear: she would be his plaything, his personal sex doll to use and discard at his will. Her heart raced at the thought, a delicious blend of fear and excitement coursing through her veins. She knew she should be scared, that this was wrong on so many levels, but she couldn't help the way her body responded to his touch. She was a moth to his flame, and she knew that she would burn if she got too close, but she couldn't resist the pull.

The homestay was more luxurious than she had ever imagined, a private villa on a secluded island, surrounded by crystal clear waters and lush vegetation. It was a paradise, and she knew that she was about to experience the kind of passion that most people only dreamed of. As they stepped into the villa, he grabbed her hand, pulling her into the bedroom. "Now," he said, his voice low and demanding. "Strip." She knew what was expected of her, and she didn't hesitate. Her clothes fell to the floor in a heap, leaving her naked and vulnerable before him. His eyes devoured her, and she felt a thrill of power knowing that she had this effect on him.

He approached her slowly, his own clothes disappearing piece by piece until he stood before her, his erection proud and thick. "Now let's go sleep first," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. It was clear that his idea of 'sleep' was anything but innocent. Tzuyu felt a thrill at his words, her body responding to his dominance in ways she hadn't thought possible. They climbed into the large, plush bed together, the softness enveloping them like a warm embrace. He pulled her into his arms, her back pressed against his chest as he spooned her, his cock nestling between her thighs. His breath was hot on her neck, and she shivered with anticipation. As they lay there, she felt a strange sense of peace. Despite the guilt and fear that plagued her, she knew that she had made the right choice. This was what she needed, what she craved. The gentle stroking of his fingers along her skin was like a balm to her soul, calming the storm of emotions that raged within her. She closed her eyes, letting herself drift off to sleep in the safety of his arms.

When she awoke, it was to the sound of waves crashing against the shore outside their window. The room was bathed in soft, early morning light, and y/n's arms were still tight around her, his body spooning hers. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, and she knew that he was already awake, waiting for her. Slowly, she rolled over to face him, his eyes opening to meet hers. They were filled with a gentle, almost tender expression that she had never seen before. He leaned in, his breath warm against her face, and kissed her softly. "Are you happy, Tzuyu?" he asked, his voice low and thick with sleep. The question hung in the air, and she felt a lump form in her throat. How could she answer that? Was she happy? She had a husband who loved her, a beautiful home, and a life that was the envy of many. Yet, here she was, in a foreign country, in the arms of a man who was not her husband, feeling more alive than she had in years. She looked into his eyes, searching for a hint of what he was truly feeling. The tenderness in his gaze was unmistakable, and she knew that he cared for her. But was it enough? Was this fleeting passion worth the risk of losing everything she had built with her husband? "I... I don't know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I know that when I'm with you, I feel alive."

Y/n's smile grew, and he kissed her again, deeper this time. His hands roamed over her body, reawakening the desires that had kept her up half the night. "Good," he murmured against her lips. "Let's enjoy the beach from our terrace," he said, standing up and holding out a hand to help her to her feet. Tzuyu took it, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill through her. She allowed him to lead her to the large, open-air balcony that faced the sea. The view was breathtaking, the sun rising over the water, casting a warm glow over the white sand and the palm trees that swayed gently in the breeze.

He handed her a glass filled with a fruity concoction, the aroma of tropical berries and mint filling her nose. "It's a Maldivian specialty," he said, watching as she took a sip. The drink was cool and refreshing, a perfect balance of sweetness and tartness that made her taste buds tingle. In his other hand, he held a plate piled high with breakfast: fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon, fresh fruits, and a dollop of cream. "Thank you," Tzuyu said, her voice thick with emotion. The gesture was so simple, yet it felt like a declaration of his affection. They sat at the small table on the balcony, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore acting as a soothing backdrop to their conversation. They talked about everything: their hopes, their fears, their secrets. The air between them was charged with the electricity of their shared confessions, and she found herself opening up to him in ways she never had with her husband.

"When we arrived, you told me to always be naked," she said, looking down at her plate, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. "Until now, you didn't tease me. What do you actually plan?" Y/n's eyes twinkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair. "Oh, I plan to enjoy every moment with you, Tzuyu," he said, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. "But I want us to savor this time together. To remember it for the rest of our lives." He took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of his cup. "Life is not just about sex, as amazing as it is. It's about the connections we make, the experiences we share."

Her heart fluttered at his words. She had never heard anyone speak to her with such tenderness, such raw emotion. It was as if he saw right through her, into the very core of her soul. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice a whisper. He placed his hand over hers, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. "I mean that I want to know you, Tzuyu," he said, his eyes searching hers. "Your thoughts, your dreams, what makes you happy, what makes you cry. I want to be the one who brings you pleasure, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally as well." The sincerity in his voice took her by surprise. She had never expected their relationship to evolve into something so profound. Yet, as she looked into his eyes, she could see that he meant every word. She felt a warmth spread through her chest, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time. "I... I want that too," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

They spent the rest of the morning exploring the island, hand in hand. The turquoise waters of the ocean sparkled in the sun, and the gentle breeze played with their hair. They talked and laughed, sharing stories of their pasts and dreams for the future. It was as if the weight of the world had lifted from her shoulders, and she could breathe again. Tzuyu felt free, truly free for the first time in what felt like an eternity. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, they made their way back to the homestay, their stomachs rumbling with hunger. The scent of the sea lingered on their skin, a tantalizing reminder of their adventure. Inside, the room was cool and inviting, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the disheveled bed where their passions had unfolded earlier that morning.

Y/n pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her waist as he leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss that spoke of love and passion intertwined. His mouth moved with purpose, his tongue exploring the depths of hers with a hunger that had only grown with time. The tender way his fingers traced the contours of her face made her heart flutter, a stark contrast to the fiery need that had driven their earlier encounters. Tzuyu's breath hitched as he gently guided her to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. She could see the love and desire swirling within him, and it filled her with a warmth she had never known. His touch was like a balm to her soul, soothing the ache that had been festering since her wedding day. As they lay down, she felt the coolness of the sheets against her skin, a stark reminder of the heat that they had generated together. He took his time, his lips tracing a fiery path down her neck, across her collarbones, and finally reaching the swollen mounds of her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth before switching to the other, making her gasp with pleasure. His hands roamed her body, relearning every curve and dip, as if committing them to memory for the long nights when she wouldn't be by his side.

"Make me feel good, y/n," she begged, her voice a breathy whisper. "Please, suck my pussy until I can't stop squirting." Without a word, he complied, his eyes dark with desire as he positioned himself between her legs. He took a moment to admire her bare pussy, glistening with arousal, before lowering his head and pressing his mouth to her clit. Tzuyu's body arched off the bed as he began to suck and lick, his tongue flicking and swirling in a way that made her vision swim with pleasure. He was relentless, his mouth a vortex of sensation that she couldn't escape from, even if she wanted to.

Her hips began to rock against his face, her movements growing more erratic as the tension built within her. The feeling was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure that grew more intense with every passing moment. She could feel the beginnings of her squirt, the dam threatening to burst, and she knew that when it did, it would be a flood unlike anything she had ever experienced before. The first wave hit her like a surprise summer storm, her pussy gushing wetness into his mouth. He groaned, the vibration of his pleasure sending shockwaves through her body. She looked down at him, his eyes locked onto hers, and she felt a strange sense of power. Her body was responding to him in a way she had never thought possible, and she reveled in it.

As her orgasm subsided, y/n didn't stop. He continued to stroke his cock, the sound of his hand moving up and down his shaft a rhythmic counterpoint to the soft cries of pleasure that escaped her lips. His eyes never left hers, and she felt a strange sense of vulnerability in that moment. He knew her body better than anyone else, and the thought made her pussy clench around his tongue. He pulled away, and she felt the cool air of the room kiss her sensitive flesh. His hand was a blur as he stroked himself, the head of his cock shiny with pre-cum. She watched, mesmerized, as he brought himself closer to the edge, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The sight of his barely contained desire was intoxicating, and she found herself eager for what was to come.

"Do you want it?" he growled, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do you want to feel me inside you again?" Tzuyu nodded, unable to form the words that would express the intensity of her need. She watched as he began to stroke his cock, the motion of his hand a mesmerizing dance that had her pussy pulsing with anticipation. He stood up, his erection bobbing with every step as he approached her. The head of his cock was a deep shade of red, a stark contrast to her pale skin.

Without a word, he leaned in and placed the tip of his cock at her entrance, the precum glistening in the soft light. He pushed in slowly, savoring every inch of her, making sure she felt every part of him. Tzuyu moaned, her body stretching to accommodate his girth. It was as if her pussy had been made for him, a perfect fit that sent sparks of pleasure through her with every movement. Their bodies moved in harmony, a symphony of passion that resonated through the quiet room. Her walls clenched around him, begging for more as he thrust deeper, filling her completely. The sound of their flesh slapping together was a sweet music that only they could hear, a testament to their illicit bond. The scent of their desire filled the air, a heady aroma that made them both drunk with lust.

Tzuyu felt so loved in that moment, the sex was different from what they had experienced before. It was no longer just about the raw, animalistic need to be filled. There was a tenderness in his touch that she hadn't felt previously, a gentle caress that sent shivers down her spine. His kisses were no longer just about claiming her, but about expressing the depth of his feelings. It was as if the walls between them had crumbled, and she could feel the love that had been simmering beneath the surface all along. As they lay on the bed, their bodies entwined, she watched him with a newfound admiration. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign that she felt the same way he did. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, words that seemed to hold the power to heal her soul. The passion grew with every breath they shared, and she felt herself climbing to a peak that she had never reached before. Tzuyu's body arched as y/n's cock slid in and out of her, their movements slow and deliberate. He knew her body like a maestro knew their instrument, playing her to perfection. She felt the pressure building, the familiar feeling of her pussy clenching around his shaft. And then, it happened. The dam broke, and she squirted again, her juices soaking the bed beneath them. The intensity of her orgasm took her by surprise, and she screamed his name into the quiet night.

Y/n felt her pussy contract around him, the warmth of her squirt enveloping him, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He had never felt so connected to someone, so in sync with their desires. As she came down from her climax, her eyes searched his, and he knew that she felt it too. The bond between them was unbreakable, forged in passion and desire. He continued to move inside her, the sound of her squirt mixing with the slap of their skin. With each stroke, Tzuyu felt herself falling deeper into the abyss of pleasure. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was alive, singing with the sweet agony of ecstasy. Her pussy was still spasming, trying to milk every last drop of cum from him, even though he hadn't come yet. The feeling was unlike anything she had ever experienced with her husband, and she couldn't help but crave more of it. Y/n's cock was like a living, breathing entity, a beast that demanded her full attention. Each time he pushed into her, she felt like she was being claimed, owned. His eyes never left hers, and she saw the same hunger reflected in their depths. The connection between them was palpable, a live wire that sizzled and crackled with each touch. Tzuyu's pussy clenched around him, desperate for release. She felt the pressure building, a dam ready to burst. "Again," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her screams. "Make me squirt again." Y/n grinned, feeling the challenge in her words. He knew her body better than she did, and he was eager to push her to new heights of pleasure. He picked up the pace, his cock sliding in and out of her with ease, the squelching sounds of their lovemaking echoing through the quiet room.

Tzuyu's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the familiar sensation building within her. Her body tensed, her muscles tightening as she approached the edge. "Oh god," she moaned, her voice barely audible. "I'm going to squirt again." Y/n's grin grew wider, his strokes becoming more forceful. He could feel her pussy tightening around his cock, the walls contracting in anticipation of her release. He knew she was close, and the thought of her squirting all over him again was driving him wild. He thrust deeper, his own need for release growing with every passing second.

The pressure inside Tzuyu was unbearable, a dam ready to burst. With a guttural cry, she squirted again, her pussy spasming around his cock. The warmth of her juices coated his shaft, sending him spiraling into his own climax. He roared, his hips jerking as he pumped his hot cum into her, filling her to the brim. They both stilled, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, their bodies entwined in a sticky mess of sweat and cum.

Y/n leaned down, kissing her cheeks and forehead with gentle reverence. The tender gesture was a stark contrast to the brutal passion that had just taken place. His kisses were like a balm to her soul, soothing the guilt that had been gnawing at her. He looked into her eyes, and she saw a mix of satisfaction and something else, something deeper, something that made her heart clench in her chest. Tzuyu felt a single tear slip down her cheek. The emotions that were swirling within her were too much to contain. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so...free. His thumb brushed away the tear, his gaze never leaving hers. "What's wrong?" he murmured, his voice filled with concern.

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice shaking with a mix of love and lust. "It's just...you make me feel so much, y/n. More than I ever thought was possible." Her eyes searched his, looking for a hint of what he was feeling. Was it just lust, or was there something more? He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a warm embrace. "You make me feel alive, Tzuyu," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I've never felt this way before." His words echoed through her, filling her with a warmth that seemed to melt away the last of her inhibitions. She leaned into him, her body fitting perfectly against his, as if they had been made for each other. Their breathing grew synchronized, and the sound of the waves outside the window became a lullaby that soothed them into a deep sleep. The room was filled with the sweet scent of their love making, a potent reminder of the passion they had shared. In the quiet, Tzuyu felt safe, protected by the very arms that had brought her such pleasure.

As they lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the lines between reality and dreams began to blur. Her mind drifted to the life she had left behind, the quiet mornings in her garden, and the comforting warmth of her husband's arms. Yet, here she was, nestled against the very man she had been warned about, her neighbor whose intentions were anything but neighborly. Y/n's chest rose and fell rhythmically, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath her ear. His arms were strong and warm, holding her close as if she might slip away at any moment. Tzuyu felt a pang of guilt at the thought of her husband, but it was quickly drowned out by the delicious feeling of y/n's skin against hers, the memory of his cock still pulsing inside her.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the room grew dark, but the heat between them remained a constant presence. "Good morning, beautiful," He murmured into her hair, his voice a gentle rumble that vibrated through her body. The scent of sizzling bacon filled the room, a welcome intrusion on the cocoon of sleep that had wrapped around them. Tzuyu stirred, her eyes slowly opening to see y/n standing in the kitchen, already dressed in a simple white tee and shorts. She watched him move around the kitchen with the grace of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. His muscles flexed and relaxed as he cooked, a silent dance that was as mesmerizing as the passion they had shared just hours before.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice thick with the remnants of sleep. Y/n glanced over his shoulder, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "Morning, beautiful," he replied, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I hope you're hungry. I've made your favorite breakfast."

Tzuyu felt a rush of affection as she sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist. "You take care of me so well," she said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. It was true; y/n had a way of making her feel cherished, even in the simplest of gestures. He had seen to her every need, both in the bedroom and out of it, and it was a stark contrast to the loveless routine she endured back home. As she slid out of bed, her eyes caught the time on the clock. "My husband always busy for his work," she said with a sigh, the weight of her words sinking into the quiet of the room. Her thoughts drifted to her husband, a man who had once been her rock, now a distant figure consumed by his career.

They enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, the sound of their laughter mingling with the clinking of cutlery. The taste of the crispy bacon and the sweetness of the pineapple juice seemed to amplify the joy bubbling within her. Y/n's eyes never left hers, his gaze a silent promise of the passion they had shared and the secrets they now kept together. After they had finished eating, they decided to take advantage of the Maldivian sunshine. They ventured out to the beach, where they set up a makeshift volleyball net with the ease of two people who had done this countless times before. The sand was hot against her skin, but Tzuyu didn't care. Each step she took was lighter than the last, as if the weight of her guilt had been washed away by the salty ocean air. Their games grew increasingly playful, the ball often forgotten as they chased each other around the beach, their laughter echoing across the shoreline. The warmth of the sun kissed her skin, and she felt alive, more alive than she had in years. Y/n's touch was like a brand, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched her, a stark reminder of the intensity of their connection.

As the sun reached its zenith, they retreated to the shade of the palm trees, their bodies sticky with sweat and saltwater. They talked for hours, sharing stories from their past and dreams for their future. For the first time, Tzuyu felt truly seen and understood. His every word was a balm to her soul, soothing the wounds that her marriage had left behind. Their conversation grew quiet as they lay there, the gentle lull of the waves providing the perfect backdrop for their shared silence. Tzuyu felt a warm hand slip into hers, and she looked up to find y/n's eyes on her, filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache. The rest of the day was a blur of laughter and exploration, their connection growing stronger with every shared smile and touch. They swam in the crystal-clear waters, the fish darting around them like living jewels, and Tzuyu felt a sense of freedom she had long ago forgotten.

As the sun began to set, casting the sky in a symphony of pinks and oranges, they returned to their homestay, their bodies exhausted but their spirits soaring. They showered together, the water cascading over their entwined forms as they washed away the remnants of the day's adventures. Their night was spent in each other's arms, their bodies moving in a dance as old as time. The guilt had receded to the back of her mind, replaced by the all-consuming need for his touch. His cock filled her once again, stretching her to the limits of pleasure and pain, making her squirt uncontrollably. Each thrust was a declaration of his ownership, and she reveled in it, her cries of ecstasy a testament to their shared passion.

Their bodies finally stilled, their hearts pounding in unison. Tzuyu looked into y/n's eyes and knew she was lost to him, body and soul. Her marriage was a fading memory, replaced by the vibrant reality of their affair. As they lay there, basking in the afterglow, she knew she had made her choice. The question now was how she would face the consequences when she returned home. But for now, all that mattered was the warmth of his embrace, the sound of his heartbeat, and the feeling of his seed still warm inside her. Their days in the Maldives were numbered, but their bond was unbreakable, forged in the heat of passion and tempered by the salty sea air. As they drifted off to sleep, she whispered the words she had been too scared to say aloud. "I love you, y/n." His reply was a gentle kiss on her forehead. "And I love you, Tzuyu." It was a simple declaration, but it held the weight of the world. They had crossed the point of no return, and she knew that she would never be the same again. The quiet night outside their window held the promise of tomorrow, and all the secrets it would bring. They decided to watch a movie, a romantic film that mirrored the tumultuous emotions swirling within them. As the plot unfolded, their eyes remained locked, the unspoken understanding between them speaking louder than any words on the screen. His arm was around her, her head resting on his chest, and she could feel the steady thump of his heart. It was a comforting rhythm that seemed to sync with her own erratic beat. The movie's soundtrack swelled, and Tzuyu felt the warmth of his breath against her ear as he whispered sweet nothings, his voice a gentle caress that sent shivers down her spine. She was lost in the moment, her hand playing idly with the soft hairs on his chest as she listened to the soothing lilt of his voice. It was a stark contrast to the silence she had grown accustomed to in her own home, and she found herself craving more of it. As the credits rolled, the room was bathed in the soft glow of the TV, casting flickering shadows across their entwined bodies. Without a word, y/n turned off the screen, and the darkness wrapped around them like a velvet blanket. She could hear the gentle crash of the waves outside, a lullaby that sang of passion and freedom.

Tzuyu shifted in his arms, her head resting on his bare chest. His heartbeat was steady and strong, a comforting rhythm that seemed to sync with the ebb and flow of the ocean. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down on her eyelids. Her body was sated, her mind a whirlwind of emotions that she didn't dare untangle just yet. With a gentle sigh, y/n lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as if they belonged there. He carried her through the villa, their steps silent on the cool marble floor. The moon cast a soft glow through the windows, painting the room in a palette of blues and grays. The air was thick with the scent of their lovemaking, a heady mix of sweat and desire that clung to their skin like a second skin. He laid her down on the bed with the same care that he had shown in her garden, his movements smooth and precise. She curled into him, her body fitting against his like a perfect puzzle piece. His arms wrapped around her, cradling her to his chest as if she was the most precious thing in the world. For a moment, she felt like she could stay in this cocoon forever, protected from the storm that was brewing outside.

The next few days were a blur of passion, laughter, and stolen moments. They explored the island with a hunger that went beyond the scenic beauty that surrounded them. Each glance, each touch, was a silent promise of the nights to come. Y/n treated her like a queen, ensuring she was pampered from dawn to dusk. He took her to the best restaurants, where they feasted on exotic foods that danced on her tongue, and he whispered sweet nothings that made her heart flutter like a caged bird.

In the afternoons, they would retreat to the villa, where the air was charged with a tension that could only be relieved by the fiery kisses and desperate embraces that led them back to the bedroom. He would take his time with her, exploring every inch of her body as if it was the first time, making her squirt with every stroke of his tongue and every thrust of his cock. Her screams of pleasure echoed through the walls, a siren's call that seemed to beckon the very ocean to their doorstep.

And when the nights fell, they would make love with a fervor that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Each orgasm was a declaration of their love, a secret shared only between them. He whispered sweet promises into her ear, and she clung to him as if he was her lifeline, her only source of oxygen in the vast sea of her own desires. The vacation was not just about fun and lust; it was about finding a part of herself that she had buried deep within, a part that only y/n had the power to unleash.

But with each day that passed, the shadow of their impending separation grew longer. The laughter grew a little less genuine, the kisses a little more desperate. They both knew that the end was approaching, and yet, neither of them dared to speak of it. Instead, they filled their days with a passion that was as intense as it was bittersweet, trying to memorize every moment, every sensation, as if it could somehow preserve the magic of their time together.

On their last night, they stood on the balcony, holding each other tightly as the waves crashed against the shore. The moon was a silver sliver in the sky, casting a gossamer veil over the world below. He whispered her name, and she knew that she had to tell him how she felt. The words tumbled from her lips, a confession that had been building for days. "I love you, y/n," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. He pulled her closer, his heart pounding in his chest. He had hoped, prayed even, that she felt the same way he did. But hearing her say it was like being struck by lightning. "Tzuyu," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I love you too."

They kissed, their bodies pressed together as if they could somehow merge into one. The wind whipped around them, carrying their whispers out to the sea, a silent testament to the love that had bloomed in the most unlikely of places. The night was theirs, a stolen treasure that they would hold onto for as long as they could. The bedroom was a sanctuary, their final bastion of passion before the cold reality of their lives would come crashing down on them. They made love, their bodies moving in a dance that was as old as time itself. Each thrust was a declaration of war against the world that sought to tear them apart, each kiss a silent promise to find a way to make it work.

But as the dawn approached, the inevitable truth dawned on them. This was not a fairy tale where they could live happily ever after. They were two people from different worlds, bound by a love that was as fierce as it was forbidden. With heavy hearts, they dressed in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The plane ride home was a stark reminder of the life that awaited her. The empty seat beside her was a gaping hole, a painful reminder of the man she had left behind. She knew she had to return to her husband, to her garden, and to the quiet life she had built for herself. But she also knew that she could never be the same.

The taste of y/n's kisses lingered on her lips, a sweet agony that she both cherished and despised. The vacation had been a gift, the best she had ever received, but it had also unleashed a beast within her that she could no longer ignore. Each day was a whirlwind of sensual delights, a buffet of carnality that she feasted on greedily. They had explored every corner of the island, every hidden cove and sandy beach, making love under the shade of palm trees and in the warm embrace of the tropical sun.

Yet, amidst the fun and lust, y/n had been more than just a lover; he had been a caretaker, anticipating her every need. He had pampered her, spoiled her, showered her with affection that she had longed for in her loveless marriage. He had taken her to the heights of pleasure, whispering sweet nothings that had her toes curling and her pussy gushing. He had treated her like a queen, and she had reveled in the attention, letting herself be swept away by the current of his passion.

The final night in the Maldives was a crescendo of their love. They made love with an intensity that was almost violent, as if trying to imprint every sensation into their very souls. The bed was a battlefield, their cries of pleasure piercing the quiet night. His touch was a brand, searing into her flesh the memory of his love. And when the final orgasm had left her trembling and spent, she knew that she could never go back to the way things were before.

The next morning, as they packed their bags, the weight of their impending separation was palpable. They had shared two week of unbridled passion, but now they had to face the cold, hard truth. They were not teenagers with endless summers ahead of them; they were adults with responsibilities, with lives that didn't include each other. The air was thick with unspoken words, a fog that clouded her vision and made her heart ache. He looked up from his suitcase and met her gaze, his eyes filled with a desperation that mirrored her own. "Can you be mine, Tzuyu?" he asked, his voice raw with emotion. The words hung in the air, a question that held the power to shatter the fragile world they had built together. She swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears. She wanted to say yes, to scream it from the rooftops and let the world know that she belonged to him.

But she knew she couldn't. She had a husband, a life that didn't include y/n. A life that was safe, predictable, and utterly devoid of the passion that had come to define her existence in the last two weeks. She felt torn in two, her heart a battleground for love and duty. "I don't know, y/n," she said softly, her voice trembling with the weight of her words. "I'm married. I can't just leave him." His eyes searched hers, desperation and hurt fighting for dominance. "But you said you loved me," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You said I was the best you've ever had." Tzuyu felt the truth of his words like a knife to her heart. She had said those things, and she had meant them in the throes of passion. But love was not just about passion; it was about a lifetime of shared moments, commitments, and trust. "I do love you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I also love my husband, and I don't know how to tell him that I want a divorce."

Y/n's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering in his gaze. "How about we fuck in front of your husband?" he said, his tone cold and calculating. "Let him see what he's been missing out on." Tzuyu felt the blood drain from her face at the mere suggestion. "What are you talking about?" she stammered, her heart racing. "That's insane." Y/n shrugged, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "It's just an idea," he said, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and lust. "But think about it. He'd see how much you truly crave me, how much pleasure I give you."

Tzuyu's mind raced with the implications of his words. The thought of her husband watching as y/n claimed her body was both terrifying and arousing. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn't be feeling this way, but she couldn't shake off the temptation that whispered sweet nothings into her ear. "I don't know if I agree," she said, her voice shaking.

"Why not?" he demanded, his grip on her wrist tightening. "You said you love me. You said you want me to fuck you every day. What's the difference if he watches?" Tzuyu's heart hammered in her chest. "I...I need time to think," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought of her husband seeing her with y/n, of the pain it would cause him, was too much to bear.

Y/n's smile faded, replaced by a look of cold calculation. He released her wrist and took a step back. "Fine," he said, his voice clipped. "But don't take too long. I won't wait forever."

The tension in the room was palpable as they both dressed in silence. The magic of the Maldives had been shattered by the harsh light of reality. Tzuyu felt a deep sadness in her heart, knowing that their perfect bubble of passion was about to pop. They had to face the truth of their situation: two people in love, trapped in separate lives. They made their way to the airport, the weight of their secret hanging heavy in the air between them. The ride was tense, filled with unspoken words and furtive glances. The tropical paradise outside the window was a stark contrast to the turmoil in the car. Tzuyu's mind was a whirlwind of emotions, torn between the love she had just discovered and the life she was returning to.

At the airport, they checked in for their flights, the mundane process feeling like a slap in the face. They found a quiet corner away from prying eyes, and Tzuyu reached for y/n's hand, lacing her fingers through his. He looked down at her, his expression a mix of love and desperation.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't know how to do this." He squeezed her hand tightly, his gaze intense. "Just think what I planned before, it's the only way." His voice was firm, a declaration of his resolve to claim her fully. Tzuyu felt a shiver run down her spine at his words. She knew the depth of his jealousy, the possessiveness that had grown within him during their time together. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to agree to such an extreme act. The thought of her husband watching, of the humiliation and pain it would cause, was too much to bear. But she also knew that y/n's love was like a tempest, unyielding and all-consuming. Her husband's arrival at the airport was a blur of smiles and hugs. She forced herself to play the role of the loving wife, while her heart was a tumult of passion and guilt. Y/n's gaze never left them, his eyes dark with unspoken anger and desire. She could feel his longing, his need for her to be his alone. As she walked away with her husband, she looked back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting y/n's. He mouthed the words "I'll be waiting." The car ride home was awkward, her mind racing with thoughts of the man she was leaving behind. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, that y/n's eyes were following her every move, even though he was miles away. Her husband noticed her distant behavior and attributed it to jet lag and the emotional strain of their vacation.

"Why are all your clothes clean?" he asked as they unpacked their suitcases in the bedroom, a hint of confusion in his tone. Tzuyu's heart skipped a beat. She had been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't realized she had brought back her dirty clothes from the Maldives. "Oh, I did a bit of laundry while you were away," she replied with a casual shrug, hoping her lie wasn't too transparent. The truth was she hadn't worn anything other than y/n's cum-stained clothes for the entire duration of their vacation. Each piece was a silent testament to their passionate encounters, and she had wanted to keep them close, a secret shrine to their love. But she couldn't risk her husband discovering her infidelity.

The days that followed were a blur of mundane routines and stolen glances at her phone, hoping for a message from y/n. She found herself replaying their moments in the Maldives, the way his hands had touched her, the sound of his moans in her ear, the feel of his warm cum filling her up. Her body ached for him, a craving that no amount of self-pleasure could satisfy. Her thoughts were consumed by the idea of y/n, his dominance, his love, and the intensity of their bond. Her husband noticed her distant gaze and the lack of enthusiasm in her voice when they talked. He attributed it to the post-vacation blues, not realizing that her heart was elsewhere, entangled in a web of guilt and desire for a man who wasn't him. Tzuyu forced a smile, going through the motions of a happy marriage, all the while feeling the emptiness of her bed, the coldness of the sheets that hadn't felt y/n's warmth in days.

Each night, she lay beside her husband, her body tense and unyielding. She tried to ignore the whispers of y/n's name that danced in her head, the memories of his touch that made her skin crawl with need. But the silence between them was a stark reminder of the passion she had left behind. She missed the way he had made her feel alive, the way he had claimed her, heart and soul. And as she stared into the darkness, she wondered if she could ever truly go back to the life she had before y/n. Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of her phone on the nightstand. She reached for it with trembling hands, her heart racing at the sight of his name. **"U have three days left,"** the message read, **"If you don't give me an answer, I will leave you."** She read the words over and over, the ultimatum sinking in like a dagger to her heart. She knew she had to make a choice, one that would change the course of her life forever.

For two agonizing days, she walked around in a daze, her mind consumed by the images of their shared passion and the fear of losing the love she had found in his arms. She felt like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to resist the allure of his dominance, his touch, his love. The guilt of her actions sat like a heavy stone in her stomach, but the thought of never feeling his warmth again was unbearable. The final day came, and with it, a strange sense of clarity. She knew she couldn't keep living a lie, torn between her duty and her desires. With trembling fingers, she typed out her response. **"Okay,"** she sent back, her heart pounding in her chest. **"I will do it."** It was a decision that would shake the very foundations of her world, a declaration of her willingness to embrace the forbidden.

The anticipation grew with each passing hour, her body thrumming with a mix of excitement and dread. She knew what was coming, the ultimate test of her love for y/n and her commitment to their illicit bond. The night of the dinner party loomed over her like a dark cloud, but she couldn't bring herself to back out. Her fate was sealed; she had accepted his plan.

With trembling fingers, Tzuyu sent the message: **"How is the plan?"** She watched the screen, waiting for his response with bated breath. **"Good, I've been waiting for this,"** y/n replied with a smug smile. **"When he leaves for work, send him a message."**

The next day, Tzuyu waited anxiously for the right moment. As her husband packed his briefcase, she took a deep breath and typed out the message. **"Come home right now, there's a mysterious guy outside, i'm getting scared."** She sent it and waited for his response, her heart pounding in her chest. The seconds ticked by like hours, and when she finally heard the notification, she couldn't bring herself to look.

**"Who is this?"** Her husband's reply was swift and filled with confusion. She had never played games like this before, and the risk was palpable. **"It's me,"** she replied, her voice quivering. **"Just come back. I need you."** She watched the screen, willing him to read the urgency in her words. As the time for his return approached, she felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. Her hand shook as she unlocked the door, her body tense with anticipation. Y/n had instructed her to wear something that would drive him wild, so she had chosen a sheer negligee that barely contained her curves. When she heard the sound of his key in the lock, she took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, her heart racing.

The moment he stepped inside, y/n was on her, his kisses rough and demanding. He pushed her against the wall, his hands roaming her body as if claiming her once more. She gasped into his mouth, the fabric of her lingerie doing little to protect her from the heat of his touch. His hands found her breasts, squeezing them with a ferocity that made her moan, her nipples hardening under his palms. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. "You're mine," he murmured, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "I own every inch of you, Tzuyu. You know it, and now everyone will know it." Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of doubt or regret, but all she found was a fiery determination that mirrored her own. She nodded, her heart racing. "I sent the message," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "He'll be here soon."

With a smirk, y/n scooped her up in his arms, the strength of his embrace leaving her feeling both protected and vulnerable. He carried her to her bedroom, the same room where she had shared countless passionless nights with her husband. The difference was stark, like stepping from a black-and-white photograph into a world of vibrant color. He placed her gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt a strange sense of belonging. He began to tear at the fabric of her negligee, his movements swift and sure, as if he had done this a hundred times before. The sound of the delicate material ripping apart sent a thrill through her, the anticipation of what was to come making her wetter than she ever thought possible. He revealed her breasts with a flourish, the nipples already erect and begging for his touch. His eyes grew dark with lust, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of power knowing she was the one who had brought that look to his face.

With a low growl, he leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste her. He started licking her body like an animal searching for food, his hot wetness leaving a trail of fire wherever it touched. His tongue danced across her skin, exploring every inch of her with a feral hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating. He licked her neck, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, and the sensitive skin of her stomach, his movements growing more urgent with every pass. Tzuyu's body arched off the bed.

"Oh god," she gasped, her hands fisting in the sheets. "Please, y/n, I can't take it anymore."

He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming with victory. "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice a dark promise.

Tzuyu could feel the tension coiling tighter within her, her body a tightly wound spring about to snap. She nodded, unable to form coherent words, as the waves of pleasure grew stronger with every touch of his tongue. Y/n took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking hard while his hand found its way to her pussy. His fingers slid inside her with ease, the wetness of her arousal coating them instantly. He began to pump her, his thumb circling her clit with a rhythm that made her vision blur.

Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, and she screamed out his name, the word echoing through the room. Her pussy clamped down on his fingers, releasing a torrent of juice that soaked the bed. She thrashed against the sheets, her body a wild canvas of passion and desire. The intensity of her climax took her by surprise, and she could feel her cheeks flush with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment.

Y/n pulled away from her breasts, his eyes locked on hers as he slowly slid his fingers out of her. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, licking the juices from her skin with a wicked grin. "You taste so sweet," he murmured before kissing her deeply, sharing the taste of her pleasure with her.

Her heart was racing in her chest, a wild drumbeat that seemed to echo the pounding of the waves outside their beachside villa. She knew what he wanted, what she had been craving since they had returned from the Maldives. The time for secrets was over; the time to face the consequences of their desires had arrived.

"Now is the time to fucked u," he growled, his voice thick with need. He didn't wait for a response, instead.

He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist, arms tightly around his neck. Her heart raced as he carried her to the balcony, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she clung to him. She felt like a wild creature being claimed by its mate, the thrill of the forbidden mixing with the fear of being caught.

With one swift motion, he bent her over the railing, the wood biting into her skin. The world below was a blur of lights and shadows, a stark contrast to the intense intimacy of their union. His cock slammed into her, filling her up as the waves crashed against the shore, the rhythm of their passion mirroring the fury of the sea. The sound of their skin slapping together echoed through the quiet night, a secret symphony for their ears only.

Right now, he fucked tzuyu in flying squirrel position in front of the door of her bedroom,it makes tzuyu leg spread wide while his cock keep slamming into her g spot.

The world around them disappeared as they became one, lost in the throes of passion. Tzuyu could feel the eyes of the night on them, a silent audience to their clandestine dance. Yet, she didn't care. All that mattered was the feeling of he's cock inside her, the way he filled her up, the way he made her feel alive.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her mouth formed a silent "O" as he hit her g-spot with unerring precision. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through her body, making her quiver and moan. Her breasts bounced with every impact, and she knew that the sight of her exposed to the elements would only add to his excitement.

And then she heard it. The sound of the door opening, the soft murmur of voices. Her heart skipped a beat, and she pushed against him, trying to get away from the railing. "Y/n, my husband," she whispered frantically, her eyes wide open.

Y/n's grip tightened around her waist, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Let him see," he breathed into her ear, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Let him know what a whore you are for me."

The sound of her husband's footsteps grew louder as he ascended the stairs, oblivious to the betrayal unfolding in the open. Tzuyu felt a mix of fear and excitement, the danger of discovery making her pulse race even faster.

The bedroom door swung open with a creak that seemed to echo through the house. Her husband's eyes widened in shock and disbelief, taking in the scene before him: Tzuyu's naked body bent over the railing, y/n's muscular frame pounding into her from behind. The sight of her eyes rolled back in ecstasy, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure, and the unmistakable gush of her squirt painting the floorboards was too much for him to comprehend.

Y/n didn't miss a beat, his rhythm never faltering as he continued to claim Tzuyu's pussy with fierce determination. He smirked at the shock on her husband's face, savoring the moment of victory. " she was a slut for my cock," he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and ragged. "did you know she squirts like a fountain when she's really turned on?"

Her husband's face was a mask of rage and betrayal, his fists clenching at his sides. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, the woman he had vowed to love and cherish being used so roughly by another man. But as Tzuyu's eyes met his, filled with a passion that had been absent from their own lovemaking for so long, a spark of doubt flickered in his gaze.

"What is this, Tzuyu?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

Her husband's words barely registered in the haze of pleasure that clouded her mind. "I just want to show you," she panted, her voice thick with lust, "that I crave for his big cock."

Y/n's grip on her hips tightened as he drove into her deeper, his own pleasure spiking at her blatant disregard for the consequences. He could see the rage in her husband's eyes, the betrayal etched deep, and it fueled his own desire. "Look how this big dick stretches you out," he murmured, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down her spine.

Tzuyu felt the beginnings of another orgasm coil in her belly, her pussy tightening around him. "Yes, y/n," she moaned, the words slipping from her lips like a confession. "I want to squirt again. Please, don't stop."

Her husband's eyes bore into them, but she couldn't look away from y/n's, lost in the depths of her own betrayal and the overwhelming pleasure he gave her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice strained with the effort of speaking through the waves of pleasure. "I've been cheating behind your back."

The silence was deafening, only the sound of their breathing and the slap of skin on skin filling the room. Her husband's expression shifted from shock to anger, his fists clenching at his sides. "You what?" he roared, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I just can't, myself was begging to his cock from the first time we did," Tzuyu repeated, her voice a mix of apology and defiance. She felt the warmth of y/n's semen dripping down her legs, the evidence of her infidelity a stark reminder of the choice she had made. The words hung in the air like a noose around her neck, tightening with every passing second.

Her husband's face crumpled, the weight of her confession too much to bear. He stumbled back, his knees buckling as he sank to the floor. His hand came up to cover his eyes, as if to block out the sight of his wife's betrayal. A single tear traced a path down his cheek, a silent testament to the pain he felt in his heart.

Tzuyu watched him, her own body still trembling from her recent climax. She felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly dwarfed by the fire of lust that burned within her. Y/n's cock was still deep inside her, his hips still moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He speak to tzuyu husband"Did you know that she was with me two weeks in Maldives, with her body always naked and I could fuck her whenever I wanted?" His words were a taunt, a declaration of victory that echoed through the room.

Her husband looked up at them, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What?" he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "Is this true, Tzuyu?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice steady. "It was in the Maldives. He made me feel things I've never felt before." She didn't bother to hide the raw emotion in her voice, the love and desire she had for y/n shining through like a beacon.

Her husband's eyes flicked to y/n, his face a mask of fury and pain. "You're a monster," he spat, his hand clenching into a fist. "How could you do this to me?"

"It wasn't just me," y/n said, his voice cold and unapologetic. "It was both of us. She wanted it just as much as I did."

Tzuyu felt his cock pulse inside her with each word, a silent declaration of his claim on her body and soul. She watched her husband's face contort with rage, his eyes flickering between her and y/n, unable to believe the man he had trusted could do this to him.

"Tzuyu, tell him," y/n demanded, his voice thick with his own release. "Tell him how I made you squirt for the first time. Tell him how good I made you feel."

Her eyes flicked to her husband's face, the anger in his eyes a stark contrast to the passion that had just claimed her body. She took a deep breath, the words sticking in her throat. "It's true," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "Y/n was the one who made me squirt for the first time."

"How many times i made u squirt and how many times i came inside your womb ?" Y/n ask tzuyu.

Tzuyu felt the weight of his question, the reality of their transgressions pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. "Too many times," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears "maybe thousand or hundred times.".

Her husband's fists clenched at his sides, his eyes dark with betrayal. "Is that all you want from me?" he spat. "To be used like some kind of... some kind of whore?"

Y/n's grip tightened around her, his hips grinding into her. "Tell him," he murmured again, his voice a seductive whisper in her ear. "Tell him you want me, that you need me."

Tzuyu's chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I do," she admitted, the words tearing from her like a confession. "I want to marry you, y/n. I want to have your children."

The room was silent, the only sound the heavy thud of her husband's heart beating against the wall of his chest. Y/n's eyes gleamed with victory, his cock still buried deep within her, her pussy clenching around him in silent agreement.

"You can't be serious," her husband choked out, his voice thick with pain.

Tzuyu looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination. "I am," she said softly. "I've never felt this way with you." The words were like a knife, twisting in the wound that had been festering for years.

Her husband's face crumpled, the realization of her betrayal and the depth of her feelings for y/n too much to bear. He pulled away from her, his hand slipping from her cheek. "I'll leave you two," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

He turned, his eyes avoiding the sight of his wife's nakedness, and walked out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Tzuyu and y/n in a heavy silence that was as thick as the scent of their mingled arousal. Tzuyu felt a tear slip down her cheek as she watched her husband's retreating back, the man she had once loved so fiercely now just a shadow of the life she once knew.

Y/n pulled out of her, his cock still hard and slick with her juices. He reached out, his hand tenderly cupping her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "We'll be together now."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she nodded, unable to form coherent thoughts. Her body was a live wire, still humming with the aftershocks of her orgasms. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so utterly consumed by someone else's touch. Her marriage felt like a distant memory, a fading photograph that no longer held any significance in the vivid tapestry of her life.

Her husband's footsteps grew fainter as he retreated into the other room, the sound of his pain a stark reminder of the chaos she had just unleashed. But even as the guilt began to creep in, she couldn't deny the pull of y/n's embrace. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss that seemed to promise a future filled with passion and excitement. And she kissed him back, her body responding instinctively, as if it had always been meant for him.

As their kiss deepened, y/n's hand slid down her body, his fingers finding her still-sensitive clit. He began to stroke her again, his movements slow and deliberate, and she moaned into his mouth, her legs parting of their own accord. She didn't care if her husband heard them, didn't care if the entire neighborhood knew. All that mattered was the feel of y/n inside her, the way he made her squirt with every thrust, filling her up with his hot cum.

Their lovemaking was a symphony of desire, each movement in perfect harmony with the other. He took her again and again, their bodies a testament to the power of their connection. She felt him swell inside her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. "Don't stop," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "Make me come again."

He complied, his strokes growing faster, his breath hot against her neck. She could feel her orgasm building, the pressure in her core growing tighter and tighter until she could hold it no longer. She screamed out his name, her body shaking with the force of her release. He followed her over the edge, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his seed. They clung to each other, their hearts beating as one, their bodies slick with sweat.

When the waves of pleasure finally receded, they lay there, their breathing ragged and their hearts still pounding. Tzuyu knew that she had made a choice, a choice that would change her life forever. She looked up at y/n, her eyes filled with love and regret. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze intense. "We do what we should have done from the start," he said, his voice a mix of passion and determination. "I want to claim every part of this house, to erase the stain of your husband's touch from your life." He kissed her again, his tongue exploring the depths of her mouth as if he could taste her soul.

They moved through the house, their bodies entwined, leaving a trail of passion in their wake. Every room held a memory of a mundane moment from her married life, and every time y/n fucked her in a new place, it felt like a declaration of war against the stagnation she had suffered. They were a whirlwind of desire, a force of nature that could not be contained.

In the living room, y/n bent her over the couch, his cock sliding into her from behind as she gripped the cushions. The sound of their flesh slapping together echoed through the space, a stark contrast to the quiet evenings she had spent watching TV with her husband. In the bedroom, she straddled him, her walls clenching around him as if trying to keep him with her forever. Each thrust was a silent promise that she would never again belong to anyone else.

And when they reached the final room, the office where her husband had spent so many nights ignoring her, y/n picked her up and placed her on the desk, her legs spread wide. He took her with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, and with each stroke, she felt herself breaking free from the chains of her old life. The room was filled with the scent of sex and sweat, a potent mix that intoxicated them both.

As they reached their climax, y/n pulled out and painted her stomach and breasts with his cum, marking her as his. He then took out his phone, capturing the moment forever. The image of her, her pussy still spasming with the aftershocks of pleasure and his seed leaking out of her, was like a trophy of their conquest. Her face was a canvas of ecstasy, her eyes glazed over and her lips swollen from his kisses. She watched him through the reflection in the window, the moonlight casting a glow on their intertwined bodies.

"Send that photo to ur husband to make him envy," he whispered into her ear, his voice a dark caress that sent another shiver down her spine. The idea was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure, but she knew that it was a declaration of war, a declaration that she belonged to him now. Her hand trembled as she took the phone, her thumb hovering over the send button. The weight of the decision was like a boulder on her chest, but she knew she had to do it.

With a deep breath, she send out the photo with caption: "U never make me like this, only y/n can. That's why I choose him." She hit send, and the message disappeared into the digital ether, the final nail in the coffin of her marriage. The silence in the room was deafening as they both waited for a response, the only sound their ragged breaths and the distant wail of a siren outside.

The tension was palpable, but then, y/n leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Let's see what he says," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and malice. Tzuyu couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation bubbling up inside her. The sound was a strange mix of relief and hysteria, a release of all the pent-up emotion from the past few days.

The response was almost immediate. Her husband's furious message filled the screen, a torrent of anger and betrayal that only served to reinforce her decision. She read the words with a detached calm, knowing that she had chosen her path. The photo had been a declaration of her newfound freedom, a declaration of her love for the man who had taught her the true meaning of passion and desire.

Tzuyu looked up from her phone to find y/n watching her, his expression a mix of excitement and concern. She met his gaze, and in that moment, she knew that she had made the right choice. He was her future, the man who had brought color to her once-monochrome life. The man who had made her squirt like a teenager and brought her to heights of pleasure she had never before known.

With a shaky smile, she turned to him, her heart racing with anticipation. "It's done," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thunderous pounding in her chest. "I've sent it."

Y/n's eyes lit up with triumph, and he pulled her into a fierce embrace. "You're mine," he murmured against her ear, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill down her spine. "Mine to fuck, mine to love, mine to marry."

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. The divorce was swift and brutal, a battle of wills that Tzuyu emerged from with the victory she had sought. Her husband's disbelief and rage only fueled her resolve, and she walked away from the ashes of their marriage with her head held high, her heart filled with the promise of a life with y/n.

Their wedding was a small affair, an intimate gathering of those who truly mattered. As she exchanged vows with the man who had claimed her so thoroughly, she felt a sense of belonging that she had never known before. His hand in hers was a promise of forever, a promise she eagerly accepted.

Their honeymoon suite was a sanctuary of love, a place where y/n could continue to worship her body in every way imaginable. The walls echoed with her cries of pleasure, her pussy squirting in response to his relentless lovemaking. Every thrust of his cock was a declaration of his love, and she reveled in the feeling of being filled by him, over and over again.

In those passionate moments, time seemed to stand still. His love was an intoxicating force that consumed her, leaving her breathless and begging for more. Her body was his playground, and he explored it with a hunger that never ceased. Each orgasm was a testament to their connection, a shared secret that bound them closer than any vow could ever do.

Yet, amidst the passion, Tzuyu was acutely aware of the world outside their bubble. She knew that their love was not universally accepted, that there would be whispers and judgments. But as she felt his cum fill her once again, she also knew that she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the love they shared, the love that had set her free from the shackles of her old life.

Their love was a storm, wild and untamed, and it raged on unabated. Each day brought new heights of ecstasy, each night a symphony of moans and whispers of love. They were lost in a sea of passion that neither wanted to navigate out of. And as Tzuyu lay there, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure, she whispered the words she had been longing to say. "I want your baby," she said, her eyes shining with hope.

Y/n's smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, a smile that spoke of joy and love and a future filled with the sweet chaos of a family. He leaned in to kiss her, his cock still nestled inside her, and she knew that she had made the right choice.

Their love grew with each passing day, and soon, her belly grew too. The thought of carrying his child was a miracle she had never dared to dream of. Yet, as her stomach swelled with new life, she felt a sense of peace that surpassed all understanding.

But with the joy came the fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the judgmental eyes of the world, fear of the future. Yet, every time she looked into y/n's eyes, she found strength. His love was a bastion she could always retreat to, a force that could vanquish any doubt or insecurity.

Tzuyu had never felt more alive, more loved, more cherished. Her life was no longer a series of mundane routines but a tapestry of passion and excitement, woven together by the threads of their love. And as she watched him sleep, his hand resting gently on her rounded belly, she knew that she would face whatever the future held with the same fierce determination that had brought them to this moment.

For she was not just a woman in love; she was a woman transformed, a woman who had found her true self in the arms of the man who had claimed her heart and her body, forever.

Years passed, and with each season, Tzuyu felt y/n's love for her deepen. His cock had become a symbol of their union, a beacon of pleasure that pierced through the darkness of doubt and uncertainty. He gave her his essence, his very life force, with every creampie, filling her womb with the hope of new life. Yet, as the months grew into years, the absence of a child grew heavier, a question mark hanging over their love nest. Despite the relentless passion, the fertility tests remained negative, the doctors puzzled.

Tzuyu's mind swirled with questions, each more troubling than the last. Had she waited too long? Was there something wrong with her? Yet, y/n's love remained unwavering, his desire for her as potent as ever. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, promising her the world, and she believed him, for she had seen him move mountains with his love. His semen was a sacred elixir, a gift that she craved and revered, and she took it gratefully, her pussy swelling with each injection of his love.

Their lovemaking had become a ritual, a dance of desire and need that transcended the physical realm. He would fuck her until she was nothing but a trembling mess of pleasure, her pussy gushing with the evidence of her love for him. And then, he would fill her, his cock pulsing with life, his semen spilling into her with a warmth that seemed to reach the very core of her soul. Afterwards, they would lay entwined, her body a canvas for his adoration, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

But the whispers grew louder with time, the shadows of doubt creeping in. Why wasn't she pregnant? Was it the universe's cruel joke, to give them so much pleasure yet deny them the fruit of their love?.

After five long years, the miracle they had both been praying for finally happened. Tzuyu's belly swelled with life, a testament to their unyielding passion and love. When y/n heard the news, he was over the moon, his eyes shining with a joy that could outshine the stars. He took her in his arms, his cock already hardening at the thought of what they had created together.

He showered her with love and attention, preparing her favorite meals and rubbing her swollen belly with gentle strokes that never failed to elicit a contented sigh from her. He whispered sweet promises to the little life growing inside her, pledging to protect and cherish it as he did its mother. Every creampie now had a purpose, a sacred offering to the child that would soon be a part of them.

Their love grew even more intense with each passing day, the bond between them tightening like a coil about to spring. Y/n took her to the finest doctors, ensuring that she and the baby would receive the best care. He painted the nursery in soft pastels, filling it with plush toys and tiny clothes that made Tzuyu's heart swell with joy. The anticipation of their child's arrival was a constant presence, a drumbeat that grew louder with each passing week.

But the fear remained, a snake coiled around her heart. What if something went wrong? What if she lost the baby? She clung to y/n, drawing strength from his unwavering belief in her, in them. And with each squirt of his love, she felt a surge of power, a reminder that she was not alone in this.

Their love was a force to be reckoned with, a tempest that had weathered the storms of doubt and despair. And as she felt the first flutters of life within her, she knew that together, they could conquer any challenge that lay ahead. The future was uncertain, but in the arms of her lover, with the promise of a new life growing within her, Tzuyu felt ready to face it all.

Y/n was her rock, her anchor in the tumultuous sea of change that washed over her. He anticipated her every need, his gentle touch and soothing words a balm to her frazzled nerves. He knew her body was changing, knew the fears that haunted her dreams. He was there with her, every step of the way, whispering reassurances into her ear as he cradled her swollen belly. His eyes shone with a fierce protectiveness that made her feel like the most cherished creature on earth.

He pampered her, making her favorite meals with a care that bordered on the obsessive. He knew her cravings, her mood swings, and her ever-changing body like the back of his hand. He massaged her sore feet, her swollen ankles, and the small of her back, where the weight of their unborn child rested heavily. He talked to the baby, his deep voice a gentle rumble that made Tzuyu's heart melt. His love was boundless, and she felt it in every stroke, every kiss, every tender caress.

But even as they basked in the glow of their love, the whispers grew louder, the shadows stretching further. Her mind was a maelstrom of what-ifs and fears, her thoughts racing faster than the galloping heartbeat of their child. What if she wasn't enough? What if she failed as a mother? Y/n could see the turmoil in her eyes, the doubt that gnawed at her from within. He took her in his arms, his grip firm yet gentle, and whispered the words that had become their mantra. "We're in this together." And she believed him, because she had no choice but to.

The days grew longer, the nights shorter, and still, y/n was by her side. He held her hand through every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, his face a mirror of her own excitement and fear. His cock was a symbol of their unity, a bridge that connected them to the life they had created. Whenever she felt overwhelmed, he would fill her with his love, his semen a warm embrace that reminded her that she was not alone.

And in those quiet moments, when the world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the rhythm of their hearts and the gentle dance of their limbs, she found peace. Their love had become more than just a passionate affair; it was a lifeline, a promise that no matter what the future held, they would face it as one.

Tzuyu felt the weight of his gaze on her, the love in his eyes a beacon that guided her through the fog of uncertainty. And in the stillness of those moments, she knew that she had made the right choice. Her body was changing, her life was transforming, but with y/n beside her, she was ready to embrace it all. For in the chaos of creation, they had found their sanctuary, their love a beacon that shone through the darkest of nights.

The last trimester of her pregnancy brought with it a new set of challenges. Her body had become a vessel for the life they had created together, and y/n's love for her grew in tandem with the child within her. Despite the fear that whispered in the back of her mind that her changing body might push him away, his desire for her only grew stronger. He worshipped her swollen belly, her heavy breasts, and the soft curves that had once been so toned.

Every day, he made love to her, his cock sinking into her swollen pussy with a reverence that brought tears to her eyes. His love was a force that transcended the physical, reaching into the very core of her being. And as they climaxed together, her body convulsed with a pleasure so intense it was almost painful, her juices spurting out like a fountain, soaking their bed, their bodies entwined in a dance of passion and creation.

The sight of her squirting brought him to his own peak, his face a mask of ecstasy as he filled her with his cum. And in those moments, she felt complete, whole. Her breasts grew heavy with milk, her nipples hard and sensitive. And when the sprays of white began, he was there, his mouth eager, drinking in the essence of her love. It was a ritual that bonded them in a way that nothing else could, a testament to their love and the life they had created together.

The sound of their love filled the room, echoing off the walls that had seen so much passion and pain. And as the tremors of their shared climax subsided, she looked into his eyes and knew that she had found her home. Her fears dissipated like morning mist, replaced by a fierce determination to face the future as his slut, as his wife, as the mother of his child. For in the end, it was not just her body that had changed; it was her soul, forever intertwined with the man who had claimed it.

The final days of her pregnancy were a blur of anticipation and fear, of joy and doubt. But through it all, y/n's love remained a constant, a beacon that guided her through the storm. And as they prepared for the birth of their child, Tzuyu felt a sense of peace she had never known before. The whispers of the past had been silenced by the roar of their love, and she knew that she had found her place in the world, nestled in the arms of the man who had claimed her heart.

The contractions began with the softness of a whisper, a gentle nudging that grew into a crescendo of pain and power. Y/n was with her every step of the way, his hand in hers, his eyes never leaving her face. He encouraged her, whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his love a balm to her soul. And when she felt the overwhelming urge to push, she knew that she could do it, because she had him.

Their love was a force of nature, unstoppable and all-consuming. And as she bore down, her body a battleground for the miracle of life, she felt the warmth of his love surrounding her, lifting her up. His encouragement was a symphony in her ears, his touch a lifeline that connected her to the world outside the pain.

And then, with a final, triumphant push, their child was born. A perfect little being that looked at them with wide, wondering eyes. Y/n's face was a picture of pure joy, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears as he cut the cord that bound them all together. They had done it, they had created life from love, and nothing could ever break that bond.

The midwife placed the squalling baby on Tzuyu's chest, and she felt a rush of emotion so profound it stole her breath away. This was the culmination of their love, the ultimate proof that they were meant to be together. And as she looked into the tiny face that mirrored hers, she knew that she had never been more loved, more complete, more alive.

In that moment, with their newborn child nestled between them, their love story was rewritten. It was no longer just about the passion that had brought them together, but the love that had grown from that fire, a love that had survived betrayal, doubt, and societal judgment. It was a love that had created life, that had transcended the physical to become something sacred and unbreakable.

Y/n took her hand, his eyes never leaving hers as they watched their child nurse at her breast. The sight of her, so vulnerable and beautiful, filled him with a love that was both fierce and gentle. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin, tasting the salt of her sweat, the sweetness of her love. And when she looked up at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears, he knew that she felt it too.

Their love had been tested, but it had not wavered. It had grown stronger, a testament to their resilience and the depth of their bond. They were no longer just lovers, but partners, bound together by the life they had brought into the world. As they held each other, the whispers of doubt and fear faded away, replaced by the soft cooing of their child and the gentle beat of their hearts.

Their future was a blank canvas, a tapestry of moments yet to be woven. They had no idea what challenges lay ahead, what joys or pains would come their way. But in that moment, as they lay entwined, surrounded by the warmth of their love and the new life they had created, they were ready to face it all. For in each other's arms, they had found their home, their sanctuary, their forever.

And so, as the sun set on the first day of their new lives, Tzuyu and y/n held each other tightly, their love a beacon in the night. They whispered promises of forever, of always being there, of never letting go. And as their child slept, the symphony of their hearts played on, a melody that would carry them through every storm, every heartache, every moment of pure, unbridled joy.

For in the chaos of creation, they had found their harmony, their love a force that could conquer any challenge. They were ready to face the world as one, to show the world that love was not bound by convention or expectation, but by the simple, unshakeable truth of two souls that had found each other.

In the days that followed, Tzuyu watched y/n with new eyes, his every move a declaration of his love and dedication. He was a doting father, his rough hands gentle as he cradled their child, his eyes soft with wonder as he watched their baby grow. He was a devoted husband, his love for her a constant reassurance that she had made the right choice.

Their love had not just survived the storm; it had thrived in it. It had grown from a passionate affair into a love that was unshakeable, a bond that nothing could break. And as they faced the world together, hand in hand, they knew that they had created something beautiful, something that would last a lifetime.

The whispers of their past had been silenced, the shadows of doubt banished by the light of their love. They had come through the fire, and emerged stronger, more in love than ever before. The world had not ended with their revelation; instead, it had opened up, revealing a path they had never dared to dream of.

Tzuyu knew that she had found her place in the world, not as someone's possession, but as an equal, a partner, a mother. And as she watched y/n playing with their child, his laughter ringing through the house like a bell, she knew that she had found not just love, but a life that was truly hers. A life filled with passion, with purpose, with the promise of forever.

And as she felt the warmth of his gaze on her, as his hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, she knew that she had made the right choice. For in the end, it was not about societal norms or the expectations of others; it was about the love that burned between them, a love that had created a life that was more beautiful than any garden she had ever tended. A love that was wild, untamed, and utterly, completely theirs.

Y/n looked up from her breast, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Only one baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "But your breasts are definitely more than enough for the both of us." He took the other in his mouth, the suction causing her to arch her back and gasp. The sensation was exquisite, a reminder of the passion that had brought them to this moment.

The baby's cries grew louder, a symphony of need that pierced the haze of their desire. Tzuyu's laughter was breathless as she reached down to stroke his hair. "You're insatiable," she whispered, her voice a caress that sent a shiver down his spine. He pulled away from her, his cock standing at attention, and stood up from the bed. "Let's go take care of our little interrupter," he said with a grin, his hand outstretched to help her up.

They moved in unison, their bodies still attuned to each other's rhythms despite the chaos of their new life. The nursery was a soft glow of moonlight, their baby's tiny face scrunched in a frown. Y/n picked her up with ease, cradling her in his arms as he began to murmur sweet nothings that had always had a way of calming her. Tzuyu watched them, her heart swelling with love, her hand absently tracing the contours of her own body, marveling at the changes that had occurred.

Her breasts were full and heavy with milk, her stomach still rounded despite the baby's birth. Her pussy, so recently ravished, was now a soft, tender bud waiting to bloom once more. And as she watched her husband with their daughter, she felt the stirrings of desire once again, the hunger that never truly left her. The sight of them together was a reminder of the love that had started it all, the love that had created this perfect little being.

With the baby latched onto his finger, y/n turned to Tzuyu, his eyes dark with want. "Let's get her back to sleep," he said, his voice low and seductive. "And then, I want to taste that sweet cunt of yours again." She felt a thrill at his words, the ache between her legs growing more insistent. She knew that despite the interruption, their love was far from over.

They rocked the baby to sleep, their movements in sync as they had become in every aspect of their lives. And when the cries finally subsided into gentle snuffles, they laid her down in her crib, their eyes never leaving hers. Then, as if on cue, they turned to each other, the tension between them palpable.

He took her hand and led her back to their bedroom, the door clicking shut with a finality that seemed to seal them in their own world once again. The bed was a rumpled mess, the evidence of their love scattered around them like confetti. He kissed her, his tongue delving into her mouth, a promise of what was to come.

Her body responded immediately, her nipples hardening, her pussy growing wet. He pulled her nightgown over her head, his hands exploring her curves with a familiarity that sent shivers down her spine. His cock was hard and insistent, pressing against her stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum that she eagerly followed with her finger.

He groaned into her mouth as she stroked him, the sound vibrating through her. Her hand grew bolder, her grip tightening as she felt him grow even harder. And when she finally led him to her waiting entrance, she moaned, the feel of him inside her a balm to the ache she hadn't realized was there.

Their lovemaking was slow and gentle, a sweet symphony of sighs and whispers. His cock filled her completely, his movements a tender exploration of her body's new landscape. And as they moved together, the whispers of their love grew louder, drowning out the cries of their past, the fears and the doubts.

Y/n could feel her milk let down, her breasts leaking with every thrust, and he couldn't resist the temptation. He pulled away from her kiss to lean down, his mouth closing over one of her erect nipples, suckling deeply. Tzuyu arched her back, her eyes rolling back in her head at the sensation. The taste of her milk was sweet and addictive, a flavor that seemed to hold the very essence of her love.

He groaned against her skin, his hand moving to her other breast, kneading and caressing as he drank his fill. Her milk soaked the bed, mingling with their sweat, creating a scent that was uniquely theirs. And as he fucked her, the rhythm of his hips a steady beat, he felt something inside him shift. It was more than just desire, more than just the need to claim her. It was a hunger that went bone deep, a craving that only she could satisfy.

Her walls tightened around him, her orgasm building like a crescendo. He could feel the warmth of her milk on his chest, the stickiness of their love coating them both. And as she came, her body shaking with the force of her release, he knew that he had found his heaven. This was where he belonged, inside her, surrounded by the proof of their love.

Her milk flowed freely, and he lapped it up with the same fervor that he had used to kiss her mouth, her neck, her breasts. It was a declaration of his love, a claiming of her body and her soul. And as they lay together, their hearts beating in sync, their bodies entwined in a tapestry of love and need, they knew that nothing would ever come between them again.

The whispers of doubt had been silenced by the roar of their passion, the shadows of fear banished by the light of their love. They had created a world unto themselves, a sanctuary where they could be free, where they could love without limits.

And as he pulled out, his cock still hard and slick with their combined juices, he watched her body with a sense of awe. She was more beautiful than any garden, more precious than any jewel. And as he reached for her hand, their fingers interlocking, he knew that he had found his home.

Their love had grown from a secret affair into a love that could conquer any storm. And as they lay there, their hearts open and raw, they knew that they had been given a gift. A child, a love that was pure and unshakeable, and a future filled with promise.

Their bodies were still slick with passion when they finally collapsed onto the bed, their breathing ragged and their hearts pounding. Y/n wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. They were the same words he had whispered countless times before, but now they held a new meaning, a promise of forever.

Tzuyu felt a sense of peace settle over her, a warmth that started in her chest and spread throughout her body. She knew that she had made the right choice, that she had found her soulmate in the most unexpected of places. And as she drifted off to sleep, her body sated and her heart full, she whispered the words that had become their mantra.

"I love you, y/n," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "Forever and always."

He pulled her closer, his hand cupping her still-leaking breast, his thumb stroking her nipple gently. "And I love you, Tzuyu," he replied, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness. "With every beat of my heart, with every breath I take."

They lay together, their bodies a tapestry of love and trust, their hearts beating in a duet that was theirs alone. The taste of her milk still lingered on his tongue, a sweetness that seemed to echo the purity of their love. As he drifted off to sleep, the warmth of her body against his, y/n felt a sense of contentment that washed over him like a gentle rain.

The night was a canvas of shadows, the moonlight playing across their tangled limbs like an artist's brush. Their baby slept peacefully in her crib, a testament to the love that had created her. The whispers of doubt and fear had been silenced by the roar of their passion, the shadows of the past banished by the warm glow of their future.

As they slept, their bodies entwined, their love grew stronger, the bond between them unbreakable. Tzuyu dreamed of the days ahead, of watching their child grow, of the adventures they would share as a family. Y/n's arms were a warm cocoon around her, his breath steady and comforting. In the quiet of the night, she knew that she had found her home, her heart's true north.

The next morning, the sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue over the bed. Tzuyu stirred, the warmth of the sun caressing her skin. She looked down to find y/n still sleeping, his hand curled around her breast, his mouth open slightly. She felt a thrill of desire, her body responding to his touch even in slumber. Carefully, she lifted his head, the pillow of her arm giving way to the softness of the mattress.

He blinked sleepily up at her, a smile playing on his lips as he took in the sight of her. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

"Good morning," she replied, her voice a soft purr that made his cock twitch. "How did you sleep?"

He chuckled, his eyes dropping to her breasts. "Like a baby," he said, his voice filled with mischief. "And speaking of babies..." His hand moved to the baby monitor, pressing the button to check on their daughter. Her gentle coos filled the room, a sweet melody that brought a smile to both of their faces.

They lay there for a moment, listening to the sound of their child's breathing, their hearts swelling with love. Then, with a yawn that stretched his whole body, y/n sat up, his eyes never leaving hers. "I have to admit," he said, his voice low and husky with desire. "I've developed quite a taste for your milk."

Tzuyu felt a blush creep up her neck, her nipples hardening under his gaze. "Well," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "I suppose I'll have to keep producing it, then."

He leaned down to kiss her, his mouth lingering on hers as he reached for her breast once more. "Oh, I have every intention of making sure you do," he murmured, his eyes dark with need.

Their love had grown from a secret to a garden that bloomed in the light of day, a testament to their strength and the depth of their feelings. And as they kissed, the taste of her milk mingling with the sweetness of their love, they knew that they had found their forever.

For in that moment, there was only the two of them, their bodies joined as one, creating a new melody that resonated through every fiber of their beings. They were no longer just lovers, but parents, a bond that went beyond the physical, beyond the confines of their own desires.

Their love had been tested, but it had not just survived; it had evolved, grown into something more profound, more meaningful. And as they lay entwined, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the night, Tzuyu knew that she had found her place in the world. A place filled with love, with passion, with the promise of forever.

#kpop smut #twice smut #gg smut #girl group smut #tzuyu smut #male reader

686 notes · View notes

handledwithgloves · 9 months ago

Text

inspired by this post ❤️

fics where draco takes care of harry >>> lol anyway, mind the tags before you read !! (all of these are completed works on ao3)

running on air by eleventy7 | 74k Teen

such a good read, i cried the whole time, my first ever drarry fic that i read ❤️, hurtcomfort, auror harry, missing draco

two to lie and one to listen by fluxweed | 84k Explicit

so good omg, sad harry, romione are good people, fake dating but not between the main pair lol, 8th year

something there by 1bad_joke | 27k Explicit

god. this story, sad draco, loving harry, ron/pansy, ginny bashing, beauty and the beast/phantom of the opera vibes, 8th year

at your service by faithwood | 95k Explicit

well written and paced, great characterizations of canon characters, draco and harry work together to solve a mystery, 8th year

forgive those who trespass by lomonaaeren | 135k Explicit

mystery/thriller/horror, so romantic, crazy shit happens man idk, missing romione, harry goes looking for them, draco helps

all life is yours to miss by saras_girl | 114k Mature

beautifully written story, reads like a feel good movie from the 60s, so nostalgic, professors drarry, fell in love with draco

the ordeal of being known by louisfake | 146k Mature

great gateway into drarry, my third (?) ever drarry fic i read, mute harry, skilled legilimens/mind healer draco, dumbledore bashing

eye of the storm by OTPshipper98 | 27k Not Rated

god. i cried and i cried, hurtcomfort, skilled legilimens/mind healer draco, catatonic/comatose harry, i loved everyone in this god.

now i know in part by dodgerkedavera | 39k Explicit

blind and semi-deaf harry, caretaker draco, sad draco, loved the ending, god. draco is so sad, hurtcomfort, draco :(

---

some honorable mentions:

the name on your forehead | 10k

the way your say my name | 5k

all i have to do | 9k

what's mine is yours | 17k ❤️

sealed with a kiss | 46k

a pulled down shade | 43k

aural gratification | 10k

most arrogant and loving of men | 30k

house proud | 23k

nor all that glisters | 110k

there's no place like home (unless i'm with you) | 40k

a little bird told me | 18k

the gift | 25k

trouble, my old friend | 21k

anything by dustmouth

---

look, ik that most of these are rlly popular fics, im typically really picky about re-readability, but i think i would re-read all of these again if i haven't already ❤️ in some of the fics there are pairings that i dislike and bashing of characters that i like, but good writing is good writing idk wat 2 tell u

if you have fics to recc, drop them!! i typically read everything, but i do have my limits (looking at you draco --- i'm pretty picky about him)

#new art style bc idk how to draw chibi LOL #i didn't use the original template but thts ok bc i had more room to draw teehee #drarry #drarry fics #drarry fic recs #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #glovetalk #glove comp'art'ment

1K notes · View notes

saatorus · 3 months ago

Text

she won't go away— a sukuna fic

art creds to to_0fu (twitter/x)

pairing — college sukuna! x reader

synopsis — of all the people in your chemistry course, you get stuck with ryomen sukuna—the most insufferable, arrogant asshole on campus. he barely does any work, runs his mouth like it’s a sport, and somehow manages to make your life even more exhausting than it already is. if this project doesn’t kill you, he just might.

teaser wc — 1.8k (long for a teaser but i'm desensitised to any word count below like 100k words)

actual wc — 20-25k (gonna try and force myself to stick to this and not go into the 30s..)

tag list status — closed! the fic has been posted

warnings — explicit sexual content!!! sukuna being an absolute vile dick and saying questionable shit (i need him to be at least a lil canon compliant), mentions of reader and sukuna telling each other to go die, reader not being meek and letting him walk all over her, mentions of feeling insecure, multiple crash outs, angst?? will add more as i go along!

“That ‘little homework’ is forty five percent of our grade,” you bite out.

“Don’t give a fuck,” he grunts, sounding bored.

You inhale deeply. “So, I was thinking—”

But he groans, dragging a tattooed hand down his face. “Are we seriously doing this now?”

“Yes, we’re seriously doing this now,” you snap.

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring. “God, you’re fucking annoying.”

You’re not sure whether you should be offended or hurt. On one hand, obviously as a normal human being, being spoken to like this from a person you’re quite literally talking to for the first time is bound to hurt your feelings. On the other hand, this guy’s dickhead personality is kind of well known through your university. Your grip on your pen tightens, but you keep your voice even.

“I’m annoying because I want to pass?”

”You’re annoying because you talk way too fuckin’ much.”

That stings more than you’d like to admit.

You grit your teeth, ignoring the way your stomach tightens, and push forward anyway. “If we divide the research today, we won’t have to meet up as often,” you say, firmly. “I assume you’ll want to do as little work as possible, so let’s just—”

“Holy shit.” Sukuna pushes his chair back with a loud scrape, fixing you with an exasperated look. “Do you ever shut up?”

You blink, stunned.

Toji snickers.

“Oh, come on,” Sukuna scoffs, throwing up a hand. “You’re gonna sit there all wide-eyed like I just kicked your fuckin’ puppy? You started it.”

Your fingers twitch against the table.

“Started what?” you ask, voice dangerously calm.

“This whole thing—acting like I’m some bum ass delinquent who needs a babysitter.” His eyes narrow. “If you wanna play boss, go find some other loser to be a bitch to.”

Your patience snaps. “Or you could just not be a lazy asshole. Do you lack brain cells? You’ve seriously told me to shut up like 5 times in the span of about ten minutes. Do you have a problem where you can’t focus?”

The air between you shifts.

Sukuna’s jaw tics. His expression darkens, something sharp flashing through his eyes, but then his lips pull into something crueler than a smirk—something with edges, something dangerous.

“You think I’m lazy? Got somethin’ wrong with me because I can’t take your nerdy bitching?” he asks, voice low.

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Glad you have the ability to comprehend what I said.”

That makes him grin. “And you think I’m an asshole?”

“Yes.”

He hums, tilting his head. Then he leans forward, just slightly, elbows resting on the table. His voice drops into something smug, mocking—

“Then why the fuck are you still talking to me?”

Your blood boils.

What the fuck is his problem?

You lean forward too, matching him, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “Because I have to, dumbass,” you snap. “I tried to change my group. I begged. I offered to do extra credit. I would have written a whole goddamn thesis if it meant not sitting across from you—but guess what?” You gesture sharply between you. “I’m stuck with you.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Tragic.”

You let out a frustrated breath, gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles turn white. “So, as much as I’d love to pretend you don’t exist—”

“Then do it,” he interrupts, tone dry.

You blink. “What?”

“If you wanna pretend I don’t exist, go ahead,” he drawls, leaning back lazily. “Do the whole project yourself. You’ll probably enjoy it, since you’re clearly getting off on playing group leader.”

“Oh, my god.” You clench your fists, barely restraining yourself. “Why are you such a dickhead? Parents not teach you basic respect?”

“Because you don’t shut the fuck up,” he snaps, finally looking genuinely irritated.

Your lips part, incredulous. “I’m literally just trying to do the fucking project? Like any normal human being?”

“No, you’re trying to control shit,” Sukuna says flatly. “Like this is some big deal—like I haven’t passed a million of these useless classes already.”

You stare at him. “You think this is useless?”

He smirks. “Yeah.”

Oh, you hate him.

“Some of us actually give a shit about our grades, Sukuna.”

“You know my name? Cute.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to stay calm, trying not to launch your textbook at his stupid, perfect face. “I don’t care how many classes you’ve passed,” you say, voice taut. “You’re doing this one with me. I care about this project. And if I have to suffer through working with you, you can at least pretend to give a shit.”

He tilts his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Mm. No.”

You exhale slowly, trying—failing—to stop your hands from curling into fists.

“I swear to god—”

“What, huh?” he cuts in, voice dripping with condescension. “You gonna whine to the professor again?” He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Pathetic.”

Your jaw tightens.

He grins, like he’s won something. Like he’s getting exactly what he wants—like this is a game to him, something to toy with, something to waste his time on.

And you refuse to let him win.

So, you straighten your spine, lift your chin, and meet his gaze without flinching.

“Fine,” you say, voice steely. “If you want to half-ass this, be my guest. Just don’t expect me to pick up your slack.”

Sukuna watches you, amused, as if he’s waiting for you to crack.

When you don’t, he smirks.

“We’ll see.”

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to keep your voice level.

“Well, unfortunately for you,” you say stiffly, “you actually have to do your share.”

Sukuna snorts. “Says who?”

“The professor.” You cross your arms. “Since apparently, students have been slacking on group projects, we have to submit proof of collaboration—meeting logs, progress updates, actual proof that we’re working together.”

His expression darkens.

You fight the urge to smirk. Suffer.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

“Nope.” You press your lips together, trying to hold back your pure satisfaction. “So, congratulations, Sukuna. You have to meet up with me at least once a week.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring at you like you’re personally ruining his life. “You’re telling me I have to sit through this shit every week?”

“Yep.”

“You specifically?”

“Yep.”

Sukuna groans, dragging a hand through the unruly pink strands of his hair. Then, just as you’re about to remind him that this is literally his problem for being a shit student, he lifts his head—eyes raking over you in a slow, lazy once-over.

And then, he smirks.

You freeze.

“What?” you snap, immediately on edge.

His smirk widens.

“Nah, I was just thinking,” he drawls, tipping his head back against his chair. “If you were hotter, this would be way less painful.”

Your stomach drops.

The words hit you like a slap, and for a second, all you can do is sit there, stunned, completely caught off guard by how casual—how easy—it is for him to say something like that.

Like it’s just true.

Like it’s a fact.

Your fingers dig into your sleeve.

And the worst part? It’s not even the insult itself that stings—it’s the sheer, blatant dismissal. The fact that he looks at you and immediately decides you’re not worth even pretending to be interested in. As if you were hoping for his attention. As if you were seeking his approval.

You clench your jaw.

“Yeah?” you say, voice flat, emotionless. “Well, if you were smarter, I wouldn’t have to carry your useless ass through this class.”

His grin falters, just barely, but you see it—and for once, it’s your turn to smirk.

You lean forward, matching his posture, tilting your head mockingly.

“Guess we’re both disappointed, huh?”

For a moment, Sukuna just stares at you.

And you don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, how his fingers twitch against the table like he’s fighting the urge to rip you apart.

Good.

Then—he exhales sharply through his nose, tipping his chair back slightly, acting unfazed even though you saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “Damn,” he muses, voice slow, dragging. “Didn’t know you had a mouth on you.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “Didn’t know you gave a shit.”

Sukuna scoffs. “I don’t.”

“Then shut the fuck up and do your work.”

He lets out a low, mean laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

“Generous?” You nearly choke. “You’ve been nothing but a dick since the moment I sat down.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Could be worse.”

Oh, you want to strangle him.

Instead, you inhale sharply through your nose, pressing your palms flat against the table before forcing yourself to stay on track. “Whatever,” you say, shaking your head. “Here’s the deal: we have to meet at least once a week. I don’t care where. I don’t care when. But we need to get the work done, and I need proof that you were actually present—because if we don’t, we both fail.”

Sukuna glares at you, as if the very concept of responsibility offends him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face again. “You’re really gonna be a hardass about this, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t care about failing?”

“Not really.”

Your eyes narrow. “Then why are you even in this class?”

At this, he finally drops his chair back down onto all four legs, leaning in slightly. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, voice lower, more serious. “I don’t need this shit. I’m here because my old man thinks I should at least pretend to give a fuck about college.” He smirks, sharp and taunting. “But don’t get it twisted—I don’t actually give a fuck.”

You pause, studying him, trying to piece together the weight behind his words.

Of course, you know he comes from money. Everyone does. The Ryomen family name carries weight, old money, power, prestige—so it makes sense that college, for him, is just some bullshit obligation rather than a means to a future.

Still, something about the way he says it—how bitter it sounds—sticks with you.

Not that you care.

You roll your eyes. “Right. Got it. Poor little rich boy.”

His smirk drops.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then—

“You know what?” Sukuna says, voice eerily calm. “Fine. I’ll meet up with you.”

You blink, a little thrown off by how easily he gives in.

“…Okay?”

“But.” His gaze darkens, and the corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he’s daring you to argue. “You work around my schedule.”

Your stomach twists with irritation. “That’s not—”

“Not my problem,” he cuts in smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t do morning meetups. I don’t do last-minute bullshit. And if you start bitching about how I ‘don’t take this seriously,’” he mocks, voice lilting high, “I will walk out and leave you with an automatic fail. Or whatever the fuck happens to your grade if the other person doesn’t do their part. Got it?”

Your blood boils.

But what can you do? You already tried to get reassigned.

So, through gritted teeth, you say, “Fine.”

Sukuna smirks.

“Good girl.”

a/n: very overused trope but i love college au sukuna. sorry for making him a total asshole but i promise character development!!!!! i looove a good enemies to lovers, as seen with my take on nerdjo lolol!!! also yes this fic is based on "she won't go away" by faye webster and yes this song and it's lyrics will be making a cameo in my fic heheh... hope you all liked the teaser!!

486 notes · View notes

just-jordie-things · 1 year ago

Text

friendly neighborhood spiderman - fushiguro megumi

word count: 25k i need a lobomy warnings: swearing, men making reader uncomfortable, some blood n bruises summary: besides being morally gray, megumi has never crossed any personal boundaries while protecting the city disguised as the spiderman. that is, until it comes to her. a thorn in his side, a plague to his mind, and a skip in his heart. wait, what?

notes: SPIDERMAN AU! rivals to unknown friends to unknown lovers to..??

___

With great power comes great responsibility…

To that, Fushiguro Megumi said; no shit.

Living a double life wasn’t always the easiest thing in the world, but the justice part came to him naturally. He didn’t like to call his abilities superpowers, there was something too childish about it, but since gaining them, Megumi had known there was some kind of reason.

Maybe it was because he had a stronger sense of right and wrong than most of the people he knew. His peers at the college he attended seemed to have more interest in alcohol poisoning than anything else, so he supposed it made sense that if a radioactive spider bit had to give someone powers… it might as well have been him.

Besides, he was kind of a loner, so it wasn’t hard to hide his double life. Every day he followed the same routine.

Wake up early to work out and do a quick patrol of the city, try to get to his classes on time, study in between lectures, study through lunch, and then as soon as his last class of the day was over he was off to swing through the city and keep an eye on things.

There had been an uptick in crime in Tokyo lately, and Megumi hadn’t quite put his finger on why. It had never been the safest city in Japan, but since taking on this role it seemed like criminals everywhere were crawling out of the cracks and shadows to challenge him. Not that anything had proven to be too challenging for The Spiderman… petty criminals made it easy.

“Late again, Fushiguro”

There were, however, challenges that Megumi faced.

(y/n) swiveled around in her seat just as he’d sat down behind her. To think he’d patted himself on the back for only being three minutes late today. He should’ve known she was counting down the minutes to rub it in his face.

Resting her elbows on the back of her seat so she could smirk at him, she plops her chin on her fists and eyes him curiously. Megumi can’t even be bothered to roll his eyes, he’d grown too tired of the same banter every day.

If she couldn’t take his place at the top of the class, (y/l/n) (y/n) would have to find some other way to antagonize Megumi- and she took that job all too seriously. Unfortunately their class schedules were almost identical, seeing as they were both enrolled in as many accelerated courses as they could be, so Megumi spent most of his day in her vicinity. And hell, she never let him forget it.

When he barely even looks at her, (y/n) turns back around in her seat, seemingly already prepping her notebook for her notes of the day. She’s probably one of those girls that makes every page pretty and aesthetically pleasing, Megumi finds himself frowning at his own train of thought. He only had seven more hours of putting up with her competitive attitude, and then he’d be free and far from it.

Nothing cleared his mind like swinging around the city. She couldn’t possibly plague him once he was in his suit. He tried to tell himself that through the rest of class, everytime her hand shot up in the air and she bragged her way through perfect, textbook answers.

It was no doubt that she’d be successful after graduation. Megumi would rather die than admit it out loud, but he wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she ended up a millionaire- billionaire- with how well studied and determined she was to win. If she put half the effort into her future career that she did just by bothering him, she’ll probably earn herself some title of youngest most successful woman.

Hopefully by then she’ll be too busy to bother him anymore. Although Megumi assumes that by the time graduation rolls around, he’ll never see her again.

She was probably counting down the days until then, too. ___

Megumi spent his lunches alone.

This didn’t really bother him. He didn’t have much interest in making friends, and never put much effort into it. He liked to think he was kind, but he knew he wasn’t the most approachable guy in the world. If he was honest, he kind of liked it that way. So long as he kept his clothes dark, his face expressionless, and his hair untamed, then he seemed to ward people off. No one approached his usual small table in the corner of the lunchroom unless they needed to borrow one of the extra empty chairs. Even then, people seemed nervous to ask, and more often than not someone would scurry over and take one without a word, rushing it back to their table before Megumi could say something untoward.

The way he dressed himself wasn’t the only thing keeping people away. His reputation might have something to do with it as well…

But that fight wasn’t his fault. Not necessarily. So what if someone got sent to the hospital? Megumi was a believer in consequences being served… and if no one else was going to deliver, then he supposed it came down to him to do the right thing. This was before the spider bite, before Spiderman, so his strong sense of justice had nowhere to be channeled.

To Megumi, all that mattered was the guy learned his lesson. And by the way, he did live. He just had to spend a week in Intensive Care to pull through, is all.

Unapproachable was an understatement when it came to Megumi.

Maybe that’s why he found (y/n) all the more obnoxious.

He minds his business during his lunch hour- although he’d argue that he minds his business all the time. Sitting in the corner with headphones large enough to make the point clear that he didn’t want to be bothered, his nose was always stuck in a book. He’d eat with one hand and scribble in his notebooks with the other. Even if he could afford a laptop he didn’t want to use one. His time was better utilized if he could study and eat simultaneously.

The corner of his eye twitches when he catches a glimpse of her in his peripheral. He hates that the hair on the back of his neck stands up when she shows up, all of his nerves tingling like a warning. His grimace is obvious as he finds her walking through the cafe with the little lunch box he knew was perfectly organized in multiple compartments. She probably didn’t let any of her food touch.

She’s stopped on her mission to get to her table of know-it-all friends, and Megumi shouldn’t care that some guy called her over to his table to talk to her, it’s a bit of a boring scene, honestly. He should get back to his studying now, but for some reason he’s compelled to watch from the back of the room as (y/n) drags her feet over to the guy’s table.

Megumi doesn’t recognize him, or really any of his surrounding friends, but by the looks of it they seemed like the kind of guys that wouldn’t have gotten into the classes he’s taking.

A year ago Megumi wouldn’t have been able to hear their conversation, not from across the busy cafe where a hundred other conversations are happening, but now he finds it easy to tune out all the other noise and eavesdrop on (y/n) and this frat boy.

“You always walk by without saying hello. You tryin’ to hurt my feelings, princess?” The frat boy feigns heartbreak, holding his hand to his chest all the while grinning at her.

“Hello”

(y/n’s) reply is rigid. She sounds as bored as Megumi feels watching her. He almost scoffs at himself for even paying this much attention. Clearly his little warning sense was misfiring, because nothing of interest is playing out here. He was starting to consider this a waste of his heightened abilities.

“Awe, c’mon now gorgeous, you can do better than that,” Fratboy clicks his tongue in mockery. “Why don’t you come sit?”

“I’m sitting with my friends”

Once again, her tone is as flat and dry as could be. Megumi starts to wonder what Fratboy even wants with her. Besides her personality being insufferable, she clearly isn’t interested in whatever he’s offering. How many hints can this guy possibly miss?

“Rain check?” Fratboy asks hopefully. It could almost be endearing if it wasn’t for the slimy grin he wore. Megumi hated to think it, but (y/n) outranked this guy on every scale.

“Yeah. Maybe” (y/n’s) voice falls to a mumble before she turns and walks away, this time at a faster pace than before.

As she finds her place at her table, she glances over her shoulder, feeling the prickle of someone’s eyes following her. Megumi’s senses are one step ahead, and he’s quick to drop his head to focus back on his studies again. He’d already lost five minutes to watch a pointless interaction, he didn’t need to lose more time by facing her evil eye if she’d caught him staring at her.

Idiot, he thinks as he takes a more aggressive bite of his food than necessary. Getting behind on schedule for (y/n) of all people.

He pushes the whole thing as far from his mind as he can as he gets back to work. ___

Tokyo had been rather quiet this evening. Not that Megumi was complaining. It was refreshing to see the streets peaceful, even this late into the night.

Eleven o’clock might not be the ideal dinner time for your average person, but for Spiderman, it was the norm. And Megumi liked having a quiet night where he could have a quick street food dinner at the skyline overlooking the whole city. It was peaceful up there. With all the stars out, a perfect breeze coming in, and without the noise of pedestrians out and about down on the streets, Megumi could positively say this was his secret piece of heaven.

Most things about his life were a secret- but this especially he held this place close.

As expected there wasn’t a single pesky thought of school on his mind. Like the sky, it was clear and peaceful.

At least it was, until he was mid-bite of his sandwich and he caught sight of something sketchy in his peripheral.

The familiar sensation of the hair on the back of his neck prickling rises when he turns to watch the scene unfold. An unmarked car with blackout windows pulling up behind one of the many small 24-7 convenience stores and a few men with various clown masks getting out of it. He huffs in annoyance, already swinging down and dumping the remainder of his perfectly good sandwich in the trash.

When were these idiots going to learn that robbing a convenience store was never worth it? He wonders as he lands on the roof of the building the men had just gone into. He finds there’s only one guy left in the car, the getaway driver he’s sure. Pulling his mask over his face he’s swift and silent in webbing up the door handles and tires of the car. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Just as silently, he drops to the ground, and enters the store.

It’s not the first time Spiderman has made an appearance during a stick up. And Megumi’s sure it won’t be his last, seeing as no one ever learns.

“Well if it isn’t Spiderboy” One of the three clowns, Megumi assumes the ringleader, taunts him with a laugh. He cocks his gun and aims it at him, but Megumi’s not the slightest bit threatened by a gun. Typical, he thinks.

He barely acknowledges the silent threat at all, instead scoping out the store quickly.

There’s one man behind the counter, his hands raised and shaking. It appears he hasn’t handed over any money yet, which is good. It makes for a quicker and cleaner exit for Megumi.

A couple is cowering behind the first aisle of snacks, trying to peek over the shelves without being seen- they’re not doing a very good job, but with Spiderman here now Megumi figures they’ve assumed their safety is guaranteed. They aren’t wrong.

And then there was a girl in the very back, two aisles behind the couple, and apparently far less brave as well. She’s crouched all the way to the ground, her hands clasped tightly over the back of her neck as if this was a tornado drill and not a robbery. At least her head is down, Megumi thinks. It’s not often he comes across civilians with a decent sense of self preservation.

“Did you hear me, Spiderboy-?” The ringleader’s second taunt is barely finished before there’s two webs flying at him. One aimed for the barrel of his gun, covering his mask, gluing it straight to his face and muffling his mouth.

“Yeah yeah, I fuckin’ heard you,” Megumi grumbles. Criminals loved to call him all sorts of names, he figured it comes with the job, but man did it get old.

There’s two other clowns, lackeys, he supposes. These types hardly worked alone these days. Megumi always wondered if they thought being in numbers would protect them from Spiderman. Again, they never learn.

It takes him all of five seconds to web up their weapons as well. Some glued to their hands and chest, rendering them useless, others so tied up in the sticky string that they couldn’t move any limbs if they tried.

“You think you can go around playing hero and people will respect you for it?” One of the lackeys snarls when Megumi tears the mask from his face. He does the same for the other, but the second clown seems too afraid to speak. Good. “People ‘round here don’t give a shit, Spiderboy. You think they’ll thank you? Heh? You think they’ll throw you a nice parade and chant your name?”

Megumi rolls his eyes, patting down his pockets in search of any identifiable information. Like he presumed, he finds a phone and wallet. Sometimes it felt like these guys weren’t even trying to get away with their crimes.

Paying the lackey clown no mind, he turns over his shoulder and motions to the couple behind the shelf. They raise their heads a little further, eyes wide and seemingly surprised Spiderman was addressing them.

“It’s safe to go,” He tells them with a wave of his hand. “Go straight to the police station to report this”

Does he have faith they’ll listen? No, he assumes they’ll be likely to go home. Megumi doesn’t care much. The police weren’t exactly his allies. But if he was going to do their jobs for them, he was going to have to at least act like he was playing by their rules.

“Playing nice with the cops, tch,” The loudmouth lackey continues on. “When they show up, they’ll take you before they take any of us- mmph!”

“Much better,” Megumi sighs when his webbing does just the trick to shut the guy up. Will he suffocate with it covering his mouth? Of course not, “Breathe through your nose,” He grumbles when the lackey’s face starts to take on a blue hue. “Fucking idiots, you’re all the fucking same” He sighs, dropping the guy’s phone and open wallet on the ground before him, making sure it’s on perfect display for when the cops arrive.

“Th-thank you, Spiderman,” The shopkeeper behind the counter finally begins to lower his hands. It appears he’s still shaking, but Megumi’s sure it’s the adrenaline rush he’s coming down from. He’ll be fine in no time. Especially once the police arrive and whisk these guys away. “I- I don’t know how I can repay you”

“It was nothing” Megumi replies, monotone as ever, but it’s the truth. The whole ordeal was over in the matter of three minutes. A robbery had barely begun when he’d shown up and shut it down.

The shopkeeper looks startled by the less-than-friendly attitude of his savior, but he doesn’t say a word, just picks up his phone to dial up the police.

Megumi’s on the move heading out of the store, ready to make himself scarce before law enforcement shows up, but of course he can’t leave just yet.

“Hey,” He calls towards the last civilian in the shop, the girl crouched on the ground, still covering herself. “Hey,” He calls again when she doesn’t react, taking a few steps towards her. “You’re good to go now,” He says, but even still, she doesn’t move.

It takes a tap on her shoulder for her to startle, finally uncovering the back of her head and looking up at him. She stays on the ground, but now Megumi’s stunned to silence as well as he stares back at her.

(y/n)? He’s grateful for his mask for the millionth time but in a whole new way now. What the hell was she doing out here in the middle of the night?

She doesn’t say anything as she stares up at him with wide eyes. He can’t tell if she’s still in shock, but the longer he waits for her to say something, she doesn’t.

“Are you… alright?”

It’s a normal question to ask, he probably says it a hundred times a night, making sure no one’s left hurt or afraid. But this time, asking her, it felt foreign coming out of his mouth. He’s never been put in a position to… care… about her wellbeing before. But now’s as good a time as any, seeing as she’s still got her knees to her chest and a shell shocked look on her face.

“You’re- you’re Spiderman” Is the first thing she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Megumi could roll his eyes, but he’s too busy waiting for her to get up and get moving.

“And you’re not sitting around here all night, c’mon” He beckons her upwards, and to his surprise she takes it as an offer to grab his hand, and he finds himself pulling her up to her feet.

“You’re a lot taller than I thought you’d be” She mumbles, and if she could see his face she’d watch a look of puzzlement befall him.

“Get that a lot” He mutters, making an obvious motion to eye the hand that she still has gripping his gloved one.

“Oh, sorry,” She’s still quiet, quieter than he’s ever heard her speak before, and it’s starting to intrigue him.

Was she this afraid of a pesky little robbery? He wondered, looking her up and down. She wasn’t trembling, she showed little to no sign of distress at all. For a girl that had nearly gone full armadillo just a few minutes ago, she didn’t seem all that afraid.

“I’m just- uh-” She clears her throat, and Megumi thinks it’s the first time he’s ever heard her stammer, or misspeak at all. “I’m a big fan” She finishes, her quiet voice sounding more shy now than anything else.

Wait, what!?

“A fan?” Megumi repeats in disbelief, and (y/n) smiles softly as she nods her head.

“You don’t get that a lot too?” She asks, inching towards speaking at a normal volume.

This is the part where he leaves, and he knows it. The authorities were bound to be close now, and it’d give him more trouble if he was still around when they got here. He couldn’t be wasting his time, especially on her.

But he lingers there for a second longer anyways. There was an undeniably curiosity creeping under his skin. Never would he have pegged (y/l/n) (y/n), regular goody-goody, as a Spiderman fan. It had him wondering if there was more to her than met the eye.

Maybe she was… a normal person…? Could it be true?

Flashing lights interrupted his thoughts, his head swiveling to see approaching red and blue

“Fuck!” He cursed, and behind him (y/n) covered her mouth to stifle her giggle. Jeez, did she expect some squeaky clean guy to be under the mask? “You’re fine, right?” He asks her, already stepping away to make his escape.

(y/n) nods her head, still giving him an awestruck look. It makes his face feel hot under his mask. Could she really be this enamored with Spiderman? So much so she’s rendered speechless.

“Right- well- maybe stop shopping in the middle of the night and you find yourself in these situations” He tries to be serious, but she grins as she nods back at him in agreement.

“I’ll try my best, Spiderman”

With that he’s out the door and swinging off just before the cops round the corner to the building. He’d just narrowly missed them, but that was the closest he’d come to getting spotted by them in quite a while. Until then, he’d done a good job making a clean getaway.

He huffs and tugs his mask off of his head when he finds a fire escape distant enough to rest at. Of all the crimes he’s interrupted, that was definitely one for the books. And it had nothing to do with the tacky clown masks or shitty execution.

His chest felt tight, an odd feeling creeping into his bones.

Shit. He still hadn’t had a proper dinner. ___

Megumi’s exhausted the next morning when he strolls into class. He’s five minutes late today, but he tells himself that ten is his limit so he’s still doing just fine. He never gets a second glance from the professor anyways- with his grades? His professor wouldn’t care if he didn’t show up to class at all.

(y/n), however, cares very much about Megumi’s punctuality.

“Who taught you to be so disrespectful of other people’s time, Fushiguro?” She mocks a pout at him, already turned around in her seat to bother him as usual.

Megumi gives her a bored look, maintaining eye contact as he opens his notebook to a fresh page. (y/n) raises a brow impatiently, waiting for some kind of response, but Megumi remains silent. This is fitting for him, he rarely engages in her banter these days, but his silence feels different today. Something about the way he looks at her makes her feel like he’s sizing her up, or something.

“What?” The word comes out in a mumble, her brows furrowing as he meets his inquisitive stare with a confused glare.

Megumi purses his lips, shakes his head, taps the eraser of his pencil rhythmically against his notebook.

“Nothing”

It’s all he has to say, and for once (y/n) doesn’t have a snarky remark. She just gives him a weird look and faces forward in her seat again. Maybe he’d caught her off guard by actually speaking to her, even if it was just one word, it’s more than he’s given in a while. Pretty much since the spider bite. Engaging in petty arguments seemed pointless after that.

As he takes notes on the lecture of the day, he can’t help but be drawn to the back of (y/n’s) head. He didn’t like the idea of giving her any of his attention, but his thoughts were drifting out of his control, and he couldn’t stop replaying last night in his mind. The way she looked at him, smiled at him, like he was her hero. And now today he was reduced to the dirt under her perfectly clean shoe. It was like he had a secret about her now. There might not be a way for him to dangle it over her head openly… but he knew, and for now, that was enough.

By the time class ended, Megumi already had his bag packed up, and he was the first out the door. If he got to the next lesson before her, he could claim a seat in the back where she wouldn’t dare be caught sitting. Maybe then he wouldn’t get so distracted.

Even with his heightened senses however, he doesn’t notice the way (y/n) watches him book it out of the classroom, a knot between her brows at his odd behavior. Because since when has Fushiguro Megumi rushed to class? ___

It’s hard not to notice Megumi is avoiding her more than usual. She shared almost every class with him, besides one art course she took, (y/n) saw him every hour of the day. It also helped that being the top two of their class they were always seated somewhere near the front, and closer to each other than either one of them would like.

It doesn’t bother her that Megumi’s been sitting in the back of the class with the other slackers. She couldn’t care less if he decided not to come to class at all- in fact it would be wonderful for her. If his grades slipped just a little bit she could take his spot as top student, a position that was rightfully hers seeing as she was punctual and present in every class. Unlike Megumi, who hardly participated unless asked to, and acted like he couldn’t care less about his status.

She always wondered if he truly didn’t care about his ranking. He certainly acted like he didn’t, rolling his eyes at her comments if he wasn’t ignoring her completely. But was it just an act?

(y/n) made it an effort not to think any more about Fushiguro Megumi than she had to. But sometimes he made that difficult for her. Like now, when he’s sitting in the back of the class with his blocky headphones on. She can’t help but peek over her shoulder at him, eyeing the way he actively took notes from what was on the whiteboard at the front of the class. But how well could he learn if he wasn’t even listening?

He catches her staring not a second later, his bored blue eyes landing on hers and holding her stare. His expression is unchanging, completely neutral as he stares back at her, but it still feels intense. (y/n’s) quick to shoot her eyes forward and begin scribbling messy words in her otherwise neatly kept notebook. Was it just intense because he’d caught her staring right at him? Her face feels warm, her heartbeat kicks into an anxious pattern.

Clearly, whatever his issue was, she needed to just ignore it completely. He seemed to do just fine doing the same, maybe it was time for her to take a page out of his book and give him the same treatment.

Still, her eyes catch him in every hallway, every class, every moment he’s around, she spots and scans him as if there’s going to be some hint as to what brought on his change in behavior. ___

A couple of peaceful weeks were well appreciated, but Megumi must’ve taken them for granted, because tonight was a rough one.

He could enjoy a good fight, he’d grown up a fighter, so it all came naturally to him. Right hook, dodge, web, kick, swing- there were just a few extra steps to his hand-to-hand that came from the spider bite’s abilities. To him, that made the act of fighting all the more fun. He wasn’t afraid to admit he got a certain rush out of beating someone up. When it was justified, there wasn’t a feeling like it.

Getting beat up, however, sucked.

Maybe the guy was on steroids, maybe the adrenaline got to his head and his fight or flight kicked into high gear, Megumi wasn’t sure what his deal was, but he certainly took a beating before finally knocking the petty handbag thief out and getting him webbed up for the cops to take care of.

It wasn’t till he got away and found an alley secluded enough that he was able to check his injuries. He didn’t have to take his mask off to know his head had taken most of the damage. He could taste the blood of his split lip, and feel the hot throbbing behind his eye.

Great. Going to class with a black eye won’t draw any attention.

With a groan he leaned back into the brick of one of the surrounding buildings, trying to even out his labored breathing. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he found his torso littered with black and blue, too. As much as it hurt, Megumi was more irritated than anything. Hiding injuries was the worst part of his secret double life. College kids always wanted to hear the gnarly stories behind visible cuts and bruises. Megumi only hoped his shitty reputation would be enough to keep people away.

He couldn’t sit around for long, there was still a city that needed patrolling, so Megumi kicked off the wall and took a few deep, harsh breaths as he left the alley, ready to go for a swing around the next few blocks to make sure everything was as it should be. Quiet. It was almost one in the morning, most people should be turned in for the night by now.

Just as he reaches the sidewalk and before he can fly off into the air, however, he’s met by a not-quite-stranger.

(y/n) almost runs right into him, speed walking down the sidewalk with her head down, clearly on a mission. Had he stepped out a second later she might’ve crashed into him, but it’s hard for her to not notice the six foot tall man in a head to toe black suit.

For half a second she looks alarmed- rightfully so, a strange man just came out of an alley, if she had half a mind she’d turn and run without thinking. But as expected, Megumi finds she has no sense of self preservation as she looks at the block in her path with a grin.

“You again” She greets him like she knows him now. (She does know him, but she doesn’t know she knows him, you know?) And her smile is so genuinely bright that Megumi starts to feel sick.

“Again,” He sighs, the groan in his voice not going unnoticed. “Didn’t I tell you not to walk around alone this late at night?” His voice still sounds weird, and it’s shortly after that (y/n) notices his hand hovering over his ribcage.

“Did you get hurt, or something?” She ignores him completely, all the while putting her phone in her pocket to give him her full attention.

“I’m Spiderman, I don’t get hurt” Megumi argues, but the wince in his voice is obvious, and (y/n) somehow sees right through it.

“Okay… well… even Spiderman has to go to urgent care sometimes, right?” She tries to be lighthearted, but her smile is wavering now, concern seeping into her features.

Megumi can barely stand to look at her. What is she doing? Staring at him like that, like she knows him, like she cares about him. Can’t she just go the fuck home where it’s safe and more importantly: away from him?

“Tch, I don’t think so” He mutters.

(y/n) frowns.

“Spoken like a true idiot man,” She scolds. Jeez, last time they crossed paths like this she’d said she was a fan, now this? “What is it with you guys and your reputations, huh? You’re not any stronger for toughing out an injury without help, you know”

“I’ll keep that in mind, mom” Megumi argues back. She scoffs, but it turns into a small laugh shortly after.

“You could at least put ice on it, you know” She says, stepping past him and continuing on her way down the sidewalk. Megumi tosses his head back to silently curse at the sky.

“Did I not make myself clear that you should go home?” He calls after her.

“Ice is this way” Is all (y/n) says, and all she has to say to get him to groan at nothing in particular and follow after her.

It’s a good thing it’s so late at night, there’s no one to see Spiderman walking around with some random girl. Surely the papers would have a hay day if even a photo was snapped… he doesn’t even want to think about what kind of headlines they’d come up with.

“I can buy my own ice” He tells her after a minute of walking in silence.

“I know,” (y/n) shrugs. “But so far it seems like you’re letting me hang out with you, so I’ve gotta enjoy it just a little bit longer”

“We’re not hanging out,” Megumi replies dryly. “You’re refusing to go home when it’s the middle of the night and I’m…” He trails off, not wanting to say what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t have to.

“Awe, Spidey’s lookin’ out for me?” She’s smiling at him again, holding her hands behind her back as she looks up at him. “You starting to like me?”

“You’re starting to bother me,” Megumi quips back, but it’s followed by a chuckle he can’t help, and it only seems to endear (y/n) further. “I don’t usually give people follow up warnings,” He mutters with a shake of his head. “What’re you doing out this late, anyways?” He asks before he can help it. “Don’t you have, like, school, or something?” It’s difficult to act like he doesn’t know she spends her nights studying herself to death.

“Maybe I’m going to a party” (y/n) shrugs.

“Tch, no you’re not”

“How do you know?”

“Not dressed like that” Megumi comments, making a point to look her up and down.

(y/n) huffs, but there’s no denying the evidence right in front of them both. She’s wearing leggings that were at least a couple years old, and a large sweatshirt that was teetering the line of well loved and ratty.

“Okay, well, maybe this time I’m not” She says, and Megumi bites back a smile. He’s pretty sure that a girl like (y/l/n) (y/n) has never stepped foot in a house party. And he knows because he hasn’t, either.

“Still not an answer” He reminds her.

“I was going to pick up some energy drinks,” (y/n) finally admits. “It’s a short walk from my apartment to the corner store, I do it all the time. Even without Spiderman watching over me”

He chuckles at that, wondering just how many times she’s made the walk, no matter how short, in the middle of the night. Couldn’t she just get them before she goes home for the day?

“And you just have to go in the middle of the night?” He scolds her, but she doesn’t seem too affected by it.

“That’s when I need them the most” She replies with a shrug.

“You always drink energy drinks that late?”

“What, you worried about me or something?” She fires back, a curious look on her face. “Y’know, I haven’t heard much about you talking to people”

“I don’t”

“You’re talking to me” She points out matter of factly, a tone of hers that Megumi was already far too familiar with.

“You’re kind of leaving me no choice”

(y/n’s) quiet for a moment, and it seems like she’s contemplating something, but whatever it is she doesn’t let him in on, instead smiling and turning her attention to the sidewalk as they walk.

Megumi ducks into the alley next to the convenience store when (y/n) goes in. He’s unceremonious as he drops himself to the ground, sighing in relief to be off of his feet. His hand presses into his ribcage at a weak attempt to relieve the pain as he twists to try and find a comfortable position to sit in. He doesn’t want (y/n) to come back and see him in any sort of pain- it wasn’t a good look for Spiderman to show any sign of weakness.

She’s quick to return, a plastic bag in one hand and a frozen bag of vegetables in the other. Even behind the mask she must understand that he’s pulling a face at her, because she huffs in annoyance.

“They didn’t have ice” She explains, inviting herself to squat down next to him and offer up the vegetables.

“No no, you’re not sitting here,” Megumi bites back a whine when he sits upright in an attempt to urge her to leave. “You need to go back home”

“And miss a personal Q&A with Spiderman?” She replies, a small smile on her face when he finally snatches the vegetables out of her hand. He grumbles a string of incoherent curses as he rests it over where the bruising feels the worst.

“That’s not happening” He mutters.

“This is why I never hear about you talking to people,” (y/n) sighs. “You’re boring”

“I’m not boring,” He argues. “I just don’t have anything to say”

“Well, you could start by thanking me for the veggies” (y/n) replies, tilting her head at him.

Megumi glares at her from behind his mask. He didn’t need to reminder of her insufferable personality. But… watching her smile so softly at him, like she would love nothing more than a thank you from Spiderman… maybe it’s just because he’s injured, but Megumi caves.

“Thank you” It comes out from behind his teeth, and she must know it, but Megumi swears he sees stars in her eyes.

“You’re welcome, Spiderman,” She murmurs back.

It comes out so genuine, so sweet, that there’s a pang in Megumi’s heart. He doesn’t think any of the bruising spread so far up his chest, but it must’ve for him to feel such an odd sensation.

“I have to ask… cause I probably won’t see you again…” Her eyes land on the way his hand tenses and presses the frozen vegetables further against himself. “Why do you do it?”

When he doesn’t answer, she blinks at him, moving her head just enough to tell him that she really wanted him to say something.

Megumi figures she won’t leave him alone if he doesn’t say anything, so he goes with the truth.

“It’s the right thing to do”

He shrugs lamely, and it takes a second for her to react at all. At first it’s a furrow of her brows and a knowing smile, as if he just had to have an answer better than that. But she didn’t know him as well as she liked to think, because she didn’t know Megumi.

When he has nothing else to say, her expression slowly softens, and she hums thoughtfully.

“That’s it, huh?” She muses. “You’re just… a good guy?”

Just a guy, Megumi mentally corrects. He might have heightened abilities, and a better sense of right and wrong than those around him, but he’s never considered himself a hero. Just a guy trying to make things right, trying to keep people safe.

“Guess I try to be” His answer is as lame as his movements.

If he were a superhero, he’d need some help with PR, but somehow, this makes him all the more special to (y/n). She brightens, leans in closer and sets her hand over his, where he’s still holding the cold vegetables.

“Can I tell you something, Spiderman?”

Hasn’t she been talking to him this whole time? If it wouldn’t hurt, Megumi would laugh. Instead he just nods his head and waits for her to continue.

“I want to be a journalist because of you,”

What? Megumi’s face warps into shock at the confession. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. She was on track to be a graduate of the sciences, whichever one she ended up choosing anyways. He always saw her becoming some wealthy astro-physist or some shit. She wanted to give up all of her work in those programs to… write?

“An investigative journalist,” She corrects. “I want to write about the things that matter, and- and I want to be honest, you know? I want people to read my articles and know they’re being handed the truth. There’s not a lot of that around these days…” She trails off.

She didn’t have to tell him about the light Spiderman was painted in. Let’s just say him and Megumi would share the popularity rankings… except no one was raising pitchforks and torches in Megumi’s direction.

“You want to do that ‘cause of me?” Megumi asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

(y/n) nods, trying to bite back her smile but it was still as clear as day.

“I’ll write my first article about you,” She promises, and Megumi’s eyes widen at her sincerity. “If you’ll let me”

“Well you’re not getting an interview” He says, only half joking. (y/n) laughs quietly.

For a moment, he gets that glimpse into her again. The same one he felt the night of the convenience store robbery. There was something in her eye he’d never seen before. Something soft, and real. It dawns on him that he very well may be the only person she’s told about this dream of hers. He wants to ask, but it feels wrong, like he’s prying for something.

“I won’t need one,” She tells him. “Can’t have the people knowing I know you”

“You don’t know me” Megumi replies, maybe too quickly, but he can’t help it.

He tilts his head at her as she gazes at him with too much fondness. Was his reminder that he’s a stranger to her not enough? Sure, she could trust him because he was Spiderman, her safety wasn’t compromised, but that didn’t mean she needed to go confiding in him like this.

Besides, the look she was giving him was making him feel hot, like he was about to break into a sweat.

“I don’t know…” She murmurs thoughtfully. “I just have this feeling… like I do”

That has him leaping into panic mode. That was it, this was done. If he saw her again while he was in this suit, he was going to turn and swing the other direction. She couldn’t be saying things like that, she couldn’t be trying to put the pieces together in her mind. If she were to figure him out, he’d be done for. She put a lot of trust in him tonight, but could he trust her for even a minute? Megumi wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to find out.

As far as he was concerned, this was the last time he was going to talk to her. He was right to avoid her after the first time- it should have been the last time, but it was too late for that now.

“You should go” He says, pushing himself to stand even through grunts of pain. She looks at him with worry, brows knitted and lips in a frown as she follows him up to her feet.

“Wait,”

She calls to stop him, despite having nothing else to say to him. Well, there were a million things she wanted to say to him, but none of that felt appropriate now. She didn’t really expect him to stand there and hear her out, but he is, and now her mouth is running dry and she’s standing before him frozen. He radiates impatience, without having to say a single word.

“I… I didn’t thank you,” She stammers out. It’s unlike her, but it can’t be helped. She’s always had a little fan-crush on Spiderman since he made his appearance on the news, but after actually being around him that seemed to blossom into a very real crush, even if she’s never seen his face. She can feel a blush heating up her face when she speaks. “For the other night, with- with the robbery,” She clarifies, even though she didn’t have to. “So… thank you”

Megumi hesitates a moment longer, almost expecting her to say something else. She looks like she wants to, her face is growing pink and her hands have begun fiddling with the bag of her energy drinks. But she remains quiet.

He gives her a nod, before handing over the bag of vegetables. (y/n) laughs under her breath as she takes it. It’s lost all of it’s cold, merely a room temperature bag of carrots and peas by now. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to do with it, but she supposes it wouldn’t look good for Spiderman to swing around with it.

“You’re welcome,” He tells her, and it sounds like the most earnest thing he’s had to say to her. He’s always come across as blunt, something (y/n) was surprised by when they first met, but now it’s a blessing. She knows that he means it. “Get home. Don’t make me have to tell you again, alright?”

To Megumi, this is a goodbye. He doesn’t intend to see her again, not like this. It was… interesting, while it lasted, but it could never actually last. It needed to be over before things could get any worse… or she could get any closer to figuring out his identity.

“I’ll try my best, Spiderman”

It’s the same thing she’d left him with before. She wonders if he catches it. With that, Megumi shoots a web and swings off into the night, his black suit blending easily into the night sky.

He did. ___

(y/n) was always punctual, to everything, not just class. But today she found herself in her favorite seat a whole ten minutes early. She hadn’t meant to show up before the professor, but she just couldn’t contain her energy today. She’d woken up before her alarm, got showered, dressed and dolled up in record time, ate a small breakfast on her walk to school, and now here she was. Full of energy as if it wasn’t eight in the morning. Call it waking up on the right side of the bed…

… or having an interesting night that she couldn’t get out of her head.

Never in her wildest dreams did she think that she’d run into Spiderman again. The first time was a little embarrassing, she’d come close to being called a victim, but the second time just happened by chance. It had her heart racing, her face warming, her lips smiling- hell, she was giddy.

He wasn’t anything like she’d thought he’d be, but that just made him all the more enticing to her. He was blunt, maybe even a little crass for a masked hero, but every interaction she’d had with him drew her in more.

She’d meant what she said about getting into journalism, she’d even been looking into transferring her credits next year, even if it meant starting over in a completely new program. Last night, she’d spent her time in bed staring at the ceiling and replaying events in her mind. When she wasn’t doing that, she was mentally writing her first article about The Spiderman.

The Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman had a nice ring to it, she thought. Although she had a feeling that he would laugh at the title of Friendly. Or maybe roll his eyes. It was hard to tell with the mask.

Before she knew it, she found herself doodling said mask at the corner of a fresh page in her notebook. She lifted her pen instantly, surprised at just how zoned out she’d become. There were never doodles in her notebooks. They were perfectly kept, clean, organized, conside, and without any extra graffiti.

She supposes this doodle can stay, though… she had done a rather good job at drawing it, it would be a pity if it went to waste…

Students begin to file into the class and setting up their laptops and notebooks at the desks surrounding her. Without any friends in this class there’s no one for her to talk to, or share the story of her night with.

Then again, she’s not sure she wants to tell anyone about her run in with Spiderman. She hadn’t mentioned it before… although that was because she didn’t need anyone fussing over her being out so late and putting her safety in jeopardy. This time was different, but still…

It felt more special if she kept it to herself.

Today, Megumi comes to class twelve minutes late. She eyes the clock above the doorway just as he ducks in to check the time, but her eyes just as quickly dart back to his figure. It’s hard not to, with the dark purple shiner standing out against the pale skin of his face.

Her eyes flit around the room, just to see if anyone else noticed the state of their late arrival, but every other student seemed too wrapped up in the lesson, and their professor was too deep in his lecture to give Megumi the slightest of attention. To everyone else, Megumi was late as usual. As (y/n) looked at him again, she had an inkling he was the only one who noticed his black eye.

He knew he was going to draw attention, clearly, seeing as his hoodie was up over his unruly hair and his head was down. But he must’ve sensed (y/n’s) eyes on him, because when he looked up it was directly at her.

He was moving to the back of the class again, probably to take that corner desk with the graphite engravings all over it. It would be alarming if she were to say anything to him, although she’s not even sure what she would say. Asking him if he was alright felt weird, and it’s not like she could just shout ‘what the fuck!?’ in the middle of class.

All she could do was stare at him as he took his seat, pull out his notebook, and begin notetaking as usual, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She’s completely turned around in her seat now, still watching him, even though she was missing valuable points of the lesson now. It was hard to pull her attention away- it was weird that no one else seemed to notice him at all.

Where could he have possibly gotten that from? She frowned, despite Megumi ignoring her completely. She was sure that she would’ve heard about him getting into another fight on campus- last time she was getting texts about it while she was reading all the tweets about it. Fights were hot news around here, and if Megumi was involved in a second one, she surely couldn’t have missed it.

Right?

Finally, his eyes catch hers. She doesn’t turn away from him like she had in the past, she holds his stare, trying to communicate with him in silence.

It’s obvious to him, she’s looking at him with that same worried face she’d worn last night. She just didn’t know she was worried about the same person. He raises his eyebrows at her expectantly, as though asking ‘what?’. As though nothing were out of the ordinary at all.

Her lips curl into a frown, almost a pout, and Megumi has half a mind to flip her off to get her to leave him alone. Even in silence, even from opposite sides of the room, she seems to find some way to get under his skin.

He doesn’t, though. Just holds her stare for a minute longer before putting all of his attention into his notetaking.

Megumi told himself that he was done with her, and he was going to be true to his word. Whether he was in the suit or not, he couldn’t have anything to do with (y/l/n) (y/n). Being around her just made things feel… complicated. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he didn’t want to. He just wanted the feeling to go away.

She sits turned around in her seat even once he’s clearly begun to ignore her again. He can feel her eyes on him, see her watching him out of his peripheral vision as if she was going to figure him out through her stare alone.

He was only pretty sure that she couldn’t.

Eventually she turns around in her seat, but the bouncing of her leg is driving him insane even from across the class. It was like all he could hear- the faint tap of her shoe tapping the linoleum floor. It was louder than the lecture, than the squeak of the marker on the whiteboard, or the students smacking their gum or tapping their desks. His ears focused on it for the remainder of class, effectively ruining his note taking ability.

He’s out of his seat once class is over, snatching his things and not bothering to put them in his bag as he bolts for the door. There’s an itch in his mind telling him to distance himself from (y/n) as fast as he can. The inkling was right, because he doesn’t make it far in the hall before his name is being called.

“Fushiguro!”

A few surrounding students glance in her direction, some even snicker in passing. Megumi wasn’t someone anyone chased after, and certainly never a girl. If this were still high school, his sister would ooh and ahh at him before skipping away, plotting to tease him for it later. But this wasn’t high school, and when he turned around to face (y/n), anyone who was watching made themselves scarce fast.

He doesn’t say anything as she approaches him, the strap of her messenger bag held tight in both hands against her chest.

She opens her mouth, ready to make a smartass comment, but it comes out awkward, not quite right.

“Late to class again cause of a fight, or something?” Even her scoff comes out wrong, sounding like a nervous laugh, strangled and weird. She shifts her weight between her feet.

Megumi’s silent for a long few seconds. Every one that passes feels like eternity, and (y/n) deflates a little more under his stare.

“Sure” He shakes his head, not caring what she wanted to assume about him. If she wanted to think he was that kind of guy, all the better. Spiderman didn’t get into fights before going to class, so the further he could separate himself from him in her mind, the better.

She frowns at his answer, and it looks like she’s actually upset when she stares directly at his dark eye. It looks pretty bad, he knows that. The swelling he could take care of, but the dark purple was another thing. Right now though, he’s more concerned about the way she seems to worry.

“Seriously, Fuhiguro,” She says quietly, hoping to get through to him.

She’s not sure what it is that came over her, but something about seeing him walk into class looking like this made her heart lurch in her chest.

“What happened? Who did that?”

“I fell,” He says dryly, earning a short glare from her. He sighs, shutting his eyes to mask his annoyance before it got the best of him. “Sorry I don’t have an interesting story for you- can I go to class now?”

“Suddenly Mr Punctual?” She snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest. Megumi huffs, shakes his head, uncaring toward her attitude.

“Whatever” He starts to turn away, but she catches him off guard when she rushes to block his path again.

Megumi actually startles when she budges in front of him, having to step back to remove her from his personal space. His wide eyes land on hers, annoyance furrowing his brows as he stares down at her. She’s defiantly raising her chin towards him, eyes narrowed and everything.

“I’m actually asking, you know,” She tells him. “Because no one else is walking around with black eyes-”

“Who cares?” Megumi tries to step out of her way, but she slides in front of him again. The traffic in the hallway is thinning, they would both be late for their next class if she kept this up. “Don’t you have a class to be early for?” He hopes that’s enough to get her to back off.

“I don’t care,” She says with enough assurance that Megumi’s actually surprised. He figured being late to class would throw her into a full breakdown. “Why are you being such a dick about this?”

He scoffs, a bitter smile tugging on his lips, only making him wince as it tears the healing wound.

“Why are you?” He fires back.

“Because,” She says it with such certainty, only to fall short with the rest of her reason. She didn’t know exactly why she felt like someone needed to check in on him, but she knew that she did, and maybe she was the only one who noticed anything was wrong in the first place. “Because… because it’s the right thing to do”

Megumi freezes up at that. All of his muscles go rigid, his jaw tightens, and his eyes flicker over her features rapidly, trying to find any crack in her sincerity. Was she seriously throwing his words back at him right now? Just because of a black eye?

Meanwhile (y/n) feels good about her answer. She’d picked it up from a man she admired so much and it felt right. There was no real reason, just a feeling. She had no idea what emotional turmoil she was putting him through right now.

“(y/n), seriously…” Megumi shakes his head at her. He steps to the side again, but doesn’t leave right away. Her eyes follow his, waiting for him to continue. He hates that she looks so genuinely worried about him. Hates the way it makes his heart race and his fingers tremble. He has to force words out of his throat. “Leave me alone”

Her face falls, but he’s quick to leave once he says it, and this time, she doesn’t chase after him again. ___

In the rest of their classes, she doesn’t try to talk to him again, and does her best not to look his way. Megumi’s relieved… he thinks. It’s for the best that everything returns to normal. Whatever compelled her to reach out to him today was clearly Spiderman’s doing, and he couldn’t have that. Things couldn’t change. His feelings of distaste towards her couldn’t change. He couldn’t start feeling… differently.

With his hood on and his headphones blasting music enough to drown out the noise of the cafe, Megumi tries to catch up on what he’d missed during his first lecture, which was the entirety of his first lecture. Luckily his professor tended to drone on word for word from the textbook, and he could catch up by reading.

Unluckily, it doesn’t take much for him to get sidetracked from his studies. He wants to kick himself when something compels him to look up, only to find (y/n) at Fratboy’s table again.

This again, he tells himself, certain he’ll go right back to his textbook. But he doesn’t move. His focus stays entirely on the table of jocks, without a shred of discretion, to make things worse.

“Not today” (y/n’s) saying when he tunes into the conversation. Does this guy always ask her to sit at his table for lunch? Is he that oblivious? Megumi chews on the inside of his cheek. You’d think he’d try to avoid the idiot jock stereotype a little better.

“C’mon princess, it’s never ‘today’. Why don’t you just say yes to ‘tomorrow’, hm?” Fratboy leans out of his seat, reaching his hand out towards her. (y/n) takes a step backwards, but he’s faster, snatching her by the wrist and pulling her towards the table again.

Megumi bristles, watching the situation with the eyes of a hawk. If looks could kill, this would’ve been enough to get Fratboy’s hand off of her. Even if he wasn’t hurting you, it was unwanted, that much was clear just by watching her body language.

“I really don’t feel that way about you,” (y/n) snaps, tugging her arm to get herself out of his grasp. He doesn’t release right away, and Megumi almost gets to his feet, but with a second tug he lets go of her, and (y/n) takes a large step back, keeping both arms close to her body in case he tries to reach for her again. “Leave me alone” She barks at him, turning to walk away.

If Fratboy says something else to her, Megumi misses it. His focus is dialed up to one hundred, and as soon as (y/n) separated herself from him, Megumi hadn’t paid a second glance to Fratboy at all. He wonders how long she’d felt his watchful eyes before she actually turned towards him. Her eyes skirt around the cafe for a second, trying to find where the prickling feeling of being watched was coming from, and it doesn’t take long for her to find him. Her bitter expression softens when she spots him, an odd feeling replacing the discomfort of being talked down to and manhandled.

Maybe because as soon as Fratboy follows her line of sight and sees Megumi’s hard stare set in his direction, he turns towards his table again and quickly engages himself with his friends, not bothering (y/n) with even a second glance. She watches this unfold, before looking back at Megumi again, curiously. Despite her being left alone now, he’s still staring at her, maybe waiting to see that she’ll get to her table without being bothered again, she’s not sure.

Either way, she grows still under his direct gaze. She didn’t know how to describe it, but she’s sure she’s never had anyone look at her like that. With an otherwise neutral expression, there was so much anger behind Megumi’s eyes that if she didn’t know better, she might be just as afraid as Fratboy. However something told her not to be, something told her that the anger wasn’t directed towards her. It takes a great deal of effort for her to turn her back on him and head towards her table, but even as she walks away she can’t help but glance back at him again. He’s already returned to his book by then, but her intrigue doesn’t end there. She spends the rest of her lunch in near silence while surrounded by her friends, her thoughts too busy for her to keep up with meaningless chit chat and gossip.

That night (y/n) wanders the sidewalk between her apartment and the convenience store up and down until her feet are too tired to carry her anymore. She walks the familiar path, back and forth, over and over, between the hours of ten and two, her eyes fixed on the sky, peeking down alleyways, her fingers crossed, her heart racing. Nothing comes of her walk. She returns home with a sense of disappointment, and a will to try it again. ___

Megumi’s growing tired of this game of hers. He’s not sure why she insists on doing this every night, it had been four nights now and she had nothing to show for it, so why was she still out there pacing the sidewalk like a maniac?

It took all of his energy to patrol the streets and keep an eye on one particular sidewalk- one particular girl. He was one guy. Did she really think this was safe for either of them? He very well could be missing a crime happening two blocks over because he’s too busy checking in on where she’s chosen to wander. Did she really think this was enough to capture his attention?

Well, it had caught his attention, seeing as every other five minutes he was swinging back in this direction to make sure she was still alive down there.

Was she trying to learn a lesson the hard way? Megumi spent his time watching her with bitterness. She was smarter than this, he knew it, so what the hell was she thinking?

Deep down he’d already confirmed his worries, but he’d hoped that she’d give this stunt up eventually. He still saw her around school, even if she’d stopped bothering him, he could see the toll that staying up like this was taking on her. She always had an energy drink or a coffee on her desk, and Megumi doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so disheveled. It had him wondering if this was starting to impact her grades, too.

This is why he shouldn’t have spoken with her the last time. He should’ve swung off in the opposite direction. Because now she was on his mind, she had him worrying, swinging all around the block she was pacing while trying to keep an eye on the rest of the city- it was exhausting for him, too.

He shouldn’t be sitting here worrying about her sleep, or her grades. His bottom line should be safety. And she was safe. So why couldn’t he just leave her be?

With a groan he stops his swinging to land on one of the surrounding buildings. He rips his mask off his head, groaning through his irritation before raking his hands through his already messy hair. She was driving him crazy, and he was sure that she knew it too. This little back and forth walk of hers, she was taunting him with it.

Throwing himself down to sit on the edge of the building, Megumi peers over his knees to check on her yet again. She’s slowed her pace, which hopefully means she’s getting tired and will return to her apartment soon.

With a huff, he props his head in his hand, wondering what he was going to do about this. It wasn’t as easy to make her hate Spiderman as it was to make her hate Megumi. Hell, it might not be a bad idea to just reveal his identity to her, she’d probably want to forget about Spiderman all together, then.

Of course, that was a stupid idea, but Megumi was fresh out of good ones.

When he lifts his head again, compelled by some invisible force to check just one more time that she was alright, he’d looked just in time. He barely had the time to pull his mask back on his head before he was leaping off the building and swinging down towards her, half flying and half falling through the air as fast as he could to get to her before whatever figure lurking around the corner could.

Shit, shit, shit.

It happens so fast, she’s lucky she didn’t pee herself from the whole thing. She’d just reached the end of her pace, about to turn around and wander the other direction when she finally saw a very unsettling figure come around the corner. With disheveled clothing and a stagger that sent up warning flags of intoxication, (y/n) instantly stopped in her tracks, and started to shuffle backwards.

He never said a word to her, but from looks alone she got the feeling of what he was thinking. Nothing good.

However before she could get herself to start running, someone else came into view.

There’s barely a second for her to show her relief when Spiderman shows up, seemingly out of nowhere. She’s not sure his feet even touched the ground before he had an arm around her and was swinging off again. He doesn’t have to tell her to hold on, she just clings, with all her might, she winds her arms around his neck and keeps her knees locked on either side of his hips.

The sensation of swinging through the air is not the one she always dreamed of enjoying- the wind is harsh, whipping her hair around all directions and snapping against her face unpleasantly. Even with her face buried against her savior’s chest, the cold air nips at her.

Even once he’s clearly landed, it takes some prompting for her to let go of him, and open her eyes.

When she does, she barely gets to open her mouth before he’s laying into her, and she should’ve seen it coming, but she can’t help but deflate.

“What the hell were you thinking!?”

He’s yelling, and at first she wonders if he’s worried about people seeing, but a quick glance at her surroundings and she realizes they’re on the roof of a building. No one would be hearing them here.

“Were you seriously trying to get yourself into trouble? Because you were about this close to it,” He raises his pinched fingers for emphasis, but gives her no time to answer. “You better not have done something so stupid just cause of me-”

“I didn’t- well- well I didn’t necessarily” (y/n) tries to explain, but the words just aren’t coming as fast as her mouth is moving and she’s left gaping at him.

Megumi was not putting up with it. What did he have to do to get it through her head?

“I can’t be spending my nights keeping an eye on just you because you feel like putting yourself in harm’s way for a fucking rush,” He snaps. “You pull shit like that again (y/n) and I’m not going to be there next time, you understand?”

Her mouth shuts. She nods her head.

“Jesus Christ,” Megumi puts his hands to his head, turning and walking off as if they weren’t stranded on top of a building.

Well, (y/n) was stranded. Spiderman had the means of getting himself anywhere.

She wants to follow him, but instinct tells her to stay put while he paces and continues to scold her.

“You’re goddamn lucky I was there, you know that?” He’s not even looking at her, but she nods her head again anyways. She knows. “I should really go back there and beat the shit out of that guy” He starts to mutter to himself, going on incoherently, and (y/n’s) blood starts to run cold.

“He- I mean, he didn’t do anything” She mumbles, her voice hardly above a whisper, but he seems to hear her just fine, stopping in his tracks and turning his head towards her.

“Are you serious?”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before any words come out.

“It’s not like he… he said anything, or did anything to me” She clarifies. Spiderman’s mask is incapable of expression, but she had a feeling the man behind it was glaring at her. She could feel that familiar prickle of a harsh stare.

It’s silent for a long moment before he finally turns completely towards her and walks back in her direction. She keeps her feet firmly planted, willing herself not to back away or cower, but having him come stand so close to her had her throat closing up. He towered over her so much she had to lean her head back to look up at his mask. If he was going to yell, she was bound to flinch.

“You have no idea what he was capable of doing,” He doesn’t yell. In fact his voice is so eerily low she almost shivers. “If you want to gamble your life on some drunken lowlife’s imagination, that’s your business,” He adds, and she blinks away the tears welling up in her eyes as the gravity of the situation really sunk in with his words. “But at least have the decency to do it far away from me. Because if it were up to me I’d go back there and kill that guy right now”

She blinks a few more times, but still, a tear slips down her cheek.

“I-I’m sorry,” She whispers shakily, the lump in her throat growing hotter when she tries to speak. “I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to- I-”

Megumi sighs as more tears begin to fall from her eyes. Her brain was playing catchup and it was clear she was too tired to handle any of this right now.

“It’s alright,” He says, but it’s obviously not enough to calm her down, so against his better judgment, he tries his hand at comforting her. “Hey, c’mon, you’re alright,” Reaching out to her, he hesitates before placing his hands on either side of he face, wiping her tears away on the soft material of gloves. “Breathe,” He instructs quietly, and waits as her shudders slowly morph into slow, heavy breaths. “There you go, that’s it. You’re alright,” He tries to remind her that where she is now, she’s safe. “You’re here”

It takes a few more deep breaths, but eventually he steers her clear of a full blown panic attack, and her heartbeat returns to a normal pace.

With one last deep breath, (y/n) closes her eyes on her exhale, and Megumi finally drops his hands from her head, sure that she isn't going to start back up again.

“I have trouble sleeping,” She tells him quietly, her eyes focused on the ground. “It started in high school, I uh… I’m kind of a nerd, I guess,” She admits. “My parents really cared about my grades and success and I guess I just… went with it. Started staying up through the night to study and get ahead the rest of my class and… never dropped the habit”

Megumi softens, although she’d never know it.

“That doesn’t sound so healthy,” He says quietly, not knowing what else to say. She scoffs, smiles bitterly, shakes her head back at him. “We should get you back home, yeah?”

Realizing what he meant, she looks back at him with a wince, and he can’t help the small chuckle at her reaction.

“It’ll be alright. I’ll take it easy, promise” He says, crossing his finger over his chest for emphasis.

“What, like I’m gonna find some way to sue Spiderman?” She mutters back.

He holds his arms out to her, carefully grabbing her by the forearms to loop them around his neck.

“Just hold on and keep your head down, it’ll be over before you know it”

Her face heats up when his arm comes around her back and he presses her even closer. She can’t stop her squeak of surprise before it comes out, and it must startle him, because he’s quick to ask her if she’s okay.

“Yeah I- I’m fine” She stammers back, feeling her blush grow hotter.

Megumi takes off without a warning, thinking it’ll be easier to rip it off like a bandaid than to count down before a jump. All of her limbs tighten around him, forgetting about modesty as soon as they’re in the air. She presses her face as far into his shoulder as she can to keep herself blinded from the surrounding area. Until now, she wouldn’t have said she was afraid of heights.

She’s at least able to give him her address, a shaky whisper in his ear before she’s buried into his shoulder again.

When he lands on her fire escape, he helps her to her feet, trying not to chuckle at how wobbly she is.

“Don’t get sick on the suit, you have no idea how much of a pain it is to dry clean this thing” He tries to lighten the mood, and is surprised that he’s successful in doing so, earning a small laugh from her.

“You say that to all the girls you swing home, Spidey?”

“Not a fan of the nickname. Or the insinuation” He’s back to his usual dry self in no time.

“Well you have to have a nickname, we’re friends now, aren’t we?”

He’s supposed to leave now. He should leave now. This was exactly what he was afraid of happening, her getting attached. That burden was only on her of course, there wasn’t a chance Megumi was going to get drawn in when it comes to her, not when he knew the consequences.

“Spideman already is a nickname” He mutters like it’s obvious.

(y/n) let’s out a breathless laugh, and tosses her messy windswept hair behind her shoulders.

Megumi hasn’t left yet, why isn’t he leaving?

“Well, then there must be some other name I could call you..?” She trails off with her question, stepping forward and eyeing him curiously.

Megumi’s frozen. Was she really suggesting he reveal himself to her? Obviously he couldn’t do that…

“I’d just like to thank you, again,” She says, a small smile on her lips as she takes another step forward.

If he’s not leaving, Megumi knows he most definitely needed to step away from her before she could press any closer. Carrying her to swing her home was one thing, that was closeness out of necessity, but this- this was too much, and he was freezing up.

“And, um, properly,” She adds in a soft murmur, her eyes flickering over his mask.

He briefly wonders what she’s looking for, but it’s quickly answered when she reaches up towards him, her fingers brushing the space between his mask and the rest of the suit. It’s fitted so well it’s nearly impossible for someone to find the disconnect between the two- unless of course you’re standing directly in front of him, which she was.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, but the gulp he swallows is visible to her with how close she is. The tips of her fingers barely slip under the material of his mask, they graze his skin in a touch featherlight yet searing hot.

Without any indication from him that she should stop, curiosity gets the best of her and she carefully begins to slide the mask upwards, her eyes excitedly watching the expanse of his now exposed neck. Almost as pale as the moonlight, she drank up the sight of his skin as if it was a completely new sight to her.

When she gets to his chin, his hand snatches her wrist. It’s a quick action, but surprisingly gentle. He barely grips her arm, his touch merely a warning.

“You shouldn’t” He says, the lump in his bobbing throat preventing him from saying anything more.

She looks up into the expanse of white that made for the compelling eyes of the mask. Wondering if she was making proper eye contact with him, she shakes her head reassuringly.

“I won’t go too much further,” She murmurs. Followed by an even softer, “Promise”

His better judgment clean out the window, Megumi lets go of her hand, and allows her to proceed.

Using both hands now, she bunched up the end of the material until she was able to gather it at his nose where it would stay put, leaving everything from his neck to the tip of his nose on display for her.

She smiles at him, almost knowingly, and it makes him nervous. Everything about this makes him nervous, this cold sweat she was putting him through was torture. Even more so when her fingers begin to softly trace over the exposed parts of his skin.

“I knew you were handsome” She whispers shyly, but her eyes glimmer with excitement.

Megumi chuckles, the corners of his lips barely quirking into a smile, prompting her to hover the pad of her thumb over them as well. She doesn’t quite touch his lips, too cautious of the healing cut over the bottom one.

“How could you know such a thing?” He mumbles, keeping his voice low out of worry that she’d recognize it without the muffle of his mask.

“I don’t know,” She giggles softly. “Your voice, maybe. And you’re tall”

“I don’t think you have very good standards” Megumi murmurs.

“I think it’s completely fair for a girl to have a little crush on the man who saved her,” She replies, face warming up from such a confession. To her delight, it gets another smile out of him. “Who knew you smiled so much under there?” She says before she could think twice about it. “I was starting to think you were that stoic, mysterious type”

“I could be” He mumbles, and he finds himself taking her hand before she could finally touch her fingers to his lips.

She’s more than enticed to, with how pink and alluring they were, she’d been dying to kiss them since she’d lifted his mask, and hoped he’d give her the chance, seeing as he hadn’t tried to cover the bottom half of his face just yet.

She’s never looked at him like this before. And to be fair, Megumi had never looked at her like this either. He’d had no idea how pretty she was, like this, with her eyes half lidded and half focused, staring intently at his lips, giving away all of her thoughts without having to voice them. Her long lashes seemed to grow heavier with every slow blink. She’s hardly looking up at him now, all of her attention on just one thing, and Megumi was starting to run out of reasons why he shouldn’t indulge her.

The hand that he’s not keeping away from him reaches out again, fingers skimming his jaw before curling around it with the softest touch. She doesn’t pull him with much force, but Megumi finds himself following her movements as she guides him down, closer to her height.

It wasn’t right to kiss her. It was actually the exact opposite of what he’d been trying to do here. How the hell did he wind up in this situation?

“Thank you, Spiderman” She whispers, her lips ghosting over his with every syllable.

Ah, fuck it.

His hand releases hers only to reach for the back of her head and pull her in the rest of the way, his lips capturing hers passionately. Not expecting him to make the first move, she’s delayed in reacting, her hands sliding around the back of his neck and kissing him back with just as much fervor.

So lost in the kiss and how softly his lips move over hers, she almost forgets about the minor detail that his identity is still a secret to her, but even if it crosses her mind, she doesn’t care.

Her fingers press into the small strip of skin exposed at the nape of his neck, and while she longs to dig them under the back of his mask and lift it off of his head, it's not out of a desire to expose his identity. It’s purely because she’d love to run her hands through his hair, followed by a curiosity of what that would feel like.

Was his hair long? Soft? Coarse? Was it shaggy? Was it shaved? The mystery of it all had her mind buzzing and her feet pushing her to the tips of her toes to meet his lips in one last kiss before he could pull away.

The final kiss is softer than the rest, so gentle and slow, it was the perfect first, and last, kiss.

Not that she could tell the difference, but Megumi had a hard time opening his eyes again when he pulled away. He didn’t move far, his hand still cupped around the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. A part of him hoped they’d be so knotted together that they wouldn’t ever have to leave this moment.

When he does find the courage to look at her, he’s mentally kicking himself.

Megumi’s sure that the reason the sky was so dull tonight was because all the stars were trapped in her eyes, now being gifted to him under her precious gaze. Her lips curled into a slightly swollen smile, her cheeks pink with color despite the sun being nowhere in sight, it was perfect, she was perfect, and he can’t believe he’s spent so long missing out on it.

Shit, shit, shit.

“You…” He starts, but he doesn’t know where he’s going. His head is in the clouds, beyond the clouds, he was completely unreachable. (y/n) giggles softly at how quickly he’d become tongue tied. “You should pursue the journalist thing, alright?”

Brows slightly drawn together from the seemingly random comment, she nods back at him in a small motion.

“You think?” She murmurs back, her hand squeezing his. It sends a wave of warmth through his arm and into his chest, and Megumi has to fight the urge to frown, because his mouth was still exposed.

Pulling his hand from hers, he touches it gently to her jaw, then her cheek. She leans into his touch, welcoming it completely. Her smile only grows upon feeling the warmth of his palm through his glove.

“I have a feeling that you’d succeed at anything you put your mind to,” He says, and it��s sort of cheesy, but it’s the absolute truth. Her lips part in surprise at the sudden seriousness in his tone, but she doesn’t say anything, just lets his words linger on her mind. “No more middle of the night walks, though, alright?” He says, shaking her head just a tiny bit to make sure it would get through her thick skull. “If you can’t sleep, just put something on tv, like a normal person”

Her hand raises to cover the back of his, cradling it against her face sweetly. Megumi thinks the sight will be ingrained in his memory for the rest of time.

“Then how will I see you again?” She says, only half teasing. Her eyes are wide and hopeful, and Megumi stalls by brushing his thumb over her cheekbone a few times.

“I’ll be around” He murmurs, nodding his head through his uncertainty. Was it a good idea to see her again?

(y/n) nods back at him, before letting his hand go and reaching for the bunched up material of his mask, pulling it back over his face.

It was hardly a good idea to see her this time, and she’d actually needed his help. Look where that had lead him.

“I hope so,” She mumbles, seemingly just as uncertain as he was.

He finally drops his hand from her head, fingers carefully detangling themselves from her hair so as not to irritate her head, or maybe he just needed to linger near her a little longer.

Who was he kidding. He was going to find himself in this position sooner or later, wasn’t he?

“I guess… you know where to find me,” She says, wrapping her arms around herself, even though it was a nice night with no breeze. She squeezes herself for comfort.

When did it start, exactly? Was it the little secrets she confided in? Or her worry when he’d shown up to class a few days ago with a black eye? Megumi struggled to pinpoint when things took a turn down the path of no return.

“If you change your mind on that interview…” She adds with a soft smile. She hopes he’s smiling back at her.

He is.

“I’ll know where to find you,” He repeats, hoisting himself onto the railing of her fire escape, and standing up on the thin bar with complete balance. He made it look easy. “Goodnight, (y/n)”

“Goodnight, Spiderman”

He took off then, completely silent as he leapt from the escape and swung off, nearly invisible in the darkness.

(y/n) couldn’t help but sit outside her window a little longer, replaying the events of her night yet again, and wondering just how he figured out her name. ___

Megumi had resigned to sitting in the back of all of his classes for the rest of the year.

It’s not a huge deal, he can learn fine from any seat in the class, and as he realizes this he comes to realize that there was never really a good reason why he chose to sit near (y/n) before. All of his complaints that she was an obnoxious bother had dissolved into… nothing. He chose to sit near her every day. Whether it was right behind her or two seats away, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he always chose to be near.

And now that he wasn’t, it was driving him crazy. He longed to be closer, to sit behind her again, maybe even right next to her. Had he really been so dense all this time?

Though their interactions had been swindling since he’d put more focus into Spiderman than he had in school, (y/n) hadn’t spoken a word to him since their argument in the hall, and that was almost two weeks ago now.

The last thing she’d said to him, she’d said to Spiderman, not Megumi. Still, he tries to keep the soft, precious way she’d bid him goodnight in his memory. He didn’t want to forget a single moment of the last time he’d spoken with her, not the things she said, not the way she touched his skin so delicately, and certainly not the kiss.

Megumi leans his chin into his hand now, fingers covering his mouth nonchalantly. However when he presses the pads of his fingertips against his lips, it’s not the same.

They caught eyes here and there, but that wasn’t the same either. He’d come into class late, she’d cast him a short glance, but it was always quickly returned to the front of the room. Not so much as a taunting glare was directed his way. It was safe to say he’d finally gotten her off his back… and he’s never felt like such an idiot.

It was worse outside of classes.

He’d spend his nights swinging around town, lazing through patrol, busting perps when they came around, but crime was dwindling by the day, it seemed. He liked to think that Spiderman was making a difference, but he’d been a little rough around the edges lately, and he knew deep down his reputation was morphing into a ruthless fighter.

Spiderman wasn’t just keeping peace, he was keeping criminals in fear. Not that Megumi was perturbed by this- for one, he’d long held that reputation already, so living with it as Spiderman felt no different. Secondly, the quiet nights were comforting.

The free time was starting to become a problem, though. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to visit her. He’d be aimlessly swinging and the next thing he knew he was on her block, near her building, almost approaching the very fire escape at her window where they’d last seen each other. It’s difficult to make himself turn around and swing the other way, especially on the clear nights when he can see her light is on, and he knows she’s awake.

She’d kept her promise, it seemed. He’d swing by often enough to notice the flicker of a tv screen, just close enough to know she was home and safe, but he tried not to linger too long. He didn’t want her seeing him checking in, and he definitely didn’t like the idea of sitting outside her window like a creep.

More than that, he feared that she’d be delighted to see him again.

It had been a week since that night on her fire escape- with the rescue, the kiss- and Megumi really tried to keep his distance. He indulged himself in passing by her window more times than he could count, but he was careful to keep himself hidden, so she would have no idea his watchful eye was never too far. If he kept this up, he hoped that she would forget about it altogether. That’s what would be for the best.

Sitting across the street perched on the roof of a building like it was the most natural place in the world to sit, Megumi dropped his chin in his hand as he stared longingly at the only lit up window in the apartment building across the street. At this point, he’d probably spent more time looking at that window than he had in his own home.

He didn’t want to forget about what happened. He didn’t want her to forget about what happened.

His mask crumpled in his other hand, he tore his gaze away from the window to stare down at it, cursing it mentally for giving him everything only to ruin it.

It wasn’t Spiderman’s fault, though. Megumi was just as much responsible for the rift he’d put between himself and (y/n), long before that damned spider bite. He’d always pushed her off, kept her at arm’s length or further, if he could help it. He was the one stubborn enough to never let anyone in. He was the one that pushed her into treating him with the same insufferable attitude he’d directed at her, way back then. So much could change within a year, he supposed that was true for everyone, but he couldn’t ward off the self pity that came over him, thinking he’d surely changed too much within a year.

At the feeling of the first raindrop hitting his exposed head, he sighed, running a hand through his hair to dry the following drops of water before pulling his mask over his head again. Of course it’s going to start raining on him when he’s sitting here feeling bad about himself.

He doesn’t intend to get any closer to her building, being right across the street already felt too close, but with the extra cover of the rain starting to pick up, Megumi thought maybe tonight he could get away with being just a little closer. Just close enough to make sure she was okay in there. He might not be able to do anything about her sleepless nights… but it couldn’t hurt to check, right? He would leave as soon as he was sure, and then he would try not to return.

He’s not stupid enough to climb directly onto her fire escape- but then again his being here was pretty stupid already so what was one more idiot move? Instead Megumi perches himself on the one above it, opting to hang over the bottom of it just enough that he could peek through the window.

To his surprise, even though her tv is on along with the rest of the lights in her room, (y/n) is nowhere in sight. He doesn’t think much of this at first, she very well could be in the bathroom, or the kitchen. But just as he tries to rationalize her disappearance, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, and in the next second her window was sliding open.

“Boo!”

Her whisper yell as she leans out the window and towards his dangling head is comparable to that of a child’s. Completely un-scary, and followed by a string of delighted giggles.

Megumi freezes, and he would’ve fallen right off the fire escape if his reflexes didn’t have him shooting out a web of safety to hang by. He’s still upside down, swinging in front of her, but (y/n) leans out further to steady his movement by his shoulders.

“Scared ya good, huh?” She muses. Her grin was a sight for sore eyes. “Serves you right, stalking a girl like that”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking”

“What would you call it then?”

Her hands are still pressed against his shoulders. Megumi’s not sure if it’s to keep him from swinging, or if she was keeping her own balance as she leaned the upper half of her body out her window.

“... is it a crime to visit people?”

“Usually when they’re trying to creep in through a window” She quips back. Her smile only seems to brighten the longer she looks at him- even if she did sort of just call him a creep.

“For the record I wasn’t trying to get in” He corrects, his own smile beginning to grow under his mask. He couldn’t deny how good it felt to see her like this again, to be able to talk to her, even just look at her.

“Just spy from the outside?”

“I don’t like the narrative you’re spinning,” Megumi scoffs. “What happened to honest journalism, hm?”

She giggles at that. The corners of her eyes crinkle as she gazes at him fondly. He liked this side of her banter- the playful side. It was fun.

“So you think you can honestly say you missed me, Spidey?” She asks in a voice made of pure sugar. It rots his teeth, melts his insides, and makes all his senses go fuzzy.

“I thought we weren’t going the nickname route” He deadpans, avoiding the question.

With her smile pursing to the corner of her lips, something about her demeanor changed then.

“It’s only fair, since you know my name,” Her tone is just as light, but her eyes are calculating, and Megumi knows he’s slipped up. And again just now, by not having a quick enough response. “And I’m certain I didn’t give it to you… so… how do you explain that one?”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to have an interest in figuring that out?” Megumi chuckles, hoping he could play it off.

(y/n) presses further out her window, far enough now that the rain starts to dampen her hair, but she appears to pay it no mind.

“I don’t like it when you’re cryptic, Spidey” She huffs.

Again, Megumi laughs.

“It sort of comes with the whole anonymity thing” He answers.

She tilts her head at him, as if she could study him even with the mask on. Megumi couldn’t deny the paralyzing effect it had on him.

“Why does it feel like you’re a stranger to me… but I’m not one to you?” She asks him slowly, as though still debating on asking him at all. “Why does it feel like you know me?”

“You do talk a lot”

Megumi’s grasping at straws now, but at least that gets a small laugh out of her. He hopes it’s enough of a distraction, hopes that she lets things go back to the way they were. He didn’t need her trying to put together the puzzle that was Spiderman, it couldn’t lead to anything good.

“You know what I mean,” She murmurs. She raises a hand off of his shoulder, reaching for the hem of his mask in a way that wasn’t supposed to feel familiar to him. “You think you’d ever tell me?” She asks as her fingers toy with the material’s edge.

“Who I am?” Megumi asks dumbly. Besides the raindrops slowly running down her face, there’s no change in her expression. There’s a glimmer of hope in her eye as her fingers slip under the mask, not quite lifting it yet, but holding it with the clear intention to do so.

The silence lingers until she has her answer, and Megumi thinks this might be the damning moment that he’s been trying to brace himself for. She’ll probably rip his mask right off, and then who knows how she’d react upon seeing it was him all this time. He knew he was faster than her, he could easily swing away before she could have the chance.

A nervous, breathless laugh breaks tension, and she gently peels the mask towards his chin.

“I guess I’ll just have to figure it out on my own, then” She muses playfully.

“An investigative journalist now, are we?” Megumi asks, but there’s no time for further banter when she’s got his mask bunched up at his nose and that’s all the further it needs to go before he’s meeting her lips in a wet kiss.

The rain was not a welcomed experience, it had (y/n) shivering and it was irritating Megumi’s now exposed nose. It made their kiss slippery and messy, and with him still being upside down it didn’t exactly make things any easier.

Neither of them cared.

All of (y/n’s) interests lied in kissing him and then kissing him again- she couldn’t help it, even if he outright refused to tell her his name, he kissed her like a dream.

Shaky, wet palms steadied on either side of his face, trying to pull him even closer. He follows her direction as best he can, but with his hands still occupied with the web to keep him from crashing onto her fire escape, Megumi’s left with his neck craned as far forward as he could push. If he hadn’t held onto the last scrap of his sanity he would’ve dropped down from the railing and crawled right through her window.

He was getting carried away.

“(y)- (y/n)-” Her name is whispered soft and broken into her lips, and she knows this is his way of ending whatever this is, but she can’t help but leave him with one last lingering kiss. He doesn’t push her away, doesn’t even go still against her kiss. He waits, all too patiently, until she has to lean back and catch her breath.

“You’re going to leave,” She says softly. It’s not a question, she already knows. He might think that he’s difficult to read, with his monotone comments and the mask that’s easy to hide behind, but he wasn’t as great of a mystery as he might think.

He frowns. It looks a little awkward upside down. (y/n) gives him a sad smile and carefully maneuvers his mask back into place. It doesn’t take long before she misses the small glimpse of his face that she was allowed to see.

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to see you again?” She sighs.

The raindrops on her face could easily be mistaken for tears. Megumi slides his hand out of her hair to dry her face, and he can’t keep away the memory of him drying her actual tears.

“You will,” He assures her, but the nagging feeling doesn’t quite go away. “You just… might not know it”

A lump forms in Megumi’s throat when he says it, and it only grows when her eyes light up with intrigue.

“Is that a hint, Spiderman?” She muses, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Get some sleep” He encourages, already lifting himself onto the fire escape of her upstairs neighbor. Disobediently, she pushes herself further out her window to follow his movements.

“I will see you again?” She asks as she looks up at him, not minding the pelting of raindrops soaking through her clothes and hair.

Against his better judgment- as things always seem to be when it comes to her- Megumi nods his head. He doesn’t say a word before swinging away, knowing he’d overstayed his welcome by a longshot. Even without looking back, he can feel (y/n’s) eyes on him as she watches from her window.

And when he thinks about it, he can still feel her lips against his. ___

(y/n’s) not sure of the last time she walked into her 8am class and saw Megumi had gotten there before her. It stops her in her tracks, still in the doorway, staring at the boy hunched over his desk in the back of the class scribbling in his notebook at an alarming rate.

Wait… was he cram studying for their test today?

She scoffs, and he lifts his head to give her a bored glare. Of course he’d noticed her when she’d come in- he’d heard her coming from the hallway- but he wasn’t about to give her the reaction she wanted.

And it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his expression hardened and neutral when it came to her, so Megumi had been trying to avoid looking at her completely.

Keyword, trying.

“Don’t tell me you actually didn’t study” She says, a knowing little grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she looks him up and down.

Megumi holds his blank stare for as much longer as he’s capable of before turning his attention back to his notebook, pen scrawling loudly yet again. (y/n’s) brows raise at the intensity at which he was writing, shocked that her assumptions seemed to be proven correct.

“Wow” She mumbles to herself, before walking straight to the back of the class.

Megumi tries to ignore her, she probably just wanted to click her tongue at him in disapproval before she’d go pick out her favorite seat and ignore him for the rest of the period. But she’s approaching so quickly and suddenly she’s leaning over his desk and he has half a mind to cover his work, as if there was any kind of damning evidence there.

She eyes the messy notes before glancing up at him, his gaze already set on her. For a moment it pins her in place, has her freezing up just as she had a moment ago, but the feeling melts before she could question the severity in his eyes.

“If you want to borrow my notes, you’ll have to ask” He tells her, his voice unwavering and devoid of any emotion. She rolls her eyes at the typical behavior.

“Unlike you, I cared enough to study last night” She replies, and she’s just about to turn on her heel when the unexpected happens, and Megumi actually has a response.

“That so?”

His change in tone irks her, and she can’t put her finger on why. But the tilt of intrigue matched with the way he smirks has her heating up.

Out of irritation, of course.

“Duh,” Her arms cross over her chest defensively. “I’ve been studying all week”

Even as Megumi resumes his note taking, his stupid smirk is still plastered on his face. If she was more inclined to violence, (y/n) would’ve wanted to smack it right off.

“I’m sure you have” He mumbles, watching out of his peripheral vision as her arms shoot down to her sides, hands balled into fists as she gasps and gapes at him. Clearly, she took offense to the comment, and he had to bite back the chuckle at it.

“What are you trying to say?” She snaps at him, but she’s not nearly as intimidating as she wants to be.

“Didn’t really say anything,” He replies, tone holding no emotion again. “You just started freaking out”

“I’m not freaking out,” Her eyes narrowed. “God, why do you have to be so-”

Before she can finish he looks up at her again, and again it’s like he’s stunned her with the way his gaze seems to pierce right through her. He looks pleased with himself, too, as if he was just dying to hear what she was going to come up with.

Peculiarly enough, her throat goes dry, and she can’t quite remember how she was going to finish that sentence. Megumi must figure her out, too, because his smirk almost resembles a smile now, and her heated skin was starting to become unbearable.

“So…?” Megumi repeats curiously, hoping to egg her into finishing her thought.

(y/n) huffs, shaking her head in her agitated defeat before turning around and marching towards her usual seat.

Megumi returns to his work with a smile on his face. Her preference for Spiderman might’ve been clear as day, but there was something satisfying about knowing one way or another, he had a knack for getting her worked up.z

___

Despite her hopes reaching impossible heights, (y/n) hadn’t gotten another visit from Spiderman in quite some time. It had been about two weeks now, and she hadn’t noticed even a shadow outside her bedroom window.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt, because for some reason unknown to her she’d grown to care for him enough to make every excuse necessary. He was doing important work out there, she’d tell herself while sitting at her window, longing eyes looking for any sign of life out in the sleeping city. It wasn’t like he had all the time in the world to spend on her.

Or while wandering the halls from class to class, while her eyes were trying to catch every stranger that walked passed, she hoped to find some flicker of familiarity in anyone. It might’ve been naive of her to think he could be as close to her as being another student at her school, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop the ‘what ifs’ from plaguing her mind. She was so full of hope it was rotting her from the inside out.

Her focus was never quite all there. In class she’d mindlessly take notes, her attention shifting about the room, trying to catch the feeling of being watched, but she always came up empty handed. There were no eyes on her, she concluded after days of paranoid searching. It was just a placebo effect her mind had come up with in her hoping to find him.

As if she was just going to happen upon him as easily as looking at him and knowing.

It was the same even around her friends. The usual group she’d sit with at lunch had noticed her change in demeanor, but not knowing how to bring it up to her they tended to continue on conversing as if she wasn’t actively ignoring them as she searched the cafe.

“What are you looking for?” One of them had asked one day, a slight wince on their face when she startled and turned towards them again, as if she’d completely forgotten where she was.

“Oh, nothing,” Her reply was less than convincing. “Just spacing, I guess”

Maybe that part was sort of true, but it wasn’t a good enough excuse for anyone to take her seriously anyways. So she was left alone to barely pick at her lunch and scan the cafe with an undeniable skip in her heartbeat.

(y/n) was starting to think she was going crazy, but it was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She just had a feeling that she was close, and to stop her from chasing that feeling would take a force her lunchtime friends weren’t able to muster up.

Her grades had yet to be affected, but her uptick in strange behavior wasn’t going unnoticed. Her participation had dipped dramatically, some of her classes actually dragging on in near silence as no other students filled the gaps of her incessant questions and comments. It was clear to her professors and peers that behind her wandering eyes was a void of class-related thoughts. Whatever was occupying her every passing minute, had nothing to do with her studies. But she maintained her perfect grade point average so effortlessly it was difficult to reprimand her for her lack of attention in each class.

Megumi had watched from the background as her sanity seemed to slip further and further. At first, it had been a bit amusing. He’d noticed right away, the way her eyes caught every guy walking into class, the way she seemed to pick each one apart with only her eyes. She must have been gauging whether or not she deemed every one of them capable of being Spiderman. It was hard not to smile to himself when she’d ultimately look away from each one, unconvinced.

One was too short, the next too tan, another just didn’t have the right vibe, Megumi wished he could read her thoughts as she scrutinized each passerby in silence. He was never too far from her, so it was easy to watch the hope radiating off of her as she tried to find the source of the eyes on her. Luckily for Megumi’s rapid senses, he was always facing another direction when her gaze flickered his way. Not that she ever quite looked at him the way she looked at the others. He could feel her eyes sweeping right past him, pausing on a boy sitting just a few seats to his left instead. But yet again she was facing away and trying to come up with someone else.

Megumi wondered why it was that she felt so sure Spiderman was in this very school with her. Tokyo was a heavily populated place, and he knew she was smarter than to assume he was this close to her all this time.

(Of course… he was… but how could she have any idea of that?)

With every passing day she seemed a little more dazed. Which was an interesting look on a know-it-all like her. Her interest in the world around her took a nosedive, and it was obvious to a watcher like Megumi. She looked like a gray spot surrounded by the bright yellow of her lunch table. She stuck out like a sore thumb in every class, finally having learned to pipe down and retreat in on herself. She didn’t look depressed, it was just clear as day that her interests were on anything but what was going on around her.

Again, he’s entertained by this for some time. There’s a swell of pride and something warm and new in his chest whenever he sees her so openly looking for him. Hopeful eyes scanning every crowd, every class, only to never properly focus on him. He should feel relief that he doesn’t seem to be even a passing possibility to her. Instead, all he feels is a few skips in his heartbeat knowing she thought he was someone worth searching for.

Well, Spiderman was someone worth searching for, at least.

But the entertainment drains fast when her preoccupied mind lands her crashing into someone in the cafe. A freezing cold iced coffee is dumped all over the front of her pretty blouse, ruining it instantaneously. Megumi happens to look up just as the incident takes place, the hair on the back of his neck standing up on alert and his eyes finding her in the crowd in a moment’s notice, just in time to watch her crash.

And just as she steps away from the person she’s crashed into, her focus shifted to her soaked and stained shirt, an unsettled feeling crawls over Megumi’s skin as he notices who it was she just so happened to run into.

The frat boy that had been bugging her not too long ago. The annoying guy, yeah, that one. Megumi was pretty damn sure this run in wasn’t as accidental as it looked, but he stayed seated at his empty table, with faux attention on the book in his hand.

His eyes hadn’t returned to the page since his little sixth sense had drawn them towards the whole situation. It’s upsetting that he isn’t surprised to see that when (y/n) hurries out of the cafe, Fratboy follows.

He huffs, shutting his book without marking it and tossing it haphazardly into his bag. He hadn’t even gotten to finish his lunch. Maybe he could sneak a few bites in his next class.

(y/n’s) trying not to tear up as she rushes into the empty corridor outside of the cafe. It wasn’t like her to cry over a stained shirt, but it was just so embarrassing to have to go the rest of her day with the obvious mark. Not to mention it was cold and wet and sticking to her skin and- jesus, of course it was soaked through enough that the black bra she wore was visible now.

Even as she pried the material forward off of her skin, she could still feel the sticky remnants of coffee underneath. It wasn’t like she had a spare outfit in her car, and she still had three classes left in her day. Was she really stuck in this wet shirt until then?

“Sorry princess, it was an accident, swear!”

And to make matters worse, it appears she’d been followed.

(y/n) can’t help the groan of frustration as she releases the material of her shirt, letting it stick to her torso again.

“It’s… it’s fine, it’s whatever” She grumbles, waving off the guy she recognized as the cafe bother, or so she coined in her mind, never having gotten his name during all the times he’d hit on her. There’s not much sincerity in her words, but she doesn’t need him lingering around while she tries to decide what to do.

“I did try to dodge ya, but you really weren’t looking where you were going,” He continues, despite her obvious disinterest in his entire presence. “Is there anything I can do?”

He comes closer and on instinct she backs away. Her expression alarmed and eyes cautious when he pressed closer anyways. It’s not that she thinks he’s going to hurt her, but she doesn’t want him any closer than arms’ length. Ten feet would be nice, but unless she wanted to draw more attention to herself by turning and booking it down the hall, arms’ length would have to do.

“No” She answers, as firm as she can get herself to be. To her, this is the part where he should walk away.

He looks apologetic as he steps forward again, but this time her step backward has her almost up against a wall, and now her senses are on high alert. Discomfort courses through her, a feeling worse than the cold coffee sticking to her skin.

“C’mon, I could at least help you get out of your-”

Fratboy doesn’t get a chance to finish his statement when a harsh grip lands on his shoulder and pries his body to move with ease. His initial reaction is to fight back against the force, but he doesn’t get to do that either, as he’s spun around and shoved into the wall.

Even the snarl on his expression disappears when it’s Fushiguro Megumi that presses in close and keeps him pinned to the wall. His bruising grip is replaced by his entire forearm caged against his collarbone, just barely pressing against his throat.

A yelp dies in the back of (y/n’s) throat as the whole thing happens in a matter of seconds. It’s as if she blinks and suddenly Megumi’s there prying this guy out of her personal space as if he was personally offended by the act.

“H-hey man, what the hell is your problem?” The waver in Fratboy’s voice is embarrassingly clear. Megumi would laugh if he was in a joking mood. He’s not.

His hard expression is terrifying up close. (y/n’s) standing just a few feet away and even she feels a slight shiver go down her spine.

“Pricks like you,” Megumi mutters, and Fratboy swallows a fat lump in his throat. “Skipping around like you’re hot shit and get to have anything you want. Pretentious pricks” He spits the last part out through clenched teeth.

All (y/n) can think about were the rumors from last year. The guy Megumi supposedly put in the hospital. Those rumors had been enough to have people steer clear from him. She didn’t even let herself get too close when pressing his buttons, even if intrigue plagued her mind.

“I didn’t- I didn’t do anything!” Fratboy tries to raise his voice, a pitiful attempt at puffing his chest and making him appear more of a fighter than he really was. His head swivels, wide eyes landing on (y/n), who was stuck frozen watching it all unfold. “Tell him!” He shouts at her, and she startles just a little. Not because she was afraid of the demand, but because as soon as it came out of his mouth, Megumi’s foot brought enough force to have the guy’s legs straighten up, which in turn kept him further back into the wall.

If Megumi could push the guy clean through the white painted brick, he’d be a bloody mess stuck inside of the concrete already.

“Don’t look at her,” The command comes out in a growl. Megumi didn’t need to raise his voice to sound tough. His brows are furrowed tight and low over his piercing eyes, which were half the force keeping Fratboy against this wall. “Humor me, prick,” Megumi asks, making sure his attention couldn’t be drawn back towards (y/n) a second time. “How come your shirt’s so pressed ‘n clean?”

The guy’s lip wobbles a bit before he manages a small “H-huh?”

“Your shirt,” Megumi’s voice is colder this time for having to repeat himself. “How come it’s so clean?”

“I- I- because I do my laundry?” He asks weakly.

Megumi rolls his eyes, letting them fall shut as his head tilts towards the high ceiling. This guy had to be joking.

“Wrong answer,” He huffs. “I’m gonna let you go, and you’re gonna go buy yourself another overpriced pretentious fucking coffee, got that?”

Fratboy’s brows furrow, but he nods his head shakily in response. Perhaps Megumi’s arm was pressed too hard against his chest, and he was finally out of air. Megumi could only hope.

“And you’re gonna take that coffee and dump it over your head”

“What!? I’m not-”

“So you’d rather take the beating?” Megumi asks before the guy could protest too much. His brows are raised, his interest genuinely piqued. He had no problem with either option. Having this prick walk around with a broken nose or an expensive shirt with a big brown coffee stain seemed like a win-win situation to him.

It’s clear that Fratboy remembers the last prick that pissed off Fushiguro Megumi, and he must remember that he wasn’t given options, because the back of his head defeatedly hits the wall behind him when he mutters out his choice.

Megumi gives him a solid nod, and he only pushes him a little bit when he drops his arm and steps back so he was free to leave.

Fratboy only takes a step and a half.

“Forgetting something?” Megumi barks, hard eyes freezing him in place before he could get close to re-entering the cafe.

Fratboy awkwardly maintains the eye contact, confusion clear in his features. Megumi jerks his head towards (y/n), who’s silence evidently hadn’t made her invisible to the two.

“Oh, s-sorry- I’m sorry”

It’s a weak ass apology, but Fratboy assumes it’s acceptable enough because when he rushes himself back into the cafe Megumi doesn’t stop him again. He gets a few odd stares as he gets in line for a coffee with apprehensive eyes and his hands anxiously buried in his pockets, but he keeps his head down the entire time.

“Wh- why did you do that?” (y/n’s) mumble is the only sound in the empty hallway. Her voice wants to stay stuck in her throat, but when it’s clear that Megumi isn’t going to give her an explanation- or say anything at all- she forces herself to ask.

His eyes fix on her, and an odd sensation settles over her. All the previous fear and anxiety melts away. She’d gone so rigid, her sense of fight or flight disappearing completely and keeping her stuck in place hoping she wasn’t going to be witness to a nasty fight. But she hadn’t expected that. Megumi’s intensity had been terrifying, even if it wasn’t directed at her, standing by and watching it had her throat closing up and her heart racing.

But he’d hardly even hurt the guy, just… humiliated him. Still, it was just as shocking to watch.

And now, being alone with him and trapped under his stare, what she feels isn’t fear. It’s… curiosity.

His eyes wander over her, reassuring himself that she was fine, maybe just a little shaken up by the whole thing. She was probably more embarrassed than anything. He could live with that, as long as she was safe. He just couldn’t have placed his trust in that frat prick.

“I don’t like assholes” Megumi answers, his voice as monotone as ever, as if he hadn’t just scared the shit out of that guy for her.

The lump in her throat grew hot as the realization struck her. He’d done all that for her?

“Well- well yeah, but…” Her brows furrow, her head shakes ever so slightly as she tries to put her thoughts to words. “But he didn’t do anything, just… was an asshole”

“You don’t know that” His reply was quick but his tone didn’t shift.

(y/n’s) eyes widen, the furrow in her brow smooths out, and she’s at a loss for words as she keeps staring at him.

You have no idea what he was capable of doing. Spiderman’s words repeat in her mind now as if he were standing right there saying them to her. It’s uncanny how similar his warning was to Megumi’s just now.

“He probably would’ve fucked off if I told him to” She makes a weak argument in an attempt to fill the overbearing silence.

Megumi doesn’t say anything, just beckons her to follow him as he takes off in quick strides down the hall. She should probably tell him to fuck off, but her curiosity gets the best of her, and she finds herself hurrying to catch up to him. He’s not walking all that fast, but his stride is significantly longer than hers, and she finds herself out of breath as they round the corner and he enters the first empty classroom they come across.

“Maybe next time you’ll learn the lesson and tell him to fuck off, then” Megumi grumbles, more to himself than to her, but she takes offense nonetheless.

“Well sorry I wasn’t expecting you to show up out of nowhere and threaten the guy” She mutters back.

Megumi scoffs before shrugging his backpack off his shoulder. (y/n) watches his every movement as he opens it up and digs around inside of it. She wants to ask what he was looking for, but her words are stuck in her throat again, and this time she can’t get them to come out.

“I didn’t threaten anybody, relax,” He tells her in a voice that could’ve been more comforting, but it was at least steady and sure. “It should make you feel better that he’s probably gone and made a fool of himself, now” He adds.

“Oh, thank you for that” She replies sarcastically.

“You’re welcome” Megumi replies in complete seriousness.

She opens her mouth, gaping at him, probably about to lay into him for taking her clear mockery as sincerity, but before she can he finally produces what he’d been looking for.

A tee shirt.

She blinks in dumbfounded silence as she stares at the plain black material in his hand. His brows are raised in an impatient expression, but she doesn’t take the offer right away.

He sighs. He’ll just have to do all the work, huh?

“Would you rather go the rest of the day in that?” He asks, nodding to the obvious mess of her shirt.

“It- it’s not that bad” She argues, her stubbornness forever getting in her own way.

“It’s going to reek of coffee”

“I happen to like the- the coffee bean scent-”

“It won’t be anything like that”

“It’s not even that wet anymore”

“I can see your whole bra now”

That does the trick in shutting her up, her head snapping downward to reassess the damage done. The groan she lets out morphs into a whine before she looks up at the balled up shirt in his hand. He vaguely stretches it towards her, and with a huff she snatches it right out of his hands.

As soon as he turns his back to her, busying himself with closing up his backpack, she’s peeling the ruined shirt over her head and quickly shrugging into the fresh tee shirt.

Besides the ridiculous proportion, she’s quick to notice the scent that clings to it. She dips her head once it’s covered her, trying to place a name to the smell of fresh laundry. Pine? Is this what pine smelled like? A part of her hated how good it smelled, how addicting it was to keep taking small sniffs.

“I’m… dressed” She says quietly when she’s gotten enough sniffs in and realizes that Megumi’s still just standing there.

When he turns, his eyes wander over figure not so subtly, but his expression is unchanging. Even if his brain is going haywire seeing her in his clothes. It’s just a tee shirt, but he takes a mental picture.

He realizes she must not wear black very often. It’s striking on her. It must be why his mouth has gone dry and he has to force himself to look her in the eye.

“Good?” He asks, already turning to leave the classroom.

She can’t believe he’s going to leave just like that. It felt like nothing had been resolved here- and if anything, she only had more questions. She doesn’t know what to say to make him stay, she’s not even sure he would stay if she asked him to. He didn’t exactly seem to have any interest in being around her… ever… but then why had he put himself through all this trouble? Her muddled mind was a mystery, but the puzzled look on her face gave Megumi enough of an inclination to linger for just a minute longer.

“What?” He sighs, but her confusion is still plastered on her face.

“I… I don’t know…” Her voice is barely a mumble. It doesn’t match the way her face tilts and shifts into something different. She takes a step closer to him, a bold and large one, putting herself far closer to him than she ever would’ve imagined doing before. She was supposed to keep a certain distance, Fushiguro Megumi had a reputation after all… but something was different.

This wasn’t the Fushiguro Megumi that she knew and despised. In fact, this was a completely new person. He was… familiar.

Megumi doesn’t step back when she draws in closer, but his neck leans backwards with apprehension, chin tilting lower to keep his eyes on her every movement. It’s not like she’s able to do anything, there’s no mask to be ripped off, no secret identity to be figured out just from her stare alone, and yet something makes a pit grow in his stomach when she gets too close for comfort.

He’s never been this close to her. Not without the wall of protection that was the Spiderman mask.

There’s nothing stopping him from walking away. There was no harm in leaving her stranded in a classroom. But something keeps him there anyways. Something keeps him waiting for her to explain herself.

Her eyes drop his gaze, but they don’t fall far. They land just a few inches lower, he can feel the prick of the daggers they stare against his lips. Subconsciously he licks over them to soothe the ache of their sudden dryness. Her look wanders just a little bit, but never too far. Mapping out his chin and jawline, quickly down his neck and then back up again to his lips.

“What the hell are you doing?” He finally finds his voice when she leans in a little closer. Not quite close enough to kiss him, but close enough that she could lean in if she wanted to.

(y/n) snaps out of it instantly, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushing when she looks at him properly again and realizes what she’d been doing.

Fushiguro Megumi? Spiderman? God, what was she thinking?

“N-nothing” She stammers out, and before he could call her out and further her embarrassment, she brushes past him to make a quick exit out of the room.

Megumi’s left alone, his own cheeks flaring up with heat, but he can’t pinpoint what exactly causes the blushing, and he doesn’t really want to stand around to figure out why. ___

Megumi doesn’t show up to the last few classes of the day. (y/n) notices.

Her fingers pinch at the hem of the tee shirt he’d given her, rolling the soft cotton over the pads of her fingers in contemplation. Her focus on uncovering Spiderman’s identity during class has dwindled, but she’s not paying any attention to her studies, either.

For the last few hours of her day, she replays the events of the day in her mind on fast forward and rewind, over and over, trying to find something she felt she missed.

When had Megumi followed her out of the cafe? Had he seen what happened? Why was he so angry? Why was he so kind to her? Why was he so…

It’s on the tip of her tongue, the timing of it all, the peculiarity of it all. She knew she just had to be missing something.

Her trip home is quicker than usual, her steps as fast paced as her racing mind. What was it? What was it that she wasn’t seeing?

It was so close she could feel it looming right over shoulders. ___

Never before had she sought out Fushiguro Megumi. But (y/n) couldn’t get the feeling to go away no matter how hard she tried, and she feared the only way out was through.

She didn’t want to confirm her assumptions without any proper evidence to base it all on, and she had a feeling that he was a pretty good liar, so she’d have to get creative with catching him. The best way to start, she figures, is by getting him alone.

It takes longer than she hopes. Megumi’s not an easy person to approach and he appears to like it that way. She stares him down when he comes in late to their first class, and his eyes catch hers for a moment longer than usual, but without a change in his expression it’s hard for her to get a good read on him. He takes his seat in the back of the class and she can’t get him to look at her again, no matter how many times she turns her gaze over her shoulder to steal another look at him.

After a few more classes with the same outcome, she supposes she’ll just have to wait until they break for lunch. He’s always sitting alone there, so she has her hopes up that it will be easier to sit down and prove it then.

But of course today is the day he’s not seated at his usual corner table all to himself. She waltzes into the cafe with nothing but confidence, and it’s ripped away from her when she sees that gloomy table empty. She lingers for a few minutes, hoping to catch him walking in later than the rest, but he never comes.

With her confidence boiled down to irritation, she storms out of the cafe on a mission to have this ended once and for all. She couldn’t possibly wait any longer, so one way or another, she was going to find and corner him.

The courtyard is empty at this time of day. The weather was cloudy and with the high chance of rain in the next hour, no one wanted to spend their free time eating lunch or studying out there.

Ever the outlier, that’s where she happened to find Fushiguro Megumi.

She’s not sure if she should grin or grimace when she approaches the tree he’s sitting under. He’s wearing his usual oversized headphones, and he’s got both his textbook and notebook opened. He was the perfect image of don’t bother me. (y/n) feels adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream as she rushes over to him.

It’s sort of strange. Just a few days ago she would duck her head and keep walking if she happened to cross his path. But it was like all of his intimidating qualities had just… disappeared. Despite the vibe he was trying to put off, he didn’t seem as unapproachable anymore. He didn’t seem as scary, although when she thinks about it long enough, (y/n) figures she’s probably the only person on this campus that interacted with him. Even if it was to antagonize him, she’d never seen anyone else speak to him.

A few days ago, he was Fushiguro Megumi, the boy with the bad reputation and even worse attitude. He was her academic rival, a thorn in her side that reminded her of faults just by existing. Today, she thinks he might just be the boy she’s been falling head over heels for. The one with careful words spoken by gentle lips. The first person in a long time that actually made her feel seen, and a feeling of being understood could work wonders on a stubborn heart.

“Hey!” She hollers, and Megumi jolts as he looks up to find her walking up to him. His expression scrunches up as he pulls his headphones down around his neck, and lowers his dual books.

“What do you want?” He asks, but the words aren’t nearly as harsh as he wants them to be.

She stops just before him, and invites herself to sit down beside his outstretched legs. He wants to tell her that he’s busy, that he’s studying out here alone because he wants peace and quiet, but he’s silent as she drops her backpack in front of her and opens it up.

“Thought you’d want this back” She says, pulling out a familiar black tee shirt. She hands it to him folded in a neat square. He almost laughs, knowing that when he’d offered it to her it had been a crumpled up ball.

“Right” He says, but before he takes it, she pulls it back towards herself, unfolding it. Megumi watches with furrowed brows. Was she not giving it back?

“I’ve just had this weird feeling lately,” She explains as she opens the shirt up completely. Megumi’s confused expression flickers between her and the shirt. “So I wanted to see something”

She starts bunching up the black material then, which Megumi watches with growing bewilderment. Why even fold it? What was this?

“Okay…?” His voice trails off when she looks up at him again, and the next thing he knows she’s leaning in close, holding his tee shirt up to his face. “What the- (y/n), what the hell are you doing?”

She ignores his questioning and the way he tries to swat her hands from getting any closer, but it doesn’t stop her from doing exactly what she aimed to do. Holding the black material up to cover half his face, from the bridge of his nose up, all that was left to see was his mouth down.

She couldn’t deny that it wasn’t a familiar sight, but it was hard to prove her theory on that alone, and she sighs.

“(y/n), this is annoying. And weird,” Megumi starts, his hands wrapping around her wrists in a careful hold, but enough to start to pull her and the tee shirt she was trying to blindfold him with away. “Can I have the shirt back or not- mmph!”

Just as he thinks he’s put a stop to her weird antics, she takes him by complete surprise when she darts forward and presses her lips against his. Megumi’s eyes go wide, although he’s still half hidden behind the shirt, he can’t help but keep them open as her soft lips move over his with familiar gentle passion. His confusion melts away the longer she holds the kiss, and by the time he thinks he should put a stop to it, it’s already too late. He’s connected the dots and so has she.

He sighs against her mouth, his fingers twitching around her wrists, unsure as to whether or not he should let her go or pull her in closer. (y/n) breaks away from the kiss just as she releases his shirt. They both let it drop to his lap, and she finally gets to see the whole picture.

His features have fallen to soft surprise as he gazes back at her, waiting for whatever was about to come. He doesn’t know if he should brace himself for something good or something bad, but he does his best to put his walls up anyways.

Her own eyes are wide with recognition, flickering between his own troubled eyes and the lips she’d just spontaneously kissed. Her tongue darts over her bottom lip thoughtfully, and for a second, Megumi thinks she’s going to give it a second try just to be sure. She doesn’t have to say anything right away for him to know exactly what she was thinking. She knew those lips. She knew that kiss. He’d gotten his cover blown over a kiss, of all things.

What he doesn’t expect is for (y/n) to let out a breathless laugh of delight, once the gears in her mind start to turn again. Her eyes are glimmering with an excitement she couldn’t contain.

“I told you I’d figure it out!” She keeps her voice hushed, which he can tell takes a great deal of effort.

“You always go around kissing random people?” He mumbles, thinking maybe he can play it off, maybe there was still a chance of gaslighting her into thinking he wasn’t the masked webslinger that had been slowly sparking up a romance with her.

There’s not even a small chance, though. (y/n) pulls her hands out of his gentle hold just to reach for his face, curiously skimming over his jaw, and then down his shoulders. His attempts at reaching for her hands again to stop her from practically running them all over him are weak, and it’s easy for her to ignore his clear attempts at stopping her.

“Wow, I almost can’t believe it,” She begins to mumble to herself, her eyes moving at rapid speeds as she puts the picture together in her mind. The lips she’d memorized in the hopes of finding them again, only to find they were on Megumi’s face, she lets out a delirious string of giggles. “I mean, it makes sense now, but it also doesn’t- why did you keep coming to see me?”

Megumi opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get a single word out before she’s throwing more questions at him.

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t figure it out? I’m top of the class you know, and you’re not exactly great at hiding things-”

“Second to the top,” Megumi reminds her with a slight roll of his eyes. “And it took you quite a while, you know”

“Yeah, well, the secrecy thing was fun for a bit,” She argues. “But you barely tried to hide it. Coming into class looking like you got hit by a bus? What were you thinking?”

“That you hated my guts and didn’t care if I did get hit by a bus?” He replies with a smartass smile. Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

Her hands fall still against his collarbones, fingertips barely tapping against the base of his throat with her excitement.

“It was you this whole time…” She murmurs, but she doesn’t sound as disappointed as Megumi expects. Her gentle eyes feel piercing as they stare at him thoughtfully, as if this was the first time she was really seeing him. In a way, it sort of was. “Were you ever going to tell me?” She asks quietly, and this time she does wait for him to say something.

Megumi sighs, regarding her soft expression with thoughtfulness. There was no coming back from this now. She figured him out and he barely even tried to cover it up. That was a hard thing to do once she’d kissed him, though. She must’ve figured out his weakness, and happily used it against him.. Typical brat.

“I thought about it,” He says honestly. “Just didn’t seem like a good idea,”

The corners of her lips barely turn into a frown, and Megumi can’t help himself from reaching out to her, cradling her jaw in as light of a touch as he could bear. It was different now, feeling her warm skin against his without hiding in a suit, behind a mask. He knows she must feel it, too.

Everything was completely different now. She must be upset with him, right? She must at least be discouraged in finding out it had been him all along. Not someone with a better track record, maybe someone more attractive, or at least nice to her. He wonders if she had her hopes up for a specific person.

“Are you upset?” He asks. He doesn’t want to know all the answers to his questions, but he asks before he could shove down the curiosity and avoid it forever.

“Upset?” She repeats, brows furrowing momentarily with her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Y’know,” He mumbles, long lashes flickering as his eyes fall to her lips for a moment. He looks at her again before continuing. “That it’s me. That it’s been me”

“Oh,” She hums, thinking for a second. “Well… did you mean it all?”

“Mean it all?” He repeats her now. “You mean while I was Spiderman?”

(y/n) nods in a small motion.

“Yeah… did you mean all the stuff you said… and did?” She adds the last part in an even quieter whisper than the rest, but the look in her eyes is so full of anticipation it speaks volumes over her voice.

“Yeah, of course,” Megumi answers without a shred of hesitation. “Of course I did,” He says it again, leaning forward with emphasis, his eyes never leaving hers. “(y/n), I didn’t want you finding out because I didn’t… I didn’t know that I would…” He trails off, his nerves starting to crawl up his throat for having to admit so many truths in one sitting. This one seemed to be harder than the rest. “I didn’t know I’d like you so much”

She laughs, breathless and sweet, humored by such an honest confession. It finally makes a real smile creep over his lips, relieved to see that her reaction was anything but negative. His heart skips a beat, and his thumb trembles as he reaches to stroke it over her cheekbone. He can’t help but want to pull her in closer, hold her properly, maybe even kiss her again. It should scare him, that she knew the truth now, that he was vulnerable to her now, but right now all he feels is a weight lifted off his chest, and the lingering taste of her chapstick on his lips.

“I definitely didn’t plan on liking you so much either,” She admits softly, her cheeks burning with color. Megumi can feel the heat in her skin when he presses the pad of his thumb further against her cheek. “Are you mad about it?”

“Mad?” He laughs, his smile becoming a full blown grin now as he leans in closer to her. Her fingers curl into the material of his shirt as he draws her in closer, too. Anticipation has her eyes flickering between his lips and the deep blue eyes that haven’t left hers since she’d kissed him. “Mad about what? Getting to know you? The real you? And falling for you?”

Her eyes grow wide as she stares back at him. For a guy that hid behind a mask for weeks, he sure got comfortable putting his cards on the table fast.

“No, I’m not mad about it,” He answers her properly, closing enough distance in between them that his nose prodded against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut before she could stop herself, her chin tilting forward to meet him the rest of the way. “I’ve wanted nothing more than to be with you, like this, for real, since you brought me that dumb bag of vegetables”

“It wasn’t dumb, there wasn’t ice” She argued. Her lips had just been brushing over his in the ghost of a kiss before she jerked away to argue some more. Ever so stubborn, he thinks with nothing but fondness for her.

Megumi doesn’t let her go far, pulling her right back in until her lips landed on his, and all further arguments died on her tongue. Her hands relaxed their hold on his shirt as her lips moved against his with muscle memory. Soft and so pliable, she melted right against him, leaning closer and closer until they were chest to chest, and Megumi moved his free arm to wrap around the dip in her back, keeping her tucked as close to him as he could without disconnecting their lips.

She finally gets to card her hands through his hair, scraping her nails over the nape of his neck before pushing the longer strands between her fingers. It becomes impossibly messier than usual, but Megumi only hums in delight as she messes it all up. He must’ve always wanted more, too.

Her fingers tangle in his hair and she doesn’t let up even when they part to catch their breath. Megumi stays close, his forehead resting against hers as he pants over her lips, leaving her still wanting more.

“You know I still have a million questions, right?” She murmurs, and Megumi can’t help but place the softest of kisses against her lips as she speaks, even if he was still breathless.

“I don’t feel like sitting and talking right now” He mumbles, chasing her lips for another kiss. She giggles, kissing him back but not nearly as long as he would’ve liked. Pulling away all too soon, she stares at him with wide eyes.

“I mean, how do the webs work?”

“(y/n), we have class in ten minutes, that’s not nearly enough time to get into it all,” He sighs, his hands smoothing over her hips and trying to draw her closer again. “Can’t we just enjoy this a little longer, and talk about all of that later?”

Huffing, (y/n) leans back in, and it makes Megumi smile if only for a moment. She stops short just before her lips could touch his.

“So… did Spiderman put that guy in a hospital last year?”

Megumi groans, dropping his head back against the trunk of the tree. She wasn’t going to let this go, and that reputation was going to follow him forever, it seemed.

“Alright. C’mon, we’re headed to class,” He prompted her to grab her things and stand with him, but she kept her hands in his hair too secure for him to want to stand up. “(y/n), I promise I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, later-”

“Let’s just skip class” She suggests, all too eagerly for a girl that bragged about being at the top of their class.

“Yeah, right,” Megumi scoffs, but when her expression doesn’t waver, his face falls and he stares at her bewildered. “You’re not serious…?”

“Why not?” She replies. “We can afford to miss a couple classes,” It’s not a bad argument, Megumi’s just shocked to hear her say it at all. “And.. I want to be the first one to get an exclusive interview with Spiderman” She giggles, and Megumi huffs, giving her a bored look.

“I’d rather go to class”

“And we can make out”

“... I guess some catching up isn’t a bad idea”

It takes them some time to gather their things and get going, only because (y/n) insisted on keeping her hands on him in one way or another, but even if Megumi pretended to be annoyed it wasn’t a believable performance. He kept her close with his arm wrapped firm around her as they made their way off campus quickly, hoping to beat the rain.

“You know, I’m thinking of calling you the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman when I write about you,” (y/n) tells him on their walk to her apartment. “Has a nice ring to it”

Megumi laughs humorlessly.

“Not sure it paints a very accurate picture,” He tells her, brows raised as he watches her pout up at him. “But you’re kinda gonna be my publicist, so I guess I’ll take what I can get”

“Hey! I thought you said you were falling for me” (y/n) sasses back. Megumi bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard. He tosses his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as they walk.

“That was off the record” He mumbles.

She beams up at him, he pulls her a little closer into his side, keeping an eye on her only from his peripheral vision. He couldn’t be getting too sappy with the way he looked at her now, he’d grown too used to having a mask to hide the dreamy look in his eye. Now though, it was completely on display for her to see.

(y/n) quite liked the view that she got now that he was mask-free. She’d always had her suspicions that Spiderman was handsome, and quite the victory it was to be proven right in that department. The stubborn, monotone, boy with a reputation part was just… an added bonus, she supposed.

She also supposed that she’d come with her own reputation now, too. With Megumi never far behind he took on a role akin to guard dog. She couldn’t deny she grew to like the feeling, melting at the protective way he kept close whether he had the mask on or not.

He had a certain responsibility to uphold when it came to keeping Tokyo safe, but he had a responsibility to those he loved, too.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine

2K notes · View notes

hyuckysunflower · 2 months ago

Text

Looking For You; A Haechan Fic

Synopsis; Y/N, newly hired graphic designer for NCU, meets Donghyuck, NCU's president's notorious playboy son, during a night out in celebration. Six weeks after a heated night of passion, Y/N finds herself in a hard situation when her period is late and she's met with a positive pregnancy test. After coming to a dead end on finding the handsome stranger that went by 'Haechan', she anxiously goes through the beginning of her pregnancy with the support of her closest friend Renjun. That is, until she meets this nortious 'Haechan' at a company Christmas Party. Unaware that he is the presidents son, she corners him the elevator and tells him their situation, assuring him that he doesn't have to be involved but she wants him to put in writing of him relinquishing his rights. Haechan proposes the idea that they enter into a contractional arrangement. One where he gets to show his father that he is taking life seriously and settling down, and Y/N gets financial support. Y/N agrees to his terms eventually after Haechan has some choice words with her (i'm so sorry guys he's a major dick in the beginning) but not before giving him her terms of him actively involving himself in the pregnancy, not just financial support. The nine months of pregnancy is an up and down battle for Y/N and Haechan. What is there to expect when one person is brought into the relationship before he's ready and another is actively trying to hold what little control she has on her life together?

genre; preg!reader, chaebol!Haechan, major dick haechan but i promise he gets better guys, angst, fluff, some suggestive themes, slice of life, appearance of dream and aespa members, minor pregnancy complications, some childhood trauma, it gets so sweet by the ending, GUYS ITS NOT PROOF READ

Word Count; 22,477 (wooooww i didnt hit my 25k mark but DAYUM, my longest to date)

“No, nonono. What?” you stared down at the two blue lines staring back at you. How could this happen? I mean, you KNOW how it can happen but like, how? Why now? You had the perfect five step plan. First, graduate college. Check. You had just gone through four grueling years getting your bachelors degree in Graphic Designing. That led you to step two, getting a job at a big company that you were interning at. Check. You started with NCU at the end of your third year, staying with them as an intern and proving your capabilities to earn a solid position among their team. You figured the first two steps would be the hardest to complete out of the five. How wrong you were.

Step three through five goes as follows: start dating someone nice, romantic, and handsome. Someone who would take care of you but still allow you to take care of them. Someone who wasn’t ashamed to be seen with you. Who loved you for you and not an idea they wanted you to portray. You’d move onto the next step of getting engaged. Professing your undying and unchanging love for each other. Through sickness and health as they say. Your life would blossom as you take the next step of moving in together, getting married. You’d navigate coexisting in each other's spaces and learning stuff about each other you’d wouldn’t know otherwise. You’d start your family first by adopting a puppy together. Realising that you guys could love something outside of the bubble that is you and them. Lastly, the big and final step, creating life together. You had always dreamed of being a mother. You wanted to feel what that unconditional love felt like and in return be able to give it too.

You looked back down at the test resting in your hands. You sighed as you rubbed your hand over your stomach. Something so small has already started to impact your life. Your heart raced and you felt a lump rise up your throat. Your eyes burned. Are these happy tears or sad tears? You had no idea, but what you did know is that you needed someone. You sat the pregnancy test down on your bathroom counter before heading to your room and grabbing your phone off your night stand. You clicked what was probably the only number you had in your phone and waited as it connected.

“Renjun? Can you come over please? I need you,” you spoke quietly as a sob broke free from the constraints of your chest.

6 weeks earlier;

“Congratulations Y/N for securing the bag!” Karina cheered as a few other girl friends joined in, clinking glasses together as you guys shot back the sting of tequila lime shots. You squeezed your eyes shut, the burn making its way down your throat before hitting straight to your stomach. You sucked in your breath.

“Aww thank you,” you pouted, feeling overwhelmed by their love and support. “I wouldn’t be able to do it without you guys! You helped me prove myself and for that I’m forever grateful,” You leaned forward and gave Winter and Karina a big hug, giggling as they tried to pry your arms off them. They had convinced you to go out with them tonight. You were typically the homebody of the group, much preferring to stay at home and have a glass of wine than to go out to a bar with booming music that seemed to rattle your chest. But you can admit, it felt nice. You let your body relax, swaying back and forth as the music beats through your body. You were lost in the rhythm until you felt a pair of hands land on your hips, grasping you lightly but firm enough for you to notice that they were there.

You felt a breath on your neck before a velvety voice rang in your ears, so soft you were surprised you could hear it over the music. “I couldn’t help but notice you over here. Hey, pretty girl. Can I have this dance?” you chuckled as you slowly rotated in his arms to face him and wow was he breathtaking. You paused briefly, facing him, to admire his face. It looked like the gods had specifically spent their time chisling out every angle, both sharp and round, to make sure it was perfect. His eyes locked with yours, warm and inviting, as a little smirk spread across his heart shaped lips. “You like what you see pretty?” he cooed at you. Your cheeks flushed before you flashed a flirtatious smile his way.

“Usually when people ask for a dance, it's to something… slower,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, clasping them against themselves. “But I'm not against this either,” you pressed your body against his, feeling the outline of his chest against yours. The smirk stayed on his face as his hands traveled down your sides. His fingertips dug into the exposed skin underneath the hem of your dress against the outside of your thighs before dragging up, slowly as if to memorize the way it felt beneath them. One hand rested on your lower back just above your ass while the other rested just below it, cupping and squeezing your ass every few seconds, kneading the soft flesh.

You closed your eyes and sighed, rolling your head to the side before opening them and looking at the man in front of you. His eyes were half lidded, starting at the junction where your neck met your exposed shoulder. They lingered on the thin strap of your tight red dress. He admired the way it hugged all your curves. The sides were cinched up, the strings dangled, tickling your thighs. He leaned forward, his breath lingered on the side of your neck before his lips connected with it.

It felt like electricity was shot through your veins. You inhaled a quick gasp as he chucked against your neck, it rumbled in his chest. He peppered a few more kisses across your neck before traveling to your exposed shoulder where he left a few more. You unclasped your hands and let one roam to the nape of his neck. Your fingers tug at the slightly messy hair do. He let out an exhale against your neck. The action sent goosebumps all up and down your arms and chest.

You pulled back from him slightly, glancing around you to see your friends engaged in their own fun, dancing and moving around. You looked back at the man in front of you. You smiled, slightly biting your lip before speaking. “You see, I like you,” he hummed as he eyed your lip caught between your teeth. “Why don’t you tell me your name and we can get out of here? Take the party back to your place maybe?” He looked up, meeting your eyes before flashing a dazzling smile that showed off his perfectly straight white teeth.

“You, pretty, can call me Haechan,” his hands rubbed down your arms before grasping your hands lightly. “And I would love to take you home.”

Present;

Renjun sat at the bar in your kitchen, staring down at the test that rested between his fingers. He had an unreadable expression on his face. I guess it’s something you can appreciate. If he was freaking out, you’re not sure if you’d be able to keep together what little composure you managed to put up after you got off the phone with him earlier. Your fingers nervously fiddled with the hem of your shorts, twisting the fabric between the finger tips.

“I have to call the doctor's office and set up an appointment. Junnie,” you called out to him as he looked at you, a small gentle smile on his face that told you you would be able to get through this. “Would you go with me? Or at least sit with me while I make the call?” you stopped messing with your shorts and moved to sit next to him at the bar.

He laid his hand on top of yours, grasping it slightly. “Of course Y/N. I’ll be here with you through it all,” he slid your phone towards you, unlocked it and set it in your hands. “Go ahead. I’m here with you.” you blinked away the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, nodding before grabbing the phone from him and looking up the nearest OBGYN.

You patiently got through the service menu before you were connected with the front desk. You explained to them the reason for your call, giving them your name and birthdate. You worked your way through the call, looking to Renjun for support. He squeezed your hand, grounding you, reminding you that everything is going to be okay. “Okay. Mhm. Yes, that sounds good to me. I’ll see you then. Thank you.” you slowly hung up the phone and let it rest in your hand on the counter. “I’ll see them in about three weeks. I don’t know why they would make me wait that long,” you grumbled as you set your phone down on the bar and rested your head in your hands.

You felt Renjun’s delicate fingers rub your shoulders, adding the perfect amount of pressure at just the right spots that helped you relax. You could already feel the pressure lifting from your head. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. They’ll take good care of you. Do you know when this happened?” he treated the question lightly and you could tell that. You rested your hand over his hand that laid on your shoulder and nodded. “Was everything consensual?” you eyes shot open at that as you whipped your head around to look at him.

“Yes! Oh my god. I understand your concern but it was completely in my control. I was the one that suggested we went back to his place. He was such a gentleman. He never did anything without me specifying what was and wasn’t okay,” your cheeks flushed at the memory.

Haechan had you sprawled on your back on his fluffy gray comforter. You were left in just your panties and him his dress pants. He teased his fingers along the hem of your lacy red thong. A low groan escaped his chest, “wore these just for me pretty? I'm honored but they won't be on for long. Do you want me to take them off or fuck you while they stay on?” He leaned forward, pressing a chast kiss to your temple as he finger teased your clit, not enough pressure to build you up but just enough to get you worked up.

“Off,” you spoke through an exhaled gasp. He made a noise of disapproval.

“What was that?” he chuckled against your chest, leaving wet patches down. You cupped his cheeks and brought his face up to yours. Tenderly you pressed your lips against his. His lips molded against your effortlessly, a perfect mesh of tenderness but full of intensity. He slowly licked your bottom lip and you complied, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. You pulled back from him, both yours and his pupils blown wide with anticipation.

You turned his head just enough so you would rest your lips against his ear. “I want you to take them off of me and fuck me Haechan. Please, I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Did you guys use protection? I know we both went through sex ed. It may have been shitty but there were at least some useful parts in it,” Renjun exhaled, his voice cutting through your distraction.

“Yes! We did! I promise. That’s why I don’t know how this could’ve happened,” there was a small pause in the conversation. It wasn’t awkward or anything like that. Renjun knew you well enough to know when you needed a second to think to yourself. Pulling out your phone you opened up various social media apps. “He said his name was Haechan so maybe I could find him on facebook or instagram? Oh! And I remember that he mentioned something about working for a company.” Renjun nodded, pulling out his own phone as well. You opened up Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, even reddit and craigslist but there was absolutely no social media presence for him.

You looked over at Renjun with a pleading look on your face, he shook his head. “I’m sorry Y/N, but he may have given you a fake name. That or he doesn’t believe in technology which is unheard of in this day and age,” you let a groan out as you laid your head down on the bar.

“I have to grab something to eat and get ready for work,” you said more so to yourself than to Renjun. He got up and started making you some toast and grabbing a glass to fill up with orange juice.

“I’ll make you breakfast, go ahead and get ready. I’m just going to make something light. This is what my sister ate when she was pregnant with my nephew. Apparently it helps to not eat anything greasy or heavy.” you got up from the stool at the bar and wrapped your arms around Renjuns waist, giving him a hug.

“I appreciate you so much, you have no idea. I would be lost without you Junnie,” he chuckled and patted your arm, motionion for you to go get ready. Everything you said was true. You really would be lost without him. He came into your life at such a dark and vulnerable moment, he was like the light that showed through the clouds on a stormy day. Your parents had just finalized their divorce your second year of middle school. Growing up, all you ever witnessed was your parents' fight. You honestly couldn't even tell if there was ever a point in your life that they truly loved each other.

I guess you could say you always kinda blamed yourself for the fall in their marriage. You could tell from photos before you were born that they truly looked in love. They had full photo albums dedicated to their travels in their early twenties. That must've stopped when you were born because you could never remember a time you guys went out as a family for any sort of event or vacation.

Holidays were always intense. It was always the one time where your parents never fought but you could tell in their body language that they would rather be anywhere else than together with you. It took some late night calls back and forth between you and Renjun and various reassurances that the fault lied with your parents, not you.

Your parents' relationship always lingered in the back of your mind whenever you thought about your own relationships in life, both platonic and romantic. You had only ever been in one serious romantic relationship and that was with a boy named Mark in your second year of college. He was as sweet as they came but he was busy. He was an aspiring musician, and his love for it was so intense, it was hard for him to spare some of his time for you. You never took it personally but knew that you wanted to be in the type of relationship that you never felt like a burden or a second choice. The breakup was mutual. You explained your feelings and he understood why you decided to end it. He had admitted that he realised a few weeks before that he wasn't ready for a serious relationship either.

Standing in front of the mirror in only your bra and panties, you stared at your body. Your eyes linger on your stomach, watching the way it expands with every breath. Slowly you turned to the side and rubbed your hands over the flat surface, imagining the life that had started to bud. It’s funny, there's practically nothing there but you can feel it. You can feel the way the path of your future is changing and although you're scared, the tiniest bit of curiosity peeks through. All the possibilities of your future with a little one starts to find its way into the cracks of your mind.

You shake your head, pushing back the thoughts. You shouldn’t feel so excited about something so scary and unknown, yet as your eyes stay focused on your stomach, you can’t help but feel a small smile grace your lips.

“Hey!,” your coworker Karina popped her head up and over the divider between your cubicle, eyes wide with a bright smile plastered on her face. Your heart jumped straight up to your throat, tears immediately pricking your eyes and spilling over. You sobbed. “Woah! Y/N, what's wrong? Are you okay?” she rushed around the divider and stepped into your box of unstable emotions. She grabbed a few tissues from your partial empty tissue box that sat catty corner to your monitor. Her rushed hands knocked it over as she grabbed a few and dabbed your eyes.

“No, no you're okay Rina!” you spoke out between gasps as you grabbed the tissues from her hands and blew your nose. “It’s not your fault. My emotions have been crazy lately. Blame it on Aunt Flow,” you chuckled, tossing the used tissues into the trash can at your feet. Karina stared at you, her eyes narrowing slightly as her fingers tapped a rhythm on your desk, almost as if she could see straight through your lie. And honestly, maybe she could. You’ve never been a strong liar. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, but nevertheless dropped the topic.

“Okay,” she dragged the word out in a sing-song tone. “I just finished my work for the day,” she checked the time on her phone. “Are you close to being done? They just announced the date for this year's Christmas party and I need to get a new outfit!” she shimmed her shoulders a little bit, you chuckled.

“Yeah, I just have to submit this draft and pack up,” you clicked around on your screen, finalizing the last edit before emailing the draft to your supervisor. With the year coming to a wrap, NCU’s workload has been almost double the usual amount. Your department was tasked with designing the magazine for this years ‘Seasonal Wrap Up’. It’s basically a summary of the events that the company has hosted throughout the year. Your spread, however, was focused on the future of the company. You had conducted a few interviews with various project managers ranging from your department all the way up to the President's office. Let’s just say, you got your fair share of gossip that you had to try your best not to make obvious through your writing. “I need a gossip sesh girl,” you turned your head, observing your surroundings before leaning in closer to Karina to whisper. “I have news on the president's son.”

“You’re kidding!” you shushed her quickly, a few people around you turning their hands from their computers and staring. You shyly waved your hand hoping to dismiss their glances, grabbed her hand, letting out a laugh as you dragged her towards the elevator. Once you were both in the elevator she turned to face you, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re so spilling your guts when you get out of here’.

Once you both made your way into the first boutique, Karina bee lined towards one of the racks with seasonal dresses ranging from classy blacks to the cliche Mrs. Clause dresses. You came up next to her, flicking through the various dresses. “Okay,” you started immediately gaining her attention as she momentarily stopped her browsing. “So I heard from Giselle that she overheard arguing from the president's office. Apparently, it was so loud most of the people in the office stopped working. I’m talking so quietly you could hear the person next to you breathing.”

Her mouth was hung open in disbelief. “Well? What were they talking about? Barely anyone has even seen his face.”

“She said that they heard the president yelling about how he needs to take his dealings with the business with the company seriously. He was all like ‘Donghyuck, you need to know that your future isn't just about the next party you can go to or the women you can hook up with!’ It was bad.” Karina laughed at your busted impression of the president. “What’s weird is that she said he came out of the president's office without a care in the world. Like there wasn’t a shred of emotion on his face,” you shook your head, flipping through the dresses until you came across a light sweater dress.

It was beautiful, a nice dark red. It looked comfortable too. Your eyes glanced over the intricate design of the material, there were small glistens of gold embedded into it. It would be perfect to wear, it’s loose enough that it wouldn’t squeeze across your stomach. Besides the emotional outbursts and the occasional food eversons the past three almost four weeks, you’ve started to get bloated. Tomorrow is your confirmation appointment, and although the past few weeks have dragged on, you were nervous. There was still no trace of this ‘Haechan’ guy. You’d almost be convinced that he was merely a fragment of your imagination if not for the little bean growing inside you.

“-his is the one!” you snapped out of your thoughts when Karina held up something from the rack. It was a gorgeous bright red dress, a faux leather material. “It would look gorg with a pair of red pumps and some silver accessories!” You smiled as she held the dress up to her body, twisting back and forth. You agreed, she would look absolutely stunning in it.

You stood at the doctor’s office desk, hands trembling slightly as you told the receptionist your first and last name. “Here you go Miss Y/L/N, this is some paperwork that needs to be filled out before we call you back. It’s just a brief medical history,” you nodded and thanked her before grabbing the clipboard from her and taking a seat next to Renjun in the waiting room.

“I’m so nervous right now,” you exhaled as you filled out the paperwork to the best of your abilities. Renjun patted your thigh, the action relaxing you slightly. “Thank you, again, for coming here with me. I really needed moral support.”

“Anytime Y/N. I’m here for you,” he smiled at you. A small gentle smile that helped calm the fire in your stomach. After what felt like hours, a nurse opened up the door to the waiting area and called your name. You shakily got up onto your legs, brushing your hands off on your thighs. “Do you need me to go back there with you?” you shook your head.

“No, they’re going to have me strip and I don't want to traumatize you,” you gave him a chuckle, patting his shoulder as he nodded and watched you make your way to the door with the nurse. Before walking back there with her you turned around to look at him. “I’ll message you if I need anything.”

After the door shut behind you the nurse spoke, “Is the daddy staying in the lobby?” she chuckled. You felt a little awkward. Is that something a nurse would say? Not every woman comes in with a daddy for her baby.

“Um..” you stared, cringing at how awkward it sounded. “He’s just a close friend of mine, he's not the father.” The nurse was quiet. You hoped it wasn’t in silent judging and more out of embarrassment. The walk wasn’t long to the doctor's office. Once inside the nurse took some of your vitals.

“So we’re here for a check up?”

“It’s my first appointment so I think it may be more just confirming what my pregnancy test said,” you chuckled awkwardly. The nurse hummed, nodding as she typed away on the computer.

“And when was your last period?” you pulled out your phone to check the calendar.

“Umm, the last day of it was around October 4th I think. I conceived around the 13th I believe,” you tried to best to give her as much information as possible. You’d rather awkwardly ramble then give two word answers that would get you guys nowhere.

“Alright. I put your information into the computer. We’ll go get you settled for a urine test, and then after that we’ll proceed with the scan,” you followed her out of the room and down towards the bathroom. The nurse handed you a wet towelette pouch and a cup. “You’ll want to wipe with the towelette first and pee a little into the toilet before the cup. You’ll set your cup in the cabinet in the bathroom.” you nodded at the nurse and walked to the bathroom to settle your business.

You found yourself back into the doctor's office after completing the urine test. Before leaving the room, the nurse handed you a cloth and explained that you needed to strip down and wait on the exam table for the dr to come in. As you sat on the table, you kicked your legs back and forth and waited until you heard a knock at the door. The doctor walked in shortly after. “Good evening Miss Y/L/N. My name is Dr. Kim. I hear we’re here for a confirmation exam?” you nodded. She sat down on the stool and rolled over to your bedside, putting on some latex blue gloves. “If you can just go ahead, lay back and relax, we’ll lay your legs on the stands here so that you can relax easier. I’ll be using a transducer,” she held up a wand-like object that was wrapped in a sleeve. “All it is, is a scanner of sorts that I will insert into you vaginally. With it being so early in your pregnancy, this will give us an accurate reading for the gestational age of the baby.”

“Oh, um okay.” She put a generous layer of some jelly like lube on the transducer before positioning herself in between your legs.

“Alright Miss Y/N, this shouldn't hurt but please let me know if it gets too uncomfortable. To your right is the screen that we’ll see the little bean on,” Dr. Kim smiled at you before slowly inserting the transducer into you. You inhaled quickly, the cold of the lube shocking you slightly. It wasn’t painful at all. If anything, like the doctor said, it was mildly uncomfortable. You looked to the screen where it showed a mix of black and grey. You felt a light tug as she moved it around. And just like that, a white speck popped up on the screen.

“And there it is. There's your little jelly bean!” you stared at the screen amazed as the little white blob flickered. She clicked around a bit on the screen highlighting spots before measuring the length of the tiny thing inside you. “That flickering you’re seeing is the heart beat. This early in the pregnancy we try not to record the sound. Instead what we'll do is measure the flickering. That will give us the heart rate,” you saw the diagrams pop up on the screen. “The BMP looks to be 176. A nice and healthy scan,” she smiled to herself before clicking around on the screen some more.

“Is there any way you can tell me about how far along I am? From my last period and the time I believed I conceived, it would be around ten weeks.”

“Absolutely! Judging the size of the fetus I would say about ten weeks three days. Of course this could change slightly. The gestational age is subjective. Your due date would be around July eleventh.” you nodded your head, thanking her. She pulled the wand out of you and handed you some wipes to wipe off the lube left over. “The scans are printing out now. In the meantime, I'm going to send you down stairs to the first floor to get a blood test run. It’s just to confirm the health of you and baby.”

Your face paled at the thought of giving blood. As if sensing your uneasiness, the doctor handed you your scans, distracting your thoughts. You stared down at photos laying in your hands, your finger tracing over the white blob. It seemed unreal. This little thing has been the cause of all your emotional bursts. You laughed, tears pricking your eyes. Speaking of emotional bursts.

“Ah, yeah that's very common. Your emotions will be out of whack for this first trimester. Have you been experiencing any morning sickness?” you shook your head, wiping your eyes with your sleeves.

“Not really. I’ve had a little nausea but nothing like that. I haven't thrown up, it’s just the gross feeling of needing to,” you laughed, setting the sonograms down beside you.

“I’ve got you scheduled for the end of February. You’ll be around twenty weeks and that is when we do the anatomy scan. We’ll also get you scheduled for a glucose test right before then,” she threw away her gloves and walked towards the curtain in the room. “I’ll leave you here to get dressed. Just come out here when you’re dressed and I’ll get you sent down to the first floor with your appointment reminder cards.” As soon as she left the room, you redressed yourself and made your way out to the lobby.

When you made it to the lobby, Renjun was already up to his feet running towards you. “Hey, how’d it go? Is everything okay?” you could see the concern on his face as he held you shoulders gently so that you’d face him. You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, everything is perfect. I’m about ten weeks and three days. They’re sending me down to the first floor to get blood taken for testing,” you exhaled slightly. “Could you be there to hold my hand?” you know it sounded pathic. You felt pathic. You have never been a fan of needles, even in your adolescents. You remembered back to when you were younger, going to the doctors for flu shots, how you would kick and scream to fight the nurses off. They’d have to bring extra hands to keep you at bay.

“Of course, Y/N. As long as you don’t take any of my fingers off,” he moved his hands down to lace your fingers together. Renjun had always been this affectionate with you, even back in middle school. It was a big difference from how you’d watch him interact with his other friends. If you were being honest, you appreciated it. You’d always been timid and he’s held you with such a gentle touch the entire time you have known him.

Both of you made your way down the elevator, hitting the first floor before the queasiness started to settle in your stomach. Every step towards the office they described to you made you feel like your feet were made of lead. “Damnit,” you curse and Renjun snapped his head towards you, eyes full of concern. “If I don’t push through this now, the rest of the pregnancy is only going to get worse.” you tried to give yourself a half assed pep talk. It didn’t really work.

“Hi! Y/N?” a lady with bright eyes and a smile that sparkled greeted you. You nodded, opting to do that instead of speaking for fear of throwing up all over the poor lady. “Come this way. You can take a seat right there.” you followed her hands over and took a seat in a light blue chair, it had one singular armrest on the right side.

“Is there any way my friend here can hold my hand? I’m not the biggest fan of needles and I really don’t want to be difficult for you,” you let out an awkward excuse for a laugh.

“Oh absolutely! Come on over here. You can hold her left hand, I'll be drawing from the right side.” Renjun made his way to your left before sitting down in the guest chair and lightly grabbing your hand. His fingers gave you a gentle squeeze, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles soothingly. The nurse put on some gloves and gathered her equipment, you quickly averted your eyes and looked at Renjun’s eyes. He gave you a smile and some words of encouragement. “Alright, you will just feel a small pinch. I’ll go as quickly as I can.” She tied a rubber band around your upper arm and rubbed the inside of your elbow with her fingers.

You closed your eyes and squeezed Renjun’s hand tightly in preparation. You felt the pinch of the needle into your right arm. You didn’t dare to open your eyes to see the progress, so you spoke. “Renjun, how close are we to being done?”

“She’s already collected four vials. I think she only needs two more. It’s going so quickly, you’ll be done before you even know it.” His smooth voice calmed your nerves.

“And we’re done!” she put a cotton ball and bandaid over your arm before taking the rubber tie off. “You did great! It should only take a few days to run the tests. You can access your results through your online portal. If there are any concerns we’ll give you a call. Usually no calls from us means good news,” she laughed as she disposed of her gloves and sharps. “Take a few minutes to gather yourself, we don’t want you passing out!”

After a few minutes, Renjun helped you up and assisted you out of the building towards his car. Once seated in the passenger seat, you pulled out the sonograms and handed them to him. “This little white blob is the baby. Dr. Kim said that it’s heart beat is nice and strong at 176,” you had a bounce to your voice and Renjun noticed it.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better Y/N. Did she say when your next appointment is?” you nodded your head and pulled out the appointment cards they gave you at the front desk.

“My next one is at the middle and end of February. They’ll have me take my glucose test and the anatomy scan. How did that go for your sister? What is the anatomy test?” You tried your best not to overwhelm Renjun with questions. You were an only child so you didn’t grow up around many if any woman at all, let alone pregnancy.

“My sister said the glucose test sucked. I think it’s a test you take where you drink a really sugar heavy drink and they draw your blood for diabetes. As for the anatomy, I’m not sure what all they do, but I know you get to find out the gender then. I remember my sister being super excited about that.” you nodded your head, putting your sonograms back into your purse. Your phone chimed and you pulled it out. It was a message from Winter.

‘Hey! I just got my outfit for the Christmas Partyyyyy. It’s next tuesday. I already talked to Karina but we were going to meet up before the party and pregame. You in?’ you cringed at the thought. There’s no good way to decline the invitation without being suspicious.

“Hey Junnie, can I use you as an alibi so that I can turn down my coworkers' invitations to pregame before the Christmas Party next tuesday?” He turned down the radio to hear you more clearly.

“Go ahead, I don’t mind. What are you going to do at the Christmas Party?” his eyes stayed focused on the road as he made his way back to your apartment.

“I’m not sure actually. I just know from Karina and Winter that it’s a pretty big deal. Spirits are always high at the end of the year because everyone has finished their work before the new year starts,” he hummed.

“Okay, just be safe please. Call me if you need anything during it alright?” you smiled at him, leaning to turn the music up slightly.

“I will Junnie, I promise. You’re my emergency contact, you know.” His laugh rang out in the small confinements of the car, melting your heart.

You were feeling overwhelmed as you sat at one of the various tables in the ballroom of the venue the company rented out. They wasted no cost on it too, it was gorgeous. There were various Christmas trees adorned with cranberry garland and beautiful silver, gold, and red ornaments. The tables around you were grand, white tablecloths and seat covers adorned the surfaces. The centerpieces of each table ranged from golden candles, mistletoe, and white and red amaryllis.

It seemed like almost everyone employed at NCU was there. Only being in the company for roughly over a year, you only recognized those you worked in close quarters with. Karina and Winter were mingling with Yizhou and Giselle at the buffet table, all four of them giggling over drinks. They had asked you earlier if you wanted to join them, however the quickest lie you could come up with to avoid a drink was you being on new medication from your last doctor's appointment. You could argue that it's not technically a lie, a baby gives off the same symptoms as funky medication. You chuckled to yourself as you sipped your water, eyes glancing at your surroundings before spotting on someone familiar.

Your heart jumped to your throat, immediately speeding up as you recognized the silhouette of someone that has been particularly hard to find. You immediately pushed your chair back and jumped to your feet, you felt light headed at the sudden change in blood pressure. You balanced yourself at the table, eyes fixed at the man you’ve been tirelessly searching for the past month. He stood at the elevator pressing the button leisurely, one hand resting in his pocket.

You sped walked as fast as you could to try and catch him before he entered the elevator and the doors closed. He walked onto the platform and turned around, that's when your suspicions were correct. You flung your arm into the elevator cabin, blocking the door from closing at the last second. There, right in front of you was Haechan. He looked up from his phone, face blank of any emotion. He raised his eyebrow as if to ask what the hold up was. You stepped onto the platform quickly.

As soon as the doors closed you turned to face him. “You are an extremely hard man to find. I didn’t take you for someone who would give out a fake name, Haechan.” his eyes were bored as he glanced you up and down, eyes lingering on your curves. You hated how your face heated up, you still vividly remember how his hands felt on you. He plastered on a polite fake smile.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I typically remember the beautiful women I spend my nights with. Can I ask you your name pretty?” your eyebrow twitched at the familiar nickname. From his statement, you’re sure he’s used that exact same name for countless women he’s slept with.

You scoffed, shrugging your shoulders and crossing your arms as you stared him straight in the eyes. “It’s Y/N, though I doubt you’d remember. We met a few months ago at the bar. My name may not jog your memory but this will.” you reached into your purse and pulled out your sonograms and handed them to him. He looked down at them, confusion prominent on his face.

“What am I looking at?” he looked up from the photos and to you.

“The product of our night together, Haechan,” you said his name in a mocking tone. “You do not need to be involved in its life, but I would appreciate it if you could sign away your rights if that’s what you choose to do,” he stared back down at the sonograms. “Here,” you grabbed a pen and scribbled your number down on an old receipt and handed it to him. “Just..” you hesitated, “just please, get back to me in a week. That’s all I'm asking of you.” You didn’t give him any time to respond before you were out the elevator doors.

Haechan stood in the elevator as the doors closed, looking down at the swirl of black and white in front of him. How could this have even happened? He was always prepared when it came to the nights he spent limbs wrapped in whatever woman grabbed his interest first. He tried to think back to the night in question. Y/N, Y/N, the name was familiar. Ah, there it was. You were the cutie dancing by herself while her friends bundled up. He smirked to himself, holding one hand up to his lips while the other hand tucked the sonograms into his back pocket. You were the one to suggest you both go back to his place. And he remembers that all too well.

He had led you into the hotel room he rented for the night, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. How badly he wanted to rip off your tight red dress, but he held back. Usually he would’ve made this quick, but for some reason he wanted to take his time with you and savor every noise and reaction you’d give him. He had you pinned against the wall next to the hotel door, his hands rubbing up and down the outside of your thighs before he hooked his hands underneath them. “Jump,” he commanded and you obliged. He had you pinned, pelvis to pelvis. He groaned at the pressure you put on his dick. Your grinding against him only pushed him further over the edge. “You listen so well, pretty. If I told you to stop rubbing against me before I flip your pretty little ass over the sofa, would you listen?”

You stopped briefly, looked down at him from above, you fluttered your lashes before wiggling some more, making sure to drag your clothed core over him slower. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You were going to drive him crazy. He’s never had to deal with such a bratty hook up, but damn did it pique his interest.

About the time that he made it to his car, his phone let up with an incoming call. His father. He held back a groan, already expecting an argument. He swiped right. “Hello, Father.”

“Where the hell are you Donghyuck?” immediately Haechan rolled his eyes, setting the phone on speaker and starting his vehicle. “I turned my back for one second and you disappeared. How am I supposed to get you connected with the company's shareholders if you leave to chase the next woman you see?”

“I did not leave to chase a woman, father,” Haechan took a second to compose himself. He knew that if he continued to argue, things would only escalate. That’s when an idea popped in his head. This would be perfect. He could get two birds with one stone as they say. “Father, I have someone to introduce to you. She’s very important to me. Can you have secretary Giselle clear your schedule for next Saturday?”

His father hesitated, apprehension lacing his next words. “Why am I only just now hearing about this very important woman Donghyuck?”

“Well,” Haechan threw on an embarrassed chuckle to really sell the bit, “she’s a little shy. I didn’t want to overwhelm her too early into our relationship. We’ve only been together a few months.” He really tried to recall the conversation he had with you earlier. He didn’t really try to listen to you if he was being honest. The little bomb you threw at him was pretty effective in grabbing his attention though. The conversion ended with his father shortly after and Haechan was left with his thoughts.

Though you seemed like a pain in his ass, you may be useful to him. Earlier that week, his father had given him an earful of disappointments. He gripped the steering wheel and clinched his teeth. He’s heard the same phrase for the last six months from his father. It’s practically haunting him in his dreams. ‘I would sooner die than pass my company to someone who will destroy my life's earnings in a few months.’ He can count on both hands the amount of times that has been said to him.

It’s not his fault he likes to have a warm bed at night. He knows his father has had his fair share of flings so why is it such a problem for him to have them too.

“You need to be mature and have a level head to take charge of a company. Your issue is, Donghyuck, that you play around too much. I’ve had to deal with countless women coming here and causing a fuss because you never returned their calls,” he would say. That is exactly why he’s been giving the name ‘Haechan’ out instead of his actual name. It’s less publicity that way when they try to contact him after.

That brings him back to you. How did you find him? He was at a company party, so that must mean you work there too. After parking in his apartment building's parking garage, he pulled his phone back out to dial his assistant. On the other end a soft voice answered, flustered at the late night call. “Jisung, I need you to look into something for me,” there was rustling on the other side before an answer.

“Right now sir? It’s almost midnight..” he trailed off, a slight whine to his voice. Haechan chuckled.

“Yes right now. I need you to make a report about one of our employees. Y/N is her name and I need it tomorrow morning.” Haechan twirled the number scrawled out messily on an old receipt for prenatals. How fitting.

This past week has been a mess. Your morning sickness seemed to double, though you couldn’t tell if it was because of the baby or because Haechan had yet to get back to you with his decision. You were kicking yourself in the ass for giving him your number instead of getting his. That way, in cases like this, you would be able to get a hold of him instead of waiting around for him to call you.

It was the weekend before New Years, most of your coworkers were out on vacation for the holidays. You were bundled at home sipping some hot chocolate. Normally you and Renjun would celebrate the holidays together, but with his new job for interior designing, he was booked for the jolly seasons.

You were flipping through the Hallmark channel trying to find something vaguely interesting, munching on a bag of your latest flamin hot craving whenever your phone popped up with a call from an unknown number. Your heart started beating when your hand shot out so fast to grab it that you spilled some of your chips onto your lap. You quickly swiped right. “Hello?”

“Hey pretty,” a smooth voice rang out on the other side. The nickname settles in your stomach, a little unease and a little warmth. “I have an answer for you. Can we meet?” you moved your chips to the table in front of you and threw the fluffy brown blanket off your lap.

“Yeah, I’m free. There’s a cafe near me that I go to often. How does that sound?” you gave him the address before hanging up. You went to your room and found something a little more presentable to wear. You grabbed a loose fitting band tee and some stretchy jeans. It’s almost getting to the point where you have to switch out your wardrobe. The bloating is starting to impact your comfort. You find it harder to breathe when your jeans cut into you, it also hits in just the right area to make you throw up now so that's fun. Before leaving out your apartment door you grabbed your heavy black padded coat, a beanie, and your red scarf, locking the door as you exited it.

It was maybe a ten minute walk down the street before the familiar cafe sign came into view. The storefront was decorated in their seasonal colors. Two eight foot trees stood on each side of the patio, prob presents thrown around. You smiled to yourself as you entered, making your way to the front counter. You were greeted with a flashing flirtatious smile by the resident barista, Jaemin. “Your usual Y/N?”

You shook your head. Typically you would order a large Breve with whip cream, caramel, and chocolate drizzle on top. Your mouth watered at the thought. “I would love to, but I’m cutting out heavy caffeine,” you pouted before rummaging in your purse to grab your wallet. “I’m just going to get a nice big hot chocolate,” Jaemin saluted you before moving to start your order. You glanced around the cafe, no sign of Haechan, so you settled on a table in the back corner. You figured this would be a sensitive conversation so it’s best to have it away from prying ears and eyes.

It was probably about fifteen minutes before the front door chimed with a new customer, you looked up and caught sight of the one you’ve been waiting for. Haechan. By then you had already finished your hot chocolate. You watched him go to the counter and order before locking eyes with you and coming towards you. He wore a well fitted suit, one hand in his pocket while his other hand pulled out the chair in front of you before taking a seat. “I’m glad you could meet me Y/N” his smooth voice rang out as he sat relaxed across from you.

“Yes, thank you, too. For meeting me as soon as you could. Have you decided what you wanted to do?” You wasted no time in asking him about the question that's been weighing on your mind for the past month. He just smiled at you, radiating arrogance.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his face on his hands. “I have a preposition. And I think it would benefit both of us.” you nodded at him slowly, encouraging him to continue. You had no idea where he was going with this. “You see, my father has really been breathing down my neck about maturing,” he air quotated “ and settling down my life.”

This whole story was starting to sound familiar. A son lectured by his father about growing up. Then it clicked. You saw Haechan at your work party. A party specifically for people employed by NCU. You hesitated a second before speaking, “Are you.. Donghyuck? The president's son?”

“Bingo,” he winked at you. “It kinda hurts my pride that you don’t know me. Then again, Y/N, you’ve only just got officially hired on with us.” You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed. He must’ve done a background check on you or something.

“Okay, what’s your proposition?” you asked him slowly, your voice held apprehension. If you were being honest, you have no idea what to expect from him. You spent a month looking for him just to let him know that you were pregnant. What you really wanted was an answer to whether he wanted to be involved or not, but it seems like he has other plans.

“I need you to roleplay with me for a while,” immediately you went to object, but he held his finger up to stop you. “Bear with me now. I don’t mean that in a sexual way, pretty. I didn’t take you for such a naughty girl,” he teased. “Actually, that's a lie. I know how naughty you can be.” Your face flushed as you stammered. “I just want you to act with me. Like you’ve heard, I'm kinda in the dog house. I need you to play a doting girlfriend that I've been going out with for a few months.”

“I’m sorry, what am I getting out of this? Because to me, it sounds like I'm really only helping you,” you raised your hand slightly to call Jaemin over.

“I’m getting there pretty, be patient. After you convince my father that I'm a mature, level headed heir to the company, I'll sign my parental rights away to you and take care of you and the baby financially throughout your pregnancy. Once the baby is born we can go our separate ways,” you were flabbergasted, but before you could say anything Jaemin arrived at your table with a fresh cup of hot chocolate and a pastry.

“Oh, Jaemin, I didn’t order a pastry,” you went to hand it back to him but he waved it off. He glanced over at Haechan rather coldly.

“You seem to be having a hard day,” he looked back at you and smiled. “It’s on the house.” After he walked away you looked back at Haechan.

“I don’t need your money. I didn’t even know who you were when I met you at the bar. I’m not looking for a payout,” you tried to defend yourself, but he just waved his hand.

“Look, it’s going to be hard for a single mother,” he tried to be sympathetic but his voice didn’t come across that way. All he sounded to you was bored, like he had anywhere else to be. He sucked through his teeth. “Take it from me, I’m a man right? If I'm being honest, no man is going to want to be with a single mother and raise a kid that isn’t even theirs. Just accept my offer and then you’d at least have money to rely on, right?”

You looked down at your hands that twirled in your lap. You felt humiliated. You knew, deep down, that he was right. However, you weren't going to force Haechan to be in this baby’s life after it was born. You grew up in a home where both your parents resented you for being born and forced in their life. You could at least spare your baby one parent that will resent them, and give them every ounce of love you have in your body.

“I’ll agree to this on one condition,” Haechan nodded enthusiastically. “You have to attend every doctor appointment with me. That’s all. You may not want to be in this baby’s life but I want you to watch them grow. You never know, you could mature into the person your dad wants through this experience.” You could tell that he was no longer as ready to agree as he was before. He took a second to think to himself before putting on a charming smile.

“Yeah, totally. I can do that,” he started to stand up, leaving an untouched americano on the table. “I’ll keep in contact with you.” He started to leave before he stopped and turned his head to face you. “This saturday, you’re going to meet my father for Christmas. He doesn’t need to know about the pregnancy. We won’t be together long enough for him to know anyways.” With that he left you there to your thoughts.

Haechan had been messaging you all throughout the week, preparing you for today. Mornings have been rough, it seemed like all you were able to keep down was water, oranges, and saltine crackers.You sat in the bathroom on a stool as you hovered over the toilet dry heaving a breakfast you hardly ever got to touch. Tears were streaming down your face as you gripped the toilet seat. Your phone rang from the counter to your left, however you couldn’t reach it. It rang a few more times before it stopped.

You had just finished rinsing your mouth out before there was a knock at your front door. The second you got to the door and unlocked it, it immediately swung open to reveal a frustrated Haechan with a bag in his hand. He pushed his way in, running a hand through this hair before setting the bag in his hand down on your kitchen bar.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? You have to hold up your side of the deal!” he exclaimed. The rise in his voice makes you take a step back to distance yourself from him, your anxiety spiking at his outburst. You think back to the countless arguments and fights your parents would get into. “You’re not skipping out on me are you?” he took a step towards you and you raised your hands up. As if sensing your discomfort he stopped, taking a step back to lean against your bar.

“I’m not skipping. I didn’t answer because I was throwing up. I’ve been doing it all morning, so I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.” You stepped around him, heading back towards your room. “I just need to get dressed and then we can go.”

“Wait, I brought something for you to wear.” He reached for the bag behind him and walked over to you, handing it to you. “I’m sorry for raising my voice at you,” he looked away, and you could see the conflict on his face. He didn’t really know why he was apologizing. The look on your face as you backed away from him earlier made him uncomfortable.

You nodded at him, acknowledging the apology but not sure how to respond. Once in your room you opened up the bag he gave you. Inside was a long tightly fitting red dress. From the looks of it you could tell that one, this was expensive, and two it was not going to hide the bump that had slowly been making its presence known. You slipped the garment on, viewing yourself in your body mirror. You chuckled, hands finding their way to cradle your stomach. Yeah, that's not hiding anything. You searched through your closet pulling out a fluffy white sweater and slipping it on over your head. You retouched up your lipstick before sliding on some black flats and leaving your room.

“What happened? Was the dress not good enough?” Haechan moved towards you, his hands hovering around your sweater. You took a step back from him and tugged at your sweater lifting it up to show the small bump of your lower belly.

“We're supposed to be inconspicuous right?” his eyes lingered down to your stomach, mouth parting slightly. You dropped your sweater back down, covering your stomach back up. “With a tight dress we wouldn’t get very far.” you moved around him, grabbing your purse off your coat rack and walking towards your refrigerator. You pulled out a zip lock baggie of orange slices and a cold water bottle. You closed the door and reached towards the top of your refrigerator on your tiptoes, swiping your hand back and forth at your box of saltine crackers with no luck.

“What is that for?” Haechan came up behind you and grabbed your crackers, laying them in the palm of your hand. You put all three objects into your purse, not without stealing a slice of orange to snack on.

“This is the only thing the baby likes right now,” you make your way to the front door and look over your shoulder back towards Haechan. “You coming?”

The ride to the restaurant was on the longer side. You pulled up to the front of the building, Haechan got out of the driver's side and handed his keys to the valet. He opened the passenger side door to let you out and took your hand, lacing it with his before leading you inside the grand entrance. Once inside he gave his name to the host that led both your and haechan to a back vip room. “Wow, this is intimidating.” you said as you looked around.

“Just follow my lead. Go with the flow,” He said smoothly before the host opened the doors to the private room. His hand rested on your lower back, guiding you into the room where the president sat at the table. He had a hard look on his face but the second his eyes met yours they lit up.

“Oh my! It is so nice to meet you! I was starting to believe you were a figment of my son's imagination,” his laugh came deep from his belly as he stood up to shake your hand. “Please, have a seat Y/N. I have a lot of questions.”

You sat down with a smile, Haechan followed sitting next to you as he held your hand on top of the table. “Well Mr. Lee, what would you like to know?”

“How did you two meet? All Donghyuck told me is that you guys have been dating for a few months,” he sipped his glass of wine, eyes boring into you over the rim. You swallowed thickly, racking your brain for what Haechan had been messaging you about of the week.

You threw on a shy smile, tucking a strain of hair behind your ear. “We actually met for the first time when I started interning here. I actually didn’t know who he was at first. I honestly didn’t even find out he was your son until after we started dating.” The waiter brought you a glass of water and the table an appetizer of some sort of fancy dip.

“She was absolutely stunning the first time I saw her. She was in this red dress. It was like I was drawn to her against my free will, though I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.” Wow he was smooth. This must be how he got such a notorious reputation as a playboy.

“So you work at the company huh? What department?” You set down your glass of water and smiled.

“I’m actually on your graphic design team. I finished my internship with you about three months ago and was offered a full time position. I guess I made a good enough impression,” you bashfully swiped your hand back and forth. The conversation went smoothly during dinner, you tried your best to keep down the pasta you ordered. The image on the menu looked appetizing enough, however the baby didn’t seem to agree. You were holding back a gag as you excused yourself to the bathroom, both Haechan and his father watched you as you rushed to the bathroom. You heard the door open a few minutes later as you hovered over the toilet bowl.

“Hey, pretty. Are you okay?” you held your hand up to Haechan to stop him from coming any closer.

“No,” you gagged, “please give me a second.” you threw up what little pasta you had eaten earlier. Haechan came up behind you, ignoring your warning. He gathered your hair in his hands and held it out of your face. You sobbed. “I’m so sorry, this is so gross and embarrassing.”

He laughed, a loud one. “I mean, it’s gross, yeah, but.. It's normal I guess.” He tried so hard to comfort you. You hiccuped.

“You’ve been around plenty of pregnant women?” you tried to joke. His grip of your hair tightens slightly. Not in a way to hurt you or anything, more out of hesitation.

“Um.. my step mom actually,” he was quiet for a moment, just your hurls in the background before he continued. “She just had my little brother. She was a handful during the pregnancy.” you didn’t press the topic, you could tell from the way he vaguely spoke about her that it was probably a touchy subject. You remembered from Giselle, the president's secretary, that he was currently married to a woman who couldn’t be more than a few years older than Haechan. You reach forward and flush the toilet. He let go of your hair and handed you some napkins to wipe your face with.

“Thank you. And I'm sorry. I must’ve made your father upset," Haechan shook his head.

“No you’re fine. I told him they probably added dairy to your pasta. So if he asks, you’re lactose intolerant.” you chuckled as you washed your hands at the sink.

“I actually am lactose intolerant so it wouldn’t technically be a lie,” you finished drying your hands as haechan opened the door for you.

“Let’s go say bye, I’m taking you home.” you went to object, to tell him that you were fine before he continued. “Before you think that I’m doing this for you, I’m not. I have a date tonight.” and immediately the feeling that warmed your chest at what you thought was his thoughtfulness was crushed. You smiled a tightlipped smile as you nodded your head.

Mr. Lee was sad to see you go. He gave you a hug and made you promise to meet him again. The ride back to your apartment was dead silent. You didn’t know how to start the conversation and Haechan didn’t seem interested in one either. Before closing the door you remembered about your appointments in February. “Oh, I won't have my next appointment for the baby until after the New Year. February thirteenth and twenth.” He had his phone in his hand typing away. He didn’t answer. “You know what? I’ll just message you the dates.”

“Huh? Oh yeah sure. See you later.” As soon as you closed the passenger door he was gone. This was going to kill you. Your heart has been reacting to Haechan all night. First he’s an ass but then he backs off and he apologizes. Then he’s romantic, escorting you and taking care of you in the bathroom before ditching you for a date. You scoffed as you pulled your phone out and gave Renjun a call. You had so much to get him caught up on.

The New Years went without a hitch. It was already mid January and you were coming up on sixteen weeks pregnant. Your belly had officially started to poke out. It no longer looked like you were bloated. It was getting harder and harder to hide it. Eventually the weather would start to warm up and you wouldn’t be able to hide behind the fluffy sweaters. You were officially out of the first trimester and your morning sickness had officially subsided. You would say it has been fantastic, except it hasn’t. Your workload doubled so now instead of throwing up because of the baby, you were throwing up because of work.

You had just made it home after a long shift at the company, when you started feeling it. There was a dull cramp in your lower belly. You had felt it a little earlier in the day but it went away as you continued to drink water. It almost felt like poop cramps so you decided to try and use the bathroom but as soon as you pulled down your pants to sit, you let out a scream. There was blood in your panties. You were panicking, not knowing what to do, you grabbed your phone. You found Haechan’s number in your most recent calls and dialed it. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. “Come on Haechan please pick up.”

You dialed it again, no call. Tears burned your eyes and your nose started to run. You grabbed a wad of toilet paper and shoved it in your panties before pulling it up and calling Haechan one final time. After six rings he finally answered, out of breath. “What,” he snapped. You were stunned.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called the first time?” your voice was shaking as you made your way to your front door to grab your purse.

“I was preoccupied. What the hell do you want right now?” you were crying now. His words just added more stress to your already messy mind. The cramp in your stomach feels worse.

“I-” you started to hyperventilate. “I need to go to the hospital. Now. Please. Haechan, something is wrong. I’m cramping and bleeding and I don’t know what to do. I-” Haechan interrupted you with a huff.

“Y/N, calm down. Everything is going to be fine. You’re overreacting.” His dismissal just made you pissed. “Go lay down and drink some water. It’ll pass.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down Donghyuck. You made a deal with me. I have done everything you have asked of me without so much as complaining. I’m going to the hospital now and your ass better be there or else your father will be there instead,” you were seething. Hot, angry tears poured down your face. Haechan started to object before you hung the phone up. You found Renjun’s number and dialed. He immediately picked up and you hurriedly told him.

“Okay, don’t panic. I’ll be there in five minutes.” Renjun lived a good fifteen minutes away. You told him to be careful. “Please, don’t worry about me Y/N. Just think about the baby, okay? See you when I get there.” true to his word Renjun was there in five minutes. You quickly hopped into his car as he sped back onto the highway. You were at the hospital in no time. Renjun assisted you into the building where you met the nurse at the front desk.

As you were explaining your situation to her, Haechan came strolling in. He looked unaffected. His hair was a mess and his shirt was haphazardly buttoned up. Now you realized what he meant by preoccupied. You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes. “Alright Miss Y/N, we’re going to take you back into this room over here and run some tests,” she turned to Renjun. “Dad? Would you like to join?”

Haechan was ticked. Who the hell was this dude? He had his arms around your waist and held your hands. He doesn’t know why but it rubbed him the wrong way. Before he could stop himself he stepped towards you, putting himself between you and Renjun and pushing his hands off of you. “Yes, I’ll go back there with her. I’m the baby’s father.” There was no way he was going to let another man go back there with you. With HIS baby. He didn’t know why he was feeling so upset over this.

“It’s okay Renjun. I’ll let you know how it goes,” he looked at you, concerned but nevertheless nodded and watched you walk back with Haechan. Once in the office the nurse checked your vitals as you explained to her your concerns. The doctor came in shortly after the nurse left. She greeted you, and helped you relax back on the exam table. You were fiddling your hands together, picking at your nails.

“Alright Miss Y/N, let's check on baby okay? The gel will be cold so bare with me,” She squirted some gel on the scanner as well as some on your stomach. You jumped at the sudden cold chill and reached your hand out to grip Haechans’. He looked at you shocked before holding it firmly. “Okay, the baby's vitals are looking great. Your uterus looks good as well,” the doctor messed with something on her screen before a sound started to echo in the room. You gasped, locking eyes with Haechan before looking back at the doctor.

“Is that the heartbeat?” your eyes started to tear up as the doctor nodded. You stared at the screen. The baby wasn’t a gummy bear anymore, it was more defined. You could see its legs moving as it bounced around. “It’s so crazy. It’s moving around so much but I can’t feel anything.”

“That is completely normal. Most women start to feel movement around this time, so it won’t be much longer!” She reassured you. Haechan stared at the screen as well, watching the baby inside of you bounce around. He wasn’t sure how to feel. It was a mix of disbelief and amazement. He didn’t doubt you were pregnant, not with how your belly was showing, but now with clear evidence in front of him, he couldn’t believe it.

“Do you know what caused the bleeding?” Haechan’s voice shocked you. If not for his hand gripping yours still, you would have forgotten that he was there. His voice almost sounded concerned. You were still upset at him for the way he reacted to you earlier, so you huffed. He eyes locked with your briefly as he raised his eyebrow, confused at your reaction.

“It is most likely due to stress. My recommendation would be to take the rest of the week off from work, and limit your work load moving forward,” Haechan nodded as he listened to her, almost as if the instructions were for himself. “I’m going to put this down in your notes. Your next appointment is in three weeks. We’ll do your glucose test and the following week we’ll do your anatomy! Let’s hope I don’t see you before Miss Y/N, okay?” you nodded earnestly.

“I will rest like crazy Dr. Kim!” you held your fist up. You followed her out the room and into the waiting room where you were met with a frazzled Renjun. He came up to you quickly, grabbing one of your hands while the other hand touched your stomach lightly.

“How’s my little jellybean doing?” he asked, looking from your belly to your eyes. You were about to answer when Haechan’s hands grabbed your waist and gently pulled you back towards him, meeting his chest.

“OUR baby,” he emphasized, “is okay. She just needs to take it easy.” he grabbed the purse from your shoulder and slung it onto his shoulder. “Thank you for bringing her here, but I’ll be driving her back.” he put his hand on your shoulder to guide you.

“Thank you Renjun. I’ll call you when I get home okay?” you pulled from Haechan’s arms to give Renjun a hug. You turned back around and Haechan was staring at you with his mouth open like he couldn’t believe you just hugged another man in front of him. Once you both made it out the building doors and to his car he opened the passenger door for you, closing it as you took a seat.

Once he sat in the driver's seat and started the car, he spoke. “So who was that guy?”

“Renjun? He’s a friend. What’s it to you? He at least answered on my first call.” you couldn’t help but throw a jab at him, still upset.

“Just a friend huh? He sure had his hands all over you,” he mumbled.

“What is your deal? You’re acting like you're jealous.” he scoffed as if that idea was absurd.

“I am not jealous. I just didn’t like it.” you turned your whole body to face him now.

“Well, that’s not what it looked like,” you leaned back, crossing your arms across your chest and looking out the window. That’s when you noticed it. You guys weren’t heading back to your apartment. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way back to my place.”

“You’re going to stay with me until the baby is here.” he said it so surely, as though you and him had agreed on this already.

“What? We did not agree on this. Why would I stay with you? All of my belongings are at my apartment already.” he shook his head, no longer hearing your objections.

“I’ll hire a moving company when we get home. I want you to stay with me, that way if anything like this happens again, I’ll be the first person to know.” His eyes stayed fixed on the road.

“You’re acting as if you weren’t the FIRST person I called. I even called you three times before you even answered. And what were you doing?” you snapped at him. You had enough of his entitled attitude.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t realize that it was as serious as you were saying. Please forgive me, It won’t happen again.” He put the car in park, turning to look at you. “Please, just stay with me until the baby is born. That way I can be here for you.” you sighed. You know, deep down, that it made sense. It would be easier if you were with someone in case anything ever happened. You briefly thought back to a few weeks ago when you were stuck on the toilet because the baby put too much wait on your lower back and you couldn’t get off the toilet because of the pain. You were stuck there for a good fifteen minutes before the pain subsided and you were able to get up.

“Just until the baby is here,” you reluctantly agreed. Haechan smiled at you with this whole body. For some reason, he didn’t like you being so upset with him.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you Y/N! Now let's get inside and I’ll show you to your room.” He got out of the car and held open the passenger door for you. You follow him into his house. It was absolutely gorgeous. The front of the house had a circle drive with a fountain, its front bushes looked well kept with budding flowers and clovers. As soon as you stepped foot into the front door, you were shocked. For a young single man you expected more of a bachelor pad, however it was spotless. It was pretty minimalistic in terms of furniture and decoration. It looked lonely.

Haechan led you upstairs and to the left, he pointed at the first door to your right. “This will be your room.” He opened the door to a decently sized bedroom. To the left against a navy blue accent wall was a queen sized bed adorned in cream colored sheets with a matching navy blue duvet. On each side of the bed was built in bookcases with an assortment of different books, ranging from educational to nonfiction. Haechan pointed to the right side of the room where there were two doors. “The one to the left is your ensuite bathroom, and the right is a walk-in closet. Feel free to redecorate however you like. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible while you’re here.” he left you to your thoughts, assuring you that all your belongings would be arriving in the morning.

Even though his words were welcoming, you were still feeling apprehensive about the whole ordeal. On one hand, you were very grateful to Haechan for even wanting to be as involved as he is starting to be, but on the other, it would be so much easier for him just to sign his rights away and you two never meet again. Although you weren’t getting much in return for helping him out with his father, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. That night you two spent together almost four months ago still sat so heavily in your mind. You were both tipsy, yeah, but you were nowhere near black out to forget the time you spent with him and how he opened up to you. You wonder if he remembers anything you two talked about. Maybe, he’s that vulnerable with every hook up. That thought made you sick to your stomach.

You laid your head on Haechan’s chest as he rubbed circles on your bare shoulder, he kissed the top of your head. You listen to the slow beating of his heart, lulling you to sleep. “I’ve got to get up and go, I may end up falling asleep to your heartbeat if not,” you chuckled. He shifted beneath you, moving to where you laid on top of him, your legs resting on either side of his hips.

“Aw, don’t do that pretty. Tell me,” he stroked your hair, “why were you at the bar today?” you hummed with your eyes closed.

“I was celebrating,” you rested one hand on his side while the other embraced the arm petting your hair. It all felt so intimate, something you probably shouldn’t be doing with a hook up.

“Celebrating what?”

“A promotion. I officially got hired onto the company I was interning for.” he made a wow sound accompanied with a chuckle. His hand moved from your head down to your sides, caressing them.

“Company huh. I technically work for one.” he said, staring above you at the ceiling of the hotel room.

“Technically? What does that mean?” you lifted your head, chin resting on his sternum as you stared at him. He looked lost in thought, and for a second you thought you asked something you shouldn’t have, but then he answered.

“Someday I’ll run the company. But right now, i'm not ready,” you figured now was when you should stop asking, his grip on your sides tightened before they moved down to caress your ass. You jumped before his hands were pushing your hips down to grind on him. You were shocked to feel him hard already. You both had just finished maybe thirty minutes ago and were basking in the afterglow. “Sorry, I just want to forget about it. Can I?” he nudged you closer to him, lining himself up with you. You nodded, kissing his neck but he hesitated. “Hmm?”

“Yes, you can Haechan.”

Oh my god. That was it. The first time you both used protection. You know that for certain because you were the one that put it on him. You flushed at the memory. But that second time? After he was being vulnerable, you were both caught up in the moment that neither one of you remembered. You chuckled dryly, your chest aching. Maybe that was his sad excuse at pillow talk. He plays the sad kicked puppy to get laid again. Well it worked. He made you feel special, so he got what he wanted in the end. You tossed your purse on the chair at the foot of the bed and crawled in, maybe sleep will get rid of this unsettled feeling in your chest.

You woke up to a god awful smell and practically flew out of the bed and into the bathroom, throwing up stomach acid into the toilet. You wiped your mouth before leaving the bedroom with your shirt over your nose. You found Haechan in the kitchen, apron on, as he cooked over the stove. “What are you doing?” he turned his head quickly, smiling at you before it fell from his face.

“Is it that bad? I thought I was a good cook,” he pouted. You shook your head.

“No, I'm sure you are but the smell. The egg smells awful.” you gagged as if on cue. He quickly shut the stove off, turned the fan on above, and opened the window above the sink. He took a cutting board and wafted the smell towards the window.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I made some back and pancakes though!” He tried to be optimistic. You giggled, pulling your shirt down from your nose.

“It’s fine, thank you.” He brought over the plates with pancakes and bacon, setting them on the table in front of you.

“What do you like on your pancakes? I put chocolate chips on them.” He moved to the refrigerator, grabbing out butter and milk. “I have syrup,” he grabbed it down from the shelf above the stove.

“Do you have peanut butter? My dad used to mix butter, peanut butter, and syrup together to put on his pancakes. It was so good,” he brought over what you requested, giving you a weird look. “Come on, you have to try it first before you hate on it.” You mixed together your concoction before spreading it on your pancake. You cut off a piece and offered it to Haechan. You expected him to grab it with his fork but he leaned over, mouth wide open, and took it.

“Wow,” his eyes widened and he nodded his head as he tasted it. “It’s not bad. I usually just eat it with syrup. Is this a pregnancy craving thing?” you shook your head and chuckled.

“Nope,” you popped the p as you took a bite. “I just like it. I haven’t gotten weird cravings yet. Wait,” you thought for a second. “Um, actually I’ve been craving meat and dirt. My blood tests came back a few weeks ago and I’m anemic so that could explain it.”

“Do I need to get you anything? I’ll have the housekeeper come and stock the refrigerator with more meat.”

“I don’t need anything. I’m on supplements to help,” you both sat and ate awkwardly at the table. “Do you know when the movers will be here with my stuff? I need my laptop to do some work. I also need to email my supervisor about my situation. I trust that he can keep my pregnancy a secret.” he nodded and finished up his food before taking both your plates and cups to the sink to wash them. Once he was done he checked the time on his phone.

“They should actually be here any minute. Why don’t you go sit in the living room and relax. I’ll help the movers with your stuff.” You got up and made your way out of the kitchen and into the grand living room. It had tall ceilings, gray panels lined the walls, and in the middle of the room was a large dark brown leather sectional. Laying on the couch was a throw blanket so you grabbed it, wrapping it around yourself before sitting down. Pregnancy has made you so cold all the time. You grabbed the tv remote off of the coffee table and flipped through channels before Haechan came into the room with a cup of steaming hot chocolate. You took it from him with a thank you.

The next three hours flew as you drifted in and out of a nap on Haechan’s couch. He was busy redirecting the movers with your belongings so you didn’t have to worry about anything. Before you knew it Haechan was scooting you over on the couch. He slowly laid your head down on his lap as gently as possible, as not to wake you. He switched the channel to a show he had been watching and let it play while his hand absentmindedly stroked your hair. If he was being honest, he wasn’t paying attention to the show he put on, his mind was too jumbled with thoughts. He doesn’t know why he was so adamant on you staying with him except that he was scared. He kept beating himself up over how shitty he was to you over the phone when you called him crying. He didn’t want to hear you upset and scared like that again. He figured this would be the best option, that way he could watch over you the entire pregnancy.

You shifted on his lap, drawing him out of his thoughts. You had turned to your side, one arm resting on your stomach while the other wrapped around his leg, gripping his thighs. His skin burned hot under your touch. His eyes zeroed in on how your hand rested against your swollen tummy. He slowly reached his hand out, laying it on top of yours. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you're growing something that's half you and him inside of you. When you first told him about the baby, all he thought about was how perfect the timing was. But now, he really doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He just knows that this little thing growing inside of you is going to impact his life in every way possible, and he's not so sure he hates that idea completely.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you stopped what you were doing, which happened to be leaning down to put your shoes on. Lately your stomach has started to get in the way of day to day activities. It wasn’t anything serious, it was just like you were carrying around a solid bowling ball in your stomach. Haechan came bolting around the corner, out of the kitchen and spilling the glass of water he had gotten for you. For the last three weeks that you have been living with him, he’s been glued to your side. You weren’t going to lie, it was really nice.

“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He quickly set down the glass of water for you, and rushed to your side.

“The baby just moved. I felt it,” you looked up at him with wide eyes and a big smile on your face. You lifted your shirt up, showing your belly to him. “It was so strong too. It felt like my shirt moved.” You could still feel a little swirl inside of you. It felt like someone was making waves under the water with their hands. “Quick! Give me your hand!” you grabbed his hand, and laid it on your lower belly. “Wait for it.”

“I don’t feel anything,” there was a hint of disappointment in his voice. He started to pull his hand away but you kept it firmly to your stomach. The warmth of his palm against your stomach made you feel tingly. Even though he's been doting on you and making sure to help you with everything you needed, you’ve been feeling lonely. Your back hurts at night, your bed is always cold, and you never feel like you get warm enough. It would be so nice to have someone lay with you at night, at least until you fall asleep. Pregnancy insomnia has been kicking your ass. “Ah, I don’t think it likes me-” before he could finish there was a strong kick to his palm. His mouth dropped open.

“Keep talking! I think it likes the sound of your voice!” you urged him to keep going. He kneeled down in front of you and moved his head closer to your stomach, resting his cheek against it.

“Hey,..” he hesitated like he didn't know what to say. “It’s uh, it’s your daddy. Do you like the sound of my voice?” your heart sped up at Haechan calling himself daddy. The last time he said it was at the hospital a few weeks ago but the way he said it now, it felt warm. He didn’t say to get on anyones nerves like last time, but for himself. “Ohh you do don’t you,” he chuckled against your stomach as the baby pushed against his cheek and palms.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your bonding through my skin,” you giggled, “but were going to be late for my appointment.”

“Ah, right. Bye bye baby,” he poked your belly before standing up and brushing off his knees. “Lessgo.” He grabbed your purse from your shoulder and opened the front door leading you guys to his car.

The drive to the doctors was quick. You were apprehensive about getting your blood drawn but at least you had an hour to prepare yourself. The nurse had you pick between five flavors, orange, lemon-lime, grape, lemonade, and fruit punch. You had decided to go with the orange flavor. You were given five minutes to drink it, and as true as the mommy blogs you read, it tasted like flat soda. Now, you weren't the biggest fan of flat soda but they at least gave you the drink cold. You chugged it in less than five minutes, the nurse looked surprised.

“Wow, a lot of women hate this test,” she laughed as she took the empty bottle from you and threw it in the trash. “In one hour we'll have a phlebotomist take your blood down the stairs.” She led you and Haechan out of the office and into the lounge room. You and Haechan took the elevator to the first floor and waited in the seats until your hour was up.

“Hey, Haechan?” he looked up from his phone, setting it down in his pocket. You twiddle your fingers together in your lap. Renjun was with you the last time that you had your blood drawn. You didn’t know if haechan would be okay sitting with you this time around. Noticing your hesitation, he scooted over to sit next to you, holding your hand.

“Is everything okay Y/N?” you nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not the biggest fan of needles or having my blood drawn. Could you sit in the room with me and hold my hand?” you felt so shy asking it. He held your hand tighter.

“Of course Y/N.” he kept a hold of your hand, rubbing patterns on it as time passed. Soon you heard the nurse call out your name. You got up, followed closely behind by Haechan, his hand not letting go of yours. The second you sat in the chair, Haechan was right next to you. The nurse explained the process and it was basically the same as last time.

“Results come back pretty quickly for this test. It typically comes back in one to two days.” She patched you up with a pink bandaid, and sent you on your way.

“You handled that fine. I kinda expected you to pass out and I’d have to carry you back home,” Haechan teased you, his hand still interlocked with yours as he led you out to his car. “What do you want to eat? They told you not to eat this morning right?” you nodded, thinking hard about what sounded good. He swung your hands back and forth.

“Oh! Lets get some Korean BBQ!” he laughed, throwing his head back.

“I should’ve thought of that,” he glanced towards you, such a warm smile on his face. You smiled back at him as tears started to prick your eyes. Haechan’s smile immediately wiped off his face. “What? What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?” you shook your head.

“No! No, not at all,” you wiped your eyes with your free hand. “It’s just,” you hiccuped, “I’m really emotional. Your smile, it just made me happy.” his smile returned on his face as he used his own hand to wipe at your eyes. His hand lingered at your jaw as he stared at your lips. He cleared his throat before looking away, continuing towards the car.

“So the key to your heart is Korean BBQ huh, that’s good to know.” He helped you into the car before finally letting go of your hand. The loss of the heat in your hand was immense, you sighed. You’ve practically been craving Haechan’s touch since you moved in with him. Maybe it was some sort of physiological pull or something that the baby was doing. Trying to get you closer to its daddy. You chuckled at the thought. Haechan has been so much more tolerable the last few weeks, that it feels like you’re looking at the man you went home with last October.

“Hey, I have kinda a sensitive question.” you asked him as soon as he sat down in the driver seat.

“Shoot,” he said as he turned the ignition. You took a second to try and gather your thoughts. It's been over four months since you guys met at the bar, he’s probably forgotten all about it.

“When we went home together after the bar, I was wondering if you treat all the girls you go home with like how you treated me,” Haechan looked at you a little shocked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you stuttered a little bit. Embarrassed now that you were actually talking about it. “You were very sweet to me. After the first time we,” you blushed, face heating up.”did it,” you whispered. “I kinda expected you to kick me out, but instead you let me stay and we cuddled. You also asked me about myself, and talked about yourself. It just felt very intimate.” Haechan looked lost in thought. He thought back to the night you were talking about, specifically the part where you two cuddled and talked.

“Honestly? No, I don’t typically do that. I usually have them leave after the first time. I don’t know why, but with you, I wanted to spend some more time with you. I didn’t want the night to end just yet.” his hands gripped the steering wheel.

“I wanted to apologize. About that night. When we were talking. I feel like I made you talk about stuff you didn’t want to.”

“No it wasn’t anything like that. Everything I talked about with you that night was because I wanted you. You made me comfortable enough to. So don’t think you made me okay?” His words reassured you. You felt the weight lift off your shoulders a little bit. This pregnancy has made you feel so guilty over the little things in life. The other day you went out to get hot chocolate with Renjun and you cried when you stepped on a snail.

“That does make me feel a bit better,” you chuckled. “Oh, are you still able to make next week's appointment? It’s the anatomy scan.”

“Hmm, that’s when we find out the gender right? See i’m learning,” he had a small smile on his face as he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Yes but also we will find out if the baby is forming correctly,” you pulled out your phone to check the appointment times.

“Are you wanting a boy or girl?” you were shocked by his question. You didn’t expect him to ask, let alone sound curious while doing so.

You let his question sink in. On one hand you really didn’t have a preference, but at the same time you used to dream about having a little boy. “I think a little boy.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you want a boy?”

“I just always dreamed about being a boy mom. I grew up with only girls in the family, cousins, aunts, great aunts, you know. I think it’s just the challenge of something new.” You tried to think hard about it. Maybe it’s because you grew up fighting with your mom, well you fought with both parents, but you were closer to your dad. You were just scared of having a girl and passing off all your bad traits to her and having the same type of relationship you had with your mother, with her.

“Well, either way, I think you’re going to be a fantastic mother to a boy or girl.” you watched the side of his face as he drove. You exclaimed every curve and mole that adorned his sun kissed cheeks. You rested your cheek against your palm, a soft smile laid on your lips. He’s become such a big part of your life, not just because he’s the father of your child, but because of how he’s stuck to his side of the deal.

“It’s going to be hard to keep our pregnancy from your dad isn’t it? He’s been messaging me, wanting to have dinner together again.” you felt guilty that you haven’t been able to uphold your side of said deal.

“Actually, I was wondering if you would be comfortable telling him?” he looked over at you, curiosity and a little bit of anxiety plastered on his face. He chewed at his lip as his eyes found the road again, waiting for your reply.

“Would you be okay with that? I thought you didn’t want to tell him because that would make it harder for you to distance yourself from us after the baby is born.” It hurt to say, but that was the deal. He supports you financially during the pregnancy, but in the end that’s what you both agreed to.

He thought for a long hard minute. You almost expected him to drop the topic, ignoring it all together, but he didn’t. “Yeah, that was the plan but,” his teeth were doing numbers on his bottom lip. “I want to be a part of this baby’s life after it’s born. And yours. I don’t think I can just forget about you or the baby after all of this. You’ve, you’ve become someone special to me Y/N,” he cheeks tinged pink. You grabbed a napkin out of your purse and leaned across the center counsel to dab at the blood on his lips.

“I want that too, Donghyuck,” it felt weird using his real name. You felt like now was the perfect moment, like he was him in this moment. Not the cocky persona he puts up to mask the hurt and loneliness. He grabbed the hand that dabbed at his lips gently, placing a kiss across your knuckles before resting your intertwined fingers atop the arm rest between you two. This was nice, you felt like this was a big step between you two, an important development.

With all the progress you and Donghyuck made during your conversation in the car a week ago, it felt like you both took five steps back. You couldn’t figure out how to talk to him, you were so nervous, always feeling butterflies around him. He, on the other hand, was losing his mind. All he wanted to do was just grab you and hold you, but it felt like you were avoiding him. Everytime he walked into the same room as you, you’d get up and leave. You’ve practically lived in your bedroom for the last week. He was grateful that today was your appointment, that way you were forced to talk to him.

“Here,” he handed you a bottle of orange juice. “I saw online that orange juice helps the baby move. The last thing we want is for it to be still while we're trying to find out if we’re having a boy or girl,” he chuckled, a soft glow to his smile as he looked down at you sitting on the entryway ottoman. He kneeled in front of you, slipping on your slippers for you. Your heart was beating like crazy, it felt way too hot in this room. It was like you were standing next to the sun. You would be concerned, but you knew it was because of how Donghyuck caressed your ankles, slowly massaging them.

“Thank you,” you spoke, barely audible. He looked up at you, eyes locking with yours before he reached his hand up to feel your forehead.

“Are you okay? Your face is red and you’re warm.” you shook your head.

“I’m fine,” you bit your lip. “We need to head out before we’re late.”

Once at the doctor’s, the check up with the nurse went quickly. She had laid you back agaisn’t the exam table and measured your stomach. “Looking perfect Miss Y/N! You’re measuring right on track. You got the results back from your glucose test correct? I just wanted to make sure your notes were put in the system correctly.” You nodded.

“Yes, everything came back normal.” she typed a bit on the computer before leaving. You looked over at Donghyuck who was scrolling on his phone. “I’m sorry about this morning,” he looked up at you, confusion on his face. “And for this whole last week. I’ve just felt so nervous around you.”

He scooted the guest chair closer to you, holding your hand in his. “Is it something I did or said? Was it the conversation we had about telling my father? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” you were so smitten by his concern towards you.

“It’s really childish. I swear it’s nothing you did or said, it’s just,” he leaned forward as if hanging on every single word that came out of your mouth. “I really like you, and I just don’t know how to act around you.” He looked like his mind short circuited for a second before he smirked.

“So what, I make you so nervous that your mind goes mush? Like that?” you nodded. “Oh my god you’re so cute. This entire time I thought you were avoiding me because I upset you or something. But it's just because I'm that charming that I made you speechless.” you smacked his shoulder lightly. He laughed as he rubbed it like you had any real power behind your swing. “Ow, you wounded me.”

You were both interrupted by a knock at the door. Dr Kim walked in with a bright smile on her face. “Who's ready to see the baby!” She took a seat on the rolling stool and moved over to you. She pulled the scanner and lube out as you lifted up your shirt, tucking it underneath your bra to keep it fastened. “Alrighty, this will feel cold. Are you ready?” You locked eyes with Donghyuck, he smiled down from beside you, his hand rested against your upper arm. You nodded at the doctor.

She squirted the lube onto your bare stomach and smeared it with the scanner. With her free hand she pointed up at the screen in front of you and Donghyuck. “Here are the baby’s hands. Ten fingers!” she clicked around on the computer before moving on to the baby’s feet. “All ten toes as well. Good job Mama.” you could feel the baby kick at the probe, as well as see it bounce around the screen. “Do you guys want to know the gender now or wait until the end?”

“I want to wait until the end. What about you?” his eyes were fixed to the screen, a smile plastered on his face. He looked back at you.

“I don’t mind waiting. Do you want to take a bet?” you lifted an eyebrow at him. What did he mean by a bet? “A bet to see who's right on the gender. If I win and it’s a girl, I get to pick her name. If you win and it’s a boy, you get to pick his name. Does that sound fair?” you thought about it for a second, the doctor still clicking away on the screen and moving the scanner around.

“Alright, I’ll take those chances.” he laughed as you both looked up at the screen. The doctor explained some of the things you were seeing. She was checking the baby’s legs and measuring them as well as taking scans for the size of its head. After checking everything she needed to, she turned to face us.

“So mama thinks boy, daddy thinks girl?” both you and Donghyuck nodded before looking up at the screen. She moved the scanner around a bit before stopping. “Congratulations daddy, it’s a girl!” Donghyuck stood up and pulled his fist towards his side.

“Oooh I knew it! I was looking up how to tell and you were ticking off all the boxes for girls! Oh, I'm a genius.” you giggled at his antics. Although you were wanting a boy, you oddly felt excited to have a girl. All of the worries you had about her were still there, but with Donghyuck by your side, you felt like you could brave the fears. The doctor helped you clean up before handing you your sonograms from the visit.

“I wont see you again until you’re closer to thirty weeks. If you have any concerns during that time please don’t hesitate to call me okay?” You pulled your shirt back down over your stomach and said goodbye to the doctor.

“Hit me with it. What’s the name you picked? I’m so curious,” you grabbed his hand, swinging it back and forth. You tried your best to keep up with his pace, he ended up slowing down to match your speed. You get out of breath so easily now, it’s crazy. He put a finger up to his chin in mock thinking.

“Okay, okay, bare with me now. I think it’s really cute but it’s not traditional for a little girl,” you smiled and squeezed his hand in encouragement to keep talking. “I was thinking something like Woong. Just imagine, Woongie,” he called it out so affectionately and cutely you couldn’t help but break out in an even bigger smile.

“What made you want to go with that?” He looked down at you as he held the office's front door open for you to pass through.

“Well, when I first saw her on the sonograms you gave me last December, she looked like a little gummy bear. I’m kinda embarrassed to say this but I’ve been calling her Woong since then.” How fitting that he choose a name that can mean bear.

“Are you trying to project your feelings to make her a mini you?” he gasped, throwing his hand to his chest.

“Never,” he teased. “Do you have anything planned this evening?” you guys made it to the car and you answered as he helped you sit in the passenger seat.

“Not that I know of, why?” he stood by your door with a big grin.

“Because we’re going to go shopping for Princess Woongie. You haven’t gotten anything yet right?” you gushed at her name. You were definitely starting to adore the name the more Donghyuck said it.

“No, I wanted to wait until I knew what we were going to have first.” He closed the door before going around the car and getting in the driver's side.

“Well then, let’s go spoil her before she even arrives.”

Tonight was the night, you had enough of sleeping in a cold bed. You and Donghyuck had been coy back and forth, not quite sure what the other was comfortable with. You stood at your bedroom door, fuzzy socks covering your chilly toes. You had on your pink pajamas, the shorts just small enough that the waistband had to be rolled down under your belly and the shirt that used to fit comfortably rested mid stomach, exposing your twenty four week belly bump.

You tiptoed down the hallway until you stood in front of Donghyuck’s door. You knuckles hesitated against the ingrained wood to his bedroom. Before you could knock, the door swung open to a messy haired Donghyuck. He jumped back letting out a screech, clutching at his bare chest where his heart was. “Oh my god Y/N, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” He looked between you and the baby bump. “Is it Woongie?” a mild panic flashed across his face. You shook your head, hands raising up to wave.

“No! She’s fine!” you told him. The worry melted off his face as he checked you over, making sure with his own two eyes that you and Woong weren’t hurt.

“What are you doing at my bedroom door then?” you stood there, unsure how you wanted to tell him that lately you’ve been feeling isolated. Not necessarily by him, but the further along you get in your pregnancy, the less you see people. You haven’t been back to the office for the last two months, you’ve been doing everything remotely, so that already takes out half of your social circle. Luckily with how busy Renjun is, he still makes time to see you at least once a week.

Your eyes travel the exposed skin across his chest and down to his waist. You’ve seen it before yeah, but not with a completely sober mind. Your mind goes back to the night you guys shared, you vividly remember how warm he was. You would give anything to curl against him. No time for hesitation now.

“Can I sleep here with you tonight?” his eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly. You looked up at him, probably the most pitiful look known to mankind was plastered across your face. Most women have a glow to them during pregnancy, you however, did not. The lack of sleep you’ve gotten in the last three months has dimmed your complexion and created dark circles under your eyes. You always heard the lack of sleep happens AFTER the baby, not before.

He stepped to the side, motioning you to enter. “I was just going to use the bathroom and grab a glass of water. Do you want one?” you nodded and he left the room, leaving you to look around. Donghyuck had a pretty large bed that sat tucked away in the far left corner against the wall. His bed frame was pretty minimalistic, the headboard was a plush bright red that just screamed Donghyuck. You noticed he had a lot of red accents around the room. You walked over to the side of the bed that wasn't against the wall and sat your phone down on the bedside table.

You slowly got onto his bed and crawled towards the side against the wall. Immediately you were engulfed by the citrusy smell of his daily cologne. You nestled yourself underneath his white covers, they were a thick material already warmed from him. Yeah, this was a good idea. You were already feeling the warmth seeping back into your body. Before too long, Donghyuck came back into the room carrying two glasses of water. “Here,” he said as he sat one glass down on his bedside table, next to your phone. You shuffled to rest your back against his head board, reaching out to grab the glass of water from his hand, sipping it. You watched as he checked something on your phone before he unplugged the charger to his phone, connecting your phone to the charger. You handed the water glass back to Donghyuck and he set it down next to his. “Do you want to talk about it?” He sat next to you against the headboard, his fingers playing with your.

“I’m not sure what I'm feeling if I'm being honest,” you laid your head back, staring at his ceiling. He sat quietly, allowing you time to gather your thoughts. “I just think I'm feeling very isolated from the people around me. I was thinking about it earlier but, I really only talk to you and on occasion Renjun when he’s able to make time for me. I haven’t talked to anyone from the company. Also, Woongie makes me cold,” you chuckled looking over to Donghyuck who was already looking at you, your heart jumped at the sudden eye contact.

“What do you mean? Have you talked to Dr. Kim?”

“Yes I have and It’s nothing serious. But, I just have a harder time getting myself warm. My fingers are cold, my feet are cold, I’m just overall cold,” As you said it he picked your intertwined hands up and blew warm air from his mouth. You giggled. “I remembered the last time we shared a bed that your body was hot.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the innuendo. “Stop! I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I’m just teasing you Y/N. You’re more than welcome to sleep in here with me from now on if you want.” He looked around the room, you couldn’t tell from the dim light, but he had a faint blush on his cheeks as he tried to formulate the next words in his mind carefully. “I know we’ve only talked about it briefly but,” he paused, his eyes darting around the room in thought. “I want to have a relationship with you. If you are willing. I know we didn’t really start this relationship that we have on an ideal foot, but I want to have an actual relationship with you. One that’s serious. I want to be in Woong’s life, not just as her daddy, but as her mommy’s partner.” your eyes started tearing up. You both desperately needed this conversation and you were happy he was giving it to you maturely.

“Yes. I want to as well. I want to have you by my side.” Donghyuck smiled at you so fondly, he slowly leaned towards you, his eyes memorizing your face before trailing down to your lips. You closed your eyes, leaning back into him. The moment your lips touch is like fire, heat spreads from your lips, through your body, and to your toes. Your hand was still in his and you squeezed it lightly as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss. Donghyuck’s other hand slowly rested on your cheek, his thumb caressed the side of your lips. It tugged at your bottom lip, slowly dragging it down and open so that he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You gasped, leaning into the palm of his hand as he continued, caressing your tongue with his. You felt light headed, and when you could take it anymore, you leaned back, breaking this kiss with only a strain of saliva to connect you.

Donghyuck gave you a sweet smile before shuffling down the headboard and lifting up the covers. He patted next to him, ushering you down as well to cuddle him. “Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow I want to call my father and set up lunch to tell him the news.” you laid your head firmly on his chest, your legs twisted with his, and his hand stroked your hair. You feel asleep to the thruming of his heartbeat that night.

True to his word, the next morning Donghyuck called his father. You briefly heard his conversation from the other room, and while you only heard bits and pieces, it seemed a bit strained. Donghyuck came back into the bedroom to find you still tucked under his blankets. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your hair before he gave you a small kiss to your temple. “I know you’re awake Y/N,” he cooed in your ear. You pulled the blankets down a little bit to see him.

“I didn’t mean to overhear,” you started. “Is he upset?”

“Oh, I hadn’t told him yet. All I said was that I needed to meet him soon and that it was about you.” he pinched your cheek slightly before standing up from the bed and making his way over to his closet.

You sat up in bed a little too quickly, hissing as you held your back. Donghyuck’s head snapped quickly towards you but you brushed it off. “She's just pushing on my back too much,” you scooted towards the edge of the bed. “Is he upset?”

“Not at you. I think he thinks that I broke up with you or something. I don’t really have the best track record at relationships,” he winced. That came out so bad but you know what he means.

“I understand,” you stood up from the bed and waddled a bit as you made your way up behind him. You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, belly stopping you from laying yourself flush against him. You laughed. You guessed the laugh woke up Woongie because she started to kick through you at Donghyuck’s back.

“Uh, Woongie,” he whined as he turned around to face you. He leaned down towards your stomach, laying his lips on the side before blowing a raspberry. Your entire abdomen shook as Woong did what you could only assume was flips. Donghyuck immediately gasped and apologized. “Oh daddy’s sorry. He didn’t mean to scare you,” he cooed and peppered kisses along your belly. You put your hands on his cheeks and slowly raised his head up, giving him a chaste kiss once he was fully standing.

“Do I need to wear something that hides the belly?” he shook his head quickly.

“No! The whole point of this meeting is to tell him about Woong. I have something I bought you while we were out buying stuff for her the first time.” You looked at him confused. You swore he was with you the entire time, so how did he sneak away to get you something? He rummaged in the top of his closet, pulling out a gift bag. “Here, go change into this and meet me down stairs by the front door. I’ll help you with your shoes.” After a quick kiss to the cheek, you made your way back towards your room.

Once inside you made quick work with the fancy gift wrapping. You pulled out what looked like an off white bodysuit, skeptical at the size of it. It looked three times too small. Inside the bag was also a yellow cardigan with sunflowers knitted into it. Once you slipped on what you thought was a bodysuit, you realized it was a long bodycon dress. It fits like a glove. Although the dress was tight, the material was light enough that it felt like you weren't wearing anything. You slowly made your way down starting where Donghyuck was waiting for you with a pair of orange sandals. He himself wore nice fitted black slacks and a loose off white button up that paired perfectly with your dress.

“I knew it would fit you,” he gave you a quick kiss to the cheek before escorting you down to his car. Once you both arrived at the restaurant, Donghyuck got out and led the way. He had a firm grip on your hand, leading you through the building and towards the back. You could only assume he visited these restaurants often enough to know where the vip rooms were. The president's eyes locked on Donghyuck first, his eyes furrowed as he didn’t know you trailing behind.

“Donghyuck, what is the meaning of this? I thought you were serious about Y/N. Are you here to tell me that you fucked it up with her-” his irritation was cut short as you stepped out from behind Donghyuck. The president’s eyes widened in shock as he took in your figure, your abdomen twice the size it was when you first met. “Uh-” Donghyuck interpreted him.

“We wanted to come share the news with you, Father. Y/N and I are expecting a little girl in July.” The shock melted off of his face and was replaced with a large smile that reached his eyes. He quickly moved towards you, arms extended wide and developed you into a hug. He stepped back from you, scanning you before pulling your left hand up to him.

“Donghyuck, I taught you better than this. Where is this woman's ring?” your eyes practically bugged out of your head, face immediately bursting into a deep red shade as you quickly look over to Donghyuck. He doesn’t have much of a reaction. Of course you’ve thought about marriage before. Both you and Donghyuck hadn’t necessarily started out on your five step life plan as you would’ve hoped you would, you guys would just have to navigate it as you go.

“That’s a conversation for another time Father. For now, I want us to focus on the pregnancy and make sure that it goes smoothly. I want them both to be healthy.” His father had a sparkle in his eye before he stepped away from you both and turned around, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He sat down in his seat and motioned for you both to join him. His eyes looked a bit red and that's when you realised he had teared up earlier.

“I’m proud of you Donghyuck,” Donghyuck looked shocked. It had been years since he last heard his father say that to him. He didn’t know how to respond. “This has been good for you,” he paused, eyes meeting yours. “She has been good for you.” He turned his entire body toward you. “Thank you Y/N for giving him a chance. I know he’s not the easiest person to be around. I suppose he gets that from me.” He chuckled awkwardly.

You didn’t know how to respond to him. Instead you let your hand find Donghyuck’s thigh under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His hand laid over yours, his warmth enveloping your hand. The meal went comfortably. It was a change of pace to see Donghyuck and his father interact with each other in a more domesticated way than what you’ve heard countless times over the phone. They were both so awkward that it had you smiling, adoring the way they would pause in between conversations only to talk over each other.

The following weeks dragged on and on. The further you got along into the pregnancy the more exhausted you felt. Your ankles started to swell, you peed every hour on the hour, and you felt like a beached well half of the time. You just started your weekly check ups at your doctors office, the countdown to Woong’s due date was nearing. At your last appointment, you had just hit thirty six weeks, Dr Kim checked your cervix and informed you that Woong wasn’t head down. She had told you that if she didn’t flip before your next appointment, which was in two days, that you discuss your options.

You had dreamt of having a natural vaginal birth, you may or may not have done a deep dive on the web for birthing videos, but now it was seeming out of reach. The last two nights, almost the entire night, you had been in and out to sleep, only being awoken to what you assumed was just some braxton hicks contractions. It was hell, for both you and Donghyuck. He had hardly gotten any solid sleep, deciding to stay close enough to you should you need anything.

It was of those days where you were sprawled across the couch with your feet resting in Donghyuck’s lap, he made quick work with his fingers as he worked out the tension in the soles of your feet. You had another cramp in your stomach, only this time it was unbearable. You yelped out in pain, your arm reaching to cradle your lower stomach. “What?! What is it?” Donghyuck’s hands flew to your shoulder, helping you sit up. You shook your head, and pushed his arms off rather roughly.

“Sorry,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to control your breathing. “I can’t sit up. We need to go to the hospital now, it feels like she’s coming out now.” tears had already started to pool in your eyes and before you knew it, Donghyuck had grabbed your ‘to go’ hospital bag that had sat in the front room closet for the last month. He rushed back to you with your house slippers, sweat beading at his forehead. He slowly helped you up off of the couch, you checked behind you for a wet spot. “I don’t think my water broke so we have some time.” You slowly made your way down to the car, stopping briefly to catch your breath or if there was a particular rough contraction.

It felt like Donghyuck hit every bump the road had to offer whilst he sped to the hospital. You practically held yourself off the passenger seat due to the pressure that weighed down between your legs. He barely threw the car in park before he launched himself out of the driver's seat to assist you into the building. You had called the doctor's office to inform them that you were coming in with contracts. Renjun had sent you a message earlier that he would be at the hospital as soon as he was able to wrap up his work in case you needed anything from him. Donghyuck’s father had also called him briefly to keep him updated. By now tears had been spilling all over the place, your nose was running, and it wasn’t just because of the pain. Never in your life had you realised that you had so many people around you that cared.

The nurse escorted you as quickly as you were able to move to a room where she hooked up some monitors to your stomach to track the baby’s heartbeat and contractions. Donghyuck had helped you take off your pants so that the nurse could check your dilation. “I’ll give you a second for this contraction to pass before I check you, okay?” you briefly nodded as you closed your eyes tight, your fists clenched the bedspread beneath you. As soon as the contraction died down, the nurse inserted her fingers. You saw as she raised her eyebrows, her eyes darting around before she spoke. “Okay, we’ll be having the baby today! You are almost ten centimeters dilated. I’ll call the doctors in.” She quickly moved to your right side, inserting an IV into the back of your hand. You winced at the sudden pain.

You looked over at Donghyuck, confusion on both of your faces. What was going on? Before you knew it, the room was flooded with doctors. “What’s happening?” your voice came out frantic, the doctors around you moved the bed down and handed Donghyuck a pair of scrubs, hair net, and mask.

“I’m going to go through this quickly. We’re getting you rushed in for a c section. The baby has their legs down so we're on a time crunch before your water breaks. Please sign here, here, and here.” Your eyes were blurred with tears. This wasn’t what you wanted. Your hands shook as you handed the pen back to the doctor. They had already wheeled you out of the room and down the hall into another, leaving Donghyuck behind. You didn’t know what to focus on, you didn’t have Donghyuck next to you, your birth plan wasn’t going how you planned, and it felt like no one was telling you what was happening.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” a calming voice spoke next to you as a hand rested on your shoulder. A young lady stood next to your table, she grabbed your hand as the doctors around you instructed you to lay on your side. “They’re doing the spinal tap now. Just tuck your knees to your chest as far as you can.” you followed her instructions, squeezing her hand tightly.

“Where’s Donghyuck,” you sobbed. “I want him here with me.” the lady nodded her head in reassurance.

“He’ll be here quickly. They have him sanitizing before he arrives.” The doctors around you moved you back towards your back before slipping an oxygen mask over your face. Your eyes looked around the room, taking in the bright lights and the tarp that separated you from the other side where the doctors prepared their instruments.

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” Donghyuck moved quickly next to you as the lady passed your hand into his before backing up.

“I’m scared,” you must look pitiful with all this machinery hooked up to you, eyes and nose red from crying. You were shivering too.

“It’s going to go by so quickly, you won’t even know what’s happening.” He reassures you, his free hand moving the hair out of your face before leaving a kiss on your forehead. He sat by your ear, whispers of encouragement kept your thoughts from drifting. Dr. Kim said something before calling Donghyuck over to follow her as she walked towards an incubator.

“She’s a big one mama! Eight pounds!” your head moved around as you tried to get a glimpse of your baby. You couldn’t hear her cry. Your heart rate spiked, all you wanted was to have your baby with you now. That’s when you heard it, a boisterous cry. You laughed weakly, tears of relief ran down your face now as you relaxed your head back onto the table. Donghyuck walked over to you, watery eyes with a bundle of white blankets in his hands.

“Say hi to you mama Woongie,” he held her down to rest her cheek against yours. You rubbed your face against her as you sniffled and shivered. She was perfect. A perfect round head with chubby little cheeks. Donghyuck held her back to his chest while the doctors stitched you back up. They took Woong back from Donghyuck, undressing her from the blankets and laying her against your bare chest. You let out a sigh of relief, you hand cradling her small head, barely hair in sight. You chuckled. “She got that from me,” he rested his hand against yours that cradled her head.

The nurses moved your entire bed through the hospital hallways until you reached what you assumed would be your room while you stayed there. After a brief rundown of what your first twenty four hours of Woong’s life would be like, you and Donghyuck were left alone in your hospital room, Woong asleep on your chest. You were exhausted.

Donghyuck slowly moved one of the guest’s chairs over to the side of your bed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand while the other rested against your’s on Woong’s small frame. “You were incredible Y/N,” you smiled sweetly over to him. “You safely carried Woongi and both you and her were safe during the procedure. You did so well.”

“I only did so well because you were here supporting me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t give me a chance when I first came to you.” he shook his head, looking at you with a resolved look on his face.

“You gave me the chance, not the other way around. You stuck with me when I was being an asshole. I’m glad you shook some sense into me. I can’t imagine a life different from this. A life without Woongie. Without you. You gave me a purpose in life,” his eyes trailed down towards the small figure that breathed softly on your chest. “Heh,” he chuckled. “I guess my father was right. I was so wrapped up in the mindset that my life needed to be filled with parties, events, and whatever woman I laid my eyes on. You changed my world Y/N. You showed me that what I was missing, deep down inside, wasn’t something I tried to find in flings or glasses of wine. It was you, it was her. I was looking for something, someone, to dedicate my life to. Someone that would better me. Not just for myself, but for the future of my legacy, my fathers legacy.” He slowly moved his hand to your jaw, caressing it gently as he leaned it and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. It was so warm, so full of love. He poured his thoughts and feelings into it. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “I was looking for you.”

notes; ahhh omg never again am I going to work on a long ass fic AND and smau at the same time. That was hard af. This was 42 pages on docs....... jeeze. Please let me know what you think, I have a praise kink

329 notes · View notes

the-winter-spider · 5 months ago

Text

I Love You, I'm Sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 25k+

Warnings: Angst, fluff, sweater, small bit if barley anything smut

A/N: LMAOOO this is so unnecessarily long, I hope you like it! I definitely started to edit this and then just half assed did it and let this edit thing i have take over so hopefully it turned out okay because i was going cross eyed lol

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

-----

It had been almost two years since you’d last seen Bucky.

Two summers of carefully constructed avoidance. Two years of dodging mutual gatherings, leaning on Natasha and Wanda to run interference, and filling your days with work, hobbies, and everything else you could think of to keep yourself from looking back.

For the most part, it worked.

You had finally started to feel… free. Or something close to it. Your friends told you how proud they were, how much you were thriving, and sometimes, you almost believed them. You’d moved forward. You’d learned how to smile and laugh without his shadow hanging over you.

But there were cracks in your façade, ones no one else could see.

At night, when the world was quiet and there was nothing to distract you, your mind always drifted back to him. To the way his voice sounded when he said your name, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way his arms would feel around you, the way his lips would peck your skin and the way his words would soothe you. Till they didn’t but even then it was Bucky. He’d been your person—or at least, you thought he had been.

The right person, wrong time. You held onto that idea like a lifeline, the tiny hope that maybe someday, when you were both different, both ready, it could work. You hated yourself for holding onto the hope of it all, especially with how he treated you. But hope was a fickle bitch.

But that didn’t stop you from trying to move on. You tried, over and over again. New faces, new kisses, new hands brushing against yours. And yet every time, your mind would betray you, comparing each new guy to Bucky.

They didn’t laugh like he did.

They didn’t understand you like he did.

They didn’t know you like he did.

They didn’t make you feel like he did.

You hated yourself for it. For clinging to something that had already broken you one too many times. For hoping for something that wasn’t yours anymore, something that truly never even was.

But you always brushed it aside.

When Maria invited you to her engagement party, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. She was your friend, after all, and Natasha had promised she’d come too. It wasn’t until the day of the party, when Natasha called to say she couldn’t make it—“I’ve caught some kind of flu. Don’t worry, you’re gonna be fine, its not like Bucky will be there” That made your stomach churn, because of course Bucky wouldn't be there, why would he, he wasn't friends with Maria, but the fact Natasha even said his name in itself made your anxiety spike. And Steve knew Maria but he wouldn't bring him when he knew you were going.

You reminded yourself that Natasha wouldn’t steer you wrong. “He doesn’t even know these people,” “Steve wouldn’t do that to you” she had said, her voice reassuring. “You’ll be fine.”

So you put on a dress you hadn’t worn in ages, did your makeup, and told yourself you could handle this. It had been two years. You were fine. He won’t be there.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived. The apartment was beautiful, a spacious loft with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the New York City skyline. You mingled easily, sipping champagne and chatting with Maria and her fiancé, Chad, who were positively glowing with excitement.

An hour in, you’d almost forgotten your anxiety.

Almost.

“Wow, you look amazing,” a familiar voice said, and you turned to see Steve standing beside you, his kind smile softening the sharp cut of his suit.

“Hey, Steve,” you said, your voice steady as you returned his smile. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, glancing around before leaning in slightly. “Listen,” he said, his tone dropping to something quieter. “I need to tell you something.”

Your stomach twisted at the seriousness in his voice. “What?”

He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to gauge how you’d react. “Bucky’s here.”

The world seemed to tilt for a second. “What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your hand started to shake, making your champagne spill over.

Steve reached out wrapping his hand around yours, trying to ground you. “He works with Chad,” Steve explained, wincing slightly. “I guess Chad got hired at Bucky’s company, and Buck invited him out to show him around New York. ”

Your mind reeled, piecing it together like a puzzle you didn’t want to solve. Of course.

Steve touched your arm gently, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Are you going to be okay?”

“It’s been two years,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “I’ll be fine.”

Steve nodded, but the way his eyes lingered on you made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. “I’m sorry, I know what he put you through.”

You grabbed his arm before he could walk away, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Is he, um here with anyone?”

Steve hesitated, then shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “He hasn’t really dated in the last couple of years.”

Your heart clenched, but you forced yourself to nod. “Okay.” It wasn’t a huge party by any means but there were enough people crowded in the small house that there was no way he’d be anywhere near you, right?

But then you heard it. It was like all your senses finally turned into your surroundings. The laugh, his laugh. And you started to spiral thinking of the smile and the head toss that went along with it.

You tried to focus on the party, but your nerves buzzed under your skin, your gaze flickering to every corner of the room, your eyes searching for him involentarly.

And then, finally, you saw him.

He was standing by the bar, laughing at something Chad said, a drink in his hand. He looked different—his hair shorter, his beard neatly trimmed—but he was still him. It was still Bucky. His nose still scrunched when he laughed.

And then his eyes locked with yours from across the room.

Everything stopped.

The noise of the party faded, just the thumping of your heart beat was heard, the world narrowing to just the two of you. It was like something out of a movie, and that terrified you because this wasn’t a movie. This was your life, and he’d already broken your heart one too many times.

You couldn’t do it again. You wouldn't.

You made up your mind quickly. You weren’t going to wait around for him to come over, to say something that would unravel everything you’d worked so hard to rebuild. You were panicking.

You found Maria, congratulating her again and leaving your engagement gift with a polite smile. “Natasha sends her congratulations,” you added. “She’ll be at the next party, I promise.”

You headed for the door, your chest tight, your mind racing.

The cool night air bites at your skin as you step out of the building, your heels clicking against the pavement. The distant hum of the city feels a world away from the chaos swirling inside you. You just need to get away—away from the noise, the memories, and him.

But then you hear it.

Footsteps behind you.

And then, his voice.

“Wait!”

Your body stiffens, your heart slamming against your ribs. You don’t turn around. You can’t. Not yet.

“Please,” Bucky says again, his voice closer now, raw and pleading. “Can we talk?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, before finally turning to face him. He stops a few feet away, his chest rising and falling heavily like he ran to catch up with you.

“Bucky,” you say, your voice sharp as his name leaves your lips for the first time in years, cutting through the silence. “What is there to talk about? There’s nothing I want to hear from you, and there’s nothing I want to say to you.”

He flinches like your words are a physical blow, but he doesn’t back down. His blue eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you say anything.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, his hands trembling at his sides. “Please,” he whispers, the word barely audible.

The weight of his gaze makes it impossible to move, to breathe. You hate how much power he still holds over you, how much his broken voice and watering eyes make your chest ache.

So you linger. You linger in the stillness, saying nothing.

And that’s when he begins to speak.

“I love you.” he says simply, his voice raw and unsteady.

“No.” The word slips from your lips, fast, sharp and broken. “You don’t know what love is.” Your chest heaves as the anger bubbles up, tears pricking at your eyes. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have been with all those other girls. You wouldn’t have let me think, so stupidly, that I was the only one who had that part of you.”

His face twists, the words hitting him like a physical blow. “You were,” he says, his voice cracking as he takes a step closer. “I wasn’t with any of them when I was with you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “That is such bullshit, Bucky! I saw you. Multiple times, I might add! I know damn well you saw me too, out with different girls every other week like it was nothing—like I was nothing.”

His jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he takes another step closer. “No. I wasn’t with them,” he says, his voice desperate now. “I wasn’t sleeping with anybody else when I was seeing you. And for the record, you were never nothing to me. You were—you are everything.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask, your voice sharp and trembling. You laugh again, a hollow, cutting sound. “Because ‘for the record,’ we were never seeing each other, Bucky. You made damn sure of that.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You know what I mean,” he says, his tone softer now, almost pleading. “And I truly wasn’t sleeping with anybody else but you. Because I couldn’t.”

The words hang between you, heavy and raw, and your chest tightens as your breath catches in your throat.

“You couldn’t?” you ask, your voice trembling with disbelief. “Why? Because you were saving me from something? Because you didn’t want to hurt me?”

“No,” he says quickly, stepping closer. His hands are trembling as he lifts them slightly, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. “Because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want anyone else. I still don’t. Not like that. Not the way I want you.”

The admission feels like a knife twisting in your chest, and you take a shaky step back, shaking your head.

“And what? It took you completely ruining me to figure that out?” your voice cracks, your emotions spilling out like a flood. “Why couldn’t you have figured that out two years ago, Bucky? You hurt me so badly.” Your voice cracked.

His shoulders slump, and the defeat in his posture almost makes you falter. “I know,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. And I’ll hate myself for it for the rest of my life.”

Your throat tightens, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Then why? Why didn’t you just let me in? You made me feel like I was nothing, like I didn’t matter, when all I ever did was try to love you!”

His eyes snap to yours, the intensity in his gaze making your heart lurch. “Because I didn’t think I could love you back the way you deserved,” he says, his voice cracking. “I thought if I let you in, I’d ruin you. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was make it worse. Because, God, do I love you more than anything.”

Your chest heaves with the weight of his words, and you wrap your arms around yourself as if it could stop the ache spreading through you. “You didn’t just make it worse, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You broke me.”

He steps closer, his hand reaching out like he wants to touch you but stops just short. “And I’m trying to fix it,” he says softly. “I know I can’t take it back, but I’ll spend the rest of my time trying to make it right if you let me.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh slipping past your lips. “You think it’s that easy? That you can just say all the right things now and I’ll forget about the years I spent breaking myself over you?”

“No,” he says quickly, his voice firm. “I don’t think it’s easy. I don’t expect you to forget. I just… I want a chance. A real one. To show you that I can be better. That I am better. I'll do anything.”

The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, broken only by the sound of your shaky breathing.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

“I’ll earn it,” he says softly. “Every single day, I’ll earn it. Please, I love you.”

Your heart aches as you stare at him, the war between your love for him and your fear of being hurt again raging inside you, “I'm sorry” you say softly with one last glance at him you turn around and leave.

---

The morning after the confrontation with Bucky, you find yourself sitting at a coffee shop with Wanda, Sam, and Natasha, it isn't unusual, the four of you have at least one day a week to catch up on life events, something that Natasha implemented years ago, nothing changed minus Steve wasn’t always here and Bucky no longer came for obvious reason. The usual lighthearted banter feels like it belongs to another world, one you’re struggling to reach. Your fingers wrap around the steaming cup in front of you, the warmth doing little to thaw the chill in your chest.

Two years. That’s how long you managed to avoid him and seeing him for two minutes was enough to break down all the walls you worked hard to build.

Two years of carefully declining invitations where you knew Bucky would be, of sharing group messages where his name lingered in the background like a ghost. Two years of never asking Natasha or Wanda about him and dodging Steve’s carefully neutral mentions of “Buck.”

And now, here you are, breaking the unspoken rule you set for yourself.

You sit at the café table with your untouched coffee cooling between your hands. The three of them are laughing about something—some story Sam’s telling about Steve being too stubborn to ask for directions—but the sound feels distant.

When the words finally tumble out of you, they cut through the conversation like a blade.

“I ran into Bucky last night.”

The laughter stops.

Natasha freezes, her coffee cup paused halfway to her lips, her sharp green eyes snapping to yours. Wanda’s brows knit together in quiet concern, her hand resting on her mug as if she’s bracing herself. Sam, seated across from you, leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. His expression hardens instantly, his jaw ticking.

You feel terrible the moment his name leaves your mouth. Horrible. Stupid. Guilty. It feels wrong bringing him up to them, like tearing open an old wound you’d all worked so hard to ignore. They knew everything—every tear you shed, every question you asked when you couldn’t figure out why things fell apart. They were there for every breakdown, every “why am i not enough?” They bore witness to the wreckage, the raw, ugly truth of what Bucky had done to you.

And now, here you were, dragging his name into the one space he hadn’t tainted.

You knew they still saw him. They had to. Bucky was part of the group, no matter how much you wished he wasn’t. But they did a damn good job keeping you out of it. For two years, they’d honored the unspoken rule: No Bucky around you. No you around Bucky. It was messy, but it worked. Sam even went nearly a year without seeing him, a Herculean effort considering how tight Bucky and Steve were, and how close Sam and Steve had gotten.

You’d never forget the night Sam nearly lost it—when he almost went after Bucky, fists clenched, ready to beat some sense into him or shit out of him. Sam had always been protective of you, but that night, his anger burned hotter than yours. It wasn’t until that moment—seeing Sam about to cross a line he couldn’t uncross—that you realized what you’d become, how much of your pain was spilling onto the people who loved you.

The group dynamic had never been the same after you and Bucky started… whatever that was.

It had been perfect before. Bucky and Steve had been inseparable since they were kids. You and Sam were childhood best friends until his family moved away, forcing you to find new ones. You met Wanda not long after, then Natasha a few years later, and things clicked. Natasha introduced you to Steve, who introduced you to Bucky. When Sam came back into your life during college, it felt like fate—like all the pieces of the puzzle had finally snapped into place.

But you and Bucky had thrown everything off balance.

When it was good, the group had learned to tiptoe around it, even accept it. But when it was bad—when it was tears and shouting and silence—they all felt the ripple effects. And sides were taken.m, drawing a jagged line between the group.

And now here you were, breaking the unspoken truce.

For a moment, no one says anything. The silence is thick and suffocating, pressing down on your chest like a hand. You can feel Natasha’s stare, sharp and assessing, and Wanda’s soft, silent empathy. But it’s Sam who breaks the tension, like always, his voice clipped and tight.

“What do you mean you ran into him?”

You glance down at your coffee, your fingers tightening around the mug to steady yourself. The words sit heavy on your tongue, reluctant to leave. “He was at Maria’s engagement party,” you say quietly, your voice barely cutting through the tense silence. “I didn’t know he’d be there, he wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Steve,” Natasha mutters under her breath, setting her cup down with a sharp clink that makes you flinch. Her green eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Of course he invited him.”

“No, he didn’t,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “Chad works with Bucky.”

“Who the hell is Chad?” Sam asks, his voice dripping with skepticism as he leans back in his chair.

“Maria’s fiancé,” Natasha replies, her tone clipped, like it’s obvious. She barely spares him a glance, her fingers drumming against the table.

“And who’s Maria?” Sam fires back, his brow furrowing as his annoyance builds.

“Oh my god, Sam, it doesn’t matter!” Natasha snaps, rolling her eyes with exasperation.

Wanda lets out a quiet sigh, leaning forward slightly, her gentle presence cutting through the rising tension. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, her voice calm but steady. Her dark eyes search yours, filled with concern. “What happened?”

You swallow hard, your throat dry as your gaze drops to the coffee again. “We… talked,” you admit, your voice tight, like it hurts to say the words out loud.

“Talked?” Sam repeats, his tone sharper now, disbelief flickering across his face. He leans forward, crossing his arms on the table. “What the hell could you possibly have to talk about after two years?”

“Sam,” Wanda says gently, her hand reaching out to rest on his arm. There’s a warning in her tone, but her touch is grounding, calming.

Sam exhales sharply, glancing at Wanda before turning back to you, his jaw clenching. “I just don’t get it,” he mutters.

You stay quiet, the knot in your stomach tightening. The weight of their stares feels unbearable, like you’re under a microscope. The silence stretches between you, and for a brief moment, you wish you’d never said anything.

But he doesn’t back down, his gaze locked on you. “No, seriously. After what he put you through, after how long it’s taken you to get to this point—what could he possibly say that’s worth hearing?”

You flinch, the words hitting harder than you expect. “He said none of them meant anything,” you say quietly, not looking up. “The other women. He said they didn’t mean anything to him, that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else while we were…” You trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Natasha’s voice is like ice when she finally speaks. “While you were what?” she asks, her words razor-sharp. “While you were breaking yourself over him? While you were bending over backward to love someone who couldn’t love you back the way you deserved?”

You glance up at her, tears stinging your eyes. “He said he was scared. That he didn’t want to feel whole because then he’d have something to lose.”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Sam let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Classic Barnes. Always finding a way to make his damage someone else’s problem.”

“Sam,” Wanda says again, but this time, her voice is quieter. She looks at you, her expression filled with the kind of sympathy that only makes the ache in your chest worse. “What did you say?”

“I told him he hurt me anyway,” you admit, your voice trembling. “That all his excuses didn’t matter because it doesn’t erase what he did.”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Good.”

“Then what?” Sam presses, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to catch you in a lie. “Please tell me you walked away and didn’t give him anything else.”

You hesitate, your silence stretching too long, betraying you.

Natasha’s sharp green eyes lock on yours, narrowing slightly. Wanda tilts her head, her lips parting like she’s about to ask something, but Sam beats her to it, his voice cutting through the quiet tension.

“Oh, come on,” Sam says, throwing his hands in the air. “Don’t tell me you let him get to you again.”

Your head snaps toward him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “I didn’t let him get to me,” you snap, your tone sharper than you intended. “I didn’t say anything….”

The admission silences the table, but the tension only thickens. You can feel their stares boring into you, each one carrying a different weight—Sam’s frustration, Wanda’s concern, Natasha’s quiet scrutiny.

“But…” you start, your voice faltering.

“Always a but,” Sam groans, rubbing a hand down his face.

You look away, weary and defeated, the words catching in your throat before you finally manage to force them out. “He said he loves me.”

The words land like a grenade.

Sam’s jaw tightens, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing again in disbelief. Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, her fingers drumming against the table. Wanda’s brows knit together, the soft concern on her face twisting into something closer to pity.

No one speaks. The weight of the admission hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Natasha breaks the silence, her voice low and measured. “And what did you say to that?”

You exhale sharply, your gaze fixed on the empty glass in front of you. “Nothing,” you say quietly. “I didn’t say anything. I just… left.”

“Good,” Natasha says firmly, though her tone is softer now, less cutting. “That’s what you should’ve done.”

Wanda leans forward slightly, her eyes searching yours. “How do you feel about it, though?” she asks gently. “About him saying that?”

You shake your head, your hands clenching into fists in your lap. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how I feel. Part of me wanted to believe him, but the other part…” You trail off, your throat tightening.

“The other part knows it’s bullshit,” Sam finishes for you, his voice hard. “He’s said crap like this before, hasn’t he? Made you feel like you’re the only person in the world, just to rip it all away the next second?”

“Sam,” Wanda says softly, placing a calming hand on his arm.

“No,” he says, shaking her off. “She needs to hear this. You can’t let him keep pulling you back in, Y/n. He’s only saying it because he knows you’re moving on, and he doesn’t want to lose that grip he has on you.”

“That’s not fair,” you say, your voice rising slightly as you turn to him. “You don’t know what he meant. You don’t know how he said it, he’s never said the word love to me before Sam…”

“Oh, I know exactly how he said it,” Sam fires back, his tone dripping with frustration. “Because it’s Bucky, and he’s been playing this game for years! Doesn’t matter, why the hell would he drop the L word after two years!”

“Enough,” Natasha cuts in, her tone icy and firm. Her eyes flick to Sam before landing on you, her gaze softening slightly. “What matters isn’t what he said. It’s how you feel about it. So stop deflecting and just be honest—what did it mean to you?”

You look down, your chest tightening as their words swirl around you. The truth is, you don’t know how to answer that question. Hearing him say those words—I love you—had shaken you to your core. It wasn’t what you expected, and it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, not like this. But that didn’t stop the part of you, buried deep down, that ached to believe him.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what it meant. All I know is… it hurt.”

Wanda leans back, exhaling softly as she folds her hands in her lap. “That’s valid,” she says gently. “It’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to not have an answer right now.”

“But it’s not okay to let him back in just because he said the right thing,” Natasha adds, her voice firm but not unkind. “Words are easy, Y/n. Actions are what matter.”

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m coming off too harsh. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again. Not by him.”

You nod, your throat tightening as you look around the table. These were your people, the ones who’d seen you at your lowest and never walked away. They were only trying to protect you, but the weight of their concern felt suffocating.

“I get it,” you say quietly. “I do. And I’m not planning to just… run back to him. I’m not stupid.”

“No one’s saying you’re stupid,” Wanda says quickly, her voice soothing.

You glance at her, offering a small, tired smile. “It just… it threw me, okay? I wasn’t expecting him to say that, he wasn’t supposed to be there, that’s all.”

Natasha sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I swear, Steve and his damn loyalty to Bucky…”

“Don’t blame Steve,” Wanda says gently, glancing between you and Natasha. “This isn’t about him.” She turns to you, her voice soft. “This is about what you want. What you’re going to do next.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sam exhales sharply, his frustration simmering just below the surface. “You want my advice?” he says, his tone blunt. “Do nothing. Block his number, delete his name, and move the hell on. Because if you don’t, he’s going to drag you right back into the same cycle.”

Wanda gives him a look but doesn’t contradict him. Natasha remains silent, her jaw tight as she studies you.

“Whatever you decide,” Natasha says finally, her voice steady but laced with warning, “just remember what it took to get to this point. Two years, no Bucky, and you’ve been good. Don’t throw it all away unless you’re damn sure he’s worth it.”

The words linger in the air long after they leave her mouth, sinking into your chest like stones.

You nod slowly, even though your thoughts are a chaotic mess. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I’ll think about it.”

But as you leave the café later, the cool breeze brushing against your skin, you can’t help but feel like it’s not really a choice at all. Not when his words are still echoing in your mind.

“I’ll earn it. Every single day, I’ll earn it.”

It’s late when you get home, the city quiet outside your window. You drop your bag on the counter and collapse onto the couch, the weight of the day pressing down on you like a physical force.

Bucky’s words won’t leave your mind.

“None of them meant anything.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I love you.”

You lean back, closing your eyes, but the memories come flooding in: Bucky with his easy charm, the way he used to pull you in so effortlessly, the way he made you feel like the only person in the world—until he didn’t.

You grab your phone off the coffee table and open your messages. His name is still there, right at the top from the missed calls and texts you haven’t answered.

There’s another message waiting for you now.

“I meant what I said. Please just let me explain.”

Your finger hovers over the notification, your heart pounding. You could call him back right now. Hear his voice, let him pull you back in like he always does.

But then Sam’s voice cuts through the fog in your head. “Block his number, delete his name, and move the hell on.”

You toss the phone onto the couch beside you, burying your face in your hands. You hate how torn you feel, how deeply he’s gotten under your skin even after all this time.

Your thoughts race, bouncing between your friends’ words and the way Bucky looked at you last night—like he was sorry, like he was breaking apart in front of you.

He’s always sorry after the fact, you think bitterly. But what about before?

You stand abruptly, pacing the small space of your living room as if movement will make the war in your head easier to handle.

On one hand, you’ve spent two years rebuilding yourself, proving you can live without him, even if it hurt like hell. On the other hand, the love you had for him—the love you still feel, no matter how hard you try to bury it—won’t let you forget how much you wanted him to choose you.

Your phone buzzes again. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s him.

You let it buzz this time, the sound grating against the quiet. You walk to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of water, and try to focus on the simple task of breathing.

But the questions won’t stop coming.

What if he’s really changed?

What if he means it this time?

What if I say no, and this time, it really could’ve been different?

Your eyes fall to the notes app on your phone, and before you can stop yourself, you open it. The unsent letter you wrote months ago still stares back at you, every word a wound you thought had healed.

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“I hate what loving you does to me.”

“I wish I could stop waiting for you.”

You stare at the words for what feels like forever, your chest tightening. This is the part of him you know, the part of you he’s left behind time and time again.

But then you hear his voice in your head again, softer this time. “I didn’t want anyone else. Not like that. Not the way I wanted you.”

You slam your phone down on the counter, frustration bubbling up in your chest. It feels impossible—choosing between the life you’ve built without him and the possibility of something better with him.

Finally, you grab your coat and head for the door. The walls of your apartment feel too small, and you need space to think.

As you step outside into the cool night air, you glance at the lit-up city skyline and whisper to yourself, “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

---

The next day, you text Bucky. Just one line, short and to the point: “We need to talk. Can you meet me at the park in 20?”

Your phone buzzes almost immediately with his reply: “I’ll be there.”

You don’t let yourself think too hard about it—what you’ll say, how you’ll say it, or what it will mean. If you overthink, you know you’ll spiral. Instead, you grab your coat, slipping it on as you head out the door.

By the time you arrive at the park, the cold air has crept into your fingertips, and you shove your hands deep into your pockets. The bench you choose is damp from the morning dew, but you sit anyway, bracing yourself against the bite of the cool metal.

You focus on the world around you to keep your thoughts from drowning you. The faint rustling of leaves. The distant sound of children laughing. The hum of traffic just beyond the trees. It all blends into a calming rhythm, but your hands still won’t stop shaking.

When Bucky finally shows up, you feel him before you see him.

That familiar leather jacket, the way his hands are stuffed into his pockets as he walks toward you with hesitant steps. He stops a few feet away, lingering like he’s waiting for you to say something, to invite him closer.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice careful, measured.

You nod, gesturing for him to sit. He does, keeping a respectful distance between you, but it feels like miles.You hate that you have a need, a want to have him close.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The quiet feels fragile, as if one wrong word could send the whole thing crumbling. Finally, you take a deep breath, the cool air stinging your lungs as you turn to face him.

“I can’t do this, Bucky,” you say, your voice calm despite the storm swirling inside you. “Whatever this is between us, it doesn’t work. It never did.”

He blinks, the words visibly hitting him, but he doesn’t react right away. His brows furrow, and he shifts to face you fully, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. “That’s not fair,” he says, his voice low. “You can’t say it never worked. There were good moments—”

“There were,” you interrupt, your voice sharper now as you meet his gaze head-on. “But they weren’t enough. And you know it.”

He exhales sharply, leaning back on the bench. His hands rub over his thighs as if trying to ground himself. “So, what? That’s it? You’re done?”

You shake your head, the weight of it all pressing on your chest. “No, I’m not done,” you say softly. “But things need to change.”

He watches you, his expression guarded but waiting.

“I realized something last night,” you continue, your voice trembling but steady. “You and I? We were never really friends, Bucky. We jumped into… whatever that was—passion, chaos, love, I don’t even know. But we didn’t build a foundation. And I think that’s why it was so easy for you to hurt me. Because you didn’t really see me. Not like a friend does, not like a friend should.”

His jaw tightens, and his brows knit together as he looks at you, struggling to process your words. “What are you talking about?” he asks finally, his voice quiet but laced with disbelief. “We were always friends. You were always my friend.”

You let out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “No, Bucky, we weren’t. Friends don’t treat each other the way you did. They don’t take without giving back. They don’t leave when things get hard. We skipped right past being friends and dove headfirst into something that was doomed from the start.”

He flinches slightly at your words, his jaw clenching as he looks down at the ground. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with regret. “I never wanted to, please know that..”

“I believe you,” you say softly, your fingers tightening around the edge of your coat. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you did. And I let you, because I thought love was enough to fix everything. But it wasn’t.”

The silence that follows feels heavier than before, filled with things neither of you knows how to say.

His hands grip the edge of the bench like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded, and when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “So, what do you want from me now? What do I need to do? Because I can’t go any longer without you in my life.”

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you respond. “I want to try being friends. Real friends. No more mixed signals, no more blurred lines. Just you and me, figuring out if we even know how to be in each other’s lives without falling apart.”

He turns to you, his blue eyes searching yours for something—answers, reassurance, maybe even forgiveness. “You really think we can do that?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, the honesty cutting through you like glass. “But I think it’s the only way we have a shot at something real. If we don’t start over, this will just keep happening.”

He nods slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he exhales, his breath visible in the cold air. “Okay,” he says finally, his voice steady. “Friends.”

You raise a brow, watching him carefully. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes,” he says, more firmly this time. His gaze doesn’t waver. “If that’s what you need, I’ll do it. Friends.”

The corner of your mouth lifts into a small, hesitant smile. “Okay.”

----

The friendship started quietly, almost tentatively.

At first, you kept your distance, careful and wary. It was easier that way. Safer. You told yourself it wasn’t about punishing him, it was about self-preservation. You weren’t ready to let him back in not fully, not even halfway, not after the chaos he’d left behind.

So you kept things light, meeting only at group gatherings or for the occasional coffee when he reached out. You’d sit across from him, smiling politely while waiting for the cracks to show. You braced yourself for the moment he’d remind you why you were so afraid of letting him close again. You were skeptical to say the least.

You expected the old Bucky to resurface—the one who smiled too easily at strangers and let his charm mask the ways he didn’t show up when it mattered. But as the weeks turned into months, something unexpected happened:

Bucky kept showing up.

Every. Single. Time.

It started with the way he carried himself. Before, being with him felt like bracing for a storm, like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’d been restless, distracted, always somewhere else in his mind. Now, though, he was steady. Grounded.

It was subtle—the way he lingered a little longer during conversations, the way his eyes didn’t dart around the room looking for an escape when things got serious. Instead of deflecting with a joke or brushing off questions about himself, he actually stayed. He listened.

You saw it in the small, quiet ways he started to show up for you.

“Your usual?” he asked one afternoon, sliding a coffee across the table toward you as you sat down.

You blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, his lips curving into a small smile. “You like the extra cinnamon, right?”

It wasn’t the coffee that caught you off guard—it was the way he said it, like it was something he’d filed away in his mind, something important to him.

“Thanks,” you said softly, wrapping your hands around the cup.

For a while, you just sat there, the silence stretching between you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though—not the way it used to be. He didn’t fidget or rush to fill the quiet. He just was.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quieter than you expected. “You’ve been… different lately.”

He tilted his head, studying you with those piercing blue eyes. “Different how?”

You hesitated, unsure how to say it without sounding accusatory. “I don’t know. Calmer. Present.”

His smile faded slightly, his gaze dropping to his coffee. “I’ve been working on that,” he admitted.

It wasn’t a dramatic declaration, but it stayed with you long after the conversation ended.

The little things, those were what really starting to get to you.

It was the way he remembered details you’d barely mentioned, like your favorite bagel order, the book you’d been meaning to read, the way you liked your eggs in the morning.

You had casually mentioned how the café’s muffins looked good but were overpriced. You didn’t think much of it until the next time you met him, and he slid a muffin across the table without a word.

“What’s this?” you asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Thought you deserved to try the overpriced muffin.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. Before, he’d been inattentive, distracted, always somewhere else in his mind. But now? Now he paid attention. To everything.

“Thank you Buck,” you said softly, the warmth in your chest catching you off guard.

His mouth slightly parted, his cheeks lightly blushed with hearing you call him Buck “It’s just a muffin,” he said lightly trying to act cool, taking a sip of his coffee. But the way he avoided your eyes told you it meant more than that.

Of course, you still waited for him to slip. It was hard not to. You’d been burned before, and trust wasn’t something you could rebuild overnight.

At group gatherings, you watched him from the corner of your eye, waiting for him to flirt with someone new, to slip back into his old, careless charm.

But he never did. Not yet anyway.

At Wanda’s birthday party, you saw a woman lean in too close, her hand brushing his arm. The pang of jealousy hit you instantly, sharp and familiar. You tried not to look, but your eyes betrayed you, darting toward him as the moment unfolded.

And then you saw it.

Bucky gently stepped back, shaking his head with a polite smile before walking away.

When he sat down beside you later, balancing a beer on his knee, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “You’re not interested?”

He raised a brow, his expression confused. “In what?”

“In her,” you said, nodding toward the woman. “She’s beautiful.”

He followed your gaze before turning back to you, his tone soft and matter-of-fact. “No.”

When you didn’t respond, he studied your face for a moment before adding, “That’s not what I’m here for. That’s not who I want.”

His words hung in the air, their weight pressing against your chest. You looked away, unsure how to respond, but the warmth spreading through you was undeniable.

It was in moments like these that you saw the difference in him, the way he wasn’t just trying to be better, he was. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was steady, patient, and consistent.

And slowly, so slowly you barely noticed it happening, he started to feel safe again. Like the way had once made you feel when you only had glimpses of him like this but now it was everywhere.

A few weeks later, you found yourself sitting on a park bench with Steve, waiting for Natasha to join the two of you. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the trees as you watched the shadows stretch across the grass.

“It’s nice to finally hang out with everyone again,” Steve said, his voice easy and warm. “To hang out with you again..”

You raised a brow, giving him a skeptical look. “You mean without the constant awkwardness of me avoiding Bucky?”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Something like that. But honestly, it’s been good. For all of us. Especially for him and I missed you, y’know?”

You hesitated, your chest tightening slightly. “What do you mean?”

Steve leaned back, resting his arms along the bench as he stared out at the park. “He’s more… himself. It’s like I’ve got my best friend back.”

His words caught you off guard. “Really?”

Steve nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah. He’s been putting in the work, you know? Seeing a therapist, digging through all the stuff he’s been carrying for years. I think he’s finally starting to let it go.”

The words stopped you in your tracks. “He’s seeing a therapist?”

“Has been for over a year,” Steve said with a small smile. “I think you’re part of the reason, honestly.”

You blinked, your stomach twisting. “Why would I be the reason?”

“Because losing you made him realize he had to change, that the emotional and self destructive path he was going down wasn’t a good idea ” Steve said simply. “And he talked about how he didn’t feel right months before you decided to keep him out of your life but he never changed anything but after Sam almost beat the shit out of him, and he realized you were actually done with him…he didn’t just say it—he did it.”

You looked down at the ground, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your coat. Bucky going to therapy? The man who once couldn’t even admit when he was wrong? It didn’t feel real.

“He’s really putting in the work?” you asked softly, still not quite able to believe it.

Steve nodded again. “It’s been good for him. Really good. He’s more present now, more grounded. It’s nice to see.”

You fell silent, your thoughts swirling as Steve’s words sank in. “For what it's worth, I missed you to Steve.”

--------

The friendship was delicate, like glass balanced on the edge of a table. Every step you took felt measured, calculated, careful not to tip it too far. Bucky was trying—you could see that. He was showing up, being present, doing all the things you’d always wanted him to do.

But trust wasn’t something that came back just because someone tried. And that was the problem.

It had been months of careful rebuilding, of letting him inch closer without letting him in entirely. You told yourself you were protecting yourself, guarding the parts of you he’d once broken. But the truth was, no matter how much progress you made, the cracks were still there, and some days it felt like they were growing.

It started small, the fights.

You were at his apartment, your first time back there in years. He’d invited you over for dinner, just you it was nothing fancy, just pasta and wine, and you’d agreed because things had been good lately.

Easy.

But something about being back in that space, sitting on the same couch where so much had gone wrong, made you uneasy. The walls seemed to hum with the echoes of old arguments, of broken promises and words you wished you could take back.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Bucky said, breaking the silence as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. He was watching you carefully, his brows furrowed in that way he always did when he was trying to figure you out.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, too quickly, your fingers toying with the edge of your wine glass.

He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You always say that when you’re not.”

“I said I’m fine, Bucky,” you snapped, sharper than you intended.

The tension in the room shifted immediately. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “Okay,” he said slowly. “But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. That’s what this is about, right? Our friendship?”

You hated the way his words made your chest tighten, hated how calm and reasonable he sounded. You felt the crack inside you widen, your unease bubbling to the surface in a way you couldn’t control.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked suddenly, your voice trembling as you looked at him.

His brows knitted together in confusion. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely around the room. “Cooking dinner, asking me how I feel, trying to—” You broke off, your throat tightening. “Why are you trying so hard?”

The frustration on his face was immediate, his calm demeanor finally breaking. “Because I want to, I told you I would..” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Because I’m trying to show you that I’m different, that I’m not going to screw this up again. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I don’t know!” The words came out louder than you intended, your hands trembling as you set the wine glass down. “I don’t know, Bucky. I don’t know what I want.”

He stared at you, his chest heaving as he tried to process your words. “I don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “I thought we were doing okay. I thought this was working.”

“It is!” you said, the words tumbling out of you too fast. “It is, but… I don’t know. There’s this feeling, this—this gut feeling that something’s going to go wrong, and I can’t ignore it. I can’t pretend it’s not there.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into every movement. “What am I doing wrong?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. “Tell me, because I don’t know. I’m trying so damn hard, and I don’t know how to fix this if I don’t even know what’s broken.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

He looked at you, his expression somewhere between heartbroken and exhausted. “Then what is it?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, your arms wrapping around yourself as if it could stop the ache spreading through your chest. “I don’t know what it is, Bucky. It’s just… there. This feeling that no matter how hard you try, I’m going to get hurt again, that you’re going to hurt me, that I'm going to see you with another girl…and I don’t think I could handle that again...”

His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, you thought he might give up entirely. But then he took a step closer, his voice trembling with frustration and something deeper, something raw.

“I don’t know what else I can do to prove to you that I’m not that guy anymore,” he said, his hands trembling at his sides. “I’ve spent the last two years trying to figure out how to be better, how to be the kind of person who deserves to have you in my life. And now you’re here, and I’m trying—I’m trying so damn hard—but it feels like nothing I do is enough.”

You felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your heart breaking at the raw honesty in his voice.

“It’s not about you not being enough,” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “It’s about me not being ready to believe it.”

His face fell, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your words. “So, what am I supposed to do?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just wait? Keep showing up and hope one day you’ll believe me?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. You didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t his actions, but the scars he’d left behind that wouldn’t let you trust him completely.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, the words heavy with defeat.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at you like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face. Finally, he nodded, the movement slow and resigned.

“Okay,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll wait. I’ll keep showing up. But you have to meet me halfway, okay? Because I can’t keep fighting for something if you’re not even sure you want it and if you don’t that's okay too but please tell me.”

------

The restaurant was bustling when you arrived, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. The table was already crowded with plates of appetizers and half-finished bottles of wine. Natasha spotted you first, waving you over with a bright smile.

“Finally,” she said as you slid into the chair beside Bucky. “We were starting to think you got lost.”

“Or bailed,” Sam added, smirking as he poured himself another glass of wine. “Not that I’d blame you, Steve’s been going on about his workout routine for the past ten minutes. We’re all suffering.”

Steve, seated across from Natasha, rolled his eyes. “I mentioned the gym once, Sam.”

Natasha smirked, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at Steve. “You do talk about it a lot, Rogers.”

“I don’t talk about it that much,” Steve said defensively, glancing around the table for support.

“You literally just told Chad last week that you PR’d on your deadlift,” Wanda chimed in, raising her glass of wine. “And then you made him guess how much it was.”

“That was relevant to the conversation!” Steve protested, his cheeks flushing.

“Oh my god,” Natasha groaned dramatically, leaning over to kiss Steve’s cheek. “It’s okay, I like your gym stories.”

“Gross,” Sam groaned loudly, tossing a piece of bread onto his plate. “Seriously, get a room.”

“Maybe we will,” Natasha shot back, smirking as she leaned closer to Steve.

“Guys, please,” Sam groaned again, turning to Wanda for backup. “Can’t you two keep your domestic bliss to yourselves for one dinner?”

“Oh, leave them alone,” Wanda said with a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re just mad because you can’t deadlift half as much as Steve.”

“Wow,” Sam said, feigning offense. “You know what, Wanda? You’ve officially lost your spot as my favorite.”

Wanda smirked. “I was never your favorite.”

“True,” Sam admitted. “But I was trying to be polite.”

“Who’s your favourite then?” Natasha asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Isn't it obvious?” Bucky’s voice cut through the conversation “It’s y/n, he almost beat the shit outta me for her.” He laughed

Sam raised his glass “And don’t you forget it!”

The group burst into laughter, and while you tried to join in, it felt hollow. The noise pressed in around you, too loud and overwhelming after the day you’d had.

Beside you, Bucky shifted slightly, leaning closer. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, not looking at him.

“Y/n…” he started, his voice gentle but concerned.

“Bucky, don’t,” you said quickly, your tone sharper than you intended. His jaw tightened, and though he didn’t push, you could feel his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he leaned back in his chair.

As the plates of food arrived, the jokes and banter only grew louder. Natasha and Wanda leaned over to share bites of each other’s pasta, while Sam and Steve got into a debate about which of them would survive longer in a zombie apocalypse.

“It’s me, obviously,” Sam said, gesturing with his fork. “I’ve got street smarts. Steve’s out here still trying to give people the benefit of the doubt, like, ‘Maybe the zombie just needs a hug.’”

“First of all, that’s not true,” Steve shot back, laughing. “And second, I’m stronger than you. I’d take them down before they even got close.”

“The gym thing again! And strength isn’t gonna save you when they’re sneaking up on you,” Sam countered. “You’d be too busy lecturing them about morality or something.”

Natasha snorted, twirling her pasta onto her fork. “He’s not wrong.”

Steve looked to her, feigning betrayal. “You’re siding with him?”

“Of course I am,” Natasha said, smirking. “Sam’s got a point. You’d probably try to negotiate with the zombies.”

“I’m starting to feel attacked,” Steve muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

“Oh, poor baby,” Natasha teased, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek again. “We still love you.”

“Seriously, get a room,” Sam said again, throwing a napkin at them.

“Could we use yours? ” Natasha asked innocently, stealing a bite of Steve’s food.

“God, I hate you both,” Sam grumbled, but the grin on his face said otherwise.

Through it all, Bucky stayed quiet, occasionally chiming in with a comment or a chuckle, but his attention kept drifting back to you. Every so often, he’d glance your way, his brow furrowing slightly when he noticed the way you kept fidgeting with the edge of your napkin or how your smile never quite reached your eyes.

Midway through the meal, as the group debated whether to order dessert or move on to the bar, Bucky leaned in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Hey,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I know a bad day when I see one. If you need to get out of here, just let me know. I’ll go with you.”

His words caught you off guard, and when you turned to look at him, his blue eyes were steady and calm, filled with an understanding that made your chest tighten.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Thank you… and I’m, uh, sorry for snapping earlier.”

His lips twitched into a small smile as he shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize to me,” he said softly.

Beneath the table, his hand brushed yours, and before you could pull away, he wrapped his fingers gently around yours, his thumb moving in slow, comforting circles. The gesture was so quiet, so him, that it almost brought tears to your eyes.

Before either of you could say anything, Sam’s loud laugh broke the moment.

“To the bar!” Sam declared, raising his glass triumphantly.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna be on your ass after two drinks.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Romanoff,” Sam shot back with a grin.

When the group moved to leave for the bar, you declined, mumbling something about being tired. Bucky didn’t hesitate, standing up beside you. “I’ll walk you home,” he said simply.

No one questioned it. Natasha raised a brow but didn’t comment, and Steve gave you a knowing look before following the others out the door.

The night air was cool, the breeze brushing against your skin as you walked side by side. Bucky didn’t try to fill the silence, and for that, you were grateful. His presence was steady, grounding, and for the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe.

But as the quiet stretched on, the weight of the day caught up with you. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring as tears began to well in your eyes. You tried to blink them away, but the lump in your throat only grew.

The moment the first tear slipped down your cheek, you stopped abruptly, turning away from him as you furiously wiped at your face. “God, I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice shaking. “I’m a mess.”

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, stepping closer. His voice was gentle but steady, the kind of tone that made it impossible not to feel like you could fall apart and still be safe.

You shook your head, your back still to him. “I hate this. I hate crying like this. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Not to me. Not for this.”

You felt the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, hesitant but grounding. That simple touch broke the last bit of resolve you had left. A shaky breath escaped you, and the tears came faster, slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

You didn’t turn around, but your voice cracked as you tried to explain, to justify your unraveling. “Work was a nightmare. My boss—he kept piling things on me, and then there was this meeting where nothing I said was taken seriously. And then—” Your voice hitched as you gestured helplessly. “And then the subway was late, and I was late, and I just—”

Your words dissolved into a sob as you clenched your fists, hating how small and exposed you felt.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said again, stepping closer. “Come here.”

This time, he didn’t wait for permission. He gently turned you toward him, his hands settling on your arms. You resisted for a moment, your pride warring with the need to let someone see you like this. But the warmth of his touch, the steadiness in his eyes, broke through your defenses.

Before you knew it, you were in his arms.

Bucky pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you with a care that made your chest ache. His hand moved slowly up and down your back, soothing in its consistency.

“You’re okay,” he murmured against your hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

The words hit something deep inside you, and the dam broke completely. You clung to him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as sobs wracked your chest. It wasn’t just the stress of the day pouring out of you—it was everything. The years of pent-up frustration, the heartbreak, the lingering hurt that you’d buried so deep it had started to feel like a part of you.

“I’m so tired, Bucky,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his chest. “I feel like I’m failing at everything. I’m trying so hard, and it’s just—” Your words crumbled into another sob.

His arms tightened around you, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “You’re not failing,” he said softly, his voice steady and sure. “You’re doing more than anyone else sees, I know you are. You’re just carrying too much, and it’s okay to let some of it out.”

You pulled back slightly, wiping at your face, though the tears didn’t stop. “I hate crying,” you muttered, your voice thick with emotion. “It feels so stupid, like I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Stop that,” he said firmly, his hands moving to your shoulders. His thumbs brushed over the fabric of your coat, grounding you as he leaned down slightly to catch your eyes. “It’s not nothing, Y/n. You’ve been holding this in all day—hell, probably longer. You’re allowed to cry, and you’re allowed to feel like this. It doesn’t make you weak.”

The sincerity in his voice made you falter, your gaze dropping as your throat tightened all over again.

“I just… I don’t know how to make it stop,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “It feels like it never ends.”

Bucky’s hands shifted, one moving to brush a tear from your cheek while the other cupped your jaw, holding you steady. “It’s not always gonna feel like this,” he said quietly, his blue eyes searching yours. “I promise you. It won’t. Only up from here right?”

The softness in his voice, the quiet conviction, sent a shiver through you. The spark between you was undeniable, and for a moment, you felt the world slow. The sounds of the city faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, intimate bubble of this moment.

It scared you.

You stepped back abruptly, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to create some distance. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Bucky said firmly, shaking his head. He took a step back, giving you space but keeping his gaze steady on you. “You’re allowed to have bad days, Y/n. You’re allowed to fall apart and I’ll always be here to catch you.”

You nodded, wiping at your face again as you tried to steady your breathing. “Thank you,” you said softly.

By the time you reached your apartment, the tears had stopped, though your eyes were still puffy and your cheeks were flushed. Bucky walked beside you the entire way, his presence quiet but solid, like an anchor keeping you grounded.

When you reached your door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the handle as you glanced at him. “Do you… want to come in?”

His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he might say yes. But then he smiled softly, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

“I want to,” he admitted, his voice low. “Believe me, I do. But…”

You looked down, your chest tightening. “There’s always a ‘but,’” you muttered bitterly.

“Sweetheart, it’s not like that,” he said quickly, his voice gentle as he stepped closer. “It’s just… we’re not there yet. You’re not there yet. And this time, it has to be right. I can’t—I won’t risk screwing this up again.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you felt tears threaten to rise again. But you swallowed them back, nodding as you looked down. “I understand. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, cutting you off. His hands reached out, brushing gently against your arms before pulling you into a soft, lingering hug. “It’s okay.”

When he pulled back, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead that lingered just long enough to make your breath catch.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he said softly, stepping back toward the stairs.

---

It was slow—not like before, when everything between you and Bucky had burned too hot and too fast. This time, the way things started to shift felt more like the gentle pull of a tide, subtle but impossible to ignore.

You told yourself it was still just friendship. That’s all it could be, all it should be. But the lines had begun to blur in quiet, unspoken ways.

It was late afternoon, the city basking in the golden light of an early summer evening. The streets were alive with the hum of conversation and the occasional laughter spilling out of cafes. Walking together had become something you did more often, something easy that didn’t require a plan or an excuse.

Today, the two of you strolled aimlessly, weaving through the crowd with no real destination in mind. The heat of the day had given way to a softer warmth, and the light breeze carried the faint scent of street food and blooming flowers.

You were mid-story, animatedly recounting a tale from your childhood, your hands gesturing as you spoke. “So there I was, stuck on top of the fence, and of course, he’s at the bottom laughing at me, not helping—”

You didn’t see the biker coming.

Out of nowhere, the sharp whirr of tires on pavement cut through the air, and a cyclist sped past, too close, the corner of his handlebar brushing the edge of your sleeve.

Before you could fully register what had happened, Bucky stepped in front of you, his arm instinctively reaching out. His hand brushed lightly against your arm as he guided you closer to the safety of the sidewalk.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low, steady, but protective in a way that made something tighten in your chest.

The world seemed to pause for a second. You stopped mid-sentence, the words caught in your throat as your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was close—closer than you’d realized—and the faint lines of worry etched on his face made your pulse stutter.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice quieter than you intended.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His hand still lingered near your arm, and his blue eyes searched yours, like he was trying to make sure you were really okay. The way he looked at you sent warmth flooding through your chest, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough as he cleared his throat and glanced away, dropping his hand. “No problem.”

The moment should have passed quickly, and in a way, it did. The two of you resumed walking, and you tried to pick up where you left off in your story, but the words didn’t flow as easily as before.

You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your arm, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air between you, warm and grounding. You sneaked a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His expression was neutral, maybe even a little guarded, but there was something in the way his shoulders stayed slightly tense, like he wasn’t as unaffected as he was trying to seem.

“Anyway,” you said finally, forcing a lighter tone than you felt, trying to shake off the moment. “I eventually got off the fence—no thanks to my brother—and my mom grounded him for laughing at me instead of helping.”

Bucky huffed out a small laugh, glancing at you with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sounds like he deserved it.”

“He did,” you replied, smiling back. But even as the words left your lips, your chest still felt too tight, the air between you charged with something unspoken.

For a moment, silence fell between you again, the sounds of the city around you filling the space. You thought about changing the subject, maybe shifting the focus to something safer, but then Bucky spoke again, his voice quieter this time, almost tentative.

“You never told me that stuff before,” he said, his gaze flickering to yours briefly before dropping to the sidewalk in front of him.

Your breath caught, the simple statement hitting harder than you expected. “You never asked,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He froze mid-step, his expression tightening as though your response had struck a nerve. Slowly, he turned to face you, his brows furrowing. “You’re right,” he murmured, his voice heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t. I should have. I… God, I was such an ass.”

The rawness in his tone, the weight of his words, caught you off guard. You stopped walking, your arms crossing instinctively as you looked at him. “Bucky…” you started, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to handle the way his voice cracked slightly at the end.

“No, let me say this,” he interrupted gently, holding up a hand. His eyes were fixed on you now, their usual guardedness giving way to something more vulnerable, more open. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t take the time to. I didn’t take the time to know all the little things about you, to ask the questions I should’ve asked. And you deserved better than that.”

You stared at him, the lump in your throat making it hard to respond. Part of you wanted to brush it off, to lighten the moment with a joke or deflect the way you always did. But the sincerity in his voice, the regret etched into every word, made that impossible.

“It wasn’t just you,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady. “I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to ask. I didn’t want to… I don’t know, bother you with that kind of stuff.”

His expression twisted, a mixture of frustration and sadness flashing across his face. “You could never bother me,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I just… I didn’t know how to show you that. And I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. You weren’t used to this version of Bucky—the one who didn’t deflect or shut down, who didn’t hide behind charm or easy jokes.

You looked away, your arms tightening around yourself as you tried to collect your thoughts. “You’re not that guy anymore,” you said quietly. “At least, not the way you were back then.”

When you glanced back at him, his lips twitched into the faintest hint of a sad smile. “I’m trying not to be,” he admitted. “But I’m still scared sometimes. Scared I’ll screw it all up again.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in his voice, at the vulnerability he wasn’t even trying to hide. For so long, you’d wanted him to let you in, to let you see the parts of him he kept locked away. And now that he finally was, you didn’t know what to do with it.

“You’re not screwing it up,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice. “Not this time.”

His shoulders seemed to relax slightly, the tension in his posture easing as he nodded. “That means a lot, coming from you,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours again.

You smiled faintly, the warmth in your chest battling with the lingering unease that never quite left you when it came to him. “Well,” you said, trying to lighten the mood just enough to steady yourself, “don’t let it go to your head.”

A small laugh escaped him, and the sound was enough to ease some of the heaviness between you. “I’ll try not to,” he said, his voice lighter now, though the softness in his eyes remained.

As the two of you started walking again, the tension between you began to ease, replaced by a quiet understanding that felt… different.

“So, what happened after your brother got grounded?” Bucky asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You glanced at him, surprised. “What?”

“With the fence story,” he clarified, his lips quirking into a small smile. “I feel like there’s more to it.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, unexpected but genuine. “There isn’t, really,” you said, shaking your head. “Unless you count me swearing off fences forever.”

“I don’t know,” he teased, his smile widening. “Sounds like a pretty big life lesson to me.”

The conversation felt easy again, the weight of the past moment lifting as you fell back into a rhythm. But even as you laughed and talked, a part of you held onto the warmth of his earlier words, the quiet vulnerability he’d let slip through.

As you walked, the city swirled around you, but the warmth in your chest lingered, stubborn and insistent. You told yourself it was nothing, just a moment of shared connection, the kind you could have with a friend.

But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart had raced when he’d stepped in front of you or the way his voice had dropped, low and protective, when he’d told you to be careful. And you couldn’t forget the way his eyes had lingered on yours.

---

The house was warm, filled with the smell of pizza and the faint tang of beer. Someone’s carefully curated playlist hummed softly in the background, though it was mostly drowned out by the laughter and loud debates that erupted from the living room.

The night had been a blur of board games, drinks, and playful arguments. Sam was his usual loud self, dramatically accusing everyone of cheating during Monopoly, even when he was. Wanda sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling at his antics while Natasha smugly stacked up her fake money, clearly winning. Steve, meanwhile, tried—and failed—to keep everyone in line, his voice cutting through the chaos.

“Sam, you can’t just take money from the bank whenever you feel like it!” Steve exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the board.

“It’s called resourcefulness, Rogers,” Sam shot back, grinning as he leaned back on his elbows.

“It’s called cheating,” Natasha said dryly, exchanging an amused glance with Wanda.

“Call it what you want,” Sam said, shrugging. “I call it strategic gameplay.”

“You’re impossible,” Steve muttered, rubbing his temples as Wanda giggled beside him.

You sat on the arm of the couch, sipping your drink and watching the scene unfold with a smile. Nights like this felt comfortable, even easy—though the comfort was always tinged with a quiet tension whenever Bucky was nearby.

From across the room, you caught sight of him leaning against the wall, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watched Steve and Sam go at it. His hair was slightly mussed from earlier, when Natasha had flicked a piece of popcorn at him during a heated round of Codenames. He looked relaxed, but every so often, his gaze would flick to you, lingering just a little too long before shifting away.

As the night began to wind down, people started drifting off. Natasha leaned back against Steve’s chest on the couch, flipping through channels, while Sam loudly declared that he was “retiring undefeated” from board games. Wanda laughed softly, shaking her head as she began stacking up the pieces from Monopoly.

You slipped into the kitchen to rinse out your glass, grateful for a brief moment of quiet. The sink ran softly as you washed the remnants of red wine from the bottom of the cup.

A familiar presence entered the room a moment later, filling the small space without saying a word.

“Need help?” Bucky asked, his voice soft and low.

You glanced over your shoulder, finding him leaning casually against the counter. His sleeves were still rolled up, and his hair was falling into his eyes in a way that made your chest feel uncomfortably tight, your fingers twitching wanting to run your fingers through it.

“No, I’m good,” you said, turning back to the sink. But he didn’t leave.

Instead, he stepped closer, grabbing a towel from the counter. His presence was steady, grounding, but it made the space between you feel smaller, more intimate.

“You sure?” he asked lightly, and you could hear the faint smile in his voice.

You nodded, drying the glass in your hands. “Yeah. It’s just a couple of glasses.”

He stayed anyway, leaning a little closer as you reached for the towel he was holding. Your fingers brushed against his, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt up your arm.

You froze, your breath catching as you quickly pulled your hand back.

“Sorry,” you muttered, your voice too quiet.

“Don’t be,” he said softly, his tone gentle but firm.

When you finally looked up, you found his eyes already on you. The softness there caught you off guard—blue and steady, full of something unspoken. It was the kind of look that made your heart race, your thoughts scrambling for something to say, anything to break the silence.

But you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, caught in the quiet gravity of him.

The air felt heavier, charged, like the world outside the kitchen had faded away. Your fingers gripped the counter behind you for balance as he leaned in slightly, his gaze flickering briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Y/n…” His voice was low, almost hesitant, and it made your chest tighten painfully.

You could feel his breath, warm against your skin, and for a moment, you thought he might actually close the distance. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to, weren’t sure if you’d stop him if he did.

But before either of you could move, a booming voice broke through the moment like a crack of thunder.

“Steve, I swear to God, I didn’t cheat!”

“Sam, you literally took money out of the bank when you thought no one was looking!” Steve yelled back, his voice full of exasperation.

“It’s just a game!” Wanda called out, clearly trying—and failing—to mediate.

Bucky exhaled sharply, pulling back slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. “Monopoly isn’t just a game,” he murmured, his voice light but tinged with humor. “It’s a lifestyle.”

The comment was loud enough to carry into the living room, and Natasha’s sharp laugh cut through the noise. “He’s not wrong,” she called back.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, though your chest still felt tight. The moment was gone, but the tension lingered, humming faintly in the space between you.

As you moved to step past him, his hand brushed lightly against yours again, a touch so brief it might have been accidental. But when you looked up at him, his eyes were still locked on yours, steady and unreadable.

“Y/n,” he said softly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, his voice pulling your attention back to him.

But before he could say anything else, Natasha poked her head into the kitchen. “Hey, are you two gonna join us, or are you just gonna hide in here all night?”

The spell broke again, and you stepped back, putting more space between you and Bucky as you smiled faintly. “We’re coming,” you said quickly, brushing past him as you headed toward the door.

He lingered for a moment, watching you go, before following you back into the living room.

-----

The bar was packed, music pounding through the room as laughter and voices swirl together in a cacophony of chaos. You’re sitting at a table with Wanda and Natasha, nursing a drink and laughing at something Natasha said. Across the room, you catch a glimpse of Bucky leaning against the bar, his relaxed smile softening the hard lines of his face.

It’s one of those nights where everything feels easy. Because everything has been, you can't help but smile at the fact that letting Buck in your life was the right decision and you were grateful that you made it for once you felt that you were both close to crossing that line again but this time you were doing it right and your heart swelled up the thought of him being your right person at the right time finally after years of back-and-forth.

Until she shows up.The one from the farmers market, when you swore off Bucky for good.

You don’t notice her at first, too caught up in the conversation at your table. But when Natasha’s gaze flicks over your shoulder, her smile fading slightly, you follow her line of sight.

She’s tall, gorgeous, and entirely too familiar. And the feeling in your guy is dark, anxious and makes you feel sick.

Your stomach tightens as you watch her approach him, her confident smile and the way she places a hand on his arm. You don’t miss the way she leans in, her lips brushing his ear as she says something you can’t hear.

You force yourself to look away, trying to focus on the drink in your hand. But you can’t stop the wave of jealousy that crashes over you, your mind spinning with all the worst-case scenarios.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks quietly, her voice barely audible over the music.

“I’m fine,” you lie, your throat tight.

You glance back toward the bar, and that’s when you see it.

She leans in, her lips pressing against his in a kiss that feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

For a moment, you can’t move. Your brain struggles to catch up with what you’re seeing, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and devastation.

You look away immediately, not waiting to see him kiss her back. When you finally decide to look, one last time before you leave.

His eyes are scanning the room, panic taking over his face. And then they land on you.

The hurt in your expression must be clear, because his face falls when he realizes you saw. “Wait!” he yells, rushing toward you.

But you don’t wait. You grab your bag and slip through the crowd, ignoring Wanda and Natasha’s calls after you.

Sam watches as you storm past him, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on?” he asks, trying to reach out to you, when you ignore him he turns to Natasha.

“Trouble,” she says simply, her eyes following you before flicking back to Bucky, who’s shoving past the crowd and running after you.

Sam starts to follow, “That mother fucker…” but Natasha grabs his arm, stopping him.

“Leave it,” she says firmly.

Sam glares at her, his jaw tightening. “I don’t care if he was fooling all of us, she's my best friend.”

Natasha’s expression softens, but her grip on his arm doesn’t falter. “This time is different, Sam” she says quietly. “I can tell. He’s not going to let her walk away again.”

Sam exhales sharply, but he doesn’t argue. “For her sake, I hope you’re right.”

You’re halfway down the street when you hear him frantically calling after you.

“Wait! Please, just wait!”

You don’t stop, your chest tight with anger and betrayal. But his footsteps are faster than yours, and soon he’s in front of you, blocking your path.

“Move,” you say sharply, your voice trembling.

“No,” he says firmly, his hands up in surrender. “Please, just listen to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest, your whole body trembling with anger and something deeper—something you don’t want to name. Your eyes are burning as you glare at him, hot tears pooling at the edges of your vision. “I saw you, Bucky. I saw it! God, I’m so stupid!”

“I didn’t kiss her back,” he says quickly, his voice frantic, almost panicked. “I didn’t even know she was going to—she just showed up, and before I could stop her, she—”

You shake your head, cutting him off before he can finish. “I don’t care. I don’t care, Bucky. This—” You gesture wildly between the two of you, your voice cracking. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this with you. Why I didn’t want to trust you again!”

Your voice rises, each word sharper than the last, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill over. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel this way, to love someone so much it hurts, and then watch them ruin you over and over again.”

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer, his hands raised slightly like he’s afraid to spook you. “I do understand,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. “I understand it because I feel that way about you. Every day.”

You laugh bitterly, a hollow, broken sound. “If you felt that way, you wouldn’t keep breaking my heart.”

He looks at you like the words physically hurt him, but you don’t stop. “Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me? How much it’s taken for me to even let you this close again? And now, after everything, I’m supposed to just stand here and believe you?” You poke him in the chest, your voice trembling as tears stream freely down your face. “Why should I?”

His lips part as though he’s going to respond, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just stares at you, his eyes wide, his expression wrecked. Finally, he whispers, “Because I love you.”

The words hang in the air between you like a live wire, crackling and sparking.

“You’re funny,” you snap, the anger masking the ache in your chest. “You love me? All you do is hurt me and make me cry, Bucky. I don’t even know why I’m still standing here!”

He flinches but doesn’t move, his blue eyes locked on yours. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts a hand, brushing away the tears trailing down your cheek. His touch is impossibly gentle, like he’s afraid you might shatter under his fingertips.

“I didn’t kiss her,” he says, his voice raw and quiet. “I don’t want to kiss her. I don’t want to kiss or feel or be with or love anyone but you.”

You close your eyes, his words hitting too close to the place inside you where the ache lives. “You can’t blame me for not trusting you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“I’m not blaming you,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I’m not. I know I’ve screwed up before, more times than I can count.I know I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for it.” His voice breaks, trembling at the edges. “I know I ran out of chances years ago. But please, you’ve gotta give me the benefit of the doubt with this one. Just this one, please.”

His desperation makes your throat tighten. You look at him, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. He looks completely wrecked, his blue eyes wide and pleading, his entire body tense like he’s holding himself together by sheer force of will.

“I don’t know if I can,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Yes, you can,” he says quickly, stepping closer, his voice soft but insistent. “I know you can. Please don’t walk away from me. Not again—I can’t do that again.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they don’t. They fall faster now, hot and unrelenting. “I’m so scared,” you admit, your voice breaking. “I don’t think I can survive this if you hurt me again.”

His expression crumbles, and for a moment, he looks like he might fall apart too. But then he takes another step closer, his hands trembling as he reaches for yours. “You won’t have to survive it again,” he says quietly. “Because I’m not going to hurt you. I swear to you, I’m not. I can’t lose you. Not again. You mean everything to me.”

The raw sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache so badly it’s hard to breathe. You don’t move, torn between the love you still feel for him and the fear of opening yourself up to more pain.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“That's okay, I’ll make you believe me,” he says, his voice steady despite the tears shining in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t give up on us. Please.”

The world feels like it’s tilting beneath your feet, every emotion colliding at once. You look at him, your tears mingling with his as his hands tighten gently around yours.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you whisper, the vulnerability in your voice making you flinch.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he says softly. “I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll show you every day if that’s what it takes. Just… don’t walk away.”

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence is heavy, but it’s not empty—it’s full of everything you’ve both left unsaid, full of hope and hurt and the possibility of something better.

Finally, you nod, just barely, the movement so small it’s almost imperceptible. But he sees it.

His shoulders sag with relief, and he steps closer, his forehead nearly touching yours as he exhales shakily. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You don’t say anything, your chest still tight, your emotions too raw. But when his hands brush against yours again, you don’t pull away.

----

The routine of meeting Bucky for coffee came to a halt after you saw the kiss. Or, more accurately, her kiss him. It didn’t matter that you knew what you saw wasn’t the full story; it didn’t matter that you knew in your gut that he wasn’t the one who leaned in first. The sight of it had cracked something in you, leaving all your old doubts and fears to spill through the cracks.

For a week, you ignored his texts, his calls, even the coffee shop where you’d fallen into the rhythm of meeting him. He hadn’t pushed—not at first. He gave you the space you needed, though you could feel his presence lingering like a shadow.

It was Wanda who called you out, her name lighting up your phone screen as you sat on your couch, staring at the untouched glass of wine on your coffee table.

You answered on the third ring, your voice tight. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, her tone light but laced with something careful. “How’s it going?”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Fine.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly not buying it. “So… are you just going to keep ignoring him forever?”

Your chest tightened, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of a blanket draped over the couch. “I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Wanda didn’t say anything for a moment, and the silence made you squirm. “He keeps asking about you, you know,” she said finally. “Every time I see him, it’s the same question: ‘Is she okay?’”

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Wanda. I just… it’s hard. He keeps saying he’s different, and I do believe it, I do. But then I see something like that, and all I can think about is how it felt before—when he ignored me, when he brushed me off like I didn’t matter.”

She sighed softly. “I get that. I do. But you should know… he didn’t kiss her back. I was there. He didn’t even hesitate before pushing her away.”

“I know,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “I know that. But it doesn’t make it easier. Because nobody gets to me the way he does, Wanda. Nobody ever has. He has this… hold on me, and it’s terrifying to feel that way about someone who’s hurt you before.”

Wanda’s voice softened, filled with sympathy. “I understand, Y/n. I do. It’s hard to let yourself be that vulnerable again when you’ve been burned. But I think… I think he’s trying, really trying. And maybe—”

There was a knock at your door.

You froze, your breath catching as you glanced toward the sound. “Hey, Wanda, I’ll call you back,” you said quickly.

“Bucky?” she asked knowingly.

“I’ll call you back,” you repeated before ending the call.

You hesitated for a long moment, your hand hovering over the doorknob. When you finally opened it, there he was.

Bucky stood there, his broad frame filling the doorway, a book tucked under his arm. His hair was slightly messy, and his blue eyes, normally so guarded, were filled with something soft and unsure.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice a little rough.

You blinked, surprised. “Bucky.”

He held out the book, almost like a peace offering. It was the one you’d mentioned weeks ago during one of your coffee meetings, a passing comment you’d thought he wouldn’t remember.

“What’s this?” you asked, your voice tentative.

He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but the faint flush creeping up his neck gave him away. “Saw it and thought of you.”

You stared at him, your fingers brushing against the cover as you took it. The gesture struck you harder than it should have, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. “Bucky…”

“It’s just a book,” he said quickly, his voice faltering slightly. “Nothing big.”

But it felt big. It felt impossibly big.

“Thank you,” you said softly, running your fingers over the cover.

There was a pause, a heavy silence that seemed to stretch out between you. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“You gonna let me in, or should I go?” he asked lightly, a faint, hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You stepped back, gesturing for him to come inside. “Um yeah. Sure.”

The air between you felt charged as he followed you into the kitchen. You set the book down on the counter, trying to focus on the mundane action as a way to steady yourself.

“Do you want some tea or something?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

“Sure,” he said, leaning against the counter. His eyes never left you, and you could feel his gaze like a physical weight.

As you filled the kettle, the silence grew heavier, the unspoken words between you pressing down like a storm cloud. Finally, Bucky broke it.

“Y/n,” he started, his voice soft but steady. “I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, but I need to say something.”

You didn’t look at him, your fingers tightening on the kettle handle. “Bucky…”

“Please,” he said, stepping closer. “Just let me say this.”

You exhaled shakily, setting the kettle down and turning to face him. “Okay.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to struggle with the words. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and raw. “I messed up. Not just last week, not just with her, but before—all of it. I know I hurt you, I knew I was and I can’t take that back. But I swear to you, I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, your heart pounding. “How am I supposed to believe that, Bucky? How am I supposed to trust that this time will be different?”

“Because it already is,” he said quickly, his voice rising slightly with urgency. “I’m trying, Y/n. I’m going to therapy. I’m showing up. I’m doing the work because I want to be better—for you.”

His words hit you like a wave, and your throat tightened as you blinked back tears. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to let someone back in after they’ve broken you?”

“I do,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Because I’m terrified every day that I’ve lost you for good. But I can’t let you go without trying—without proving to you that I can be the person you deserve.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache, and you looked away, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’m scared,” you whispered. “I’m scared that if I let you back in, you’ll hurt me all over again.”

“I won’t,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “I promise you, I won’t. Just… let me try. Please.”

You didn’t move, your heart warring with your head. The love you felt for him was still there, buried under the hurt and the fear, but it was there.

He reached out slowly, his hand brushing against yours. “I love you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you so damn much.”

For a long moment, you didn’t say anything, your mind racing. But as you looked up at him, his blue eyes filled with nothing but raw, aching honesty, you felt something inside you begin to crack open.

“I can’t promise you anything,” you said softly. “But… I’ll try.”

A flicker of hope lit in his eyes, and he nodded, his hand squeezing yours gently. “That’s all I need.”

---

The trip to the cabin was Steve’s idea, of course. “We all need a break,” he had insisted weeks ago, his voice full of conviction. “No distractions, no work, just friends, fresh air, and some well-earned relaxation and of course alcohol.”

It had taken very little convincing to get everyone out there. The cabin was nestled deep in the woods, surrounded by towering pine trees and the faint sound of a nearby creek. The air smelled fresh, crisp, and you almost forgot how much you’d hesitated about coming—about being this close to Bucky, about opening yourself up to feelings you weren’t sure you could handle.

The first night was loud and chaotic, in the best way possible. Everyone gathered in the living room after dinner, the fire crackling in the stone fireplace. Bottles of wine and beer were scattered across the coffee table, along with a half-empty bottle of whiskey Sam had brought along and a stack of mismatched board games Natasha had insisted on bringing.

Natasha was leaning against Steve on the couch, her legs draped over his lap as she sipped her drink. Sam had claimed one of the armchairs, gesturing wildly as he recounted some ridiculous story about his time in the military. Wanda was curled up on the floor next to him, her cheeks pink from laughing too hard.

“And I swear to God, the guy thought he could outrun the damn helicopter,” Sam was saying, his hands moving animatedly.

Wanda snorted, nearly spilling her wine. “Oh my God, did he?”

“Obviously not!” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “But he gave it his best shot. Dumbest thing I’ve ever seen, but you’ve got to respect the effort.”

Steve shook his head, chuckling. “I feel like you’ve told this story at least three times now.”

“Yeah, and it gets better every time,” Sam shot back, grinning.

“Maybe for you,” Natasha quipped, smirking. “For the rest of us, it’s just confirmation that you’ve always been impossible.”

“I am a delight, Romanoff,” Sam said, mock-offended.

“You’re something,” she muttered under her breath, making Wanda laugh.

Across the room, you were perched on the edge of a chair, nursing your drink and watching the back-and-forth unfold. Bucky sat on the arm of your chair, close enough that his shoulder occasionally brushed against yours.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced at him, startled by his closeness. “Just enjoying the show,” you replied, gesturing toward Sam, who was now debating something ridiculous with Steve.

Bucky smiled faintly, his eyes warm. “It’s good to see you like this,” he murmured. “Relaxed. Happy.”

The comment caught you off guard, and you felt a warmth rise in your chest that had nothing to do with the fire or the whiskey in your hand. “I guess I’m starting to figure things out,” you said quietly.

His gaze lingered on you, soft and unreadable, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. But then Natasha made some sarcastic comment about Monopoly, and the group burst into laughter, shattering the moment.

As the night wore on, the group slowly began to drift off. Wanda yawned and declared she was calling it a night, and Natasha soon followed, dragging Steve along with her despite his protests that he wanted to stay up. Sam was the last to go, grumbling about how he wasn’t tired even as he stumbled toward the stairs.

Soon, it was just you and Bucky.

You stood in the kitchen, rinsing out your glass. The firelight flickered faintly from the living room, and the cabin had grown quiet, save for the occasional creak of the wooden beams.

Bucky walked in, his footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. He leaned against the counter, watching you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

You nodded, not looking at him. “Yeah. Just winding down.”

He stepped closer, his presence filling the small space. “You sure? You seemed a little… distant earlier.”

You sighed, setting the glass down and finally turning to face him. “It’s just been a long day.”

His eyes searched yours, and you felt the weight of his gaze, the quiet intensity that always seemed to disarm you. “If there’s anything you want to talk about…” he started, but you shook your head.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you said softly, offering a small, tired smile.

He nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful.

Later, you paced your room, your thoughts racing too much to settle. The cabin was quiet now, the kind of quiet that made everything feel sharper, more immediate. You couldn’t stop replaying the moments from earlier—the way Bucky had looked at you, the warmth in his voice when he said it was good to see you happy.

It was too much, and not enough all at once.

Finally, you decided to leave your room, the air feeling too stifling. But as you stepped into the hallway, you nearly collided with someone.

“Sorry,” you muttered, taking a step back.

“Y/n?”

It was Bucky.

You froze, your eyes locking with his. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you palpable.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

The space between you felt impossibly small, and as his gaze held yours, you saw something there—something raw and unguarded. Slowly, he reached up, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

His hand lingered, his thumb grazing your cheek. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your breath hitch as his thumb trailed down, brushing against your bottom lip.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t move, his blue eyes searching yours as if waiting for permission.

Your hands lifted, hesitating for just a moment before resting against his chest. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms, and the warmth of him made your chest ache.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

And then you kissed him.

It was soft at first, hesitant, but the second his lips moved against yours, the floodgates opened. His hands cupped your face, holding you like you were something precious, and the kiss deepened, heat and longing pouring into every movement.

You stumbled back slightly, your back hitting the wall as his body pressed against yours. The air was thick with the heat between you, and his lips left yours just long enough to murmur, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice shaking with certainty. “Yes, Bucky. Please.”

Bucky's lips found yours again, urgent but soft, like he couldn't quite believe this was happening. His hands were firm and steady as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as though trying to memorize every inch of your skin.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. The heat of him pressed against you, grounding and consuming all at once.

The tension that had built between you for so long— weeks, months, years-was finally unraveling, pouring out in every kiss, every touch.

"Bucky," you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling.

His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, his breath warm and uneven. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured, his voice rough and filled with restraint.

You shook your head, your hands sliding up to rest on either side of his face. "I don't want you to stop," you said, your words firm despite the shakiness in your tone.

Something flickered in his eyes-relief, longing, something deeper. He kissed you again, his hands sliding down to your waist as he gently guided you backward, step by step, toward your room.

The door closed softly behind you, but neither of you noticed. All that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands settled on your hips before gliding up your sides. You gasped as his fingertips brushed the hem of your shirt, and he paused, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.

"Yes," you said, your voice firmer this time. "Yes, I'm sure."

He nodded, his hands steady but his touch reverent as he helped you pull your shirt over your head. His lips found your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that made you shiver. Your hands roamed his chest, slipping under the fabric of his shirt until he let out a low, shaky laugh and pulled it off in one motion.

Every moment felt unhurried yet desperate, like the two of you were trying to savor every second while making up for lost time. You didn't think about what came next, didn't think about the consequences. All you could focus on was the way Bucky whispered your name like it was sacred, the way his hands held you like you were something he never wanted to let go of again.

When the two of you finally came together, it felt like the world outside your room didn't exist anymore. He moved with care, his lips finding yours again and again, his voice rough as he murmured your name in between kisses. He asked if you were okay, if you needed anything, if you wanted him to stop.

And every time, your answer was the same.

"Yes, Bucky. I'm sure."

When you woke up the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the window felt harsh, almost intrusive. Your head was still heavy with sleep, but the events of the night before came rushing back in vivid detail.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your hands over your face as panic began to creep in. What had you done? You had told yourself you'd be careful with Bucky, that you'd protect yourself this time. But now? Now you'd opened yourself up completely, and the fear of what came next made your chest tighten.

Your heart sank as your gaze flickered to the empty side of the bed. He was gone.

You sat there for a moment, your hands gripping the edge of the blanket as the familiar ache of heartbreak began to settle in. "Of course," you whispered bitterly to yourself. "Of course, he left."

But just as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the door to the bathroom opened, and Bucky stepped out, a towel draped around his neck.

He froze when he saw you, his expression softening immediately. "Hey," he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

You blinked at him, relief washing over you so quickly it made you dizzy. "Hey," you said softly, your voice trembling.

His brows knit together as he crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you said quickly, but the way your voice cracked betrayed you.

"Don't lie to me," he said gently, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

"What's going on?"

You hesitated, your fingers twisting in the fabric of the blanket. "It's stupid," you muttered.

"It's not stupid if it's got you looking this upset," he said, his voice firm but kind. His thumb brushed lightly between your eyebrows, smoothing out the small crease there. "Put that worry wrinkle away, sweetheart."

You let out a shaky laugh, but your chest still felt tight. "Please don't get mad at me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Mad at you?" he said, his tone incredulous. "I could never get mad at you. Just talk to me."

You took a deep breath, your eyes dropping to your hands. "I thought you left," you admitted finally. "When I woke up and you weren't here, I just... I panicked."

For a moment, he didn't say anything, and you risked a glance up at him. His jaw had clenched, his expression flickering with something you couldn't quite place-guilt, maybe, or frustration. But whatever it was, it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by quiet understanding.

"I get it," he said softly, his voice steady. "And I'm sorry. I should've said something, told you i was just getting up for a minute. But I'm not going anywhere this time. I’m sorry I made you feel that way."

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, and you nodded, swallowing hard.

"Okay," you said quietly.

He reached out, his hand covering yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. "You believe me?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "I do."

He started to lean in but the moment was broken by a knock at the door.

"Y/n?" Steve's voice called out from the other side. "Have you seen Bucky?"

Before you could respond, Natasha's laugh rang out from the hallway. "Steve, give it a rest. He's probably hiding from Sam."

"Or in the bathroom," Sam's voice chimed in. "Probably pooping. Breakfast is ready, by the way!"

You and Bucky exchanged a look, both of you bursting into quiet laughter.

"I guess we should join them," you said, smiling softly.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. "We should. Are we okay?”

You nodded “Were okay.”

---

The cabin had been a turning point for both of you, though neither of you dared to say it aloud. That night, tangled in the sheets and each other’s arms, had felt like a step forward—and yet, when morning came, the step wasn’t as certain as you’d hoped.

You hadn’t told anyone about what happened that night. Not Wanda, not Natasha, not anyone. They hadn’t suspected a thing, and honestly, you preferred it that way. Keeping it to yourself made it feel less complicated, like something you could push to the back of your mind when you needed to.

And after the cabin? Everything had gone back to normal. Or at least, you pretended it had. Bucky didn’t push or pry; he didn’t mention the night, didn’t ask for more. Instead, he gave you space—space to think, space to process, space to figure out what you really wanted.

For two weeks, you existed in this limbo, circling back to the quiet, steady friendship you’d rebuilt before the cabin. It was easier that way. Comfortable. Safe.

And yet, you couldn’t ignore the tension lingering beneath the surface. Every look, every touch, every shared laugh felt weighted, charged with unspoken words. You were grateful for his patience, but it terrified you too. Because the truth was, you didn’t know how to take the next step—or if you even could.

The room was alive with energy. It was the kind of night where the drinks flowed freely, the music hummed in the background, and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.

You’d lost count of how many drinks Sam had handed you, but you weren’t complaining. The warmth of the alcohol helped take the edge off, loosening the knot that always seemed to form in your chest when Bucky was around.

Wanda was perched on the armrest of a chair, laughing at one of Steve’s terrible jokes, while Natasha sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully stacking playing cards into a makeshift tower. Sam was dramatically recounting a story from his military days, gesturing so wildly that he knocked over one of Natasha’s stacks.

“Sam!” Natasha groaned, glaring at him.

“You can’t blame me for being animated!” Sam shot back, grinning.

“Nat, you should know by now that Sam’s hands talk more than his mouth does,” Steve teased, earning a laugh from Wanda.

“Hey, don’t drag me into this,” Wanda said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just here for the show.”

You stood by the bar, sipping your drink and smiling faintly at their banter. The atmosphere was easy and familiar, but your gaze kept drifting across the room—to him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, laughing at something Steve said, but his eyes kept flicking to you, like he couldn’t help himself.

Wanda noticed, of course. She always did.

“You’re staring,” she said softly, nudging you with her elbow.

You startled, quickly looking away. “I’m not staring,” you muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. “Sure you’re not.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s fine, Wanda. We’re fine. We’re friends.”

“Friends who spent the night together at the cabin and haven’t addressed it since?” she asked, her voice careful but pointed.

You froze, your grip tightening on your glass. “We’re fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper this time. “I’m okay with the way things are.”

“Are you?” she asked quietly, tilting her head. “Is he?”

You didn’t answer, and she sighed. “Look, I know why you’re scared. And I get it—you’ve been through a lot with him. But don’t you think it’s worth figuring out what you actually want? Instead of hiding behind what feels safe?”

Before you could respond, Sam called out from across the room.

“Y/n! We’re playing charades, and you’re on my team!”

You rolled your eyes, grateful for the distraction. “Duty calls,” you said, ignoring Wanda’s knowing look as you moved to join the group.

After an intense game of charades that somehow devolved into everyone laughing more than guessing, Sam threw his hands in the air as you acted out his final clue—a ridiculous, flailing impression of a penguin that left the entire room in stitches.

“That’s it!” Sam shouted, pumping his fists in the air. “Team Sam for the win, baby!”

“Barely!” Natasha called from across the room, rolling her eyes as she leaned back against Steve’s chest. “You two cheated!”

“We didn’t cheat,” Sam argued, grabbing your hand and spinning you around dramatically. “We’re just that good.”

You laughed, breathless as Sam gave you an exaggerated hug, lifting you off the ground before setting you back down. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head as you tried to catch your breath.

“And you love it,” Sam said with a wink before grabbing a beer from the table.

The room was still buzzing with laughter and chatter as you headed toward the kitchen to grab another drink. The warmth of the alcohol and the easy, familiar energy of your friends made you feel lighter than you had in weeks.

But as you opened the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water to offset the buzz in your head, you felt it—that familiar shift in the air.

When you turned, there he was.

Bucky stood a few feet away, his shoulders tense, his expression unreadable as he watched you. There was something in his eyes that made your chest tighten, though you couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer.

“Hey,�� you replied, offering a faint smile as you twisted the cap off your bottle. “Having fun?”

“Not really,” he admitted, his voice low.

The response caught you off guard, and you raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Instead of answering, he looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening. Then, with a deep breath, he met your gaze again. “Can we talk?”

You hesitated, your grip tightening on the bottle in your hand. “Now?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Please.”

Something in his voice made it impossible to say no, and you nodded, setting the bottle down on the counter. “Okay.”

He led you to a quieter corner of the room, away from the noise and laughter of your friends. The firelight from the living room flickered faintly against the walls, and the hum of conversation faded into the background as he turned to face you.

You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling exposed under the intensity of his gaze. “What’s going on, Bucky?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders stiff as if he was bracing himself for something. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said quietly.

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and your stomach dropped. “Do what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between the two of you. “Being your friend.”

You blinked, your heart pounding as your mind scrambled to catch up. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quickly, his voice low and insistent. “It’s not you, it’s me. I can’t, I can’t just be your friend anymore.”

Your arms tightened around yourself as you stared at him, confusion and hurt swirling in your chest. “Bucky, what are you talking about?”

He exhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides as he looked away. “I’ve been trying,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve been trying so damn hard to keep it together, to respect what you want, to just be here for you. But every time I see you, every time I hear your laugh or watch you smile, it’s like—”

He cut himself off, shaking his head as if the words were too much.

“Like what?” you pressed, your voice trembling.

His eyes snapped to yours, raw and vulnerable in a way that made your breath hitch. “Like I’m falling all over again.”

The weight of his confession settled heavily between you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he continued, his tone desperate now. “I can’t just stand on the sidelines and pretend I’m okay with being just your friend. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wanting to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you.”

Your chest tightened, your pulse thrumming in your ears as his words washed over you.

“What do you want from me?” you asked softly, your voice shaking.

“Everything,” he said without hesitation, his voice raw and steady.

The word lingered in the air, heavy and unshakable.

His hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch so gentle it made your knees weak. His thumb traced along your jaw, his touch reverent and careful, like he was afraid you might break.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your breath hitching as you struggled to process his words.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he added quickly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “I just needed you to know. I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

The room felt too small, too quiet despite the distant hum of the party behind you. Your thoughts raced, a million emotions colliding all at once—fear, longing, hope.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he said softly, his forehead lowering to rest against yours. “I know, and I don’t blame you, I just wanna be with you already.”

Your hands lifted to rest against his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you closed your eyes. The sound of his heartbeat beneath your palms was steady, grounding, and for the first time in weeks, you felt the smallest flicker of hope.

“Okay,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “But no more running.”

“No more running,” he promised.

This time he made the first move, he leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that felt both tentative and certain, like he was pouring every unspoken word into the moment.

Behind you, someone (definitely Sam) yelled, “About damn time!” followed by Natasha’s dry laugh.

But none of it mattered.

When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his hands steady as they cupped your face. “Let me show you,” he whispered. “Let me prove it to you, I’m gonna prove it to you…”

----

The difference this time was undeniable.

Before, being with Bucky had felt like reaching for something you couldn’t quite grasp—like he was always just out of reach, holding back pieces of himself he didn’t think you could handle. But now? Now, it felt like the walls had come down. He wasn’t hiding anymore. He wasn’t running. He was just… there, steady and present, and it made you feel like you could finally breathe.

The first time you really noticed it was about a week after Sam’s birthday party. The group had gone out for drinks at one of your usual spots, a cozy bar with low lighting and worn wooden tables. The air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, and you were in the middle of laughing at something Natasha had said when you felt it—Bucky’s hand resting on the back of your chair.

It wasn’t hesitant or uncertain like it used to be. No, this time, his touch was solid and deliberate, like he wanted everyone to know you were his.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “You good, baby?”

The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, your heart stuttering in your chest. You looked up at him, and the soft smile on his face made you melt. “Yeah, I’m good,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He kissed your temple, quick and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world, before straightening. His hand slid down to rest on your shoulder, not in a possessive way but in a protective, grounding way that made your chest ache in the best way.

When you glanced around the table, you caught Wanda smirking at you, her brow raised knowingly. Steve, seated across from you, gave Bucky a small nod of approval, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes.

It felt good. It felt right.

Later that night, while Bucky was off getting another round of drinks with Steve, you found yourself alone at the table with Wanda. She was swirling the last of her wine in her glass, her eyes twinkling as she looked at you.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

She shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing. I’m just… happy for you.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious,” she said, leaning forward. “You deserve this. And honestly? It’s about damn time he got his act together.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I don’t know. Sometimes it still feels… fragile, you know?”

“Fragile?” she repeated, her brow furrowing.

“Like… I’m still waiting for something to happen, to go wrong,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I know he’s not the same as he was. I can see it. But it’s hard to forget how things were before.”

Wanda reached across the table, her hand covering yours. “Y/n, listen to me. I know what he put you through, and I know how scared you are. But he’s not the same guy he was two years ago. He’s different. You can see it in the way he looks at you.”

You hesitated, her words sinking in. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she said firmly, squeezing your hand. “And I think you know it too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here with him right now.”

Before you could respond, Bucky returned to the table with a fresh drink in hand. He slid it in front of you with a soft smile before sitting back down, his knee brushing against yours under the table. Wanda shot you one last knowing look before turning the conversation to something else entirely.

A few nights later, you found yourself on the phone with Sam, who had called under the pretense of asking about a new restaurant but quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.

“So,” he said, his tone far too casual to be innocent. “You and Bucky, huh? Is it official?”

You groaned, flopping back onto your couch. “I knew this was coming.”

“What? I’m just checking in!” he said, feigning indignation. “As your best friend, it’s my job to make sure this guy isn’t screwing you over again.”

“Sam…” you warned, though there was no heat behind it.

He laughed, but his tone softened. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Honestly, I’m happy for you. I really am.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “You are?”

“Of course,” he said. “I mean, look, I was ready to kick his ass a few years ago, and I’m still on standby if you ever need me to.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh my God, Sam.”

“But,” he continued, his voice steady now, “I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about that. Not this time.”

The warmth in his words made your chest tighten, and you stayed silent, letting him continue.

“Bucky’s always looked at you like that, you know,” Sam said after a moment. “Like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. He just… wasn’t ready before. And I didn’t want to tell you that back then because I knew it’d only hurt you more. But now? Now I think he’s finally figured his shit out.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Sam said firmly. “And no one deserves happiness more than you, Y/n. Not after everything.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt tears prick at your eyes. “Thanks, Sam,” you whispered.

“Don’t get all mushy on me now,” Sam teased, though his voice softened at the edges. “Seriously though, just know I’m here if you need me. But… honestly? I don’t think you will.”

You smiled faintly, your grip tightening on the phone. “I hope not,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

There was a pause, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice when he spoke again. “Anyway, I’m booking that reservation for the weekend. Make sure you fill your man in for me, will ya?”

“Sam!” you groaned, though you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Uh-uh,” Sam cut you off, his tone playful. “Don’t even start!”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed at his words. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll take that as a thank-you for always looking out for you.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

“Anytime,” he replied. “Just don’t forget to tell Bucky he owes me one for letting him off the hook.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

“You’d better,” Sam quipped. “Now go enjoy your night. And don’t worry so much, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you said, smiling as you hung up.

----

The next few weeks were a quiet kind of revelation. The Bucky you were getting to know now was someone entirely different from the man you’d fallen for before. Not because he’d changed into someone new, but because he’d finally let you see the parts of him he’d kept hidden for so long.

He started coming over more often, always bringing something with him. Flowers, your favorite coffee, a book he’d remembered you mentioning in passing weeks ago. He never showed up empty-handed, and every gesture felt thoughtful in a way that left your heart aching.

One Friday morning, you were rushing out the door for a long day at work when you nearly tripped over a small box sitting on your doorstep. Inside was a muffin from your favorite café and a note written in his messy scrawl: For the busiest girl I know—don’t forget to eat today. Love, B.

When you texted him a thank-you, he replied almost immediately:

You deserve it. Now go kill it today.

It was in the small things, the quiet moments, that you realized how much he’d changed.

The group met up for dinner at a lively restaurant. The table was loud, everyone shouting over one another as Natasha and Sam argued about who was better at pool. Wanda kept flicking her straw wrapper at Steve, who was trying—and failing—to mediate.

Bucky sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee beneath the table. It made you feel like the room could fall apart around you, and you’d still be okay.

“Nat, just admit you’re terrible at pool,” Sam teased, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.

“I’m not terrible. I’m calculated,” Natasha shot back, narrowing her eyes.

“Sure,” Sam said, drawing out the word. “You’re so calculated that Steve had to make half your shots last time.”

“Excuse me,” Steve interjected, looking mildly alarmed. “I thought we weren’t bringing that up again.”

The group dissolved into laughter, and as you leaned forward to take a sip of your drink, Bucky reached over, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

When you glanced at him, surprised, he just smiled and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “What? You’re beautiful.”

The table fell quiet for half a beat. Natasha raised a brow in surprise, Wanda exchanged a look with Sam, and Sam grinned wide enough to split his face.

“Barnes,” Sam drawled, shaking his head. “Look at you, all smooth. Who are you, and what have you done with the grumpy man we knew?”

Bucky just shrugged, completely unbothered. “He’s retired.”

But as much as you were finding your rhythm with Bucky, there was one thing that hadn’t quite settled: being at his apartment.

Every time you were there, you felt… uneasy. Not in an obvious way, but Bucky noticed.

You sat on the edge of the couch instead of sinking into it. You fidgeted more, your eyes flicking around the room like you were looking for something—or avoiding something. And when you thought he wasn’t looking, your gaze lingered on the places that held the weight of old memories.

It was after one of these moments that Bucky found himself talking to Wanda. She’d stayed late after a group dinner, and the two of them were cleaning up the kitchen when Bucky finally asked, “Do you think she’s okay?”

Wanda paused, a glass in her hand. “Who?”

“Y/n,” he said, running a hand over the back of his neck. “She seems… I don’t know. Off. Especially when she’s here, am I doing something wrong? I thought everything was going perfect.”

Wanda’s eyes softened. “Bucky, it’s not you. It’s just… this place. There are memories here. Moments she can’t shake.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s like the air still held pieces of her sadness. And she’s trying, but being here? It’s hard for her.”

Bucky listened, his expression unreadable. But later that night, as he lay awake in bed, her words stayed with him. Because of course, why didn’t he think of that all the times he held you and told you, you were everything and then just to leave you high and dry the next day. All the times he called you over for his own selfishness just to wash you away less than 24 hours after.

It wasn’t long after that when you noticed something different. Bucky was quieter, distracted, like he was carrying something he hadn’t figured out how to share yet.

After dinner at your place, you finally asked.

“Okay, what’s going on?” you said, setting your glass down and turning to face him.

He blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been weird all night,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Is everything okay?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair before leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been thinking about moving.”

Your brows furrowed in surprise. “Moving? Why?”

Bucky shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he tried to keep his tone casual. But you could see the flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes, something he wasn’t sure how to say out loud. “Out with the old, in with the new, right?” he said, forcing a small smile before letting it fade.

You tilted your head, studying him, waiting for the real reason to come out.

He hesitated, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of the table before continuing, “That place… it’s got too much history. And if we’re going to do this,” he gestured between the two of you, his voice softening, “I want to do it right. I don’t want you to feel like you’re walking into a past you didn’t ask for.”

The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, making your throat tighten. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers as you tried to steady yourself. The memories of his apartment, those nights you spent waiting, wondering, hurting, flashed through your mind, and you realized he wasn’t just talking about moving to a new place. He was trying to move on from everything that hurt you.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm and steady, grounding you in a way that made the ache in your chest both better and worse. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

You nodded, your eyes stinging as you squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice so full of quiet conviction that it made your chest ache.

He leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead before leaning back to grab the remote, a small, easy smile playing at his lips. “Okay, enough heavy stuff. Let’s pick a movie before we end up debating for an hour.”

You laughed faintly, the warmth of his kiss still lingering. But as he started scrolling through Netflix, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The way his shoulders relaxed when he was with you, the soft hum he made under his breath when he was thinking—it was so different from the guarded, distant man you’d known before.

And that’s when the question slipped out, unbidden but insistent.

“Hey, Bucky?” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” he replied instantly, turning to look at you, his attention focused entirely on you.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But then you forced yourself to say it, your heart pounding. “What are we?”

The question hung in the air, the silence stretching just long enough for doubt to creep in. But then Bucky set the remote down, turning to face you fully. His expression wasn’t hesitant or uncertain like it used to be, it was serious, calm, and sure.

“You’re mine,” he said simply, the words soft but unwavering. “And I’m yours. That’s all I know, and it’s all I want to be.”

Your breath caught, your chest tightening as the weight of his words settled over you. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Does that work for you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost shy, like he wasn’t sure if he’d said too much.

You nodded, swallowing hard as emotion bubbled up in your chest. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It works.”

His lips curved into a small, relieved smile, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good,” he murmured, his thumbs still tracing soft patterns against your skin. “Because I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You just sat there, breathing him in, letting the weight of his words wash over you. The space between you didn’t feel like it was filled with doubt or hesitation, it felt solid. Real.

“Now,” he said after a beat, pulling back just enough to kiss the tip of your nose before reaching for the remote again. “What cheesy rom-com are we watching tonight? Because I know you’ve got one in mind.”

You laughed, the sound light and unguarded, as you reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. “You say that like you’re not the one who secretly loves rom-coms.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning indignation. “I’ve got a reputation to protect, doll.”

“Yeah, sure,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

He smiled at you, and the look in his eyes, the quiet joy, the undeniable love, made your heart ache in the best way.

You felt like you weren’t just falling. You were landing somewhere safe.

The sun was warm against your skin, filtering through the leafy trees that lined the bustling farmer’s market. The scent of fresh flowers, ripe fruit, and baked bread swirled in the air, mingling with the chatter of vendors and the hum of conversations. People moved through the stands, their arms laden with produce and bouquets, but the only presence that mattered to you was Bucky’s.

He was beside you, his shoulder brushing yours every few steps, his hand gripping the bags of produce you’d insisted on buying. Every now and then, he glanced at you, flashing that crooked smile that still made your stomach flip.

“Do you really need more peaches?” he asked, his voice laced with mock exasperation as he eyed the basket you held.

“Yes,” you replied, feigning offense as you picked out two more and gently placed them into the bag. “You’ll thank me later when I make that peach cobbler you won’t stop talking about.”

He grinned, leaning down so his forehead lightly bumped yours. “Fine. Cobbler wins. But only if I get to eat it straight out of the dish.”

You laughed, nudging his arm with your elbow as you moved toward the next stall. “Only because its your housewarming gift..”

“You're the best” he murmured, his voice warm, before placing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

At the flower stand, the vibrant colors caught your eye. Bouquets of sunflowers, daisies, and tulips spilled across the table in a wild display of life. You reached out, letting your fingertips brush the soft petals of a sunflower as you admired its brightness.

You didn’t notice when Bucky stepped away, too absorbed in the moment. But when he returned, you turned to find him holding a small bundle of daisies, their white and yellow blooms bright against his dark shirt.

“For you,” he said softly, his voice low, almost shy.

The gesture made your heart ache, the simplicity of it filling you with warmth. You took the daisies, your fingers grazing his as you did. “You’re getting really good at this boyfriend thing,” you said, your smile teasing but sincere.

He smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Just trying to keep my girl happy.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, and you looked away, pretending to study the flowers so he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks burned. “You’re doing a pretty good job,” you admitted quietly, more to yourself than to him.

At the next stand, baskets of apples were piled high, their shiny red skins gleaming in the sunlight. You picked one up, turning it over in your hand. “What do you think?” you asked, holding it up for Bucky’s opinion.

He leaned closer, pretending to inspect it with exaggerated seriousness. “I think it’s an apple.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, grabbing an apple and tossing it into the bag. “Fine. You pick the apples, and I’ll carry them. That’s the deal.”

“Deal,” you said, sticking your hand out dramatically for a handshake.

Instead of shaking your hand, he pulled you closer by the wrist, his hand settling lightly on your waist. His thumb brushed against your side absentmindedly, the touch sending a spark through you. It was such a small thing, but it rooted you to the moment—a quiet reminder of how far you’d both come. You couldn't believe this was the same stand you stood at 3 and a half years ago watching Bucky breaknyour heart and yet here you were now.

By the time you’d finished making your rounds, your bags were full, and so was your heart. You both found a spot on a nearby bench, the wooden surface warmed by the sun. Bucky set the bags down at his feet and pulled out a basket of strawberries you’d picked up earlier.

“Fresh strawberries,” he said, plucking one from the pile. “Can’t beat this.”

You reached for one, but he held it just out of your reach, grinning mischievously.

“Bucky,” you laughed, leaning forward to grab it.

“What’s the magic word?” he teased, his voice playful.

You narrowed your eyes, your hand hovering. “Please.”

He finally let you take it, laughing as you popped the strawberry into your mouth. “Gotta keep you on your toes,” he said with a wink, leaning back against the bench.

The moment was so simple, so easy, and yet it felt monumental. His arm draped over the back of the bench, his fingers brushing your shoulder absentmindedly. His other hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours like it was second nature.

The world felt quiet. Peaceful.

“Are you happy?” Bucky’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he broke the comfortable silence. His tone was so quiet that it almost got lost in the sounds of the world around you, the distant murmur of conversations, the occasional rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. But you heard it. You always heard him.

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening at the way he was watching you. His blue eyes, soft and searching, held a depth that made your heart ache in the best way. It wasn’t just a casual question. It was something deeper, something raw. Like he needed to hear it, needed to know that he was doing enough, that this, what you were building together was enough.

“Yeah,” you said honestly, your voice steady but tender. “I am.”

For a second, Bucky didn’t move. He just stared at you, like he was trying to memorize the way you looked at him, the way you said it. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a small, warm smile, the kind that reached his eyes and softened the sharp edges of his features.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand in slow, deliberate circles, a quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t put into words. “Good,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I’ve never been happier.”

The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a blanket, filling every crack you hadn’t even realized was still there. It wasn’t loud or grandiose. It was simple, honest, and real.

You leaned into his side, letting your head rest against his shoulder. His arm tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, it was all so familiar, yet so new. It felt like home, but a version of home you’d never known you needed until now.

This was different. This was real. This was everything you’d both fought for.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

You felt him stiffen slightly, his breathing hitching as the weight of your words hung in the air. His arm around you loosened just enough for him to pull back and look at you fully, his expression a mix of disbelief and something else, something vulnerable and raw.

“You do?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly as if he didn’t dare believe it.

You met his gaze, your eyes soft but unwavering. “I always have,” you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. “And I never stopped.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, but not in a bad way. It was full of everything unsaid, everything you’d both held back for so long. And then you saw it, the way his eyes watered, the way his lips parted like he was trying to find the words but couldn’t.

You reached up, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that slipped down his cheek. “Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft and teasing despite the lump in your throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice so low it almost broke. His hand came up to cup your face, his touch gentle, reverent, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. “So much.”

You smiled through your own tears, your chest aching with a kind of joy you hadn’t thought you’d ever feel again. “Yeah, I know,” you said softly, your tone teasing but warm.

A shaky laugh escaped him, the sound raw and full of disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the moment. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm and shaky. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just breathed each other in, the world around you fading into nothing.

“I never deserved you,” he said finally, his voice trembling with emotion. “Still don’t.”

His words hit you square in the chest, and you felt your throat tighten. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand still resting on his cheek. His blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his vulnerability laid bare in a way that made your heart ache.

“Bucky,” you said softly, shaking your head. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” he insisted, his voice breaking. “You gave me everything, and all I ever did was hurt you. And even now, after everything, you’re still here. I don’t know why, but…” His voice trailed off, and he let out a shaky breath. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be the man you deserve.”

You felt your chest tighten even further, a lump rising in your throat as his words washed over you. You cupped his face in both hands now, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life proving anything to me,” you said firmly, your voice trembling. “You’re already enough, Bucky. You always have been, even before.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he just stared at you, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you gently, like you were something fragile and precious.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “Every word,” you whispered. “I don’t care about the past anymore. All that matters is this. Us. Right here, right now.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the walls he’d spent so many years building start to crumble. He let out a shaky laugh, leaning into your touch. “God, I love you,” he murmured. “I don’t even know if I can say it enough to make up for all the times I didn’t.”

“You just did,” you said with a soft smile, leaning in until your lips brushed his.

The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with a quiet kind of intensity that made your heart feel like it might burst. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together again, your breaths mingling in the quiet space between you.

It wasn’t about wrong timing or unfinished promises—it was just you and him, finally in step, finally ready. Right person, right time, and this time, you both got it right.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x steve #sebastian x reader #Spotify

592 notes · View notes

shhhsecretsideblog · 27 days ago

Text

Against All Odds

A bodyguard and his charge are secretly dating and expecting their first child. But as Melissa approaches her due date, things take a dramatic turn at her father’s campaign rally….

(25k words!!! Content: childbirth, violence, death (not MC’s), non-con elements, mortal peril, clothing birth, birth denial)

Story co-written by the incredibly talented @wootenbassett75 and will be posted in parts to his DA account here

~•~

His suit was pressed, and his gun fastened to his hip beneath the jacket. Victor had been in the bodyguard game for nearly a decade now, yet none of his previous gigs compared to his current. For the past year, he had been on the personal detail for Senator George Matthews. Well, not his detail, but that of his daughter. At first he had regretted it, seeing this as a glorified babysitting duty for some spoiled politicians kid that had never been told no. Oh how wrong he’d been.

It all started ten months earlier, a Christmas party her father had been holding for his campaign supporters. Up to that point, he had mostly avoided conversation with Melissa, finding the fierce independence she had as a nuisance. She hadn’t wanted a bodyguard, and apparently only relented due to her fathers position making them all potential targets of groups that had less than savory intentions. At the party though, something happened. Victor didn’t know what, but one thing led to another and they spent the night together, then the next week, it happened again, and again, and again. Before long they were having their secret love affair whenever they could get away. All seemed well, till those two pink lines appeared.

She was pregnant, and Victor was the father. They couldn’t come out and say it, he’d never get to keep his job. So, she claimed it was a fling, a one night stand with a man she didn’t recall the name of. Her father had been furious, but eventually relented. Now months later here they were. He tried so hard to be with her at all times but it didn’t work. At the hotel he wasn’t able to sleep in her room due to the constant eyes of the press. He’d protested about her even coming, the baby was due soon, this party was the last place she should be. But he had a job to do, and there was no way he could convince her or her father otherwise.

Victor pulled out his copy of her room key, and entered. “Melissa?” He called out. “You awake? The party is already starting.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Melissa said from the en-suite of her hotel room, leaning against the sink and shifting her hips side to side.

After arriving at the hotel mid-afternoon Melissa had disappeared to her room to take a nap; being 39 weeks pregnant and carrying the weight of a bowling ball in her pelvis all day was exhausting, so she took the opportunity to rest before the event tonight. She only managed to get an hour or two rest before she was awoken by a dull ache cramping across her womb and the need to use the bathroom.

On pulling down her clothes and sitting on the toilet she soon discovered she had lost her mucus plug. Part of Melissa was excited at the sign that she was nearing the birth of her child. But the timing wasn’t great. Her father’s campaign was reaching its pivotal point and it felt like every other day she was required at some event or another, helping to create the perfect family image, to aid her fathers bid for Senate.

They were hoping she’d go overdue to when all the craziness of the campaign was over, so she and Victor could disappear for a few days and have their baby together. Melissa clung firmly on to that plan, determined to get through this final week.

After discarding her ruined underwear she quickly showered and freshened up, wrapping the fluffy white hotel towel around her swollen body. She felt another dull ache ripple through her middle and leant against the sink taking slow breaths. That's when she heard Victor enter her hotel room. After the practice contraction ended she waddled out of the en-suite, towel still wrapped around her, and saw him standing there in his suit for the party tonight.

“Don’t you look handsome this evening.” She said, smiling brightly.

Victor chuckled. “And you look like you’re glowing.” In the privacy of this room, he had no hesitation walking up to her, placing both hands on her towel wrapped bump, and planting a kiss on her lips. Beneath his hands he could feel that slight tightening, but having been unable to read any of the pregnancy books thanks to an overly nosey roommate, he thought that was just some kicks. “I see our girl is anxious about the party too.” He knelt, and gently opened the towel so he could see the soft flesh of her belly. “Behave in there lil Miss. Mommy has to give a speech tonight.” Victor kissed her navel and stood. “You did remember your speech right? You dads staff will have a heart attack if you wing it like you did in that last party.” A fond memory, watching her fathers upity speech writer lose his mind.

Victor walked to her bed, keeping one hand on the small of her back to guide. None of the dresses seemed like they would be comfortable in his mind, but he knew very little of women’s fashion. That being said, he’d never seen her more comfortable than in one of his tshirts and sweat pants with a tub of ice cream balanced on their daughters dwelling.

“Yes, yes, I remembered the speech. It’s in my handbag somewhere…. I think.” Melissa added with an uncertain giggle as she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.

The second her weight transferred onto the mattress a small hiss slipped from her mouth and she immediately lifted and adjusted her seated position. “Oooof— she’s tucked so damn low it feels like I’m sitting on something.” She joked.

Melissa closed her eyes briefly, exhaling heavily, before opening her eyes and running her hand over her towel-clad belly. “I’m not sure any of the dresses I’ve brought for tonight are even going to fit. I’m huge. Could you get the black one from my bag please? I think that’s my best bet. You’re definitely going to have to help me get dressed.” A smirk flashed across her lips.

Victor returned the look, then shook his head. “Of course I’ll help you baby.” He said, moving to grab the dress. He removed it from the back, he’d seen her wear this one before, months ago, when she was far smaller. They were going to be lucky if they didn’t have to cut this off of her when the party was over. He saw some other items that he was unsure if she’d be planning to wear, so grabbed them too. When he returned he had the dress as well as panties, a bra, and pantyhose. “No funny business ma’am.” He winked. If Victor was honest with himself, she carried pregnancy so well that it somehow made her even more attractive. It’d led to some adventures beneath the sheets. “What first?”

Melissa winced a little as she adjusted her position on the side of the bed, the baby determined to stay nestled right between her hips making it impossible to find any sort of comfort.

“Underwear first please.” She said, pleasantly surprised Victor had managed to select a matching set that was also black to go with the dress. Throwing open her towel in a casual fashion, Melissa then tried and failed to stand up. Scoffing in annoyance she took the garments from Victor and proceeded to put her underwear on as much as she could while sitting.

From the corner of her eyes she could see the smirk of amusement as Victor watched her struggle around her belly that was weighing heavily over and between her thighs.

“Don’t you dare laugh.” She playfully warned.

“Not a word.” He said, holding his hands up. The smile remained though. “Miss Independent, how about you ask the father of your child for a hand huh?” It wasn’t the first time he’d helped her, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. Victor took her hands, waiting till she gave the go ahead to pull her to her feet.

That discomfort in her face made him desperately wish he could take it away, but knew that there was nothing to be done until their little bundle made her grand appearance. An idea did come to mind though, one that could give temporary relief. Victor put her hands on his shoulders, then knelt to help her raise her underwear. Dirty thoughts came and went. Later, they’d have some fun later. He managed to get her panties on, then went to work on the pantyhose.

“Ah shit…” He grumbled, realizing once they were to her knees that they were apparently inside out. They both got a good laugh out of the mistake. All in all, dressing took almost thirty minutes. “You look beautiful.” He told her as they worked the dress. “Now turn around.” It wasn’t a suggestion. Victor turned Melissa so she faced away from him, slowly, he placed his hands on the underside of her belly, and lifted up. Videos circulating on the internet told him this would relieve some of the aches and weight temporarily.

“A pre party gift.” He whispered in her ear, planting a kiss on her cheek.

The sound that left Melissa’s lips as Victor gently lifted her swollen belly was low and full of blissful relief.

“Oh wow—” Her head tilted back, melting into his embrace as she was granted a temporary respite from the weight she’d been carrying. “I need you to never stop doing this…” She said with a soft giggle of amusement knowing full well they couldn’t navigate the evening in this position. Especially as no one knew of their relationship. They’d be lucky to get away with meaningful looks and a few subtle points of contact with all the eyes watching.

Reluctantly after a few minutes Melissa gave Victor a silent signal it was okay to let go and she braced herself for the weight and pressure to return to her hips. She didn’t bank on another cramp hitting at the same time and she groaned a little hunching over slightly. Attempting to walk off the seized muscles she waddled over to the desk to get her clutch, remembering to include her speech. “We are definitely doing that again later, that felt incredible. How did you know to do that?” She asked in pleasant wonder, her hand absentmindedly rubbing under her belly already missing the support of her partner’s hands.

“One of those internet things. ‘What to do for your pregnant partner’.” Victor explained. “It also had ‘make her favorite meals’, and ‘get her a pregnancy pillow’. You kinda beat me to both of those so, this was the next best thing. After the party I’ll give you a foot massage. Read that they can help this late into pregnancy. Lord knows heels look uncomfortable even at the best of times, I can’t imagine how irritating it’ll be for you to wear them with lil Miss in there.” To ease the amount of walking, he grabbed her handbag for her.

Together they walked to the door, his hand on her the entire time. Before reaching for the handle, Victor gave Melissa one last passionate kiss before they would practically be separated for the entire night.

“I love you, and our girl. Once this nights over we will do anything you want, promise.” With his proclamation said, Victor opened the door. The night would be simple, easy, just a little speech and he could sneak her away to relax and get out of her restrictive clothing. What he hadn’t told her yet, was that he had a little box in his pocket, and a hotel room reserved one town over with flowers, chocolates, and candles all laid out. Along with a note, one asking the question he should’ve asked the day she showed him the test.

Inside the lift going down to the ground floor Melissa looked in the mirror, adjusting her soft curls that skimmed her shoulders, ignoring the way her belly felt like it was tightening again. These braxton hicks had an annoying habit of happening at the worst time and she just hoped it wouldn’t happen while she was giving her speech.

She stepped closer to Victor, seeing their reflections in the mirror and wondered what their daughter would look like. Would she have her red hair, or her fathers blue eyes…

“One more week. Then my fathers campaign will be over and we can welcome our daughter into this world together.” Her voice was soft and quiet, as if worried someone would hear through the doors.

The lift slowed, approaching the ground floor where the event was being held. Facing the doors they stepped apart but kept their fingers linked, giving each other a loving smile before separating as the doors opened and their facade began.

Victor understood politics about as well as an ancient Roman would understand the use of smart phones. He knew there was a vote coming, and that Melissa’s father was predicted to win in a landslide, but he had no clue what his policies even were. As it was from the beginning of their relationship, Victors facial expression was that of perpetual boredom when he was working. Eyes scanned the crowd, hands at his sides and kept open in case quick access was needed to his handgun. Not that he would. Besides himself, Victor knew Melissa’s father employed four other private security guards for his staff.

“Another boring party eh?” Asked one of the guards, an older man with gelled back hair.

“Quiet nights make our job easier don’t they Felix?”

“True.” Felix said, his own body set to spring into action. “How’s Dandelion?” He asked, pointedly looking at Melissa as she socialized.

“She was fine. Just moving slow today.” Victor worked to keep his tone level. Felix was ex-military, Military Police to be specific. The man could sniff a lie from miles out. “Rooster and Hen?” Victor asked, steering the conversation away.

“Hen stayed in the room, turns out that it was the flu, not a stomach bug. Rooster is talking to campaign investors at your two o’clock.” Victor looked, and saw the Senator. “Head on a swivel tonight. Rumor has it he pissed off quite a few people with some announcement.”

“Will do.” Victor said, and left the veteran guard to his duties, moving to where he could watch the woman carrying his child speak with others till speech time.

Melissa moved around the hall with the social ease of a butterfly; although she had not followed in her fathers political footsteps and despised half the people in this room, her upbringing meant these formal events were second nature. Effortlessly navigating conversations, speaking with the relevant people, singing her fathers praises - being the perfect reflection of the perfect candidate.

Her pregnancy had initially caused a little controversy for the campaign but the negative press soon died out and now, being quite visibly heavily pregnant, everyone was fawning over the impending new child. It was almost impossible to get through a single conversation without someone touching her bump without asking or making some comment about her looking ready to ‘pop’. Melissa smiled falsely through gritted teeth, both from annoyance but also the persistent cramps that continued to plague her evening.

The dress was too tight, making her belly heavier and firmer beneath the black form fitting fabric. Pressing a hand into her aching lower back, she turned to find a comforting face through the crowd watching her silently. She smiled, feeling instantly more relaxed at the sight of Victor's dimples as he returned the smile.

“Hey!” A voice as piercing as the last time Melissa had heard it echoed through the room. Quickly approaching was one of the only people who was actually closer to her age than her fathers. “Melissa girl, I thought you were going to be held up in some hospital somewhere, look at you!” Genevieve Wilkins, or Evie as she preferred to be called, was a friend of Melissa’s from college. Her short pixie cut brunette hair gave her a tomboy look that did nothing to suppress her femininity.

She wore a pants suit, her press badge proudly on display for all to see. While they had known one another for years, even Evie was unaware of the childs true father. That didn’t stop the reporter making her attempts at guessing.

“You are looking great! I’m surprised to see you out and about. If I were as pregnant as you my ass would be on the couch watching tv and eating my feelings.” She smiled. “I know I ask every time we see each other but… cmon… an exclusive story for your best friend? The name of your babies father?” Evie was only half joking, such a story would make her career as a reporter in the political scene.

Melissa laughed at the audacity of her friend; she was like a dog with a bone when she wanted something. “Well….since you’re my best friend and all…” She said in a hushed voice, looking around them before leaning in towards Evie, opening her mouth with the distinct impression she was about to share a secret.

“…I’m still not telling you.” Melissa whispered into her friend's ear before laughing loudly, holding the swell of her bump that seemed to jolt with the laughter. Evie playfully swotted her shoulder, scowling with annoyance.

“Seriously though, I’m just not ready for that yet. I’m sorry.” Melissa made a conscious effort not to look towards where she knew Victor was standing nearby and watching, not wanting to give her friend any sniff of a story. Changing the subject she asked “Is the dress alright? It was the only option that still fit, this little one just doesn't stop growing. I feel huge. But I couldn’t miss the party tonight, Dad’s got me giving yet another speech.” She rolled her eyes, unconsciously shifting her hips a little as her back flared up again in discomfort, the tension wrapping around her sides and up her spine.

“I just need to get through this week. Oooof— One more week, then the campaign will be finished and I can focus on my little girl.” Her affection for the baby shone through her bright smile, hands cradling the underside of her belly as she spoke, rubbing away the tension that had caused a little moan to slip past her lips.

“Ugh, another speech. Of course.” Evie sighed. “Not that you are a bad speaker, it’s just, having you do all these speeches is dumb. Let a soon to be mom relax why don’t you.” The reporter didn’t seem to notice the moan, that or she assumed it was just one of the many joys of pregnancy. Constant discomfort. “When the time comes, I expect to be your first call girl. I have duties as favorite Aunt that I can’t properly fulfill if I’m not at the hospital to meet her.” Evie smiled, placing a comforting hand on Melissa’s arm. “And yes, that dress looks great on you. Shows off your curves just enough.” She winked, that playful nature ever present.

Meanwhile across the room, Victor was watching with bated breath. Evie, he only interacted with the reporter a handful of times. ‘Nosey’ was an understatement with that woman. He shifted his gaze momentarily, spotting the Senator and some other partygoers pouring glasses of scotch. God, he would kill for some alcohol, but that was one thing he’d sworn off. ‘If you can’t drink, then neither will I.’ Victor should’ve just gotten Melissa a puppy.

“Excuse me?”

Victor was pulled from his thoughts, a man dressed like the wait staff stood before him with a platter.

“Yes?”

“The party is running out of food already and the Senator requested that catering be ordered. Do you have the gate code so the delivery can come in?”

“Oh, uh yeah. #9921856. Then you press the unlock button and the back door opens.” Victor said, only half paying attention.

“Thank you sir.” The waiter said. In his distraction, Victor missed that the staff member with whom he’d just interacted with had no name tag, unlike all the others present.

While Evie was regaling the story behind her latest article, Melissa found herself zoning out a little, distracted by the tightening and heaviness of her belly. It wasn’t anything unusual, she’d been experiencing cramps sporadically ever since she reached 36 weeks, but she was starting to notice the frequency in each pulse of discomfort.

Nodding habitually along with Evie’s animated story, her hand moved across her belly and she felt it harden beneath her fingers. A sharp inhale pulled through her nostrils as the tension peaked and the baby shifted.

“C-can you hold my drink hun?” She interrupted her best friend, practically shoving her glass of sparkling water into Evie’s hand. “I need to nip to the bathroom. Baby’s pressing right against my bladder.” With a forced smile and lighthearted joke Melissa was waddling away before Evie had a chance to respond.

Thankfully the ladies bathroom was empty and Melissa sighed in relief as she went straight up to the sink and braced her palms against the counter, letting go of a quiet moan. “Oooohhh…..” Everything felt so tight and heavy, her hips moving in natural circles around the baby’s low position between her hips.

“Mmm… no, no…. Please just be false labour…. You don’t want to come now baby….” Melissa looked down at her body, speaking to the bump packed tightly into her black dress. “Your dad and I have everything planned for next week…. Stay safe in there a little longer for me sweetie.”

Her body responded with another sharp contraction, forcing Melissa to grit her teeth to stop any sounds from echoing around the empty women’s bathroom.

There were too many people. How hard could it be to keep track of a heavily pregnant redhead? Victor, after a solid ten seconds of scanning the crowd, relented.

“Oh hello handsome.” Evie said as he approached. “I assure you I’m allowed to be here, look, press.”

“I know. Where did Mel, I mean, where did Ms Matthew’s go?” There wasn’t panic in his tone, not yet at least. There was however, concern. He knew next to nothing about pregnancy and as a result immediately thought the worst could have happened.

“Oh! Her little one was dancing on her bladder.”

Victor nodded, and wove through the bodies of rich people till he reached the bathroom. An instinct he didn’t understand told him to go in, but logic prevailed. Others would notice if he went into the women’s restroom. So, he gingerly knocked on the door.

“Ms Matthew’s? Is everything alright?”

On hearing the knock Melissa’s head whipped towards the door, worrying for a split second someone would come in and see her leaning heavily against the sink and swaying her hips. That voice…his voice sent her heart fluttering despite the current cramp she was still trying to ride out.

“Yes, e-everything’s fine.” She said with a forced lightness, catching her breath as the discomfort eased away. It was just a few cramps, nothing to worry about and certainly nothing to warrant telling Victor. He faced danger and high stakes situations for a living, a trait she was forever in awe of, but she had the distinct suspicion he wouldn’t take even the hint of a suggestion of being labour very well. They had to keep up appearances, especially tonight at the campaign event, and she wouldn’t risk his career over a false alarm.

It took her another minute or so to be ready; smoothing her hair back into place and pulling her dress down from where it had ridden up from her swaying, but with a final glance at her reflection she pulled open the door and left the privacy of the restroom.

“If I can’t hide, neither can you.” Victor whispered when he saw her. She seemed, tired, but not like she usually was. Pregnancy exhausted her and he was used to that. Maybe their night out after this would just turn into a relaxing night in. “Baby girl irritating you? I can give her a firm talking to tonight.” A group of her fathers supporters got a bit too close so Victors demeanor quickly altered to that of the bodyguard.

People were attracted to his girlfriend like bees to honey, and as per usual, he was the invisible protector. The night continued, and Victor's eyes lingered on the woman who’d stolen his heart. There still seemed to be something off about how she acted. Perhaps the anxiety was finally getting to her, making her constantly rub her belly and sweat.

Melissa found herself needing a seat more often than she usually did during these events; her hips felt like they were carrying the weight of the world and these damn cramps just weren’t going away. She wasn’t timing them, couldn’t bring herself to admit that she might need to, but they were roughly happening every 15-20 minutes.

Perching awkwardly at the side of the stage on one of the high bar stools she read through her speech, trying to stop herself from cradling and rubbing at her belly. Her father was currently on stage giving his usual confident spiel to his enthusiastic audience, which was mainly filled with wealthy older men who donated generously to his campaign. Plus the press of course. She smiled seeing Evie standing front and centre with her dictaphone and notepad.

Another cramp seized her womb and Melissa nearly bent over in response, instead gripping her speech and the chair as she took slow and subtle deep breaths through the wave. It was just practice contractions….only practice… then why did the baby feel so damn low-?

When it came to speeches, the entirety of the security team became one cohesive unit. The Senators body man was on stage with him, remaining a few paces behind and off to the side. Felix was stationed opposite Victor, taking the stage left corner of the raised platform while Victor had the right. He knew Melissa was behind him, and that she was far more fidgety than he’d ever seen before. Over the last hour, Victor watched her like a hawk. Nothing was wrong that he could tell, but it certainly wasn’t right.

“Foyer secure.” Came a crackle over his ear piece.

“Upper floor access secure.” Another said. Victor, out of the corner of his eye saw Felix lift his cuff to his lips to whisper.

“Crowd shows no threats, but keep your heads on a swivel.” He said.

“Possible code red.” A voice said, Victor didn’t know the man’s name, but was aware of his credentials. If he was calling a code red, there was a problem.

“Details.” Felix growled, tensing. Victor did the same, his hands falling to his side.

“Kitchen door wide open. Tape over lock. Building is not secure, repeat, building not…” He was cut off, as if the microphone ceased all existence.

“I’m en route. Felix keep an eye on Dandelion.” Victor said, turning to move for the kitchen. He passed Melissa on the way, and in a moment of instinct, reached to squeeze her hand. “I’ll be right back.” He whispered, and disappeared into the back of the hotel.

Her eyes followed him as he rushed off out of sight, she didn’t even have a chance to ask what was happening. Melissa looked to the remaining security presence, at Felix, but his face was unreadable. Victor didn’t often leave her side, especially since she reached full term, and she wondered what called him away.

No one seemed nervous or on edge; her father was making jokes to the audience, the sea of people hanging on his every word. Perhaps it was just a staffing issue, Victor had been closest to the kitchens. She had more pressing things to worry about—

“Mmmh…” a groan rattled the back of her throat as her belly tightened once again. This time she placed a casual hand under it, hoping the movement looked absentminded and affectionate, keeping her face smiling and watching the stage. They were really starting to take her breath away now, that dull pulsing ache twisting into sharper more focused pulling. As she breathed her way through it she noticed her father wrapping up his speech and beginning her introduction.

It took more effort than she cared to admit to move herself off of the bar stool and across the stage to the podium. Each step she became more and more aware of where the baby was nestled, low and deep in her pelvis, her waddle more pronounced than ever.

“Thanks Dad.” Melissa said in range of the microphone, smiling as he kissed her cheek and passed the stage to his daughter. Her hands very quickly found the podium, leaning into it slightly to steady herself, her balance feeling off. Taking a deep breath, she said a silent prayer to her little baby “hold on a bit longer sweetie” before beginning her pre-written speech.

The kitchens were quiet, and that was the first sign that something was wrong. In his training to become a bodyguard, the instructors always said not to draw your weapon unless your charge becomes endangered. However, Victor was military before he was a bodyguard. That part of his brain took over.

“Al?” He called, using the echoes of his voice to cover the subtle scratching that was his handgun clearing the leather holster. There was a shuffling off to his left, the direction of the back door. Instinct and training had his pistol raised with his off hand supporting it in less than a second. The further into the kitchen, the more unsettling it became.

The first body was one of his fellow guards, the bruising around his neck a clear indication of how his life had ended. Victors heart began to pound, blood rushing in his ears as adrenaline flooded his system. Two more bodies, one whom was shirtless, with a name tag tossed onto his chest. The second was a woman, one that Victor knew from the profiling of the staff. She was the head chef. Victor lifted his sleeve to his mouth to speak, and that was when all hell broke loose.

The sounds were muffled, but Victor knew gunshots when they happened. On the off chance it wasn’t his hearing that told him, then the new ventilation in the sleeve of his jacket would make a fine confirmation. Pain lanced through his body, emanating from the graze that hit his left bicep. Three more shots came, all of them intended to kill, but Victor was gone. The bodyguard dropped to the floor, rolling onto his back and pulling the trigger. He missed, spotting his target duck into cover at the last second.

“Tangos in the kitchen!” He yelled into his sleeve. “Secure the family!” Two more sources of suppressed gunfire came at him, Victor giving himself covering fire as he moved to a counter for protection. “Felix! Do you copy?!”

Felix, couldn’t answer.

Out in the lobby, eight men stood. Felix was gone before he could even reach Melissa, and she was all alone atop the stage. The men wore masks, all identifying markers removed. Three had on wait staff clothing, explaining how one had gotten close enough to stab Felix.

“Ladies and gentleman!” One called out over the cries of alarm. When they wouldn’t be silenced, a single nod came and automatic gunfire peppered the ceiling. “Ladies and gentleman! I hate to interrupt your party, but there is business to be conducted.”

Gunfire echoed from the kitchen, from where Victor was. This didn’t phase the masked man. His eyes, were set on the heavily pregnant Melissa.

In the blink of an eye she had gone from giving a speech to frozen in fear. The room was deathly silent, no one daring to move an inch as the men with guns spread out across the room. Felix’s body was sprawled across the stage, the blood pulsing from his body and pooling towards her shoes.

Her gaze moved across the room, still gripping the podium and keeping her head and torso perfectly still. Where had her father gone? He’d stepped off stage when Melissa began her speech but she couldn’t see him or his bodyguard. The eyes of the armed man who spoke locked onto her making her skin crawl at the darkness behind them. Even though he was wearing a mask, she could tell he was smirking behind the fabric as he stomped towards her.

One of her hands released the podium, placing itself protective over her swollen belly, and she gulped nervously. “W-what do you w-want?” Her voice stuttered, failing to sound as strong as she wanted.

“Where is your father darlin’?” The man’s voice was low and gravelled but somehow purred with malicious intent.

Melissa opened her mouth but words failed her. Her heart thundered in her chest, eyes flicking sharply between his eyes and the gun in his hand that was poised directly at her. It felt like her lungs had stopped working, she couldn’t breathe. Another contraction tore through her body and she whimpered, cradling her belly and gripping the podium with white knuckles.

“WHERE is George Matthews?!” The man yelled across the lobby, stepping right beside Melissa and putting the gun against the side of her waist.

This close, she could smell his aftershave, the stink of his breath pungent with every syllable pronounced. There was two more shots from the kitchen, a cry of pain, followed by silence. Less than a minute later, two men emerged.

“Rest of the security is dead boss.” One said, nursing his arm. “Bastard killed Milo and Jamie though.”

“Then that shouldn’t stop you from FINDING THE SENATOR!” The leader shouted, pressing the pistol a little tighter to Melissa. “Search the building!” He pointed at Evie with his handgun. “You! You’re a reporter right? Make sure the world knows this is what happens when cowards are allowed on Capitol Hill.” One of the masked men ran up to him.

“Cops are on the way. Silent alarm was tripped.”

The leader growled. “Fine.” He said after a moment. “Three minutes, then we go plan B.” He got close to Melissa, inhaling deeply. “Shame on your daddy for leaving a girl to take a man’s punishment.” He said. “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you too bad.”

The man’s hand gripped her bare arm, pressing the small circular barrel of the gun against her side. Those three minutes were the longest of her life as the other armed men searched the lobby and surrounding rooms for her father. The boss meanwhile had gotten closer, his body almost pressed against her side as she stood frozen on stage.

“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you.” He sneered quietly into her ear, his hand releasing her arm to stroke the soft curls of her auburn hair. “The photos don’t do you justice.”

“P-please…. I’m pregnant, don’t hurt my baby.” Melissa croaked.

“Oh I’m well aware of your… condition.” His hand travelled from her hair down the length of her body until it landed on the full swell she was carrying. “So big, bursting with new life. It's a shame their grandfather is a double crossing bastard.”

Melissa’s breath hitched with another contraction, grimacing and gritting her teeth as everything tightened and squeezed and pulled downwards. The Boss just took her reaction as one of fear, laughing as his hand splayed across her belly while the other kept firm on the gun pressing into her side.

She was trembling, paralysed by fear. She always thought she would be good in a crisis, headstrong and fierce, and yet now when the cards were down she couldn’t move. Begging to protect the life of her child.

Another masked armed man jumped up onto the stage. “Boss - we gotta go. Cops are getting too close.”

“Times up sweetheart.” The leader sneered, letting go of her belly and grabbing her arm once more. He looked out from the stage, at the sea of people now all on their knees cowering. “This is a message for George Matthews - If you ever want to see your daughter and grandchild again, you will reverse your decision and meet our demands!!”

The leader yanked harshly against Melissa, tearing her away from the podium which she was still gripping for dear life. She stumbled, knees threatening to give way.

“No! Please— you can’t do this—” she yelled as she tried to break free from his grip only for the other man to grab her other bicep. Together they dragged her stumbling off stage.

Every instinct was screaming at her to fight, to kick and punch and claw her way out but the men were too strong. Pulling her towards the door she could barely stay standing, her knees wide and shaking. Another agonising unyielding pressure wrapped across her middle and her cries of protest turned into groans of pain.

“Unhhhh— no— please don’t do this… don’t take me. I’m— I’m having a baby—” The admission came from her mouth without even realising, desperation forcing her to admit aloud that she was in labour.

But the true meaning of her words were lost to her kidnappers, thinking she was just referring to her very obvious pregnancy. “Shut up!” One yelled, while the other yanked her harshly through the doors and out of the venue.

They didn’t slow for her. The men practically forced Melissa to skip steps as they descended to the parking lot where the unmarked blue van awaited them. Every shove, every yank, all contributed to her already advancing labor. No one was going to save her, they’d said as much. The men from the kitchen, where Victor had gone, their words hung in the air. The bodyguard was dead.

The Boss shoved her, hard, into the van. Others piled in behind. Distant sirens echoed through the forest, the police, safety was almost there.

“Get moving!” The boss yelled to the driver, and the van jerked to life, screeching tires leaving two dark rubber lines on the road. They were underway. The boss looked at Melissa, and smiled, removing his mask. “You ain’t leaving till your old man reverses the choices…” His eyes dropped to her belly. “But I wonder how much extra he’d pay to save a grandkid.”

“Don’t touch me—” Melissa shrivelled back from the leader, using her feet to push herself into the corner of the van in an attempt to stop his giant hand from touching her skin. Every pore was sensitive and sweating, her breathing heavy and laboured through the ever increasing tightness wrapping across her middle.

With his mask removed she could see the unkept beard that framed his jagged face. But those eyes… the way he looked at her, the way his gaze travelled down her body.

Another contraction had her arms wrapped around her bump, bending forward slightly in her awkward seated position on the floor of the van. “Oooohhh….” A low moan slipped freely from her mouth as she breathed deeply through the intense feeling of her womb contracting. Why were they so intense… her hips were screaming at her to move but the guns pointed in her direction kept her in place. There was no denying it anymore, these pains were happening too often, too intensely. She was in labour…in labour and kidnapped. She was in labour, kidnapped, and the father of her child had just been murdered. The tears rolled silently down her cheeks as she moaned through the contraction.

“Stop your whining! We’re not even touching you!” One of the men, who had kept on his mask, snarled and lifted his gun towards her face to make a point.

“Whoa… hang on a sec Clyde.” The leader interrupted, looking curiously at Melissa. His large hand moved to her rounded stomach, splaying wide across its surface over the fabric of her black dress, feeling the hardened muscles beneath. Melissa’s breathing was heavy, terrified and struggling to get through the contraction without moaning.

“Fuck—” the man cursed with a gravelled voice.

“What’s going on back there Boss?” The driver called, taking a turn with enough speed to force the others to grab hold of the grips.

“This got much more interesting boys.” Boss said, a smile that would curdle milk directed right at Melissa. “Looks like this girl is about to give us another hostage.”

“What? Wait, she’s having the kid?!”

“Oh yes. And trying her damndest not to show it.” He began to rub her belly, the gun still trained. “Ain’t that right girly?”

“The hell are we doing here? We can’t have her do that in the van! Boss! We need to pull over.”

“No! We are going to the hideout. She can hold it till then.” Boss looked at her, now kneeling so he could lean close. The other men averted their eyes as he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Be good.”

“Fuck this. We need to reassess.” Clyde said. “Pull over!”

Despite the fury in the Boss’s eyes, the van pulled into a gravel cutout and turned off. The men filed out, some arguing. Boss lingered a moment, keeping his eyes on her like a stalker finally close enough to touch his obsession.

Melissa opened her mouth to speak, to plead with him to let her go, but all that came out was a low strained moaning sound as her belly contracted harshly beneath the weight of the Boss’s hand. The relentless pressure in her hips had Melissa pushing her hands into the cold metal floor of the van trying to ease the discomfort any way she could.

“Yesss…. Oh darlin’ you’re really havin’ this baby soon aren’t ya?” The leader’s voice was thick, captivated by what was happening right in front of him.

“I need a h-hospital— ooooohhh— please let me-go-unnnngh—”

“I’m not letting you out my sight sweetheart.” He crooned, his hand moving around in large circles over her belly as if committing this moment to his memory, the way her skin was so firm and taut beneath his scabbed fingers. “You look like you’re about to drop this kid any second. So full and round. And to think… your father made you come to his ridiculous party when you were so close to giving birth.”

He leaned in closer, the smell of his stagnant breath on her cheek making her want to vomit, and he whispered into her ear “…and I’m so glad he did.”

He bit her ear, tugging it ever so slightly before pressing his hand harder onto her belly. “Maybe I should check that progress for you. Papers said you ain’t got a man for the kid… I’ll step in.”

Outside, the arguing between the men continued, till from nowhere the revving of an engine filled the air. Through the open side door, Melissa watched three men disappear. A flash of light had preceded it, a car, travelling at insane speeds plowed through the three men. Cries of pain and agony were drowned by the screeching of tires.

“Boss!” Clyde called, one of three who hadn’t been hit. “Boss it’s the bodyguard!”

Gunshots followed immediately, hitting Clyde in the neck, his blood spraying out to cover Melissa and the Boss. The last two living kidnappers opened fire as well, but over the fight, one word could be heard, a man screaming a name.

“Melissa! MELISSA!”

That sounded like— no, it couldn’t be— Melissa’s head craned towards the side of the van to look through the open door trying to see the owner of the voice calling her name. The leader, covered in blood, caught her movements and shoved her back into the corner of the van.

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not going anywhere!” He spat, kneeling up, blocking her view out the door and gripping her harshly in place.

Yelling and more gunshots roared from beyond the vehicle, someone was fighting against her kidnappers, someone was helping. Even if it wasn’t Victor, even if he wasn’t dead, there was a small glimpse of hope and Melissa grabbed onto it tightly and screamed loudly.

“HELP!!! Help me please!” The air tore from her lungs, desperation to get away from this man pumping adrenaline through her veins.

The man smacked her across the face and covered her mouth with his dirty hand. Melissa pushed against him, clawing and biting to get free, drawing on some primal unknown strength to get to safety…to get to whoever might be helping her. But another contraction twisted her insides, drawing her knees up towards her belly as she curled forwards and groaned into her attacker’s palm. It was too much; the pressure, the tightness, the pain coursing between her hips and shooting up her spine. It was overwhelming. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, the contraction reaching its peak, and she didn’t see the shadow now standing in the doorframe.

Victor appeared as a specter. In the hotels kitchen he’d been shot in the arm and had another bullet graze his head knocking him unconscious. Upon waking, he’d found and killed the kidnapper whom had been sent to find the Senator. From there it was all a blur, pain and excruciating fear for a life not his own drove him into the parking lot as the kidnappers had escaped. He barely recalled breaking into a car and stealing it, all he saw was red.

Now here he was, out of ammo, yet full of rage.

“Hey!” He growled, and with practiced ferocity, grabbed ahold of the Boss’ belt and collar, using his adrenaline to throw the man out of the van and into the road with his dead comrades. The boss’s gun went with him. Victor advanced, knowing he needed to check Melissa but too scared, too angry to let himself think in that way. He beat on the man, holding his shirt in one hand to lift his face into the punches. “I. Will. Fucking. Kill you!” Victor shouted. He dropped to his knees, straddling the man’s body. Again, Victor pulled him close, but this blow wasn’t from a fist, but an angry headbutt. The Boss was out, dead or unconscious Victor didn’t care. Melissa was what mattered.

“Mel…” He croaked, rising unsteadily. Victor limped back into her view, a shaking hand coming to touch her cheek. “I told you I’d be back…”

“V-Victor?” Melissa croaked, blinking in disbelief and crawling across the van floor to the door where he stood. “I- I thought you were dead… they… they said they killed all the security…”

She could hardly believe her eyes. The love of her life, the father of her child, standing right there covered in blood and surrounded by bodies. He took her hand and waist, helping her slowly out of the van. She was trembling.

“Wha— how are you here?” Words nearly failed her. But she threw her arms around him, clinging on to his clothing and breathing in his cologne, as if touching him would make this all real.

“What matters is I’m here sweetheart, and you’re ok.” Victor couldn’t bring himself to break the hug, even to check on her condition. “How is she?” Concern bleeding into the question. “Did they hurt either of you?” His hand moved down, rubbing her belly. The touch was from love and concern rather than the malicious intent that Boss had used. This was a man who wanted to protect. He felt that perpetual tightness, but his thoughts were too laser focused on injuries to realize that this wasn’t normal. “I’m so sorry, I’ll never leave your side again.”

She pulled back slightly looking up into his sparkling blue eyes, allowing his hand to cradle the swell of her belly that was wedged between them. “No….” She said quietly, shaking her head. “T-they didn’t hurt me or the baby… but… Vi—”

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Victor kissed her sweat-dampened forehead, moving his hand around her waist to support her weight and guiding Melissa away from the blood and bodies littered around the van.

The adrenaline still pumping through her body was the only thing keeping her legs from buckling as they moved slowly down the gravelled path back towards the main road. The smell of burning rubber ghosted her nostrils, a car abandoned nearby still smoking from the bonnet. She didn’t recognise the car but the blood smears on the open door aligned with the stains on Victor's suit.

“Are you hurt?” Melissa asked concerned, stopping to look him over, checking for signs of serious injuries. She knew he could survive anything, her strong protector, but the sight of what she was now discovering to be his own blood was turning her stomach.

“Nah.” He said, his lie obvious to anyone who heard it. “Just a little scratch, I’ve got band aids in the ho-.” In the blink of an eye, Victors gaze left hers, and stared off towards the van. His eyes widened, and grip tightening on her arm he spun his body to place himself between her, and the awakening Boss. A single shot rang, and Victor cried out in pain, and fell to a knee.

When Melissa turned, she saw the blood coming from Victors abdomen, and the Boss grinning.

“I told you I’d step up girlie.” He sneered. “That boy isn’t worth shit, have a real man.”

“Run…” Victor gasped. “Run!” A hand pressed to the hole in his stomach, Victor managed to get himself and Melissa moving before a second shot rang. There was no third, only a click followed by cursing. The bastard was out of ammo, but that didn’t mean he was harmless. The others had guns, a rifle and two shotguns.

“You can run girlie! But I ain’t no absentee dad!” A deranged cackle followed them into the woods.

“J-Just keep moving Mel.” Victor's voice was low, the blood loss already affecting him. “I’ll get you out…”

He swayed, unsteady, and Melissa found herself having to support him slightly as they ran into the thick dense forest. Her stomach turned as she looked down to his hand, clutched firm against his middle. There was so much blood. Dripping between his fingers and seeping into his already stained shirt.

“Victor… you're—you’ve been— oh my god….” The words barely audible through her heavy breathing as she pushed to move as fast as she could. With one hand supporting injured Victor the other cradled her full and heavy belly, each step was agony throughout her pelvis and spine.

With slow movements they somehow managed to make it deeper into the woods beyond the direct line of sight from the road. That man, that ‘Boss’… he wasn’t dead, he was still alive! The whites around his eyes as he had called after her were enough to prove his insanity and anger. Victor’s breath hitched beside her, clearly struggling as much as she to move at any sort of speed away from the vengeful kidnapper.

But then she stopped abruptly. Looking down with betrayal at her own belly as a sharp and twisting contraction came crashing over the horizon and swept her away with the pain. “Oooohhh…. No… not again—not now…”

Reaching forward her hands braced against a nearby tree as the full strength of active labour tore through her body and an instinctual moan slipped past gritted teeth. The weight of the baby felt so low it forced her legs apart, an urgent pressure growing between her hips. Victor was clutching his own stomach, stumbling back to where she’d stopped, looking pale and horrified.

Melissa opened her mouth to speak, to explain, Victor didn’t know she was in labour! But the contraction peaked, skyrocketing to higher levels than any of the others she’d felt. Instead of words a low rumbling sound came from deep in her throat, nearly grunting as her knees dipped and hips jutted back, feeling a distinct shift—

Something gave way. Something changed. The pressure went away in an instant. But it was followed by a warmth dribbling down her inner thighs and her eyes flashed wide in sheer panic.

At first, Victor had thought it was simply a break. He was ready to tell her that there was no time. But then she doubled over, not too dissimilar to all those times she’d tried to go jogging while pregnant and wound out gasping for breath. He almost laughed, delirium telling him that this was a moment to make light. The grunts were odd, his mind worked to put the pieces together. The logical answer was impossible. After all, she wasn’t due till next week.

“Melissa?” He questioned, only to see her dress soiled, and a small puddle below her. “Oh…” Victor's confusion was evident, then his eyes went wide as hers! “Oh! Shit, shit.” He hissed. “You’re in labor?!” He was panicking. Immediately, a hand went to her stomach, and another to her cheek. “How close?” He whispered.

“I…I don’t know…. too close…” she said breathlessly, still recovering from the intense contraction. Her bottom lip quivered as she looked at her partner, the faint smell of copper in the air as his bloodied hand cupped her cheek.

“I think I might have been in labour all day…” Every word was an effort, her body trying to draw all its focus inward onto the primal efforts of its task. But she couldn’t give birth out here… couldn’t have this baby now. The Boss was still alive, Victor had been shot, and they were stuck with no transport in the middle of nowhere.

“W-what are we going to do?” She panted, her fingers lacing with his on her full and low hanging belly.

It was dark in the woods, the only source of light coming from the full moon in the clear sky. But even in the low light she could see the paleness of Victor’s skin, the blood loss draining the colour from his cheeks. A stark comparison to her own flushed expression as each breath that filled her lungs was heavy and measured even between contractions. Melissa had no idea how far along she was in her labour, no clue how close their baby was to being born. But her waters breaking and the steady unyielding weight in her pelvis was not a good sign.

“What?! Like now? Is, is she…” Victor looked down at her, an image popping into his head of a baby dangling between Melissa’s legs. “Is she out? She coming now!? What do we do?” Victor asked. He thought there was going to be time, he thought he’d have a whole week to read the baby books? How long was labor supposed to even last? An hour? Two? The movies always implied it was fast and loud, a sure way of them both getting killed belt the kidnapper. Melissa’s body was ejecting their baby, and there wasn’t a way to stop it.

“Ok, ok.” He breathed, quickly looking back in the direction they’d come from. “C-can you just like… not have her yet? We can’t stop here.” Another glance down, panic evident. “Just hold her in like there’s a line in the bathroom, right?”

Nearby the cracking of branches announced the Boss stalking closer. He was still ranting.

“I ain’t got money for child support!” He was calling. “But I won’t raise no coward like that body man of yours!”

“H-hold her in—? Fucks sake Victor…. It doesn’t work like that….ooohhh….” Melissa snapped before humming behind closed lips. There wasn’t a contraction happening but that weight…. deep in her pelvis it felt like there was a bowling ball between her hips.

“She’s not coming out right now but… oh I don’t know, she feels so low. And the contractions are so strong already…. I don’t know how long we have…” she admitted, rubbing the underside of her belly as Victor looked nervously in the direction they had travelled. The thumping of her heart in her ears was so loud, she didn’t hear the rustling of the trees or snapping of the branches. But her blood went cold at the sound of her kidnappers' voice. Getting closer.

“Can you move?” Victor asked her, his eyes showing concern only for her even with a gunshot wound to the stomach.

Melissa nodded, still cradling her belly. With Herculean effort she moved away from the tree and they staggered deeper into the forest.

He wanted to carry her, anything to help her, but even moving was an effort on Victors part. The hole in his stomach was going to make this all much more stressful no doubt. They moved, the pace slow and sloppy. Even in the darkness, it was like following a bull in a china shop. Branches broke, bushes rustled, and Victor was silently cursing. At one point, Melissa had to stop, and he was forced to make her move even as a contraction wracked her body. With regret he took hold of her arms, and guided her.

“You can’t hide girlie!” The voice was further away. Had he actually lost them? Or was this simply a game to him? With the deranged sadistic mind chasing them, the latter was more likely.

“Keep moving.” Victor mumbled, his voice was getting quieter, and Melissa could tell it wasn’t because he was forcing it to. Victor was well and truly lost in the woods, his sense of direction evaporating. He had to protect her, that’s all he knew.

“Hooo…hoooo… ohhh Victor…” Melissa whimpered, her knees trembling and her gait wide as they staggered through the dark wood. “Mmmmhhh…. Oh god I can feel her… she’s so low—ughh-!”

She nearly doubled over as she clasped her rounded belly and pulled upwards, trying to relieve the building pressure. Another contraction had her curled into Victor's arms and gritting her teeth, trying desperately not to moan as her muscles contracted and her belly turned to stone against him.

“I— ohhhh— I need you to check me— she feels like she’s right there—” she gasped into his bloodied shoulder, nearly biting down as the pressure spiked. Barely able to speak Melissa prayed the baby wasn’t as close as it felt… she almost felt like she needed to—

The contraction finished and she gasped for air, pushing her intrusive thoughts away. They would make it to safety. They simply had to.

“Check?” Victor looked at her like she was insane. “H-how?”

The look Melissa gave him was a mix of exasperation and exhaustion.

“Right, right…” He had to do it fast, the kidnapper was on their trail. Victor helped her to the tree, seeing how her belly sat impossibly low. Cursing her overly tight dress, he managed to lift it just enough, and knelt. Well, there was no head between her legs, and for that he was thankful. “She’s not there.”

Melissa groaned. “Fingers. In.” Her voice came between breaths.

“Fingers… Melissa that…”

He couldn’t tell if the sound that came was a growl from her or simply more pain management from the baby coming, so he obliged.

Her hose were ruined, and panties soiled, but there was nothing to be done about that. Grabbing the hem, he tugged and moved till he had access to her. As gently as he could, he inserted two fingers. How deep was he even supposed to go? He didn’t feel a head or anything, was he supposed to? Maybe they had time after all.

“You’re good Mel.” He said, putting her clothes back rather than pulling them off. They had time for that later, he was sure. “Her head is nowhere I can reach.”

She nodded, swallowing a deep breath. “Okay…. Okay that’s a good thing. Unnngh… it certainly doesn’t feel like it but if you can’t feel anything…”

As Victor stood up from his knees, wincing and holding his stomach, she managed a smile. This man would move heaven and earth for her. “Thank you.” She kissed his lips lightly, holding on to his shoulders as her head tilted up to meet him.

“Are you alright Victor?” She asked, feeling his clammy skin against her cheek. The baby kicked, harsh and disgruntled. “We need to get moving again, I don’t think she’s going to wait for much longer. That last one was strong, I almost felt like I needed to…”

Her sentence trailed off, not wanting to say the word aloud. But her body knew, like an instinct somewhere in the recess of her mind. They were running out of time. There was something pressing down so deep inside, urgent and heavy, and somehow she knew the head of their daughter was right up against her cervix. Every move they made brought them closer to meeting their baby, but they couldn’t stop.

A cackling laugh suddenly echoed through the woods followed by a very loud gunshot.

The trunk not far from them exploded in a shower of bark. Pellets from a pump action shotgun did very little from a distance, but that didn’t stop a lucky shot from killing you. Victor was growling with effort, trying to get them both moving. The further and longer they ran, the slower they became. Melissa, to her credit, did keep a consistent pace. However each step appeared to force her stance wider and wider, like a saddle sore horseman. The perpetual leaning forward of her posture caused growing concern. Visually her belly looked the same as earlier, so that meant the baby was still up there right? When she got small then he would need to worry.

Another gunshot, another tree peppered with led pellets. The kidnapper was far from being in effective range, but he was catching up.

Another sound became prominent the further they moved. A roar, for lack of a better word. It took far too long for Victor to realize exactly what that sound was. Water, rushing water. Pulling Melissa behind a tree, he caught his own breath while letting her catch hers.

“Hear that?” He asked hoarsely. “That’s a river. That’s our ticket. We will never outrun him.” Victor removed his shirt, leaving only the blood stained undershirt as he tied a makeshift bandage around his stomach. A wince escaped his lips as he tightened it. “Nngh, jump in, let the rush carry you…” He said. Victors adrenaline was waning, and to Melissa’s eyes he’d appear on the cusp of passing out.

“My little baby here yet!” That cackling voice called. “I got so many lessons to teach! Including how to properly discipline a mother who don’t FUCKIN LISTEN!”

Victor took Melissa’s shaking hands. “I love you. I promise you will get out of here.”

“Me…? W-what about you?” Her eyes were wide, searching his, trying to understand what he was suggesting. As realisation dawned her mouth hung open. “You can’t leave me!…. I can’t do this without you….”

Victor seemed determined, military training having taken over with logical thinking. But he could barely walk as well, practically all the colour was gone from his face and his clothes were drenched with blood from the wound on his stomach.

“What are you gonna do Vic? You haven’t got any weapons. Hell, you can barely stand. You can’t fight him, he’ll kill you—ooooohhhh—”

Another contraction had Melissa grunting as her knees began to buckle. “Nnnnghh…. I can’t do this… ohhh… the baby is coming soon… don’t make me do this alone….”

Melissa whimpered, knees shaking as she gripped onto Victor for dear life, trying to get through the agonising wave forcing more and more pressure deep into her pelvis.

Victor sighed, he had to do this, he had to protect Melissa and their daughter.

“Mel…” He said, trying to find the strength to argue, he had none. The dress was so strained, her hair plastered to her face. The makeup long since wiped away from the combination of tears and sweat. Victor could only imagine how he looked to her. He pulled her close, arms wrapping around her body. Up close hugs had become a thing of the past after their daughter joined, her growth causing her parents to be unable to embrace like they once had. Victor knew there was no time, but he waited, waited for her grip to loosen, his only outward sign that the contraction was over.

“I’ll come. But, baby, I need you to promise me.” He forced her eyes to meet his, thumb and index fingers on her chin. She was so beautiful, so strong, fierce, loyal, independent. She was going to be one hell of a mother. “If you have the opportunity, to escape…” His breathing was uneven, something had to be wrong inside that he wasn’t letting on about. “You run. And you don’t stop till you find the cops.”

Far away, the eerie sound of a deranged man singing a lullaby reached through the woods.

“Promise Melissa. Protect her, before you worry about me.”

The couple remained silent, no exchange or words could soften the awful request he was making. Victor would remain as long as he could, but his time was limited, and he knew it.

They left the spot, moving at a glacial pace thanks to the constant contractions their daughter was causing. Each stop he saw the woman he loved descend further into pain, panic, and worry. The dress was torn in spots now, and her feet, he wanted to give her his shoes but had no time to stop, and they wouldn’t fit her anyways. He kept them both moving, following the growing sound of the river. It was their only hope.

They reached the riverbank, both out of breath as they looked across the ravine. The moonlight reflected off its surface, twinkling like stars on the dark depths of the water rushing down stream. Melissa was clutching her belly, panting even between contractions, trying to hold the baby inside of her anyway she could.

“I— I don’t know if I can get down there—” she said under her breath, looking hesitantly at their only option. The river was just so wide, so deep, a black abyss of uncertainty. Her legs were like jelly, wide and unsteady. The baby was so low it felt like she was seconds from dropping into a squat just to relieve the nauseating pressure.

The next contraction came before they could formulate a plan, and her body did exactly what she feared. Grabbing Victor's arm as her knees buckled, Melissa dropped into a squat and a low mooing sound came from the depths of her chest.

“Oh fuck— uhhhh— pressure—” her knuckles were white pulling Victor down as she sank further into the squat. “—nnngh— I think— I think I wanna push—?”

“Push? Nonono.” Victor practically fell beside her. “Melissa, don’t push.” He tried to touch her bump, finding it a malformed mass rather than its previously rounded state. “Breathe, j-just breathe. All we have to do is, ah!” He winced as she pulled him closer. For fear of her making too much noise, he pulled her into a hug, his free hand pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder. “Do whatever you have to do, but you can’t push Mel.” His eyes darted the treeline praying that their pursuer wouldn’t hear whatever noises she had to make to prevent pushing.

Melissa clung awkwardly to his body, her knees had spread wide in her squat but her face was somehow buried against his neck. Groaning deeply she worked through the intensity of the contraction, feeling every millimetre of progress her body had made now in this position. Her hips felt like they were being wedged apart, her lungs ached from each ragged breath. She resorted to panting, heavily and desperate as the pressure built quickly to its peak. Mercifully the contraction let her go and the sudden panicked urgency of birth faded away.

“Oh my god…. That was…. Oooohh….” Forming any sort of sentence was an effort but she slumped against him breathing slower and she hoped it would be taken as a sign the moment had passed.

Slowly she lifted her head, worrying filling her eyes as she looked desperately to Victor whose arms were still supporting her squatted position. “I think we’re running out of time…”

“You got that right darlin’…” A cold voice came from behind the trees.

Victor moved in the blink of an eye, yanking her up to her feet at the sound of a gun being loaded. “Jump!” He yelled, squeezing her hand tight. Obeying without question, survival instincts giving her the required strength, together they leapt off the riverbank.

The shock of ice cold water hitting them was akin to a freight train running down a car. For Victor, it spiked his adrenaline to the point that he forgot he’d even been shot. Heart pounding, he fought the current to reach the surface with speed. Was he still holding Melissa’s hand? Victor squeezed, finding that she was in fact still there. For Melissa, it only made things worse. Ice cold water forced all her muscles to contract involuntarily. In the dark depthless river, Victors hand was the only comfort.

He found her with his other hand, and kicked down hard, bringing them both back up to the air. Only seconds were spent submerged, yet it felt like an eternity since the pair had breathed air. Silence fell as the roaring returned. In the short time, the couple was already nearly a hundred yards downstream. Their pursuer was nowhere in sight, had he jumped too? Or simply given up? The latter was too good to be true. A rock hitting his leg pulled Victor from his thoughts, and he tightened his grip on Melissa, doing all he could to keep her above water.

“Hold on!” He shouted, and she could feel him not only holding her, but also wrapping around an arm to protect their baby in her womb.

The need for air triumphed over the pain and the ice cold water. She tried to move her legs, to swim so Victor didn’t have to keep all three of them afloat, but her lower half had stopped listening to her mind… legs spreading under water around the head constantly pressing against her cervix.

Water spluttered from her lips as she groaned, her body contracting, the baby moving down. The water was strong, plunging down stream with a frightening ferocity. Their heads kept getting pulled under, but Victor’s arm around her body kept bringing them to the surface.

Goosebumps covered her body, she had been so hot and sweaty trying to escape the wood in active labour but now every pore had clamped up against the frozen temperature and was screaming in protest. Her ripped dress was thankfully short enough to have ridden up her thighs but its fabric was tight across her skin, making her feel trapped in both the water and her own clothing.

They weren’t going to make it. This would be how it ends… drowning in the dark. Never meeting her daughter. Never marrying Victor. Never having that happy life she had pictured.

But then the water calmed, no longer pulling them under and almost lazily carrying them down stream.

“V-Victor— are you okay?” She gasped, still secure in his arms as he worked tirelessly to save them.

“I’ve. Been. Better.” He said between gulping breaths. He kept her tightly held to him, a hand against her contracting womb. Even submerged, he could feel how different her belly was. “Let’s not, do that again.” He forced a smile, it was weak, and the hair plastered to his face thanks to the water made it seem like a delusional joke.

For a few minutes, they just floated, the pair catching their collective breaths till Victor asked the question he’d been afraid to ask.

“How close?” No context was needed, for only one thing could make Victor, a man of action, bravery, and integrity soften his voice and fill it with such concern. His chest was to her back, an arm around her chest just beneath her breasts and above her belly, while the other remained on her stomach. Could that jump have hurt their girl? Could it all have caused her to be born in the water?

Melissa’s legs floated uselessly in the water, naturally wide apart, her dress gathered just under her hips. At Victor’s question she lowered a shivering hand around her belly and felt between her thighs. She winced at the touch of her own hand, sore and swollen behind the thin fabric of her black underwear.

“She’s not… coming out yet… but she’s definitely right there.” Melissa said with a cracked, rough voice. All the water and spluttering having scratched her throat raw.

“I— I can’t close my legs anymore, the head is that low…” Delirious from their near-drowning, a quiet laugh escaped Melissa’s lips. “But I think the jumping and ice cold swimming might have scared her from her arrival…”

As the sounds of the flowing water slowed, Melissa realised they had entered shallower waters and Victor was pulling them towards the bank. The edge was rocky, large boulders creating a bottleneck where the river quietened to a gentle stream. It was still deep and the water almost black in the dark midnight. Her bare feet found the bottom of the riverbed, her shoes for the evening's party long gone, and she tentatively stood upright in the water bracing against a boulder. Victor slumped exhausted against it beside her.

The movement of her legs and body prompted the sudden arrival of the next contraction. Her hands flew out against the rock as everything squeezed aggressively. “Unnnnghhh— fuck— Victor!”

Words failed her as the baby shifted, pressing urgently downwards and drawing a grunting sound from her throat. The instinct to squat… to open… returned with a vengeance and her knees trembled slowly bending. Dipping down into the icy water all she could manage to say was “—pressure—!”

“Mel, Mel we’re so close.” He said, lifting himself to try and discourage her from pushing. “Just keep her in a little bit longer, please.” He could only see her upper body, the woman whom he’d fallen in love with nearly a year ago. It felt odd, having a reflective moment here and now. This independent free spirit that had struck him as a nuisance on their first meeting, now actively laboring with their child. And here he was telling her not to.

With the stream being more of a gentle rush rather than its frantic roar, everything could be heard better, and much to his dismay, the groaning Melissa had been trying to suppress for so long echoed throughout the small gorge, flying in all directions to give them away. Hand on his stomach, he looked for something, anything that could help them. Reflected by the moon on the slow moving water, he spotted it. Decades of erosion ate away at the banks of the river, leaving spots sporadically where one might be able to hide outside of the forest's view.

“Ok j-just breathe.” Victor got behind her, pressing the heel of his hand into her lower back and massaging. It’d relieved some discomfort in the late months of her pregnancy, perhaps it could do some good here as well.

Automatically her hips jutted backwards against his firm hand, an instinctual shift to get counter pressure. With a shaky inhale Melissa focused on his words and his hands, releasing her breath as slow as she could manage.

“Hooooo— ohhhh I really want to push V-Vic—” her words a quiet whimper amongst her moaned breathing. It felt like the baby’s head was rammed against her bones, urgent and insistent. With wet palms slapping against the rock she growled through the peak and very nearly gave into her body’s instincts.

His hands stayed strong on her hips, squeezing and moving in tandem, as she shifted her weight side to side in the water. “I… don’t know if I can…hold back the urges much…longer…” Melissa admitted quietly. Not daring to let go from where she was braced against the rock.

“Ok.” He soothed. She was in pain, his only love was suffering. Victor took a look around again. There was no sign of the man, maybe they could rest, if only for a minute of two. “Melissa this is what I want you to do. Little pushes, j-just enough to ease the pressure.” Victor had no idea if that was how it worked or not, but he had to try. “I’ll help you walk, over there.” He nodded to the alcove.

They waited, five seconds, ten, thirty, when Melissa finally took a step it was unsteady, and Victor, despite his own pain, had to support her. Downstream the river was running crimson, his makeshift bandage had dislodged when they rushed down river. Victor didn’t care, his eyes were on Melissa. Her legs couldn’t get closer than shoulder width anymore. Was that the pain? Or was their daughter lodged so deep in her hips that it made it impossible? They stopped again, a little over halfway there.

“Do you need me to check again?” He asked, pressing a little harder into her lower back.

Melissa hummed her answer, nodding vehemently. Wading down the rivers edge would be difficult enough in this darkness even without a baby lodged between her hips. Every step felt like it could shift the baby that final inch right into position that would have her uncontrollably bearing down.

She grit her teeth, bending over slightly to brace her own thighs and would have bobbed under the surface if it weren’t for Victor’s arm around her waist keeping her upright. All logical thinking went out the window as the pressure thumped steadily downwards, contraction or not, it was always there reminding her of what needed to happen. Melissa barely registered the blood seeping more and more from Victor’s wounds, couldn’t think of anything bar the primal urges screaming through body.

“P-p-please check me— oh god— I really wanna push— I need to p—” Her legs twitched beneath the water, a growl of failed restraint echoing from her lungs, finally bearing down with the urge.

Victor acted fast, his arms going under hers to prevent Melissa from sinking deeper into a squat as her body finally got a little of what it wanted. Far too exposed in their current position, Victor practically forced Melissa’s legs to follow along with her body as he worked to guide her on. The fabric clinging to her belly shifted with each movement, and if it weren’t for the elements around them, he felt it would probably be a relief if he’d just tear all the restricting clothes off of her. However, that restriction was partially what was helping them delay their daughter's imminent arrival.

After her contraction ended, Melissa was paler than before. Resistance to her natural needs was taxing her to the point of what Victor thought was dangerous. Finally in the little nook, he leaned her against the vertical bank. Just as before, he knelt, wincing audibly as he tried to resist his own pain while simultaneously fighting her dress for access. The river water was murky and laced with grime, much of which was now caking the couple. Her thighs were dirty and scratched, and Victor found himself regretting making her jump.

“You’re doing so good.” He said, and Melissa had to take a moment to see that he was talking to both of them, mother, and daughter. With speed only mustered from panic and will, he pulled down her panty hose again as pushed her black panties off to the side. Just two fingers, he slid in. Barely past his second knuckle, he felt it. A tiny, solid mass, rounded with what he could only assume was a full head of hair.

“Shit…” He muttered. “Shit shit shit.” That was what? Three inches? Maybe four? The baby was so close to coming that renewed panic filled his mind. “She’s right there.” Victor said, rubbing Melissa’s thigh. “Only a few inches. Can, can you just, push her out real quick?” His cluelessness as to how birth worked remained his greatest shortfall. Not knowing that Melissa would have to fight with her body for every centimeter.

The laughter that came from her mouth was predominantly delirium. “I thought… we were trying to keep her in…?” Melissa said, leaning back against the riverbank and feeling the mud and roots on her spine.

The water levels had lessened significantly at this point in the river, but that meant gravity was pulling harder on all her muscles. Including the weight of the baby wedged in her pelvis and forcing her legs apart. “As— much as I want— to give birth— oooooh— I don’t think a crying baby is going to keep us hidden from that mad bastard.”

The reality of what Victor had said took a few moments to catch up with her brain. “What did you… did you say you could feel her? Our daughter?” The crack of emotion was clear in her voice just as much as it was mirrored in Victor’s eyes. Their daughter… she was almost here. “What are we gonna do?… I don’t think I can hold back from pushing anymore… I definitely pushed a little just now.”

The urgency of the situation got stronger with every contraction. The weight she carried, lower and lower in her hips was only going to end one way. Her hands were wet and muddied as she rubbed the swell of her belly, silently wishing her daughter to slow down. Melissa grimaced and shifted in the water, her tights pulling harsh around her thighs from where Victor had pulled them down.

“Ugh…. Just rip them off… they keep catching on everything and it feels like they are cutting me in half…” she asked with a frustrated huff, gesturing to the pantyhose littered with holes.

It was an easy enough request. Getting a good grip on one of the tears closest to her belly, he pulled apart. Fabric separated with the ease of paper. Within seconds, Melissa was left with her legs fully exposed to the elements, not that the tights had done much to deter them in the first place. Anger and anguish in equal measure bubbled as her bare legs and thighs were finally revealed. She was covered in bruises and little cuts. What he’d thought was mostly mud was in fact the woman he loved getting all sorts of scars.

“That better?” He asked, tossing the ruined tights into the river. Victor rose to his feet, one hand resting on the bank for support, the other pressing firmly into his side. “We can’t stay here long Mel.” He hissed. Victors eyes expressed the pain he was feeling yet refused to voice. “I need to get you somewhere that you can deliver, a road, a cave, fuck I’d take some hollowed out tree. So long as it’s warm and dry.” Both were pipe dreams, Victor was kidding himself about all of this. Every second out here, exposed and in the open, was a greater risk he’d lose the only two lives that he cared about. “But, you’re right. She can’t come yet, it’ll give us away and risk her even more. So, try to not push. Maybe one little one here and there, but we have to protect her. She’s safest inside you…” Forcing a smile, he got his weight under himself, taking away the supporting hand to put it in her bump.

Her heart melted as he touched her rounded belly so affectionately. So often Victor was forced to show little to no emotion or affection towards Melissa and their baby, in order to keep up pretences and keep their relationship a secret. Each time they were granted that intimacy and excitement of impending parenthood it took her breath away.

“To keep her safe.” She repeated, nodding gently. Her fingers laced with his, both pairs cut and scratched and dirty. Together the parents-to-be were determined to survive. For their daughter.

They continued down stream, following the bank until the ledge was low enough for the pair of them to get out. Victor continued to wince and hiss as he moved but never said a word. Too focused on protecting Melissa. Usually she would say something, force him to take care of himself, but the contractions were so close together now she barely had any energy to speak let alone worry about Victor. She needed him, had to trust him to get them all through this.

Before climbing out of the river, Victor checked the area as far as the moonlight allowed, fearing their kidnapper had somehow reached this far through the forest. Melissa rode out another contraction at the edge of the water, practically bent over a boulder and grunting tiny pushes. The pressure was too great to ignore the call of her body and pushing provided blissful seconds of relief. As if her instincts were celebrating she was doing what was needed. But she tried to keep them small, tried to clench her thighs as much as she could, not wanting her daughter to be born until it was safe.

In the short break between contractions Melissa somehow managed to crawl up the riverbank onto land, Victor helping her despite his injuries. She collapsed onto all fours on the grass, groaning with another contraction that happened less than a minute after the last.

“Mel? Mel!?” Victor was beside her in an instant. “Breathe, breathe. Little pushes.” Inwardly he was cursing. These damned contractions were too close, how in the Hell would they make any progress if she was forced to the ground every other minute? He thought about carrying her, it wouldn’t be much faster, but perhaps…

As if his own body was telling him that this was in fact not possible, he coughed, once, twice, a fit overtaking him. Hacking into the crook of his arm, the fit subsided and he managed a wheezing breath. This wasn’t good. Pulling away, he saw specks of crimson where he’d been coughing. Pushing aside his own welfare, he racked his brain for ideas. Carrying wasn’t going to happen. All they had was hope, hope that the bastard would give up, or never find them.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into her hair, hugging her close. “I’m going to get you on your feet, then we need to get going.” Not too far ahead, the forest grew thick with undergrowth. Maybe a rest, somewhere hidden. He was so tired himself, and everything in him told him to lie down.

On all fours and panting heavily, Melissa nodded in understanding. The tight black dress she had chosen for the party was now soaked, ripped, and had ridden up to her hips. Her knees were cut and scratched, blood and mud smeared across her body. She shivered as the contraction ended, her damp skin prickling in the night air.

“She— feels closer—” Melissa said to the ground as she tried to catch her breath. “I— can’t stop— the pushing— I’m trying- to only do little ones but— oh Victor….”

The pressure between her thighs had mounted, the position of all fours opening up her pelvis fully, feeling like something had definitely shifted. Her hands clawed at the grass as she panted through the new sensation, soil gathering beneath her fingernails.

He removed his grip for a moment. Melissa’s belly was mere inches from the grass, and each contraction shrank it. The frame of reference let Victor see just how much her body was fighting her. Their daughter wanted out, and her body agreed. Impending danger to them all was the one and only reason he wasn’t stripping her clothing off to help deliver their little future. Victor watched in awe as Melissa shifted her weight back, the fabric of her dress coming up to reveal her panties waistline.

That, was when his heart dropped.

Between her thighs, under the black lace panties that only hours ago he’d helped her pick with the intention of taking them off later for both of their enjoyments, had a noticeable bulge. Her crotch pressed out, rounded, yet still her lips remained together. She was there, she was right there. How could he ask Melissa to move when their daughter was so close? Victor centered himself, taking in a painful breath before he spoke to her.

“Baby, we still have a little time.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was far from the truth. Victor had no clue how long it’d take for her to go from this to holding her baby. “She’s close, b-but she’s not showing yet.” He glanced again, seeing that she wasn’t receding, but more importantly she wasn’t actively progressing.

Melissa moaned with gratitude, hearing that the baby wasn’t showing yet. Every cell in her body, specifically between her legs, was telling her their baby was coming out. But Victor said they had time. They needed time.

“Okay— ooohh—okay that’s a g-good thing— we should— move before the next contraction hits…” she said heavily, sinking backwards to rest on the backs of her heels, rubbing her belly unconsciously.

It took more effort than expected - for both Melissa and Victor - to get back to their feet. Victor was ghostly pale and unsteady on his feet, struggling to aid Melissa to stand who couldn’t straighten fully and stayed hunched over and bow-legged. Gravity made everything feel so heavy, the impending weight pressing right against her labia inside her panties. Melissa’s hand shot between her legs, feeling like the baby was about to fall out of her body.

“Ohhhh… she’s right here, she’s really right there….” She gasped, feeling the change in her own anatomy from the impending baby. Panting heavily Melissa pushed upwards automatically, pressing against herself to give counter pressure against the urgency of childbirth. She kept her hand firmly on her crotch as they made the uncertain journey into the woods, hoping to find anywhere safe… anywhere they could rest while hiding from the armed grievous kidnapper.

Victor quickly became accustomed to the different sounds Melissa made. Winces and grunts, little cries of pain all from the different issues she was subjected to. The quick, abrupt hisses most often came when her bare feet found a sharp twig or jagged rock. The lower, almost guttural moans and grunts most assuredly were the result of their impatient daughter. Every minute, almost to the point he could perfectly time it, he watched Melissa tense her arm and press firmly into her crotch.

Trying to gain his bearings was hopeless at this point. Victors blood loss was so severe that he appeared as a specter in the woods rather than a man. Steps became dragging attempts of progression, and soon the effort to even hold his own side was too much. Vision blurring, he felt Melissa brush against him, whether in an attempt of comfort or simply because she was too distracted by her own pain, he didn’t know. He blinked, slow, lazily. Each time his eyelids grew heavier.

“Mel—“ He rasped, and suddenly he felt cold on his knees. Victor looked down, he was kneeling, he hadn’t done that on… Victor collapsed fully, eyes staring up into the moonlit sky.

“Oh my god—!” Melissa watched in horror as he hit the ground looking ghostly white, his eyes swirling unfocused. She dropped to her knees in an instant, both her hands flying to his chest. “No no no…. Victor…. Stay with me…”

Seeing the man she loved - her bodyguard, her protector, her soul mate - on the verge of unconsciousness and weak from blood loss made her heart stop. His chiselled perfect face was almost lifeless, blood staining his lips. The injuries he’d sustained must have been so much worse than he was letting on. She scrambled across his torso trying to locate the wound in a desperate attempt to try and stop the bleeding.

“P-please— please Victor— you have to get up— we have to keep g-going—” Melissa’s words were breathy and panicked, her palms pressing into the hole in his stomach against the tacky congealed blood on his shirt.

Victor looked right past her, his eyes unable to find exactly where the woman he loved was. He could hear her though, that sweet, gentle loving voice. For the first time in what felt like hours, he was numb, all the pain in his belly was gone, he felt oddly at peace. But, there was Melissa, and their baby girl. Weakly, Victor raised a hand to cup her cheek, using a thumb to wipe away the tears. Was this how it ended? Was Victor going to die unable to save her? Their daughter?

“Just, resting…” He said, the blood pumping in his ears preventing the bodyguard hearing what she said. “R-resting…” Another painfully slow blink, he tried to find their daughter, how old was she now? Three? No, four. He blinked again, finding that it wasn’t just Melissa kneeling beside him. A little redheaded girl, with brighter blue eyes and a smile to melt the world. “Hey kiddo…” He said, reaching out towards their girl.

In the realm of reality, Melissa had to watch as Victor reached for someone who wasn’t there, for, for their daughter? The daughter who, now that her mother was too distracted with her fathers condition, was taking her chance to escape.

Pushing! Without awareness or conscious thought, Melissa’s knees had spread across the muddy grass and suddenly she was pushing.

Her hands were still pressed into Victor’s abdomen while her womb squeezed and she grunted involuntarily. But Victor was dying. Pale and weak, hallucinating and barely conscious, the father of her child was prone on the forest floor.

The child surged downwards, desperate to be born. “Nnnnnghh—no no no—!!” The head was right against her lips, bulging obscenely behind her skin, and she growled at the overwhelming all consuming pressure. They weren’t going to make it… there was no way out of this. Victor was dying and this baby was coming. Any hope she had left disappeared faster than the river’s current and finally, she succumbed, giving herself fully to the inevitable.

Her bloodied hands slipped from his torso and grabbed his arm, a vice-like grip with nails clawing, and Melissa gave an almighty intentional push. Bearing down she felt every single millimetre as the head slowly began to part her folds, the sounds of her roaring effort echoing loudly through the forest.

Victor's hallucination changed. Their daughter looked at her mother. He did the same, but instead of seeing the vibrant and happy woman of his dreams, she was dirty, crying, her teeth clenched as she strained. A stinging in his arm forced his tired eyes down, her nails were digging into him, why? The forest, it was dark, their baby gone, and all that remained in its place was Melissa giving in to her body to release the primal cry as agony gripped her womb to expel their baby.

“M-Mel?” He sounded weak, yet coherent. Victor grabbed her arm with his free hand. “Breathe, breathe…” Even on deaths door, even with the reaper at his back looking to take him away, his concern was for her and their baby.

Unbeknownst to them both, only half a mile away, someone else heard Melissa’s cries, and started his trek to claim the woman and her soon to be born baby all for himself.

Victor with resounding pain and effort propped himself on an elbow to pull her close. “It’s ok, it’s ok.”

“Nnnnnghh-!!!! Pushing—Victor— I’m pushing—” Melissa grunted incoherently through her body’s primal action. It felt like there was no stopping it now; the contraction was drawing everything in and down, her belly tight and small while her legs were wide and spread.

The salty tears rolled down her face into her mouth that was baring her teeth with each strain of her body. The baby wanted to be born, starting to open Melissa’s body, eager to meet her parents. As Victor spoke and eventually moved to sit up slightly, her heart leapt with hope but she couldn’t speak while the contraction still held her hostage. Her nails dug crescent moons into his skin, clinging onto him any way she could through the uncontrollable pushes.

Then she slumped forward, panting heavily as the contraction waned and after a few gulps of air she could look up to his ashen face. “Oh Vic…. You’re hurt so badly…. I thought I was going to lose you…” She released her grip on his arm to gently cup the cool skin of his cheek. “We need to get you to a hospital… we both need a hospital.”

Melissa stated the obvious. But looking around they had no clue where they were or how to get to civilisation. “C-can you move-?” She dared to ask, uncertain if she could even move at this point, with the baby peeking between her sensitive folds inside her underwear. “We need to move… we have to go…somewhere….anywhere…safer than out in the open like this…”

Victor looked around, he felt so weak, and even the thought of movement seemed impossible. He put all his weight on his hands to push up, but all he received for his troubles was a flash of white and excruciating pain. His breathing was steady, wheezing with every inhale. Victor hated that he knew exactly what that noise was, and likely what it had came from . Just his luck, that the jump into the water was probably going to kill him faster that the hole in his stomach.

“Tree…” He said. With Melissa’s help, as much as she could at least, both of them got a few feet towards a tree trunk. Victor rested against it, eyes only focusing when he managed to look into Melissa’s. He smiled, that sad, knowing smile when he knew something she didn’t. “I don’t know if I’m going to get much further, baby.” He said. Slow, painful movements, and he lifted his shirt. The hole from the bullet was there, but up above it, his side was nearly black with bruising.

“I— only have— one working lung, I, think…” Tears fell down his cheeks. “She won’t— wait for her— d-dad to catch his breath.” He pressed his hand into the underside of her belly. “I d-don’t see— how we— all three get..” He coughed, blood and phlegm on his lips. “Out of here.”

On seeing the full extent of her partner’s injuries Melissa felt her stomach roll with nausea. The deathly black tinge to his ribs that faded into the smears of blood across his abdomen. She’d never seen someone so hurt, so battered and broken as Victor looked right now. The tears falling from his eyes was enough of a sign of how much pain he was in.

“Shhh… it’s okay… we’ll make it through this. We all will make it out of here.” Melissa softly whispered, running her fingers over the stubble on his cheeks. “I’m not doing this without you. Our daughter will just have to wait a little l-longer….”

A blind confidence washed over the labouring woman. In the absence of his usual unwavering strength Melissa became determined and tried to take charge for the both of them. “We will rest here for a bit… let you… oooohh.. catch your breath and then we can-uhhh— move again”

She knelt beside him, his chest rising and falling even faster than her own as he tried desperately to breath. But as her belly tensed again with a contraction she leant over his body, pressing a hand into the tree trunk behind him so she could brace against it as her body worked through the intense wave squeezing through her core. The intensity had her panting as she focused on Victor’s face right in front of her, determined not to push… to hold on for the father of this child. As she bit back a groan of resistance, they heard it—

“Come out, come out wherever you are!!” A chilling voice in the distance echoed through the trees and it turned her blood to ice.

That grating voice, and the look on Melissa’s face told him everything he needed to know. There was no way for him to get rest, not here, not now. The struggle was only exasperated for his laboring lover with the added stress of the man who had been hunting them for what felt like hours. An expression, he read it on Melissa before she could even warn him. A spike of adrenaline, born out of fear for her and their daughters lives, he moved.

It was excruciating, but he managed it. Victor flipped Melissa around so her back was on his chest, and her rear on his lap. Just as quickly, he put his hand over her mouth to staunch the oncoming noise he knew she wouldn’t be able to hold. Fearful that she’d give in, and that their frightened screams would also alert the kidnapper, he put his hand between her legs, cupping the baby’s head. Boots crunched close by, and his grip tightened.

“You know…” The man called, his voice only on the other side of the hedges they currently hid behind. “I think I knows what got ya try’n so hard t’ escape!” The couple listened to some fabric scratching. “Foun’ this here in your body boys jacket! Suuuure is a purdy ring! I’ll still let ya wear it, s’long as ya get on out here, AND STOP FUCKING HIDING FROM ME!” He fired the shotgun, and Victor tensed.

“Shhh.” He whispered into her ear.

For a brief second she panicked when Victor’s muddy palm went across her mouth, but she soon realised his intentions and she panted through her nostrils as her body continued its attack. Her legs were twisted awkwardly in the rapid movement onto his lap, partially bent, partially entwined with his. As the pressure of the head against her opening increased Melissa found her hips tilting backwards automatically.

It was urgent and insistent and she simply could not stop Mother Nature. The second Victor cupped her bulging crotch, providing blissful counter pressure, she bared her teeth behind his hand as she pushed uncontrollably. It didn’t matter that the sounds of twigs snapping or muttered ramblings were getting closer and closer, or the gunshot that rang through the empty forest, every cell in her body was focused downwards between her legs. Bearing down hard with the primal demands of nature, her body trembled with automatic effort. Mercifully Victor matched every push, keeping his palm secure over her underwear, preventing their daughter's progress and stopping any more of the head peeking through her sensitive labia.

A low grunting sound rumbled from deep in her chest and Melissa clamped her mouth shut trying to contain any sound from escaping past her mouth or Victor’s hand.

“Come on sweetheart…” the Boss’s smirking voice leered from behind a nearby tree. “You can’t hide from me forever. That bastard in your belly wants out any moment. Show me how close that nipper is to sliding out your—”

A thud followed by cursing told Victor and Melissa their assailant had tripped and stumbled in the low-lit woods.

This was their best chance, an opportunity to flee while he was distracted by his own clumsiness. But, Victor couldn’t get his legs to move, and Melissa was still tense, the contraction lasting an eternity. The baby was fighting both him and her mother, wanting release into the world, thirty-nine weeks of waiting to meet her parents. She definitely had her mothers patience.

“Don’t make a sound.” He breathed, so quiet even he could barely hear it. He released her crotch for but a moment, warmth coating his palm from the expelling amniotic fluid. Victor grabbed a rock, and with what strength he had left, he threw it off to their right. Luck was on their side, because they heard a crack as it landed on a branch, followed by a series of thuds as it rolled through the underbrush. Their pursuer heard it too, perhaps assuming they’d grown desperate enough to try and run.

“Got you now girly.” He growled, Melissa could perfectly visualize the predatory smile he would be wearing. “That lil bastards mine!” He shuffled off.

Even in his state, Victor made an important note in his head. Four shells have been fired, and the pump action he used only carried six. If he had no more ammo, they might have a chance after all. There was something else too, an odd hair in his run. He was limping, perhaps that trip had hurt him. The bodyguard was pulled from his observations by Melissa shaking, she was pushing again, and as much as he hated himself for it, he pressed his palm into her once again to halt process. The little luck they’d found couldn’t be ruined by their daughter's cries.

“It’s ok, it’s ok…”

Still awkwardly sitting on Victor’s lap, she grabbed the backs of her knees in desperation and pulled them up either side of her belly as she pushed hard. The brief moment he had let go to throw the stone had been all her body needed and the baby had slipped further… an oval shape bulging inside of her ruined underwear.

“Nnnnngh— she’s coming—out—” Melissa rasped her warning between the unstoppable rounds of pushing.

But Victor knew, he could feel the progress that had already been made when his hand clamped over her once more. The contraction was never ending… that insane overwhelming need to deliver this child was affecting her mind. The pressure and stretching around the head made her forget about the danger, not caring even. All that mattered was her primal desire to bear down and deliver this baby.

And so with every crest of the contraction Melissa pushed against his hand, over and over, but his palm never wavered, never granted any extra room. When the contraction finally gave up she slumped back against his bloodied and bruised chest, her own rising and falling dramatically as she tried to catch her breath.

“…have…to…give…birth…” she whispered, barely able to turn her face up to see his expression, his hand still firm between her legs while the other rubbed her swollen middle soothingly. “P-please… I have to get her out…”

“Melissa, listen to me.” His voice was calm, almost as if he was in too much pain to panic. “If you give birth here, now, your noise, and her cries, will get him here.” Victor made wide circles on her belly, praying that it could calm their daughter. “He will kill me, and I don’t want to think of what he would do to you and our girl.” Victor felt her womb sieze again, and this time instead of just holding the near crowning head in place, he pushed their daughter back in ever so slightly.

An idea came to mind, a horrible, painful one, but one that would at least buy the couple a little time.

“I still have my belt.” He told her. “Baby, we have to stop her from coming. It’s the only way. I can barely walk, and keeping my hand between your legs isn’t an option.” Logistics ran through his mind, and he debated how best to do what he planned. “It’s long enough to make a figure eight between your legs, and I’ll rest it above your hips.” Without realizing what he was doing, his thumb began to stroke their daughters head as if in apology. “It will only be till you’re safe. But you can’t give birth here or this family won’t exist.”

Melissa began to sob, writhing in his lap against his firm hand that was sending shooting pain up through her pelvis and spine. The logic was clear, but that part of her mind had long been shut off and only instinct prevailed.

“But— it h-hurts— so much—” her voice cracked through the hitch of her crying. “I— can’t stay like this— I have to push—”

Melissa’s silence confirmed that she was once more bearing down, her efforts moving the baby back down and undoing Victor’s attempt to give them more time. He let her push again, understanding she couldn’t stop it but kept his hand firm between her legs as she gave into the urge. When it was over and Melissa was resting between pushes, she heard the clink of metal behind her back and felt Victor moving her down his lap.

Exhaustion was sweeping over the labouring mother between contractions, her eyes barely focusing. She didn’t see him wrap the belt around her legs, barely felt the leather against her scratched and bruised thighs that felt numb in comparison to the burning at her crotch. It was only when Victor removed his hand and the counter pressure was replaced by something else that her eyes flew wide open.

“No… oh no Victor please…” the panic poured with each quiet word as her hands went to the contraption now entwined around her hips. But as she moved, the taut unforgiving belt held everything steady and in place… a perfect amount of pressure against her screaming hips, but most importantly against the sliver of the head now resting in the damp gusset of her panties. The baby would certainly not get out now, which meant they had more precious time.

“Shhh shhh shh… I promise, it’s only till we are safe. We can’t have a screaming baby here Mel. Not yet.” His hand now free, he stroked her hair in the way he had months ago when she’d broken down about the pregnancy. Nothing in his world was more important that the two women next to him, and if he had to cause her a little pain to protect them both, then he was willing to hate himself for it.

They didn’t wait long. During her next contraction and session of pushing, the belt proved to be more than enough to prevent any sort of progress. It’s only major downside in the meantime was forcing her legs closer and restricting that movement. He got up first, nursing his side all the while keeping an eye out for their pursuer. He was nowhere to be seen. Once vertical, Victor leant down, grabbing under Melissa’s arms.

“I’m going to lift. I need your help to get you up Mel.” The tears in her eyes broke his heart, and it hurt even more that he could do nothing for that right now. “We have to be utterly silent, baby.” Again, that spike of adrenaline from her being in danger was falling. He knew well enough that such a boost was impossible to have again, it was a miracle it had happened twice. If they didn’t get out before he crashed, they were all dead.

“One, two, three!” Victor pulled.

Rising to her feet a silent scream had her mouth wide open and eyes screwed shut. Her entire body was trembling and she clung to Victor like a lifeline, fingers hooked over his broad shoulders. The next contraction pulled her weight back towards the floor leaving her almost half-squatting, belly hanging between her parted thighs and her face pressed against his clavicle.

Melissa didn’t dare try and speak for fear of what sound would come out instead. Every muscle was squeezing and bearing down against the belt tight between her legs, her efforts moving the head only a fraction before it met the leather strap blocking the exit. The contractions were near constant and it was an effort to stand let alone move anywhere.

But deep down she knew they must. A lunatic was out there somewhere, armed and focused entirely on Melissa and her baby. That baby was safe while she stayed nestled inside her body. Their daughter couldn’t come out yet. With gritted teeth Melissa managed to get some semblance of control over her body and with shaking knees she straightened up. Nodding against her lover’s embrace, she silently told him she was okay to move.

Speed was an impossibility. Victor held onto Melissa, the pair breathing heavily. Even not knowing where they were, Victor knew where not to go, and that was the same direction as the kidnapper. Victor knew pain, he felt it now, but it was nothing compared to what he imagined Melissa was suffering through. Every minute or so, she’d slow, her belly shrinking and her legs naturally attempting to spread wider. It wouldn’t work, there was no way she could break that belt. At one point she’d nearly fallen, only held up by all the reserves of strength he had. The pressure within her body had to be intense, because with their daughters exit blocked, more amniotic fluid came instead.

Ten minutes, that was all either of them managed before Victor was too tired to keep her upright. It was forewarned by a single stumble, his hand planting on a tree. Eyes unfocused, he squinted off into the woods.

“What’s that…” He said, trying to get a better look.

Melissa was in the midst of a forceful contraction, bearing down fruitlessly with all the strength her body demanded in its hopeless attempt. Left gasping, she cradled her belly with soothing motions and followed the direction of Victor’s gaze.

The pain was blinding them both, but it looked like a man made shape; square, with a triangular top, hidden in the distance within a thinning patch of woodland.

“Is… is that a c-cabin-?” She whispered with laboured breaths, not trusting her own eyes. But when Victor squinted and nodded, the tiny dying ember of hope inside her glowed just a little.

With heavy cumbersome steps they moved through the forest keeping one eye on the large shadow of the cabin, afraid it would disappear like a mirage. But each step they took only brought more of the building into view. Wooden and very clearly abandoned from the decay and rot of the outside slats. There was a narrow porch along the front with two murky windows and an olive green door.

“It is…” Victor said, disbelief in his voice. Of all the things he’d expected to find out here, a hunting cabin, albeit an abandoned one, was a godsend. “Holy shit… it is.” He found himself smiling at her.

With renewed hope, the couple limped their way to the cabin, the support they provided one another blending into an inspiring urgency to reach their destination. The steps up were difficult, with Victor having to hold Melissa’s waist as her restricted movement caused issues. He followed, palm still pressed to his side. The wheezing of his breaths was far worse now, but that did nothing to dampen the hope in his eyes. Muttering a prayer, Victor reached for the handle. It was unlocked!

“Inside.” He said, gently guiding her in.

The moonlight cast shadows across the room, its dirty windows only allowing a fraction of the light to enter. The cabin was minimalist, as one would expect of a hunting abode. A cot laid in the corner, lot blankets that reeked of mildew crumbled at the foot. A wood stove in the opposite corner with a small smoke stack stretching to the ceiling. There was also a table with a seat, and some boxes strewn here and there. Victor couldn’t have cared less. This place was warm, and it was dry.

Melissa staggered on unsteady legs into the dark abandoned room and practically slapped her palms against the table as she bore down yet again. The black fabric of her dress was hitched and gathered at her hips and caught up in the belt that wrapped tight between her thighs. The movements of her body were completely involuntarily; hips jutting backwards and circling ever so slightly in a desperate attempt to move the baby out of its current position where it filled the birth canal completely. Primal sounds of effort echoed in the empty cabin as she struggled to give birth with the leather holding her hostage.

When the contraction let her go she slumped over the table, too nervous at the idea of sitting on the hard wooden chair and not wanting to go anywhere near the bed that smelt of damp and mildew. Bending at the waist Melissa folded her arms on the table, opening her hips as much as she was able, and rested her head exhaustedly into the crook of her elbow.

“V-Victor…. I can’t do this… much longer… I can’t cope….” Her words were thick with defeat and exhaustion and pain.

His body called this place safe, but his mind refused to believe that. Victor nearly hit the ground as he tried to sit, only catching himself on the table at the last second. Finding that he saw two separate chairs, he decided against it. In their current condition there was no way Melissa could get him up.

“Not, long.” He told her, trying and failing to be reassuring. Melissa needed the bed, but there was no telling what was growing on it. He needed bandaging for his stomach, the bleeding was slow, but only because he thoroughly believed he was running out. The rear wall was decorated with what appeared to be an old pelt. Not clean, but far from the disgusting green on the mattress. He moved, forcing himself to ignore Melissa’s noises. He couldn’t be distracted, not yet. Once the bed had a covering he would get her onto it, undo the belt, and they’d have a baby. It was so simple.

The pelt was huge, a bear by his best guess. He tore it down, the old rusted nails tearing through the old leather. Melissa watched him shuffle painfully to the bed, putting it over everything. It would have to do. Next, he started to rummage. The multiple boxes had an assortment of supplies, all of which were long past their expiration dates. One though, was a red metal tin. A first aid kit.

“Nnnnngh—Victor—get this off me—!” Melissa groaned, holding herself up on the table by one elbow while her hands scrambled at the leather between her legs trying to find the buckle. She couldn’t see in the dark, nor over her swollen belly that hung low and obscured her vision.

Every nerve in her body was trembling and desperate. As her hands brushed her cut and bruised inner thighs she grunted and pushed again, the head was right fucking there, so close and yet trapped behind the leather contraption.

Her sounds got louder the more desperate she became. “I— need to have this baby— get it out— get it outta of me—” Though they were inside a wooden cabin it would certainly not contain the noises of a birthing mother and Victor hobbled to her side to try and calm and quiet her down.

“Fuck. I know it hurts but Mel you have to be quiet.” He hissed. Injuries would wait. He had to help her first. He tried to rig her dress higher to reach the buckle. Where had he put it? It, it wasn’t… Victor violently shook his head to try and force his eyes to work. Too loud, she was too loud! Victor found the buckle, just beneath her left buttock. His fingers wouldn’t work, the blood loss causing motor function to fade. And there was no way she could reach it.

“Well…” A voice said from the doorway. “If I was an insecure man, I’d say you were trying to have your way with my woman…” Victor turned, only to see the kidnapper standing there, shotgun aimed squarely at his chest. “That’s my little bastard in there body boy. Not yours.”

He didn’t know why, but Victor tried to throw himself at the man. Was it a vain hope? Some poorly judged attempt at saving Melissa? It didn’t matter in the end. The stock hit Victor squarely in the temple, knocking him to the ground. He was out before he hit the wood.

“Now… my dear… how’s my bastard?” He moved closer to where Melissa was, sticking a hand between her thighs. When he found the belt, he frowned. “You naughty girl… that’s why they aren’t here.”

A fierce maternal instinct had Melissa shoving her elbows back hard, protecting herself and the baby against the vile man who had pressed up behind her bent position over the table.

In the brief moment the Boss stumbled backwards Melissa tried to make a run for it. With the belt around her thighs and a baby wedged deep in her pelvis she didn’t get far before the man had grabbed her and threw her down onto the pelt-covered bed.

Melissa cried out in pain as her backside and hips collided with the uneven mattress, sending shockwaves of agony from her pelvis all the way up her spine. “Wh—why are y-you doing t-this—?” She panted, tears and fear reflecting in her eyes, her hands wrapped around her large womb.

The man crawled over her body, ragged and wild, his hands sliding up her bruised and bloodied thighs with predatory slowness. “You ruined everything… you were supposed to be a good little hostage until your daddy gave in to our demands. Now my men are all dead… but this baby—” His rough hand cupped the bulge between her legs and made a sickening noise of enjoyment. “This baby that’s oh so desperate to come out…. Will be my consolation prize.”

With the glee of a hyena catching a baby antelope, he took a fistful of her dress and yanked, tearing it as part caught on Victors buckle. Delight filled those eyes, and he sat the shotgun down beside Melissa. To him, she was less than a threat, she was a source of entertainment. Take the baby, and then probably kill the mother. No doubt the senator would pay handsomely for that. Melissa thrashed as he placed his hand on her womb.

“Be a good girl.” He growled. “And maybe I’ll let you mother a second bastard.” Leaning in closer, he purred. “Go ahead, give in. Beg, and I’ll remove the belt.”

The hot stench of his breath on her face, combined with the white hot pain between her legs, nearly had Melissa vomiting. As his hand rested possessively on the bare patch of skin showing through the torn fabric of her black dress, her muscles contracted violently and she couldn’t stop herself from pushing.

His touch was like daggers on her skin, but she was in no condition to fight or push him away. Mother Nature was screaming at her and left her unable to do anything but push. The kidnapped groaned with pleasure as she pushed right in front of him, both his hands splayed across her belly in gleeful fascination as it contorted in on itself, muscles tight and squeezing the baby down.

“Yes….. ohhh look at you… so full and desperate to birth your bastard babe…” he sneered, almost grinding on her thighs as she beared down uncontrollably.

Melissa gagged and grunted and pushed, trapped beneath this deranged animal of a man, torn between wanting to birth her baby and keeping her safe in her womb. But the choice was not hers to make. She couldn’t move and there was a strong piece of leather strapped across her crotch, leaving her in a perpetual state of almost-crowning. Her eyes scrunched and tears rolled down her cheeks with each reluctant push, and with the man straddling her swollen body Melissa didn’t see the slow movement happening on the floor of the cabin beside the table.

Victors eyes opened. The kidnapper was so unhealthily obsessed with Melissa that he’d not even bothered to double check that Victor was dead. He watched Melissa pushing, and the great pleasure the man was receiving in return. He had to get him off of her.

Rage boiled from deep within, even more so when he saw the little box the kidnapper had removed from his pocket to dangle before her. The ring Victor was planning to propose with. With all his strength, he lunged.

While Victor was a bigger man in almost all respects, the kidnapper was nowhere near as exhausted as the couple was. It didn’t matter. This fucker was going to die for what he’d done. Victor's forearm wrapped around his neck, the other coming to lock it in place. The bodyguard flexed, his body screaming at him to stop. Caught by surprise, the kidnapper kicked his legs out, throwing them both back to the ground. This was the flaw in Victors improvisation. In a ground game, he was severely outmatched. With the loss of body functions and severe lack of breathing capability, he would run out of strength before he’d knock out the kidnapper.

“M-Mel!” He called, as if she could help, or maybe he wanted her to run? Melissa was stuck there, watching the father of her child dying all the while trying to kill the man who’d hurt them both. And in all the chaos, their baby girl wanted to come. “Sh-shoot!” His frantic eyes flicked to the gun that was still on the bed, and the one shell he was sure it still housed.

Following his gaze Melissa looked across the bed and saw the gun. But she couldn’t move— couldn’t stop pushing— and the gun lay just out of reach.

The cracking sound of bones colliding echoed through the cabin and Melissa looked up in time to see the kidnapper slam a punch at Victor’s face, blood spitting from his mouth as his head went back into the floor. Everything was happening so fast, Melissa didn’t know what to do… couldn’t form a single thought.

She clamped a hand between her thighs, pressing upwards against the emerging baby to allow her legs to close a fraction, to provide counter pressure that might just grant her a few seconds of cohesive thought. With her free hand she rolled onto her side with a groan and grabbed the gun.

Sitting wide legged on the edge of the bed, both hands now shaking and holding the weapon up, she took aim. In the darkness it was impossible to tell who was who, the men rolling and punching and kicking on the dirty wooden floor. One second Victor came into view, the next it was the madman— what if she got it wrong?! What if she shot the father of her child??

The baby kicked, a contraction starting up again, and her body was suddenly bearing down automatically. As the pressure in her groin jumped to astronomical levels her whole body tensed as it gave in to the push…. including her fingers that had been hovering over the trigger.

Since their first meeting, Victor had only taken her shooting once. Even with the proper technique, any attempt to use it was squashed when their daughter forced her mother to push.

There was a flash of light, followed by the sensation of being kicked in the shoulder by a mule. Such pain was an afterthought thanks to her body’s constant need to push. Her eyes had been shut, the force of the contraction too much for her to keep them open. The gun fell to the ground, and a thud followed soon after. A body, she’d hit someone, Victor? The kidnapper? The darkness made it impossible to tell. All she could hear was her heartbeat, her cries, and the straining of the leather still between her legs.

“V-Vi—“

She heard coughing. And fear swelled.

Backlit by moonlight, someone sat up. Whoever it was moved slowly, dragging themselves across the floor towards the noises she couldn’t stop herself making. It was the kidnapper, she hadn’t killed him, she’d killed Victor! A hand came, gripping hers tightly.

“I, thought. I’d taught you…” Victors voice was hoarse. “Don’t jerk, the trigger.”

Melissa burst into tears. All the fear and pain and exhaustion culminating into one outlet, sobbing with sheer utter relief. “I— I thought I’d— killed you—”

A cloud moved overhead allowing a beam of moonlight through the murky windows and she could now clearly see the man standing in front of her. This rugged handsome man that had entered her life a year ago; her lover, her partner, the father of her child.

She gripped his hands, squeezing tight as she croaked his name in disbelief. Her fingers were curled and trembling as they travelled up his bloodied arms like a ladder trying to reach his face. The need to touch him, to feel his heart beating… the need to make sure he was alright… the need to—

“Nnnnghhh—!” Push! Melissa groaned, her body acting of its own accord, but she didn’t have the strength to aid it anymore. Muscles tensed and contracted, attempting yet again to expel their child but even her body waned in its efforts. Too long had Mother Nature been denied. It was as if her body was giving up, admitting defeat.

He was there for her in an instant. Weak as they both were, renewed strength was found and harnessed by the hope that maybe, just maybe, they’d both survive. With the man dead, there wasn’t a single fathomable reason to stop their girl being born.

“Breathe! Breathe it’s ok I’m here, I’m here.” He tried to soothe her, but knew at this point it wouldn’t do much. She had to push, and he had to help her. Pulling one of his hands from her grip, he started to tug at the belt, trying to enforce his willpower on his fingers to comply. No matter how much he wanted to though, blood loss had rendered them near useless.

When the contraction ended, she was left in agony, their daughter in a nonstop fight with the leather. He could only think of one other way to get them off that was not as dangerous. Melissa would need to stand again.

“Baby, baby listen.” He said, forcing panic out and bringing that authority into his tone to get Melissa to listen through the pain. “Your legs are too wide, I can’t get the belt off.” Victor cupped her cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb. “I’m not going to risk cutting it, not with her so close. So I need you to stand up.”

“I— can’t—” Melissa’s chest heaved with unbridled sobbing. Her bare legs were spread wide over the pelt across the bed, the black fabric of her dress ripped and bunched at her hips, and her spine was barely holding her upright - the only reason she was still sitting was due to her fingers clawing at Victor’s clothing.

Carefully, he bent forward and hooked his hands under her arms and taking some of her weight he slowly moved her to standing. Both of them were beyond weak, trembling, clinging to each other in desperation to get through the final hurdle. When Melissa’s knees threatened to buckle Victor turned her around quickly and guided her over to brace against the bed. Allowing him access to the belt buckle that was just below her left cheek.

The instinct to open, to squat, to push was so hard to ignore and she almost yelled when Victor ushered her legs together. Gritting her teeth, Melissa panted as he tried to work at the bloodied fastening which was also covered with amniotic fluid and mud.

“H-hurry— unghhh—! I— can’t hold it— much longer—” Melissa croaked as the next contraction approached and she dreaded the thought of being stuck like this for a single second longer. And if that contraction struck before the belt came off she feared she’d not be able to withstand another blocked attempt at pushing.

He knew when a body decided to take over, the mind had no power to stop what nature demanded. Melissa’s knees were shaking as she fought, and it would only be precious moments before they were forced apart yet again in a vain attempt to push a baby through a leather strap. He worked as fast as he could, his heart racing and his breathing weakening to a wheeze. Bloodless fingers fumbled with the buckle, taking too long. Melissa��s legs were spreading.

“Fucker!” Victor growled, angry at his body for failing them both. Unable grab, Victor tried one last desperate gambit. Teeth bared, he bit the leather laced through the buckle, tugging at it. It worked, albeit a bit too well. Leather tightened before it loosened, pinching Melissa’s thigh to the point of bleeding. But that was an afterthought. The belt was undone, and their baby girl had no more restrictions.

“PUSH!”

The sound that came from Melissa was raw and desperate and primal. Legs spreading wide, fingers clawing at the bear pelt, she succumbed to her body’s demands. The baby had been stuck at a partial crown for so long her skin almost felt numb, a coping mechanism to the near-constant burn she’d felt for so long. But as she beared down fully, giving all her remaining strength down between her legs, the head moved and a white hot burning screeched through her senses.

“Nnnghhh!!— fuck—!” She wheezed between pushes, before her body returned urgently to its task. As if it was fearful the ability to push could be taken away at any minute.

Victor's hands were holding her hips, thumb affectionately squeezing in encouragement. Knowing he was alive, he was with her, delivering his daughter… It gave her hope and strength. A guttural roar of effort bounced off the dusty cabin walls as the head reached a full crown.

She was right there…

Medical knowledge notwithstanding, it wasn’t a leap of logic for Victor to discern that the little tuft of red hair caked in amniotic fluid was actually their baby girls head. He’d been right, a little victory that he loved came true. This baby was going to look just like her mom. He smiled widely, though he knew Melissa couldn’t see.

“She's right here baby! Got her momma's hair too!” He said, the excitement in his voice equal to the day she’d told him she was pregnant. “You held back long enough. Let’s get our girl.” Hands squeezed her hips, a silent affirmation. Victor was going nowhere. Nothing could describe how he felt when the baby’s head was crowning. Joy? Terror? Admiration? Perhaps a combination of all three and many many more. Melissa had always been the strongest person he knew in spirit. She proved that tenfold tonight.

“She— she’s got r-red h-hair-??” Melissa laughed through her crying. The juxtaposition of joy in this moment compared to what was happening only five minutes ago.

As her body tensed with an automatic push, she growled with effort as she felt the full size of her daughter's head stretch her open beyond words, beyond description. Pure determination and feminine strength had Melissa giving it her all, focusing all her energy on one thing - out! Every cell in her body trembled as the head finally breached its widest point and she wailed in pure relief as the head burst free with a spurt of more fluid.

“Ohhhh—god— was that… is the head out??” She gasped, croaking a ragged inhale, recovering from the strain.

It was the head. Hanging down between the thighs of the love of his life, a baby’s scrunched face greeted him. Victor was too amazed and in awe to speak, the words he wished to say dying in his throat. So, he reached out. Melissa felt him let go of her thigh, but before panic could set in that he might have collapsed or passed into unconsciousness, his hand was holding hers. Soaked in the very fluid that had been keeping their daughter suspended, he guided her down between her legs till fingers met flesh that was not her own.

“She’s right here Mel.” Victor said, finding his voice. She could hear the emotion weighted in it, and accurately assumed tears fell as well. “Our baby is almost here.” He looked back between her thighs, ready for the inevitable moment that she would push.

“Oh wow…. Hi baby….” Melissa’s fingers trembled as they touched the slimy surface of their daughter's head. Making first contact with the little life she had been growing for the last nine months. Beneath the pads of her fingertips was a face, a little nose, pouting lips. This moment would be forever ingrained in her memories.

Then the baby turned, the feeling was unlike anything she’d ever felt. In a brief moment of uncertainty Melissa let go of her daughters head and grabbed the edge of the bed once more, needing something stable to hold on to as her body began to prepare for the next hurdle.

“Ohhhh… oh this feels weird…. I think… uhhhh…fuck gotta push—again—” she blurted a warning before her hips went back and her knees went down, half squatting in a natural instinctive movement.

The squeezing of her muscles, the focusing of effort, it was all beyond consciousness. Melissa was simply moving as nature demanded while their daughters shoulders pressed against and then stretched her opening once more. “Nnnnnghh!— she’s coming— she’s coming out!!—” she cried out as a rumbling grunt echoed from deep in her chest.

Victor could do nothing but watch. Their girl rotated ninety degrees. Melissa’s body was done holding back. He didn’t know how fast this was supposed to go.

“Oh, oh! Oh!” First a shoulder, then the other, and less than a second later with a splash of her remaining amniotic fluid, a baby was in Victors waiting arms. His eyes were wide, not even hearing Melissa asking if the baby was ok. She was so tiny, so absolutely perfect. The baby was still connected to Melissa through the cord, yet something else that Victor wished he knew what to do about. The world stayed silent, until it broke and a shrill cry of a screaming baby filled the air.

“She’s here!” Victor said, finding his voice. “Mel she’s here!”

It felt like the world had stopped turning. That sound. That precious musical sound filled Melissa’s heart with more love and relief imaginable. Somehow she kept strength in her trembling legs, instead of buckling to the floor she tried to turn around. She wanted to see… she had to see her daughter. But something got caught - the cord.

Automatically Melissa lifted a leg, blood and fluids pouring down her inner thighs, as she tried to step over the cord. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see them; her partner with the delicate wailing infant in his arms, their daughter. Relying on one leg as she raised the other was evidently too much for Melissa’s poor exhausted body and before she could lift it high enough her legs buckled completely, collapsing down to her knees on the harsh wooden floor.

“Mel…” Victor said. She needed to hold their baby, he had to see it. “Baby. Try to roll.” The baby was still crying, sensing her parents fear, being scared, or just hungry, he had no clue. Victor leaned forward, letting the umbilical cord reach all the way to the floor. Just a few inches, that’s all. Just a few. A bright light flashed across the window, so fast that Victor was unsure if it was real. Melissa didn’t notice, or just didn’t acknowledge it.

Victor adjusted the baby, holding her in one tired arm, the other trying to lift Melissa’s leg up so she could sit. He felt himself fading, he needed to see it. He needed to see Melissa hold their daughter.

Melissa barely registered anything other than the cries of her baby. Her leg was in the air, was Victor holding it up?.. she didn’t know, didn’t care. Somehow she was sitting on the floor, on the edge of the pelt that draped off of the bed, her arms reaching out towards the tiny little life that was crying.

Tiny… she was just so tiny. Her fingers were both shaking and secure as she lifted her newborn daughter from Victor's arms and put her immediately to her chest. The tears flowed like rivers down her cheeks as she took her first proper look at the little redheaded baby girl.

“Shhhh… it’s okay little one… mumma’s here…” The automatic softness of her voice was instinctual as she moved her hands across every inch of the babe, every limb, every finger, every toe. She was perfect.

With a bright smile through tears of relief and happiness, Melissa looked up at the love of her life, father of her child, to celebrate the arrival of their daughter. But her smile faded when she saw how ghostly pale he looked, the way he swayed and his eyes rolled.

“Victor—?”

More lights flickered at the edge of Victors vision. All the willpower, all the duty of a bodyguard, a lover, and a father, could no longer keep him here. Melissa saw him smiling, even as his eyes lost focus. Victor tried, one last time to reach out, to hold her hand. So much was left unsaid, so many things he wanted for her, for them both. Thoughts fading into nothingness, he thought about the engagement band. Victor collapsed, the last of his life spent handing his baby girl to her mother.

Sounds filled the cabin, though he couldn’t tell what their source was. Shouting, crying, a baby, their baby. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

At the thud of Victor’s body hitting the wooden floor of the cabin, his arm stretched out towards them both, Melissa’s heart shattered and she wailed. The gunshot wound, collapsed lung, the blood loss and the physical brawl with the kidnapper. Her bodyguard had kept her safe and delivered their child but at what cost…

Melissa didn’t notice the flashes of light from outside the cabin, didn’t hear the noises of trucks or shouts in the distance. She crawled over to Victor’s body, one arm wrapping their baby against her chest, the other desperately seeking his ribcage. To feel a heartbeat, to feel his lungs rising with a breath, anything.

She was sobbing hysterically over her partner when the doors burst open - a search party sent by her father. Suddenly there were people, so many people, so many voices. But none of them were Victor’s. They had to prise her away from Victor’s body, medic’s appearing from nowhere to examine both Melissa and the baby. She watched as another medical person in uniform knelt beside and worked on Victor.

“I’ve got a heartbeat!” They yelled.

Melissa swayed with sheer, utter relief and the medic examining her had to catch her before she slipped to the floor.

“Whoa… easy there Miss.” the young Medic said, holding her steady and guiding her towards a stretcher that someone had brought into the cabin. “He’s in the best hands. We’ll get you all to the hospital, don’t worry. You’re safe.”

~•~

Beeping. Incessant and rhythmic. The first sensation Victor felt was a dull, aching throb in his stomach. He went to sit up, but realized his body wouldn’t allow such a thing. With agonizing slowness, his eyes opened. A white room, one that smelled of disinfectant and the most heinous fake lavender air freshener he could imagine. He blinked again, eyes focusing a little more. Where the Hell was he? Was this a hospital? He tried to speak, finding that his throat was raw from disuse. Logic left as memories flooded. Mel, their daughter, where?! Panic set in, the bodyguards eyes frantically darting side to side, utterly unfocused.

He moved again, a groan coming from his throat, followed by a series of rasping coughs loud enough to wake the slumbering Melissa, who he hadn’t realized was occupying the bed beside him. Nor did he see the little girl dressed in a bright pink onesie in the crib between them.

Hearing a noise Melissa stirred, automatically shhhing as she pushed herself up in bed, assuming her daughter was hungry. “It’s okay little one… hi…. Mummy’s here…”

But as she blinked herself awake and stared at the sleeping baby, her eyes landed on Victor. Awake. His eyes were open.

“Oh my gosh… Victor…” She threw the blanket off her bed and ignoring the soreness of her body she slipped out of her bed immediately going to his side. “Victor… you’re awake… you’re okay.”

Her hands wrapped around one of his, the one without the IV drip, the one she frequently had held while he was unconscious and recovering from surgery. Bending forwards she brushed a kiss to the back of his hand.

“I’d…. I thought I’d lost you…” her words a fearful whisper against his skin.

Victor coughed again, trying to moisten his throat to speak. Melissa helped, giving him a small sip of water through a straw. It took a few moments, but he eventually was able to muster the strength.

“Not. That. Easy.” He said, smiling. If Victor was honest, he thought he was dead. The bloodloss, the injuries. Even now he felt his ribs grinding together. “W-where…” He looked around, spotting the little baby still asleep in her bed. She was ok, their baby girl was ok. Focus returned to Melissa, eyes scanning her up and down. Bruises and cuts covered most of her body, but that smile.

“How long?” He asked, gulping painfully.

“Nearly two days.” Melissa said with a painful smile, those two days had been torture. Not knowing if he was going to make it through the countless surgeries, how or even if, he would recover from his injuries.

“I’ve told my father about us. I kinda had to. I may have thrown a fit when the doctors suggested moving you elsewhere.” Melissa giggled, still keeping her hands on his torso, as if making sure this was all real. That he was really awake and alive. “They weren’t giving me any information about you, said it was “family only”. So now everyone knows… about us. About her.”

Melissa turned around, bending to pick up their newborn baby daughter wrapped in a pink cotton onesie with daisies printed all over. Her little hands balled into fists grabbing Melissa’s hospital gown as she placed her head into the crook of her arm and against her chest.

“She’s perfect Victor. You kept her safe. You kept us all safe.” Melissa couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up, holding her daughter in her arms and placing her gently against Victor’s side so he could get a better view.

“Look at that…” He said, utter disbelief in his voice. Victor reached out, brushing his fingers along their daughters cheek. She quietly fussed, and Victor instinctually recoiled, worried he’d hurt her. It took Melissa’s reassurance to convince him otherwise. “She looks just like her mom.” Victor continued to brush the baby's cheek, his eyes bouncing between her, Melissa, and the new ring that now sat upon her third finger.

“You got the ring. Sorry that it wasn’t as romantic as I’d planned.” Victor adjusted in the bed, wincing, but accepting the pain in order to get closer to his fiancé and their daughter. “If it’s been two days… Did you name her already?”

“The police found the ring and I erm… assumed.” Melissa smiled brightly, holding up the diamond proudly and catching it in the florescent hospital lights. “You saved my life, and delivered our baby, I’d say that was pretty romantic.”

She bent forward, carefully keeping the little girl secure between them as her lips brushed tenderly against Victor’s. Full of so much emotion, love, and gratitude. Pulling away slowly, the baby stirred and disturbed her parents' reconciliation.

“I haven’t named her yet, I wanted to wait for you to wake up, but I have thought of a name. After everything we went through to bring her into this world safely, I keep thinking about how we managed to escape… if it wasn’t for that river in the forest we never would have made it as far as we did.” Melissa looked down at the pink cheeks of her redhead daughter, nestled between her parents.

“I’d like to call her River.”

“River.” He smiled at that. “That’s perfect.”

#original fiction #birth kink #birth denial #birth fic #clothing birth #inconvenient birth #birth fiction #birth rp #birth roleplay #my writing #wootenbassett75

300 notes · View notes

heejamas · 18 days ago

Text

YOUR HEART GOT TEETH | CHOI. YEONJUN ⨾ teaser

SYNOPSIS ٬⠀⠀✦ in a world ruled by blood and territory, you built your empire from ash and betrayal. years ago, yeonjun shattered your life with a single lie — and vanished. now he’s back, offering salvation laced with secrets, handing over pieces of your land to save the very people he once left to die. old scars reopen as you're forced into an alliance stitched together with memory, resentment, and the kind of tension that never really left. while danger brews at every border and loyalty crumbles beneath ambition, you must decide if the devil you once loved is worth trusting again — or burning with everything else.

PAIRINGS 🗝️ mafia! yeonjun x fem! reader

WARNINGS ❜୧ violence, mafia themes, enemies to lovers, stabbing, blood, grief, all kinds of illegal activities, fighting, smut WORDCOUNT ''. 25k est.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ٬ ✦ this is my first time writing a mafia fic and ngl i was super nervous 😭 i’ve never touched this theme before and i was so scared it would come off super cheesy or over-the-top but honestly?? i’m really happy with how it’s turning out so far 🖤 this is just a teaser — the full fic is coming soon, and if you wanna be tagged when it drops, just comment below! - Hi guys! this is rain @heesmiles, i'm making this layout for ronnie; i made the header too ! like this its so cutie core

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ#nowplaying - teeth by 5 seconds of summer

Choi Yeonjun steps into the light like a punchline you should’ve seen coming.

He’s wearing all black, something tailored and expensive, hands in his pockets, and a smirk tugging at his mouth like he’s been entertained for hours. His eyes settle on you instantly, curious, sharp, and already amused. “Well,” he drawls, voice smooth, deep, familiar in a way that makes your spine lock. “If I’d known you were gonna show up looking like that, I would’ve cleaned the place up a little.”

You don’t flinch, you don’t blink. “Yeonjun.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You know my name. I’m flattered.”

You arch an eyebrow back. “You should be.”

Beomgyu takes a step closer, but you raise your hand again. Yeonjun’s eyes flick over him, then Jay, then land back on you with an edge of something darker. “So,” he says, voice lazy like a slow burn. “You want your boy back.”

“I do.”

“And you’re sure I have him.”

“I’m sure someone in your chain does. And if he’s not back by the end of the week, I’ll tear your operations down brick by brick until I find him.”

Yeonjun smiles wider, slow and amused, like you just told him a joke he wants to hear again. “Fight so dirty,” he says, almost a whisper, “but you love so sweet.”

TBR - 06.27.2025 | my masterlist

#heejamas⠀ദ്ദി˙ ᴗ ˙ )⠀#txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun fluff #smut #yeonjun au #yeonjun angst #yeonjun mafia #yeonjun x you #yeonjun txt #yeonjun x y/n

253 notes · View notes

littlemisskookie · 3 days ago

Text

Ship: Childhood Frenemy/Roommate!Jungkook x Bitchy!Reader

WARNINGS: Extremely Mean Hard Dom!Jungkook, BDSM, Brat!Reader, Masochist!Reader, Sadist!Jungkook, Dub-Con, Extreme Face-Fucking, Oral (m. & f. receiving), Extreme Degradation, Extreme Humiliation, Facial, Face-Fucking Again (a different sort of way), Rimming (f. receiving), Dirty Talk, Overstimulation!!!!, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Scenes, Like these scenes are actually crazy, Slapping, Spanking, Fingering, Pussy-Slapping, Spit, Orgasm Denial, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Praise, Choking, Manhandling, Restraining, Hate Sex, Angry Sex, Possessiveness, Masturbation, Sex-Toys, Squirting, Dacryphilia, Cum-Play, Creampie, Jungkook has a HUUUUUGE Cawhk, Threesome? Reader is a bitch because I love them

Description: Your entire life, you only saw Jeon Jungkook as a nuisance you couldn’t escape from. But what happens after the two of you move in together, and the dreams that plague you force you to see him in a different light?

Currently at: 25k

Expected to be: 30k+

THERE IS NO TAG LIST plz just follow me lol im old

You kneeled before Jungkook, a whimper on your lips as he cockily smirked down at you, legs spread on the sofa chair to accommodate your space between them. He looked like a king, leaning back and tilting his head with a teasing expression. Like he knew exactly what you wanted, and now he was just dangling the carrot on the stick, tormenting you.

"C'mon, say it again."

You swallowed hard, eyes flying between his tantalizing crotch and his wicked expression. "Can I..." You licked your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Can I please suck your dick?"

"Oh? You want to blow me?" He laughed cruelly, shaking his head. "Why should I let you? You've been nothing but a bitch to me for years."

"I know, I just," you took in a sharp breath. "Just need it. I can't stop thinking about it. Need to get it out of my system."

“Hm, I’m not sure.” He cocked his head to the side, considering it. His eyes scanned your pathetic state in front of him. “Shouldn’t give brats what they want. Might give them the wrong idea.”

“Please! At least… at least let me see it.” You stared at his crotch ravenously, curiosity eating at you. Maybe even a glimpse would be enough to satiate you and put the issue to bed. Quietly, you said, “Please let me see it?”

“Mmm, you sound so sweet when you beg. You’re so nice when you want something.”

You nodded furiously, desperate for anything he can give you. “I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll do whatever you want.”

"Yeah? I don't feel like being nice to you, though, princess. Think you can handle that?"

Your mouth began to water, watching his legs spread a little wider. "Yes, I want it. Want you to be mean."

"You gonna choke on it?"

Nod.

"You wanna gag and drool all over yourself while you do it?"

You sharply inhaled. "Yes, please."

"I'm real big, princess. You sure you know what you're signing up for?"

"Yes! Please please please just let me suck your dick. I can't take it any more!" You felt like you were going to cry already from his teasing.

He smirked, shaking his head with disbelief at your desperation. You had no idea what you just signed up for. "Hm, if you say so. Go ahead and take it out, then."

#upcoming fic #Jungkook smut

262 notes · View notes

taegularities · 3 months ago

Text

from sparks to fire to ashes to a breeze… 👑

candles & flames: breeze 🤍

dropping Sunday, May 4th, around 6-7pm EST. editing, so if it takes longer, i'll postpone by a day or two!

it's going to be around 25k long, but y'all know me – might end up with more, but let's see :D we're 2 scenes in (from around 8) and already at 5k-ish. around 20k long!!! take your time reading it, but please don't forget to give it lots of love once you're done. since we're saying goodbye to them, it'd mean the world <3

this has been on the schedule for so long!! thank you for missing and loving them!! once it drops, and even before then, please hype it up a lot – life has been insane lately and there is a ton to do; so i'd love and need to know that the effort i'm putting into c&f is really worth it and that you guys are around.

if i feel like you aren't, i'll probably shift my focus off again and might have to keep the story stored in my brain bc it's a lot of work, y'all already know :') but i am hopeful you'll come through. 🥺 and i hope the wait's worth it, as always.

this is the last (bonus) chapter <3 see you then 🤍

teaser under the cut! 💕 let's talk about it :]

–

Jungkook plumps down on the carpet, knees pulled in and arms around them. He tilts his head with a tender smile, chest rising before he asks, “Did you have time to think about it? Going home?”

You remember a time not too long ago when you’d sit here like this, too; despite the couch in the back, you’d play with the twins and Hana right here, on this warm carpet, and Jungkook would join after work. You’d place your head on his shoulder and whisper-converse with him.

Sometimes, you’d fall asleep and wake up in his arms, in your bed, with the children secured in theirs. You never needed proof for how gentle Jungkook handles you — but if he could carry you into your room like a feather without disturbing a moment of your sleep, you were at utter peace, right?

He did that to you. He still does; his presence calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

You want to put your head on his chest again, slumber there. Instead, you nod and say, “I did, yes.”

“And?”

“Hana wants to go.”

His eyes move to the side, down to the floor, then back to you as he tries again, “And what about you?”

You shrug a little. “Can I really refuse my daughter’s wish?”

He moves closer; a very small distance, but noticeable to you. His eyes are intense as he emphasises, “What’s your wish, love?”

Yours? You have a lot of wishes.

Whispered upon falling stars and eyelashes. You can’t utter most of them now, though, can you? But maybe you should. Maybe, rather than the universe, it could be him granting you what you desire.

He can read your thoughts anyway. Because he encourages, “You can share your mind with me. I’m your husband, baby.”

You nod; let something in you break and break until your fingers move, up to one of his knees. He immediately puts a palm onto your digits, holds onto you as you say, “You are.”

“Only yours.”

You inhale deeply. The tears are less these days, but never truly gone. You blink before they can reemerge, quickly adding, “I will go if you want to go. Your wish is my wish.”

“It is?”

“Of course. I am yours, too.”

A rosy colour dusts his cheeks, as if he’s falling in love anew. But his gaze betrays him; still sad when he wonders, “Then… Can I say something very kitschy?”

You feel yourself melt just a little. A hint of a smile graces your face. “Always.”

“My wish is… that I want you back.” He drops his head the moment your heart sinks, too. Even from here, you see the damp waterline. “I want you to be mine the way you were. I wish to give you the same joy I used to. I just…” His voice shakes. “I need my girl back so badly.”

And then, another whisper, stuck in a loop, “I miss you.”

You nod again, tell him, “I know.” Because if you said anything more, you’d cry. You know you would.

He looks up at you, the rims of his eyes red, big eyes trapping the tears in. He sniffles; closes his lids, as if preparing for something. And then asks—

“Do you still love me?”

Do you?

Does he truly need to ask?

His presence still calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

–

we'll be back <3

#let's get it one last time y'all!!!!#fic: candles & flames #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

151 notes · View notes

narryffdreaming · 1 year ago

Text

Maisy and Harry are just friends (except they aren't)

Summary: It all started with the prompt "we're not just friends and you fucking know it", and then it turned into several short scenes about two people who are supposed to be just friends, except they aren't.

ONE-SHOT AU, friends to lovers, angst, romance, sweetness, smut +18 (explicit language and explicit sexual content) 25k words

It took less than five minutes for a girl to approach him.

Maisy sighed and leaned back in her chair, sipping her almost-empty-drink and watching the scene take place right in front of her.

To be fair, she wasn't surprised. In fact, before Harry had left the table to get another round of drinks, she'd thought about making a joke and bet how long it would take for a girl to divert him from his task. In the end, she didn't say anything, of course. First because she worried he wouldn't find it funny, but mostly because she was afraid he would see right through her words and notice how terrified she was about the possibility of seeing him with someone else.

So, yeah, she wasn't surprised, but that still didn't mean she wasn't upset. After all, she had spent the entire day secretly hoping things between them would be different now.

"You're staring," Niall muttered next to her, taking the seat Harry had been occupying until a couple of minutes ago. "Already told ya, if you want him, talk to him."

Maisy scoffed, shaking her head as if she could also shake his words away. Niall was sweet, but he was also oblivious to the fact that Harry already knew about her feelings and, still, nothing had changed. Although, if she really thought about it, maybe things were even worse now.

Ugh, why was he acting like that? Why did he keep pretending nothing had happened?

Harry was one of her closest friends, and one of the things she loved the most about him was how sweet and thoughtful he was to everyone around him, especially to those he cared about. That's who he'd been to her since the first day, at least. So even if he didn't feel the same, surely she wasn't expecting for him to simply ignore her feelings.

Over a week had passed and she hadn't talked to anyone about it. As the days went by, it became obvious that the more she thought about what had happened, the more anxious she felt. She figured she deserved to be honest and talk to someone, so she straightened her body and pushed her shoulders back, turning towards Niall and taking a deep breath before finally letting the words out of her mouth.

"We kissed."

Niall pulled his beer away from his face and turned his head, facing her with an open mouth and widened eyes. "Wha—Who? You and Harry?"

Maisy nodded, and Niall jerked his body closer.

"What the fuck?! You two kissed? When? How?!"

His reaction made her chuckle, but she dismissed his excitement by shrugging and finishing her drink before speaking again—as if the story wasn't that important or that interesting (and as if they both didn't know that was obviously a lie).

"He just came over last week and… I don't know. We kissed?"

It sounded more like a question, like she wasn't sure it had actually happened. But it had. The kiss was real. It had happened and it had made her feel all kinds of different and exciting things. And now she couldn't stop thinking about doing it again. And again. And again.

"Right," Niall scoffed. "Just like that? After five years hanging out together, out of nowhere, you both just thought you know what? Let's kiss today. Might be fun!?"

Maisy didn't know how to answer that, so she rolled her eyes and laughed lightly. Niall definitely had a point, and maybe in a couple of weeks—or months, or years—she'd be able to explain it better, but right then and there she honestly didn't have an answer. It wasn't supposed to happen and it definitely was not what she had in mind when she invited him over, but they were having fun and laughing and at some point she felt something shift in the air and she just… She just kissed him.

Just like that.

Maisy kissed Harry.

And then Harry kissed Maisy.

A lot.

The memory made her cheeks turn hot, and her belly fluttered. She turned back to the table and looked down, fixing her eyes on her fingers and picking at her nails.

Niall must have sensed her uneasiness, because he didn't pressure for an explanation, moving on to the next question with a softer tone.

"Does he know you like him, then?"

Maisy shrugged.

"He must know. I mean, he has to know…" She tapped her foot on the ground, narrowing her eyes as she stared at her fingertips, "right?"

She lifted her eyes just a second, just to question him, and Niall dropped his shoulders.

He moved closer, throwing his arm over the back of her chair. "Isy…"

She shook her head, then focused back on her nails. "You said it yourself, Ni, we hang out all the time… And, I mean, he stays over a lot, and we cuddle, we hold hands… I don't do that with everyone. You know that. He knows that. And also, I don't know, why would I kiss him like that? Out of nowhere?"

"Because it wasn't out of nowhere."

"Exactly!" She looked up, and her eyes landed on Harry once more. Maisy sighed. "It wasn't."

The girl was still there, talking to him, casually laughing and flipping her hair. And Harry seemed really into it, happily paying attention and nodding to whatever the girl was saying. Smirking so fondly that Maisy could even see his dimple.

Her chest tightened, and her stomach swirled.

"God," Maisy laughed bitterly and shortly, rubbing her forehead as she looked away. "I'm so stupid."

"Isy," Niall sighed, "Stop. You're not stupid."

"I am, though." She shrugged. "It's just… He never looked at me that way, you know?"

Her voice cracked, and she took both hands up to her face, hiding behind them with an exaggerated grunt. "Fucking stupid…"

Niall took his hand to her shoulder and sighed, offering half a hug as he squeezed her gently. "That's not fair, Isy. You know how incredibly amazing you are. And to be honest you're just so out of his league. So much better than anyone he could ever date. So he is the stupid one for not seeing what's right in front of him, ok?"

Maisy shook her head. She knew Niall meant well, but she also felt like he didn't understand where she was coming from. See, Maisy knew that Harry liked her, and how much he trusted her — after all, that's why they were friends in the first place. She knew that she was important to him and that she was the first person he'd call or the one he'd run to when he needed something. She knew Harry would let her cry on his shoulder, hold her, share a bed with her, and listen to whatever she had to say. Dates would come and go in his life, but she was still there and he wouldn't let go of her.

So it wasn't like he didn't know what (or who) was in front of him.

Harry just didn't fancy her. Simply as that. He didn't dream about her in the same way she dreamed about him. And he had never treated her the same way he treated the girls he fancied on their nights out. He had never offered to buy her a drink just because he thought she was pretty, nor had tucked her hair behind her ear just to kiss her neck. He'd never rested his hand on her leg under the table, nor whispered in her ear how badly he wanted to take her home.

Harry had never shown any signs of being physically attracted to her, and that really, really, freaking fucking sucked. Because there was nothing she could do about that. She couldn't force him to want her like she wanted him.

"Do you want to leave?" Niall squeezed her shoulder. "'Cause I think we should."

Maisy nodded, then dropped her hands down to the table. "Yeah, please. Let's just go."

"Ok, great." He smiled, relieved at the idea of taking his best friend away from there. "'M just gonna pee and we'll go, ok? Be right back."

Nodding to Niall's words and watching him walk away, Maisy couldn't help but glance over them one more time.

Without a doubt, if Maisy had a choice, she wouldn't actively compare herself to others, knowing it was an unhealthy and worthless habit. Then again, she didn't notice she was doing it until it was too late and her throat felt too dry to even breathe. Because everything about the girl standing in front of Harry seemed perfect, and everything about Maisy sitting at that table by herself seemed ridiculous — she hadn't even at least showered after work, for God's sake!

There were so many differences between her and that girl that it seemed impossible not to feel embarrassed about even thinking something could happen between them, or about even feeling something just platonic for him.

Besides the fact that the girl was extremely attractive, or that her hair was long, wavy and shiny, or that her dress hugged her figure amazingly, it was obvious that her body language screamed confidence and determination.

And she wasn't doing anything wrong, really, but Maisy wanted to push her away from him as soon as she saw her raise her body to whisper in his ear, touching Harry's arm and making him smile. It only got worse when Harry leaned in and tucked a lock of hair behind the girl's ear, letting his hand slide from her shoulder to her hand, and then resting it on her waist. He smirked, then whispered something back to her.

"'M back, let's go." Niall stood in front of her, frowning while blocking up her view. "'M gonna walk you home, then I'm gonna punch Harry's fucking stupid face. C'mon."

— — — — —

Maisy had a feeling it was Harry as soon as she heard the knock on her door, hence why she wasn't surprised to see him standing in the middle of the hallway. Still, it was barely past midnight, so seeing him there didn't make much sense—wasn't he supposed to be with the girl?

"Heyyy Haz!" She smiled, trying her best to appear nonchalant despite the fact that she had just spent thirty minutes crying over him in the shower. "Thought you were still at the pub."

"Can I come in?"

The tone of his voice was one she couldn't recognize, and Maisy froze for a moment. She blinked at him, taking in the intensity behind his glare and the tension all over his face. Her smile faltered, and she furrowed her brows.

"I—Yes." She took a step aside and raised his hand, showing him the way as if he hadn't simply barged in any other time up until then. "Of course."

Harry stared ahead and walked in, radiating so much tension and heat that Maisy's heart skipped a beat, then immediately sped up. She swallowed, closing the door before following his steps to the living room.

As seconds went by, he didn't turn to look at her, and she was able to spot a slight trace of red lipstick on his neck. It was hard not to picture him and the girl together, but it was even harder not to think about how it had felt to tangle her own fingers through his curls while tasting that same bit of skin. And it hurt that, no matter how much she wished she could kiss him again, somebody else had done that already just earlier that night.

"Are you ok?" she asked, pushing the memories away. "Did—Did something happen?"

Harry snorted. "I don't know. You tell me."

Maisy frowned, scrunching up her face and blinking a few times while trying (and miserably failing) to organize her thoughts.

"What? I—What's… What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry remained silent, though, and her chest tightened. Closing her hands into fists, she licked her lips and took a breath in, then looked him up and down.

"Haz, please…" her voice trembled, but she still tried. "What's going on? Talk to me."

Nothing changed, and she swallowed.

"Can you at least look at me? Please? I don't—"

"Why?!" He turned around, then, so abruptly that Maisy's mouth fell open as she took a step back.

"Why didn't you talk to me? Huh?!" Harry glared at her, his jaw tightened and his brows snapped together while he threw his hands in the air and raised his voice. "Why did I have to go through a massive fight with Niall to find out that you have—That you—I mean—" he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. A moment passed while he took a deep breath, only for him to give a humorless laugh right after. "Jesus, it's so absurd I can't even say it."

"What…Why—Why are you so mad at me?" She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing Harry wasn't making any sense, but at the same time scared for what she thought he was implying. Had Niall gone back to the pub? He had walked her home only a couple of hours earlier, they'd talked a little, she'd cried on his shoulder, and then he'd left. She hadn't thought about where he would go next, just assuming he'd go straight back to his place, but maybe she'd been wrong? She just… She didn't… What was happening? "I—I didn't do anything. I don't even… I don't even know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the fact that Niall just yelled at me for half an hour for apparently breaking your heart, Maisy. That's what I'm talking about!"

There was a pause. A long and painful pause.

Harry's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, fists clenched while his arms remained at his sides and he glared at her.

Standing a few feet across from him, Maisy's eyes welled up with tears. She knew Harry like she knew the palm of her hand, and out of all the times she'd imagined him finding out, anger had never been present. Shock? Sure. Sadness? Yes. Worry? Also yes. Pity? Almost every time. She'd imagined many things, and different emotions. Everything. Anything. But never that.

She'd never thought he would ever throw words at her so carelessly, so loudly, and so harshly. On top of that, she also didn't think she deserved them. Because, really, what had she done besides stupidly falling in love with him? She'd never gotten in his way nor stopped him from living his life. So, yeah, truly—why was he so mad at her?

She swallowed down her tears and clenched her teeth, blinking rapidly as adrenaline rushed through her veins.

"Oh, I see." She took a step closer and nodded, straightening her body and allowing her hands to talk along with her own raising voice. "So what? Niall tells you that you broke my heart and this is your reaction? What the hell Harry?! Did you really think this was a good idea? Coming back to my place in the middle of the night just to yell at me?! What were you thinking?!"

Harry flinched, and blinked. A mix of emotions flashed through his eyes, until he settled with anger once again.

"Of course I didn't think or plan this, Maisy! That's exactly why I'm here. I'm trying to understand because it doesn't make any sense!"

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Everything was fine, Maisy!"

She rolled her eyes and looked away, taking her hand up to pull her hair back and letting him say whatever he wanted to say.

"So I don't get it, ok?! I don't! And we were having fun tonight! Man I met this amazing girl, and was just about to take her home when Niall started yelling at me. For fucks sake! Out of nowhere! Of course she left and now I'm—"

"Okay, okay. Stop," she interrupted, holding her palms up and staring back at him. "Just… Just stop, please."

Harry frowned even deeper, and a long, low sigh fell through Maisy's lips. There was no point in arguing with him, and she knew that.

"I get it, okay?" she added. "And I'm very sorry for ruining your night with this amazing girl. I swear I didn't mean to. I left the pub just so I could come home and cry by myself. So trust me, I didn't want to bother you with this, ok? And I swear to God I didn't want Niall to go back and tell you about it. I didn't want any of this to happen. So I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."

She dropped her weight on the couch and breathed in, then slowly rubbed her temples and breathed out.

It was the realization of how exhausted she sounded that made Harry stop and pay attention to her for the first time since she'd opened the door. He noticed the lack of energy, the way she covered her face, the way she hunched her body as if she needed to hug herself. As if she needed to protect herself.

It only took one second and one attentive glance for all of his anger to melt away, and a big wave of guilt crashed into him.

Unfortunately, though, Harry didn't know how to handle that situation. It was a new dynamic between them, a new path for a friendship that wasn't supposed to take that turn. So he continued justifying himself, although much more carefully than before.

"It took me by surprise, y'know? That's all. I was—" He shut his mouth and shook his head, exhaling before going back to explaining himself. "It doesn't matter. The thing is that Niall just came out of nowhere, so mad at me, Isy… I couldn't understand what was going on, and then he was blaming me for breaking your heart and talking about how you—saying that you have—I mean—That you have—"

"That I have, what?" With closed eyes, she dug her fingertips into her forehead, then shrugged. "Just say it, Harry, c'mon."

He frowned, unable to move.

"Is it true? Do you?"

"Again, what?" Letting out a hollow laugh, she dropped her hands down to her lap and looked at him. "You have to at least say it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't make sense! It— it can't be true. We are just friends and—"

"Oh, c'mon Harry!" She stood up, taking a step forward if only to make sure he wouldn't ignore her next words. "We're not just friends and you fucking know it."

"No! I don't—I mean, yes. Yes we are. We're just friends, Isy!"

"Just friends? Really?"

"Yes!"

"Well…" She shrugged, and looked away. "Not to me then, I'm sorry."

Harry took a step back and widened his eyes. And then, he blinked, pulling his hair back with one hand and resting the other on his hip before glancing down at his own feet.

Maisy sighed. A tiny part of her wanted to grab him by his shoulders, shake him up, and yell at him to wake up. Just shout at him. Prove him wrong.

However, she had no more energy to fight him. Not about that, at least. Her body felt too heavy to even move and her heart had changed into a slow thud inside her numb chest. Harry was her favorite person, but at that moment all she wanted was to be alone. It wasn't her intention to make him angry, let alone disappoint him, and knowing that she'd put them both in that situation only made her feel even more ashamed.

So she decided to be honest. Too exhausted to argue, she decided to stop fighting or running away and just say what she'd been thinking since she'd left the pub earlier that night.

"Look… I don't think we're just friends, Haz. I'm just friends with Niall. I've known him for over 10 years and I've never kissed him. God, I never even thought about kissing him. He slept over plenty of times, but he never asked to cuddle with me, and he never held me the way that you do. Last week I… I kissed you and you kissed me back, Harry. And maybe I got it wrong, but… But you really made me feel like you fucking wanted to, y'know? We weren't drunk, we kissed for hours and we didn't even have sex. We kissed and then you stayed and you fell asleep with your arms around me. And then you woke up and you—" Her voice cracked, and she knew she needed to take a deep breath if she wanted to continue. Maybe reliving every single detail was too much, maybe she didn't need to do that. "Anyway, no, ok? No. You and me, Harry? We're not just friends, and even if you can't say it out loud or believe it's true, I do have feelings for you. I've had feelings for you for a long time now and to be honest, yeah, you really… I'm sorry but you really broke my heart tonight."

Even with all the chatter around him, Harry caught the soft thump of someone's boots across the busy studio. It was like his mind was searching for the perfect excuse to get distracted, because he instantly dropped the task he was supposed to be doing and focused on the sound, instead. From there on, every noise caught his attention — Nina's fingers tapping against the keyboard, Johnny's phone ringing, Jenny and Patrick laughing as they filled their mugs with coffee, Maria and Julia whispering by the windows.

Despite not seeing anyone, he somehow kept up with everyone's movements and conversations. Meanwhile, displayed on the screen in front of him, the design he was supposed to be working on since he'd arrived that morning—and that he was also supposed to deliver to a client in less than thirty-six hours—remained untouched.

"You look like shit," Niall's voice pointed out from behind him, and Harry stiffened on his seat.

He knew Niall had been right behind him all along. Of course he knew. It wasn't as if he could've expected anything differently. After all, that's how the two had met: they'd joined the agency on the same day and were assigned to sit back to back from each other, then the rest was history.

Since then, that monday was the first day in over five years they still hadn't said even one word to each other. It was weird, to be honest, but they were both still resentful from the events of last friday's night, and too stubborn to handle the situation any differently.

So, yeah. To sum it up, Harry knew Niall had been there all along, but he wasn't expecting to engage in a conversation with him. Not yet. Not for another couple of days.

Still, Harry cleared his throat, and shrugged.

"Yeah, well…" he said, keeping his eyes on the screen. "I feel like shit."

Niall made a sound that resembled a hum, but then got quiet. And Harry wasn't sure of what he could say next, or if there was anything to say at all, so he breathed in and waited in silence.

No matter how confusing the latest events of his life had been, if there was one thing Harry was still sure of, it was that Niall and Maisy cared about each other like brother and sister. And that whilst he'd been easily welcomed into the group by the two of them, their friendship already lasted for over a decade, so it would always come first. And he was ok with that, he understood that. Niall knew Maisy in a different way than Harry did, and she would tell Niall things that she would never talk to him about, so there was no point in competing with them. It wasn't even something he would ever try to do, to be honest.

"So…" Niall cleared his throat. "You went to Isy's."

And there it was.

Harry closed his eyes.

See? Of course Niall already knew about that.

Sure, it didn't bother him, and it also wasn't a surprise, but… What was he supposed to say? He didn't even think Niall would want to talk to him, so what was he supposed to expect out of that conversation? As far as Harry knew, he had broken Maisy's heart and she wasn't talking to him anymore. And that was it. He had fucked everything up — before he even knew there was something to fuck up in the first place.

Bloody hell.

Harry sighed, then glanced at the screen in front of him.

To be completely honest, he had spent the last 48 hours trying to understand what the hell had happened, wincing every time he remembered Maisy's words and shuddering every time he thought about how he'd left her crying by herself on the couch.

Those same 48 hours had made him feel all over the place, everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. He was all by himself the entire weekend, locked at home, having to occupy his mind with random, meaningless and stupid little things so he wouldn't drown in his own thoughts. Surely, it wasn't the first time they hadn't seen or talked to each other for a couple of days — although it was something rare to happen — but it was the way they'd left things that kept tormenting him.

He still had so many questions, because he needed so many answers. He wanted to know more about what had happened, about what had changed, or when, or why…

And he was also desperate to know what would happen next, because… Well… What was he even supposed to do after all that?

Harry rolled his chair around, getting himself out of his own spiraling thinking.

Niall was already facing him, glaring at him. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs extended forward, clenching his jaw and flaring his nostrils as if he was trying to set Harry on fire.

Clearly, it was safe to say Niall was still mad at him. And Harry didn't blame him — he was mad at himself, too.

He rolled his shoulders, and finally asked, "Did she tell you about it?"

Niall shrugged once. Briefly and quickly. "Kinda."

Harry nodded. He took one of his hands out of the pocket of his jumper and lifted it to the back of his neck, then massaged some of the stiffness away. There were so many things he wanted to ask, it was hard to choose where to start. He also didn't want to say the wrong thing and have Niall trying to physically fight him again. Things were already bad enough as they were, there was no need to add more drama into it.

Moving his hand from his neck to his face, he dragged his eyes to the floor and pinched his lip, pulling the skin as he voiced the next question.

"When did you see her?"

"Yesterday."

Harry nodded again, eyes still on the floor and fingers still on his bottom lip.

Across from him, Niall narrowed his eyes. He wasn't just messing around when he'd said Harry looked like shit. A beanie hid his hair, his shoulders were rigid, he hadn't shaved, his jaw was clenched, and he kept constantly squeezing his eyebrows together. Also, judging by the bags under his eyes, he didn't seem to be sleeping that well — or he didn't seem to be sleeping at all.

Should he be worried? He'd checked on Maisy a lot, but maybe he should've checked on Harry as well, because maybe this whole situation had also messed him up, even if for different reasons. Maybe Harry also needed a friend.

Shit.

Niall took a deep breath and uncrossed his arms, letting his shoulders fall as he straightened his back. "You honestly look like shit mate, did you sleep at all this weekend?"

Harry finally glanced over, shaking his head.

"I'm just…" He pressed his lips together, scratching his jaw before letting both of his hands fall on his lap. "She hasn't been answering any of my calls."

Niall lifted then dropped his eyebrows, nodding as if he knew exactly what Harry was talking about.

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged. "I don't think she will, to be honest."

Harry nodded, and looked away.

He probably deserved that.

— — — — —

"Thanks," Harry said to the waitress as she placed two beers and some fries on the table.

As soon as she walked away, he grabbed a bottle and took a sip, giving himself a few more seconds before asking the question he really wanted to ask.

"How is she?"

Niall's hand was full of fries, midway to his mouth, and Harry didn't miss the way he froze for one second before looking at him and engulfing them. He didn't finish eating before answering, mumbling the words as he chewed, "She's hurt. And you know how she gets when she's hurt."

"Fuck." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, pulling his head back and sighing to the ceiling. It killed him to know he'd been the one to make Maisy suffer, it killed him that she didn't let him hold her when she cried, and it killed him how she begged him to leave her alone because his presence was only making it worse. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I would never mean that."

Niall scoffed, and Harry glanced down again. He found his friend eating fries absently, as if he wasn't part of the conversation anymore. Scanning them carefully before picking one and shoving it into his mouth. And then another one.

Harry frowned. "What? You know I didn't mean to hurt her, right?"

Niall peeked at him through the corner of his eyes.

"Well…" He tilted his head from side to side, then shifted on his seat and rubbed his hands together, cleaning up the salt. "Look, you didn't mean it. Fine. But I don't think you worried about it either, alright? I mean, you walked to the bar to get Isy a drink and didn't come back 'cause you wanted to hook up with some random chick. Which, by the way, was already a problem in the first place 'cause she had to watch you flirting around. But then, after I told you she has feelings for you, you went back to hers and blamed her for not getting laid? That's fucked up man, c'mon."

"She told you I blamed her for not getting laid?"

Niall lifted his eyebrows. "Didn't you?"

"I—I don't know, I was just freaking out. You saw when I left the pub, I wasn't even thinking."

"Clearly," Niall snickered, then looked around the pub as he took a deep breath. "Look, she didn't want to say anything 'cause she didn't want to lose your friendship… And, yeah, maybe part of this mess it's on me, 'cause… Well, 'cause I told you about it, alright? But… Mate… Look, you didn't see how hurt she was when she saw you at the bar, ok? You didn't think about her, and that really, really pissed me off."

Rubbing his jaw, Harry rolled his neck and sighed. It was true, Harry didn't see how much it hurt Maisy to see him at the bar. He actually didn't even know Maisy was watching as the girl approached him, but even if he did, he wouldn't have thought it was something that would hurt her. Sure, she would probably tease him for ditching them, or pinch him for leaving her waiting for her drink… But feeling hurt? As far as he knew, that wasn't even an alternative.

"I don't… I don't get it." He shrugged. "It's not like she never saw me with a girl before. I mean, I've been single since we met, and that's over five years, man. She's the one who had a boyfriend for two fucking years and you never saw me say a word about it."

"Huh," Niall scoffed, curving his lips up as he took his beer to his mouth. He took a sip, then murmured behind the bottle, "I had no idea Maisy having a boyfriend bothered you."

Harry tilted his own bottle, pointing at him. "That's not what I said. My point is, she knows I hook up every now and then. We always talked about it, and it was never a problem before."

Rolling his eyes, Niall sighed. Harry was really getting on his nerves with those stupid doubts.

"Well, obviously, this time was different."

"But why? Why was it different this time? What changed?"

"What changed?" Niall laughed, humorlessly and unbelievably, banging his beer against the table and inching forward. He wouldn't expect a kiss to mean something when it came to random hook ups, but he also wouldn't expect Harry to treat Maisy like a random hook up. Harry knew her better than that. And Maisy deserved better than that. Harry couldn't just kiss her and act as if it hadn't happened. He just couldn't. Niall wouldn't allow that. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Or are you just that stupid?!"

"Wha—"

"You two fucking kissed, mate! C'mon!"

"I—"

"You do remember that, right?"

Harry scoffed. "Of course I remember!"

"Of course you remember." Niall rolled his eyes and shook his head, chuckling at how dense his friend could be. "Then what? Are you trying to pretend it didn't happen?"

Harry shook his head and stared down at his hands, one of them holding the bottle as the other played with the sticker on it. Of course he wasn't trying to pretend their kiss hadn't happened. He just didn't think it was something that would happen between them, and when it did, he didn't think it would go further than that. He didn't think Maisy saw him that way. Maybe at first, years ago, when they'd just met. But once he realized she'd put him in the friendzone, he didn't think he would ever get out of there. And he'd made peace with that. He put the idea away and locked it inside his mind. But he also wasn't sure if any of that made sense, and he didn't want to say something that would make it seem as if he didn't care about Maisy. Because he did. He cared about her way too much to lose her.

"I'm not—" Shit. How was he supposed to explain what was going through his mind? "I'm not trying to pretend it didn't happen, that's—that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, feeling a sour taste in his mouth. "I guess… I guess I just didn't think she was expecting something different from me, that's all."

The pause that followed his answer was filled with tension. Harry kept fidgeting with the bottle in his hand, taking deep breaths to clear out his mind. Or perhaps to relieve the memories of that day. Trying to understand why it should've been so obvious to him that Maisy expected more out of them when she didn't say anything about it. Why should've been so obvious to him, when she didn't act any differently the next morning? Why should've been so obvious to him, when she'd barely texted him back the next day? And why should've been so obvious to him if, when he'd invited her to go out for a drink, she'd been the one to suggest that Niall tagged along?

"Anyway…" Niall said, then put more fries inside his mouth and chewed. After a second, he swallowed, then added, "Everything would've probably been just fine if you hadn't freaked out on her. That was really stupid."

"Right." Harry raised an eyebrow, eying his friend from across the table. "Can you blame me, though? You shoved me over those tables and tried to punch me, mate! Out of nowhere. Did you really need to be so fucking dramatic?"

Niall shifted on his seat, chuckling under his breath as he scratched his neck. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that… I told ya, I was really pissed off."

Harry's lips curved into a smile. He shook his head, lifting his beer and finishing the liquid inside while Niall ate more fries.

The tension between them had faded off, so although their conversation died for a couple minutes, things didn't feel awkward anymore. Still, there were a million things rushing through Harry's mind. Because, truly, what the hell was he supposed to do now? He didn't want to lose Maisy. He really didn't. But she wasn't texting him back, nor answering any of his calls, and he didn't want to be invasive and just show up at her door. He wanted to fix things, not make them worse.

So, playing with the odds, Harry decided to break off the silence and rip off the band-aid that was covering his deepest dilemma.

"What do I do now?"

Niall gulped the fries down, then drummed his fingers on the table and shrugged. "Do you have feelings for her?"

Harry looked away. Did he? Didn't he? How was he supposed to know that? It was a very simple and obvious question, and whereas it didn't surprise him, he wasn't actually expecting to answer it. He didn't know how to, to be honest.

"Can't help you if you don't know what you want, mate," Niall said. "You already know she has feelings for you, so I don't know what you expect me to say… 'Cause either you have feelings for her and go for it, or you don't and you let her go. But there's no way you can pretend nothing happened."

"No, I know that."

"Good. So figure out what you're feeling, and do something about it."

Three weeks later, Maisy saw him again.

Lucie had offered to leave him out of her birthday celebrations, but to be honest Maisy didn't think it was fair to shut him off from his entire group of friends. Even if the only reason why he knew them was because she and Niall had introduced him in the first place.

So there she was, at a gorgeous rooftop club, on a Saturday night, wearing a black top and white pants that she secretly hoped would blow Harry's mind. Showing off as much cleavage as she could, and pairing the high-waist with heels to highlight her curves around her hips. Mingling with the girls, and avoiding Max's hints for a second date. Laughing and chatting with a drink in her hand, while peering at the door and waiting for him to arrive.

It was kind of agonizing, to be honest. And if she didn't know he was giving Niall a ride to the party, she would've already given up by then.

But then she finished her second drink, went to the restroom, and as she made it back to the table, she finally saw them. Harry and Niall. Walking up the stairs that led to the terrace. Half an hour late, and the last ones to arrive.

Knowing it would take them a minute or two to reach the group, Maisy took a step to the side and hid behind Callie, placing a hand on her lower back and encouraging her not to move.

"What's up?" Callie asked, turning her head to the side.

Peering over her friend's shoulder, Maisy shook her head and whispered, "Nothing. He's here."

"Hmmm…" Callie nodded, then took a sip of her drink. "So what? You are moving on, remember? Going out on dates with Max and all that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Maisy rolled her eyes, giving a dismissive wave of her hand. "I just wanna look at him for one second, then I'll move on… I mean, just look at him, Callie… He's hot!"

Callie chuckled and shook her head, and although Maisy couldn't see her, she could imagine her rolling her eyes at those words. Not because she didn't think Harry was handsome, but because she'd already made up her mind about not supporting her feelings for him anymore. Not after seeing how much he'd hurt her. Still, she didn't say anything else, going back to whatever conversation she was having before and letting Maisy enjoy the view.

So that's exactly what she did.

Harry walked with his head low, following Niall's lead and mumbling "excuse me" and "sorry" every time he had to squeeze between bodies. He was wearing her favorite shirt, a custom made checked one he'd gotten last Christmas from his stylist sister, and Maisy bit her lip. He'd left it unbuttoned and layered it over a white t-shirt, its neckline so low that she could see the two swallows facing each other on his chest, as long as his usual gold cross necklace. His curls were shorter and all messed up in his head, and if she didn't know him better, she would've thought he hadn't even remembered to comb his hair after showering. But that wasn't the case, and she was sure it was exactly the look he was going for — it had always killed her how good he looked like that.

"Niall, Harry, over here!" Diana raised her arm and waved her hand, bursting Maisy's tiny bubble.

Moving from behind Callie, Maisy walked to the opposite side of the table and took a seat next to Josh. She smiled at him and Eileen, who had her fingers intertwined with his, and pretended not to see Niall stand right next to Lucie and raise his arms up in the air, or how cheers were thrown around them when they started greeting everyone.

"You ok?" Eileen asked, leaning forward to look at her.

"Of course." Maisy smiled, and nodded.

Was she, though?

Their voices were mixed up with music, laughter and glasses clinking together, but even so she heard Harry's words loud and clear, wishing their mutual friend a happy birthday and thanking her for inviting him. It's been a long time, you definitely look older, he joked, and Maisy had to really force herself to hold back a smile—and maybe even some tears.

It hurt to see him like that—so comfortable, so cute, so friendly, and so hot—knowing she wouldn't be able to touch him like she wished to. Above and beyond, it hurt not being able to sit next to him and just chat, make him laugh, and stare into his green eyes while listening to his deep and slow voice.

She didn't know how to act in front of him anymore, which really bothered her.

Before their fight, or whatever that had been, being friends with Harry had never been difficult, and her feelings for him had never felt like a problem, so being incapable of at least saying 'hello' to him made her feel immature and stupid. There was a weight on her shoulders pressuring her to quickly find a way to handle the situation, and a voice shouting at her that she was a 28 years-old woman who by now had to know how to remain friends and move on.

Honestly, though, why did she let this happen? Why did she kiss him? Why did she tell Niall about the kiss? Why did she have to go and ruin everything?

"You think you'll talk tonight?"

Maisy shrugged. She didn't have to ask Eileen what she meant by that. All of her friends knew about what had happened that Friday night, and they'd all shown different reactions to it. In this case, Eileen was still very supportive of her feelings for Harry, and a firm believer that their friendship was too important and deep to let it die so easily after one mistake.

"I don't think so," she said, focusing on her friend's eyes to avoid the fact that, had it been a month before, she would've already been wrapped around his arms. "What's there to talk, anyway?"

"What if he wants to apologize?"

"Who wants to apologize?" Josh asked, sitting in between the two girls.

"No one—"

"Harry."

"Eileen!"

"Oops!" Eileen covered her mouth with one hand and widened her eyes. "Sorry! Sorry! He won't tell anyone. I promise."

Josh frowned. "Couldn't even if I tried."

Maisy sighed. "It's fine. I just—"

"Hey guys…" Harry's deep voice interrupted their conversation, and they all shut their mouths.

Maisy held her breath and turned her head, tilting her chin up to look at his face. Harry stood right across from her with a soft smile on his face, hunching over the short table to give Eileen a kiss on the cheek and Josh a handshake. Her pulse raced, and her stomach fluttered. Oh God. She couldn't do that. She just… She couldn't.

She really couldn't.

It was too much.

So when he seemed to finally turn his head towards her, her eyes just darted to the other side, and she was up from her seat.

"Niall!" she shouted, her mouth curving into a wide smile as she raised her arm and waved to get her best friend's attention. "Hii!"

And before she knew it, she was off the table and away from him.

— — — — —

The music was louder than before, everyone seemed too drunk and sweaty, and it was definitely time for her to leave. But Maisy was having fun for the first time in three weeks, and she didn't want that feeling to end. She had cried too much, for too many days, and a night of laughter and dancing with her friends was all she needed to step out of that sadness.

Or, well, that's what she'd thought, at least.

Because, see? Maisy was having fun. Until, out of nowhere, her friends decided to start discussing her (nonexistent) lovelife. All over again.

"Horannnnn! C'mere!"

Callie waved, and Maisy dropped her head back.

"Nooooo!" she cried. "Stop!"

"Ladies," Niall said with a huge grin on his face, standing between Callie and Maisy and throwing one arm around each one. "What's the shouting all about?"

"Well…" Eileen said, wiggling her eyebrows and hiding a smirk behind the rim of her drink. "We want to know what's up with Harry."

"What? Why? What did he do now?" Niall dropped Callie and turned towards Maisy, placing both hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Tell me and I'll kick his ass."

"Nothing!"

She really wanted them to stop. How was she supposed to stop thinking about Harry, if people kept constantly bringing him up?

"Mhm, nothing." Callie said. "He's just been fucking ogling her the entire night, that's all."

"Ohhh, that," Niall chuckled, throwing his arm around Maisy's shoulders one more time and then pulling her closer for half-a-hug. "Yeah, I know."

Lucie and Eileen squeaked, the first one quickly demanding an explanation, "What do you mean, yeah, I know?"

Maisy looked away.

Niall frowned. "Just… Yeah, I know he's been watching her?"

"Okay, but why is he watching her?"

He shrugged. "I guess he's just so used to it that he doesn't even notice, I don't know. You both should talk, though," —he tapped Maisy's shoulder— "he's honestly been miserable at work."

"And who's fault is that? Huh?" Callie straightened her back, crossing her arms on her chest. "Besides, he's too late, we're rooting for Max now."

"Uh, excuse me?" Eileen scoffed. "Honey, there's no way I'm rooting for Max. I'm totally team Harry."

"Yeah, I don't know," Lucie said. "I mean, I always felt like Maisy and Harry were end game, y'know?"

"Girls—"

"But he was such a dick to her!"

"Once, Callie. It was one questionable moment in five years, ok?"

"Yeahh! He's such a sweetheart. I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"Ladies, hey—"

"Well, I don't. Max stepped up in one week and did something Harry couldn't in five years. That's the kind of man I want for my friend."

"Just let them," Maisy whispered, watching the way her three best friends argued about something that had nothing to do with them. And the exact topic she'd been trying to avoid the entire night. She loved them, she knew they meant well, and she knew they were all drunk, but they were definitely ruining the end of her night. She didn't want to talk about Max, and she didn't want to think about Harry. She just wanted to have fun. Why couldn't her friends let her have fun?

"Are you ok?" Niall asked, directly in Maisy's ear, then squeezed her shoulder.

"Mhm." She scoffed, and tilted her chin towards her friends. "I'm pretty sure if I walk out of here right now, they won't even notice."

"Wanna sit and chat for a bit?"

"Nahh…" She shook her head, then looked around, checking out the different groups of people surrounding them. There was a beat of silence between them, loudly filled by the music, and then she added, "I know he's been watching me."

Niall snorted. "Don't we all? Guy doesn't know how to be subtle."

Maisy's lips curled into a smile, and she looked down at her feet. "It doesn't matter, tho. He told me we're just friends, so… I don't know… I don't want to look too much into it."

"Right. Well…" Niall sighed. By then, he'd already chatted with Harry for weeks, till the point where it felt there was nothing left to talk about. So he knew his friend had fucked up things, but he also knew how deeply he regretted it. If things had happened in a different setting, under different circumstances, Harry's reaction would've been also different. Which is why he'd been feeling so guilty—he'd been the one to throw Harry off, when he knew both of them had more than a few beers in their system. And although he couldn't go back in time and change Harry's actions and words, he could try to make them talk again.

"Y'know," he started, and then took a pause to think about his next words. "When we talked at work, he told me that your kiss was just a kiss. So I asked if he had ever kissed Callie, or Lucie, or Eileen, right? And, like, he just went in shock, as if what I was saying was fucking absurd."

Maisy frowned. "I'm not following, Ni. I'm not drunk, but I'm definitely not sober enough to psychoanalyze stuff."

Niall chuckled, shaking his head and squeezing her shoulder. "My bad. What I mean is, he didn't think kissing you was absurd, but he thought kissing the other girls was, y'know? I guess he thought that it was so normal that it didn't mean anything."

"That doesn't make sense," Maisy laughed bitterly, shaking her head and taking a step back to look into Niall's eyes as she left her unfiltered thoughts out of her mind. "I don't want my kiss to feel normal, Ni, c'mon. If he didn't feel anything, if he didn't think about doing it again or, I don't know… If it didn't cross his mind even once, then why will I think he wants me? I hate that we're supposed to believe men feel something for us even when they don't say it, you know? Or that we're supposed to believe they love us when they say they hate us. If he can flirt with other girls and let them know he wants them, then why can't he do the same for me? I just—I can't be with someone who won't let me know they want me, okay? I can't. And I won't."

"You're right, yeah, sorry." Niall lowered his head and nodded, knowing she had a point. Maisy shouldn't wait around just because Harry wasn't ready to deal with his feelings, she had already talked to him about that and explained her point of view, and he understood where she was coming from. It wasn't Maisy who had to step up and do something about her feelings. Not anymore. Now Harry was the one who had to let her know how he felt. "'M sorry, Isy."

Maisy sighed, grabbed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "I know. You're fine. Thanks for always listening."

"Anytime, love." He pulled her by the neck and kissed the side of her head, then let her go. "Look at that, now they walked away and we didn't even notice."

She looked around and chuckled, noticing her friends weren't near them anymore. She glanced back to their tables, then, where she found them dancing with the boys. Josh was there. Max was there. Franklin, Nick and Kevin were there. Ryan was there. And even Tommy had shown up again—attached to a girl Maisy had never seen before. Of course, since he stood next to her, Niall was missing. But besides him, the only one who wasn't around the table was… Harry.

And to be honest the thought shouldn't have crossed her mind. It shouldn't. And even when it already had, she shouldn't have looked around for him, because deep down she already knew where she would find him and what she would see, and she didn't want to go through that again.

It had been such a fun night, she'd felt so good again.

She didn't want to look for him.

And yet…

She did.

She let her eyes wander and stop right where he was, at the bar, wearing her favorite shirt.

Again, she should've looked away, but she didn't, because she wanted to know who he was talking to, who was standing in front of him while she only could see his back.

And if she had listened to all of those warnings voiced in her head, if she hadn't waited for him to move a little bit, and if she hadn't waited for the person in front of him to tilt their head to the side, she wouldn't have felt the air getting knocked out of her. Because she wouldn't have seen him there, talking again with that amazing girl from three weeks ago — the girl he was talking to when her own feelings ruined everything for him, and for them.

"C'mon… C'mon…" Maisy mumbled to herself. Her body shivered while she stared at her phone, watching as the Uber app tried to find her a driver, and she crossed one arm over her stomach.

She knew she should've worn a blazer instead of prioritizing not clashing her outfit. Or at least she should've been still inside, where it was warm and she could sit down — although that wasn't really an option, because it would've ruined her plans of sneaking out without Callie noticing.

She tapped her foot against the floor, glaring at her phone. It wasn't supposed to be taking this long, it wasn't supposed to be so hard to find a ride home.

Maybe she should just walk. She wasn't that far away from home…

No. Of course she shouldn't just walk. She wasn't stupid to walk by herself on a Saturday night, dressed like that, after having a few drinks.

Her phone buzzed, the app finally notifying she had a new driver. Leaning against the wall, Maisy sighed. Adam was only thirteen minutes away. Not as fast as she would've liked, but still better than nothing.

Taking in her surroundings, she blocked her phone and kept it tight between her fingers, then placed her arm on top of the other one. Hugging herself. Protecting herself from the coldness. And maybe even from the sadness.

The street was almost empty, only a couple of people standing on the sidewalk just like her, probably waiting to go home. And except for two or three cars rushing by here and there, there were no signs of anyone else driving around the city.

She looked down, and unlocked her phone.

Adam was currently twenty minutes away.

"You've got to be bloody kidding me," she muttered.

"Aha! There you are!"

Maisy moved her eyes up and to the side.

Niall beamed at her, one arm stretched out to keep the front door open.

"Max was just asking about you."

He looked inside the bar for a moment, then back at her, taking a step closer and letting his hand fall to his side. As he walked, though, the door remained open, until Harry walked through it and let it close behind him.

Maisy's lungs froze, and her heart thumped inside her chest.

"Are you leaving?" Niall asked.

Harry's eyes darted to her, and Maisy's eyes darted to Niall.

"Uh, yeah…" She nodded, blocking her phone and holding it tightly into a fist while she squeezed her crossed arms around her body. "I'm just waiting for my Uber."

"Huh." Niall flinched his head back, slightly wrinkling his brows. "Well, just so you know, Max is under the impression he is taking you home…"

Maisy sighed, and rolled her eyes. Unlike Callie, who'd been thrilled about Maisy going out with her boyfriend's best friend, and who thought Harry didn't deserve another single second of her time, Niall knew how guilty and conflicted she'd been feeling about going out with one friend just to get over another one. Even if it had been for only one date, and even if she wasn't planning on doing it again. And even if one friend was nothing like the other.

Because, yes, her friendship with Max was nothing compared to her friendship with Harry, but Maisy supposed Max would be what she considered just a friend to be, and she didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings like hers had been hurt.

Although, of course, Max didn't have actual feelings for her, he just fancied her — he fancied her a lot. So badly that he'd spent months waiting for the moment to ask her out. Something Harry had never, ever, cared to do.

Ugh.

"I know," she said, diverting her sight across the street before she gave in to the urge of looking at Harry. "I'm trying to leave before he finds me."

Niall chuckled, and Maisy bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile. It was shitty of her, she knew that, but at that moment she was too tired to care. She planned to text both him and Callie as soon as she got home. And she could've (and would've) done that by then already if the damn driver weren't taking so damn long.

"So," Niall said, "you're not going home with Max?"

Maisy shook her head.

"'Cause you don't want to go with him. Right?"

Pulling her eyebrows together, Maisy glanced at him. Was it really necessary for him to word it out like that? She was ready to call him out for asking such a question, when she caught him looking away from her. And then, out of instinct, she followed his line of vision. And before she could even notice and stop herself, she was looking at Harry as well.

Maisy's world stopped turning. All over again.

Different from them, Harry focused on the front door, moving his jaw and parting his lips as he chewed gum. Silent. Distracted. Hands hidden inside his pockets, shoulders slightly up. Unkempt curls pulled back on the top of his head, clearly getting stuck there after he'd ran his hand through them.

Maisy's belly fluttered. Everything about him was pretty, no wonder why he walked around so confident all the time. As if he owned the space.

She'd always found herself physically attracted to him, but since kissing him it seemed as if she couldn't hold herself anymore. And the fact that she knew so much about him only made it worse. Because there he was, wearing a shirt she loved so much that she'd borrowed it from him multiple times. And a shirt that, if things hadn't changed so much, and if their friendship hadn't been ruined by her stupid feelings, she knew she would've been wearing it right then and there—and then she wouldn't have been feeling so cold.

Damn.

What was he thinking? What was he looking at? Was he paying any attention to their conversation? Was he waiting for someone? Oh God. Was he waiting for… For that girl? Was she going to be forced to watch them leave together? Go home together? Oh no.

No, no, no.

Please, no.

Where the hell was Adam?

Maisy glanced at her phone just as it buzzed in her hand. She read the notification, dropping her shoulders and closing her eyes.

"C'mon," she murmured, taking her free hand up to her face and pinching her forehead. "Fuck."

She was so tired. All the fun she'd had with her friends came to an end the moment she saw Harry and that girl talking, and she didn't deserve to have to stand there and watch even more of that. Or to have to hide from her friends. Or to have to stand by herself on a cold night in the middle of the street. All she wanted was to go home, hide under the blankets, and cry.

"Isy, hey," Niall called, his voice much softer and closer than before. He stood next to her with worry in his eyes, grabbing her shoulder and letting go of whatever he was saying before. "What's wrong?"

Maisy shook her head, taking her hand away from her face and wiping a tear from under her eye. No more crying Maisy. No more crying.

"Nothing… Just…" She blinked, then stared at her phone. "My uber. He canceled."

"Ok…" Niall tilted his head, trying to get her attention. Or maybe trying to get a look at her face. Or maybe trying to read her emotions. Or maybe just trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "Can't you just get another one?"

"Well," she muttered, peering at him through the corner of her eyes whilst sliding her thumb across the screen. "I'm not stupid, am I?"

Niall frowned. "No, I—"

"What do you think I've been trying to do for the past twenty minutes?"

"Sorry, I—"

"I can give you a ride," Harry said.

Both Maisy and Niall jolted, then turned their heads to look at him. Although he kept his distance, Harry had gotten noticeably closer as well, standing only a few inches behind his friend. Niall seemed to notice that, too, taking a step aside and dropping Maisy's shoulder as he turned to give him some space.

And then, as Harry fixed his forest-green eyes into hers, and as Maisy kept her head turned to the side and stared back at him, the entire world seemed to — once again — stop around her. There was nothing but empty and silent distance standing between them, and every nerve in her body seemed to tingle. Desperate to run towards him. Desperate to say yes and let him not only take her home but also make her a cup of tea before going to bed. Desperate to let him wrap his arms around her and fall asleep breathing into her neck as if that was something just friends normally did.

She squeezed her phone between her fingers, tightly, and made sure to hold as much air as possible in her lungs. Because she truly missed him. She missed being his friend, she missed talking to him, she missed answering his calls. She missed making him laugh, and she missed feeling silly next to him. She missed being able to be near him whenever she wanted to, and she missed hugging him just because she could.

But she also really wanted him. And although she had always wanted him, now it was definitely worse. Almost unbearable. Because now, as she looked at his pinkish and soft lips, she also missed feeling them against the curve of her neck. And as she admired his growing facial hair, she also missed feeling the scratchiness under the palm of her hands as she cradled his cheeks and kissed the hell out of him. And as her body quivered under the intensity of his green gaze, she missed the tingling between her legs caused by the strong grip of his manly hands.

Maisy hadn't been able to taste all of him, but she'd tasted enough to be scarred for the rest of her life. And it hurt to know he didn't want her back. It really did.

"Shit," Niall cursed, then coughed.

Maisy blinked, finally breaking away from the spell Harry had put her under and facing forward, where her friend was supposed to be. When she didn't find him, though, she straightened up and stepped away from the wall, scanning around the street.

"Where—"

"I forgot my jacket!" Niall shouted.

Following his voice, she got a glimpse of him behind Harry, by the front door, already taking a step into the club.

"Be right back guys!"

And just like that the door closed, and there was nobody else around.

Nobody but her.

And him.

Nobody but them.

Emptiness dropped in the pit of her stomach, and her chest tightened.

Shit.

She took a deep breath in, folding her arms and rubbing her forearm with her free hand. She didn't know where to look. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to say. Her heart was racing, and she could feel her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Was she supposed to just stand there?!

Peeking at him, she could only see his back. Harry stood ahead of her and to her side, facing the door where Niall had just walked through. Frozen. Hands still inside his pockets, but shoulders more relaxed than before.

Second went by as silence completely engulfed them. But then he chuckled, looking down and shaking his head while his shoulders moved up and down.

The sound hit Maisy's brain first, and then it bounced to her chest, suddenly reminding her to breathe again. Her lips curved up, and she licked them before swallowing her feelings down her throat. That was not the time, nor place, to find joy in the sound of his laughter.

Harry turned around, still laughing.

"What?" she asked — although she wasn't expecting to.

"It's just…" He covered his face with one hand, then slid it up his forehead and ran his fingers through his curls. Calming himself down. "Niall."

"Oh…" She furrowed her brows. "Okay?"

"I mean," he added, dropping his hand back down and looking at her. Beaming. Glowing. "He's so fucking stupid. I just remembered he didn't even bring a jacket."

Maisy widened her eyes, then she nodded. "Ohhh…"

Although she didn't want to, she couldn't help but laugh, too. Maybe not out of happiness, but because Niall could be really silly when he wanted to be. And maybe because it was nice that Harry had felt comfortable enough to share that with her. Maybe because finally, after weeks, they were finally sharing a nice moment together.

Although, of course, that didn't erase the fact that things weren't okay between them.

She faced forward, across the street and away from him, shaking her head while her entire body shivered.

"How subtle," she added, placing her folded arms over her stomach and smashing her phone into her side. She still hadn't tried to find another driver, and although she knew she should've, she didn't want to take the risk of having to walk away from him. Not so soon. Not right then.

"Right?"

The smile was obvious in his voice, and Maisy was just so hyper-aware of his every moment. Of every detail. Absorbing way more than she'd ever absorbed before. Feeling him way more than she'd ever felt him before.

And Harry didn't make it easy, because he didn't stop moving. He shuffled on his feet, stepping closer while shoving both hands back into his pockets. He breathed in, then heavily breathed out, taking his time to walk until he was in front of her and she didn't have a choice but to look at him.

He buried his hypnotizing eyes into hers, and Maisy curled her toes inside her boots — desperate to stay grounded and hold her balance.

Harry didn't look happy, he didn't look mad, and he didn't look sad.

He looked honest, he looked available, and he looked familiar.

He looked like her best friend.

And it hurt, because there was nothing Maisy wanted more than to go back to what they were before, but as they both stood like that for a moment — silently watching each other, and silently waiting for each other — she realized that it was something she would never get to have again.

How could she? If she wasn't able to be around him without hiding her feelings anymore? If she wouldn't be able to see him dating someone — falling in love with someone — without feeling betrayed and heartbroken? Maybe she'd misinterpreted his actions before, but now that she knew he didn't feel the same way, it wouldn't be fair to hold it against him. She needed to grow out of her feelings, and in order to do so things needed to change. She wouldn't be able to keep interacting with him like she did before.

"I meant it, you know?" he said, pulling her out of her mind. "About giving you a ride home."

Maisy blinked.

"Thank you," she murmured, shuffling on her feet and shrugging. "I'm just… I don't know if that's a good idea."

Harry nodded. He looked down and between their feet, then back into her eyes.

"Just so you know," he said, leaving all traces of playfulness behind, "I'm not leaving with her."

Maisy pulled her eyebrows together, and it took her another pause until she could open her mouth and ask, "W—what?"

"I know you saw me talking to that girl, the one from that night," he explained, taking a short step towards her, "but nothing happened between me and her. And nothing was going to. I swear."

Maisy blinked.

"Oh, okay."

There was a pause.

A pause in which, against her better judgment, she didn't avoid the intensity of his eyes. And a pause in which, as seconds went by, she was easily consumed by the calmness, the confidence, and the assurance he exuded.

Still, it was hard to figure out what was happening, or where he was trying to get to. She tried to read his expression, tried to understand his emotions, tried to get a sense of his thoughts. But she couldn't. So she asked, "Why?"

Harry slid his tongue between his lips, then tilted his head. "Why?"

"Yeah…" Maisy shrugged. "I mean, you were really into her, so… Why?"

He curled his mouth into a timid smile, breathing out his answer as if he couldn't believe he had to say that out loud, "Isy… I was an asshole and hurt your feelings because I wasn't aware of things, but I would never do that knowing—"

"Oh my—"

"—what I know now and—"

"Stop." She raised her hand, the one still gripping that stupid phone, and Harry closed his mouth. "You don't—" She took a deep breath, putting her thoughts in order. "You don't need to stop yourself just because I have feelings for you."

"No, I know. I—"

"Harry, look," she said, putting her hand down and taking a step back from him. "I never meant for you not to go out with her, ok? Or anyone else, for that matter… I can't stop you from fancying people... So if you want to be with her, I mean, you don't need to stop yourself just… Just because you feel sorry for me, okay?"

He closed his eyes and let out a harsh breath, then dropped his head back and looked at the sky for a moment. He didn't have to say anything for her to know that he was thinking about her words, and that he was taking them in before saying something back to her.

Maybe that's why Maisy didn't rush him. And why she distracted herself by watching the way his throat flexed when he swallowed, and the way he softly moved his jaw as he chewed his gum. His facial hair was always kind of longer on his neck, and also kind of messier — something she tended to forget, because it wasn't really noticeable unless he threw his head back. Just like then.

"I know that," he said, once again pulling her out of her mind. "Sorry."

She blinked, watching with blurry eyes as he rolled his shoulders and fixed his eyes back on hers.

"That came out wrong and it wasn't actually answering your question. I didn't walk away from her because I felt sorry for you. I walked away from her because I didn't want to stay there, because I wasn't—I mean, because I'm not interested."

"Oh…" Maisy barely whispered, his words echoing inside her. Then what… What was he doing? What was she supposed to do with that information? What difference did it make? She breathed out through her nose and licked her lips, squishing her eyebrows together and flinching her head back slightly. "Then why… Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know. I guess…" he said into her eyes, pausing to close his mouth and chew his gum as he took a tiny step closer to her. "I guess I just want to make sure you don't leave tonight thinking something happened between me and her. Because it didn't, and it won't. Not her, not anyone else."

Speechless and breathless, Maisy remained lost inside his eyes. It was hard to make sense of what he was saying, and it was even harder to understand if he meant something else between the lines. Was he making sure she wouldn't cry when she got home? Was he simply protecting a friend? Or was he hoping for something more?

She shook her head and took a step back. See? She couldn't do that. She couldn't be his friend when she would be constantly hoping for something more to be in between the lines. That wasn't healthy. And it wasn't fair. "I— I can't… I—"

"Wait, no!" He took a step forward and raised one arm, then immediately dropped it back to his side. Closing his hand into a fist and opening it up again, he softened the tone of his voice and pleaded, "I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know what to do or… Or what to say to make things right. I don't want to overstep, but I also don't want you to think I don't care about losing you, because I do. I care so much, Isy… And it's been killing me."

"I hate this," she said, dropping her chin down and hiding her face behind her hands. Everything hurt — her stomach hurt, her chest hurt, her head hurt. "I didn't… I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want this to happen."

And then, she cried.

"It wasn't… It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Gimme that," he murmured, closing off the distance and taking her phone away from her hand—and from her face. Maisy sobbed, and tears fell down, but she also chuckled, because even amidst everything, Harry was still the same friend who would point out how it wasn't his fault that her bags were too small to carry her things, and yet would always end up keeping whatever she needed safe into his pockets anyway.

"I know, ok? I know," he added, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her to fully cry into his chest. "And I'm sorry, ok?" He placed his cheek on the side of her head, speaking into her ear. "I really am. I'm the one who messed everything up and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for making you cry. And I'm sorry for all the times I made you feel less important than you actually are."

Warmth filled up her body, and she sobbed again, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter while pressing her forehead against her hands, and her hands against his chest.

"There are so many things I should've done differently when it comes to us… I know that. And I'm sorry, ok? I am. I don't want to lose you, Isy. I really want to fix this. Please let me try to fix it."

Maisy breathed out through her nose and nodded, letting her hands fall from her face and throwing her arms around his waist.

"Jesus fucking Christ thanks God," Harry instantly breathed out, smashing her even tighter into him and pushing them both towards the wall.

She blinked her eyes open and chuckled, letting more tears fall down and sniffing while turning her head to the side and pressing her ear against his chest. They both shuffled and stumbled, trying to keep up with their clumsy tiny steps until her back hit the wall. Harry stopped and sighed, and Maisy felt every bit of the relief rushing through him — the way he heavily moved his chest up and down, the way he shivered, the way he squeezed her. It was contagious, and it had her sighing as well. Loosening up all the tension. Melting into him.

"I missed you," he whispered, taking one hand to her head and threading his fingers through her hair.

He stroked her scalp — just like she loved — and Maisy bit her lip, closing her eyes while getting drunk on his cologne. That was exactly where she wanted to be. How she wanted to be. With his heart thumping loudly into her ear, his warmth enveloping her body, his masculine and strong scent filling her lungs.

Sniffing again, she took one hand up to her face and wiped under her nose, exhaling a groan through her mouth. "Ugh… I'm a mess."

"I don't care."

Maisy rolled her eyes, rubbing her cheeks as best as she could while still caged inside his arms. "But I do."

"Shhhh…" He swagged them gently, then grabbed her wrist and took it back around his waist. "Got a lot of fixing to do, I know. But I missed this, so let me enjoy it."

She sighed, holding her own forearms as she rested her arms on his lower back. No matter how hard she tried to be mad at him, she didn't feel like she actually could. Harry had overreacted and hurt her feelings, sure, but it had been the first and only slip in a friendship that had already lasted five years. He was a great guy, and she knew that — of course Maisy knew that. And maybe that is why the words ended up rolling out of her mouth so naturally when she said, "I missed this, too."

"Yeah?" He scratched the back of her head with his short nails, then kissed her hair. "Do you think…" — another kiss, and another one— "Do you think you'll be able to forgive me?"

Hadn't she already?

"I don't…" She cleared her throat, getting rid of the scratchiness from her previous crying. Staring ahead to the empty street, she nuzzled against his chest, then started again. "I don't think it's about forgiveness… I think… I think I just need time."

"Right," Harry murmured, and a moment of silence lingered between them. "Time for what, exactly?"

"It's just… You already know how I feel about you, and I don't think I can be your friend right now."

"Why not?"

"Harry." She rolled her eyes and pulled away, tilting her chin up to look at him while he followed her lead and angled his head down to look at her. He was close — really close — and she had to withdraw her arms from his back to be able to create some more distance between them.

Harry moved, too, letting her go and taking half a step back.

And Maisy hated it.

She wanted to be glued to him all over again.

"Don't make this even harder than it needs to be," she added.

"I'm sorry, I'm not… I'm not trying to make this harder. I just want to understand, that's all."

"Is it really that hard to understand that I can't be your friend when I have feelings for you?"

Harry frowned. "To be honest, yes. Why can't we be friends?"

"Oh my God," she laughed, but mostly because she couldn't believe how dense he was. If what he needed was for her to spell it out to him, then she would, but only because she couldn't handle all the weirdness and the running around circles anymore. "Harry, you're not just a friend to me, ok? And when I say that I have feelings for you, that means that I want you, ok? I want you so much Harry, and I can't stop thinking about it. It's like… It's like I can't pretend that I don't anymore because that's all I think about. All the time. Every time I look at you I can't stop thinking about how much I want to be with you, and every time I see you with a girl I can't stop thinking about how much I wish that was me. And maybe it was fine before, but we kissed and now… Now I just… I just can't, ok? That's why I need some time. Because I can't pretend anymore and I can't—"

"Then don't." He stepped closer again, instantly placing his palms on her cheeks and cradling her face.

Staring into her eyes, Harry was so filled with emotions and so determined to hold her close that her body quivered. And her belly fluttered. And her heart sped up.

Maisy blinked. "What?"

"Don't pretend you don't." he said, not even once faltering his gaze away from hers. "Let me know how much you want me. I wanna know, ok? I want to know how I make you feel. And I want to keep making you feel this way for me. Or more, or better, I don't know. I just… I want all of this with you. I want you, ok?"

With widened eyes, Maisy breathed in and out through her nose. Quickly. Shortly. Desperately. Making her chest go up and down erratically.

"I…"

No more words came out of her brain, and Maisy froze like that. Blinking at him with parted lips and out of breath.

Harry's eyes flicked to her mouth, then traveled back to her eyes. With featherly touches, he brushed his thumbs up and down her cheeks, then bowed closer.

"So don't stay away," he murmured, glancing at her lips once more before closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together. "Don't take some time. And don't stop thinking about me. Yeah? I didn't react properly the first time, but I love the fact that you have feelings for me. Don't get rid of them, please."

She grabbed his wrists, keeping his touch in place while closing her eyes, too. "Please don't… Don't say those things if you don't mean them."

He shook his head, and his nose nudged hers.

"You know I wouldn't," he said, breathing warmly into her face. "I would never—I want you, Isy. I want you and I want you way more than just a friend."

And just like that first time, back at her place, Maisy knew it was about to happen. It was written all over him, and it burned inside her. It made her tremble—out of excitement, out of nervousness, out of fear, and out of anticipation.

So she squeezed his wrists, and fluttered her eyes open.

"Let's…" She swallowed, aware of the closeness between them. "Let's get out of here."

Still leaning into her forehead with his eyes open, Harry nodded. He took another moment to breathe in deeply, then opened his eyes, too.

"Ok," he said, drawing sweet circles around her cheekbones before dropping his hands off her face. He met her palms in the process, though, and they automatically held each other, intertwining their fingers together while stepping away from the wall. "C'mon, then."

"Niall's going home with Eileen and Josh," Harry said, putting his phone back into his pocket. He threw his arm over Maisy's shoulder and looked side to side, then pulled her closer and guided her to cross the street along with him. "So we're good to go."

Maisy bit her lip and nodded, placing one arm around his waist while holding his hand on her shoulder with the other one.

Harry had told her he'd parked around the corner and further down the street, and although he'd already driven Maisy home many-multiple-hundred-thousands of times, and for many-multiple-hundred-thousands reasons, it was safe to say she'd never felt that much anticipation about being alone inside his car with him.

"By the way," he said, leaning to kiss the top of her head and speaking into her hair, "remind me to get him a bottle of something, yeah? Feel like I owe him big time."

She smiled, turning her head to nuzzle into their touching shoulders as Harry took his free hand to the back of her head and stroked her gently. He chuckled and kissed her hair one more time, then faced forward when she did, and dropped his hand to meet her one on his waist. After that, he didn't say anything, neither pressured her to say something back to him, walking in silence as they both hurried to reach their destination.

It was weird, the apparent sudden need they had to be close to each other. To touch each other. Hands grabbing hands, arms giving hugs, sides touching sides. As if they needed reassurance of each other's presence. Or as if they wanted to make sure they wouldn't vanish.

It'd started as soon as they'd walked away from the club, when they failed so badly at keeping any distance that they kept constantly stumbling into each other's feet. They eventually found a rhythm and a way to hold each other that suited both of them, but that need to stay close (close, close, close) didn't change as seconds—and then minutes—went by. It didn't change when Harry walked to a trash can to spit his gum, and even less when he took his shirt off and placed it over her cold shoulders. It also didn't change when Harry slowed down to get the keys from his pocket, nor when he opened the door of the passenger side for her to get inside.

"So…" he said, placing his hands on her hips and guiding her to stand between him and the opened door, "Where am I taking you now?"

She placed her hands on his chest, now covered only by his white t-shirt, and tilted her head to look up at him. Harry wanted her. He'd said so, and she didn't think he would ever lie to her—not about something like that, at least. And yet, her mind couldn't stop wondering. So instead of guessing the answer, she decided to openly ask him.

"Do you still mean the things you said?"

Harry nodded. "Every single word."

"About everything? I mean, do you really want me?"

Curling his mouth into a smile, he sneaked his hands under her shirt—his shirt—and slid his arms around her waist, resting them on her lower back and right above the curve of her bum.

"I really, really want you, Isy," he said, straight into her eyes.

"Why? What changed?"

"Nothing changed," he eagerly answered, and then he slowed down a bit. "I think… I just… I don't know."

He dipped his chin down and drew his sight off from her eyes, then shuffled slightly on his feet. "I think I just wasn't able to put two and two together by myself… That's all."

He shrugged, and Maisy bit the insides of her bottom lip.

In five years, she had never pictured a less confident side of him. Harry was the kind of guy that always managed to be proud of himself, and that always found a positive outcome in every situation. All the time. Even in his most embarrassing moments. So it was honestly weird to see him act like that.

At the same time, the prospect of having new things to learn about him felt really nice. And exciting. Something she wouldn't be able to do if she didn't lay all of her cards on the table. Right there and then.

"That day…" she said, pausing to lick her lips and breathe in. Gathering the strength to point out the thing that had hurt her the most. "Harry, that day you really made me feel like I was getting in your way of—"

"Ugh. I know—"

"—being with that girl and—"

"—I know. I'm sorry, 'm sorry."

He grunted and cursed, pulling her closer and hiding on the curve of her neck. And Maisy let him, closing her mouth and listening to whatever he had to say. Just like she had done that other night.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated. "I don't… I don't have any excuses for the way I reacted. I know that. I—Fuck." Pulling away to look into her eyes again, he took one hand off from her back and placed it on her cheek, tenderly but firmly holding her as he kept talking. "It caught me off guard and I… I fucked up, I know. But I would choose you over absolutely anyone and everyone, Isy. Anytime. No doubts."

His words hit deeply inside her, and a warm glow flowed all over her. A joyful glow. As if her body had burst with bright, sparkling, and multicolored bubbles.

So she bit her lip, and twisted the neckline of his t-shirt around her fingers.��

It was hard to know what was the right thing to do. Rationally, her mind told her to not make it so easy for him. To give it some time, and see if he was actually telling the truth. If he actually meant it.

On the other hand, despite everything, her heart knew what it wanted. She believed his words, she believed he wouldn't intentionally hurt her, and she believed people deserved the benefit of the doubt. More than anything, she also wanted to believe that if she ever made a mistake, the people that she cared about would give her a second chance. So why couldn't she do the same?

"I know," she said, so softly she wasn't even sure he would be able to hear her. But then Harry brushed his thumb on her cheekbone, acknowledging her words, and she immediately kept going. "And I believe you're sorry. I do. I just… I think I'm scared, or… I don't know. I convinced myself you didn't want to be with me in that way, so… I don't know…" She shook her head. "I don't know."

He nodded, drawing gentle circles on her cheek. "Niall said… He said something about how you don't think I'm attracted to you, is that true?"

Maisy widened her eyes. "Oh my God! Niall told you that?"

"I mean—"

"What else did he say?!"

"Nothing! He just—"

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!"

Harry pursed his lips, and then laughed.

"It's not funny!"

She pinched the exposed skin on his chest, and Harry jolted.

"Ouch!" He looked back at her with both a frown and a smile on his face. "What was that for?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe for yelling at me for talking to Niall instead of talking to you? And then you talking to Niall instead of talking to me?"

"Right… Ok, yes. I can see you have a point there, but in my defense—"

"There's no defense!" She pinched him (again), and Harry jolted (again). He took the hand on her face to rub the new stinging inch of skin on his chest, smiling while she kept lashing out at him. "Can't believe you two, honestly! Dickheads! Gossiping like two little—"

"Ok," he said, taking his index finger to her mouth and pressing it into her lips. "Listen to me, woman."

Maisy narrowed her eyes at him, but she suddenly didn't have anything else to say, so she exhaled heavily through her nose and consented to his demand (albeit silently and annoyingly).

"Good." Staring into her eyes, he slid the pad of his finger side to side, slightly brushing it to her parted lips. "Niall was just calling me out for not letting you know how I feel, ok? That's all."

Harry glanced at her mouth, then switched his index finger with his thumb. The place he both touched and stared at seemed to buzz, and heat bloomed through her cheeks. From then on, no matter how much she tried to keep paying attention to his explanation, she simply couldn't put the information together anymore.

"Told me you didn't think I fancy you," he added, just as entranced with the movement of his thumb as she felt, "and that you couldn't read my mind, so if I wanted things to change…"

He put more pressure to his finger and pushed his way between her lips, bumping into her teeth. "I had to show you."

Intoxicated and absorbed, Maisy bit into his short nail, holding him there.

Harry smirked, and met her eyes once again. "Or something like that…"

It was hard to tell what was going through Maisy's mind, then. Mostly because she couldn't care less about her rational thoughts anymore. She didn't want to think anymore. She didn't want to know about Niall's suggestions—or whatever he said—and she didn't want to hear Harry's apologies anymore. All she wanted was to feel, so that's exactly what she did.

Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she leaned in, then slithered her teeth through his nail, stopping where the skin of his thumb began. His fingertip rested on the tip of her tongue, and her belly quivered and swirled in expectation of his reaction.

To her delight, Harry sank his shoulders and gawked at her. Some new, dazzling determination took over him, and even his eyes seemed to darken as he shifted his arm around her lower back and pulled her closer. Gripping at her side with one hand, he moved his other one and got deeper into her mouth, pressing his thumb in, in, in, until her teeth clamped around his first knuckle.

Maisy molded her lips around his shortest and chubbiest digit, keeping it locked between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She tasted him softly, running slow circles with her tongue while still watching him. Harry faintly smirked, so much that it was almost undetectable, and she took that as a challenge. Because she wanted more. She wanted more reactions, and she wanted more actions. So she placed both of her hands around his wrist and closed her eyes, then sucked his finger in.

Harry stiffened at first, and then he cursed, breathing out heavily through his mouth while taking a tiny step forward and spreading his other four fingers open on her face.

"Damn, Isy…" he murmured.

The admiration, pride, and approval in his voice cracked something inside her, and a very familiar feeling pulsed through her veins. It made her go all slippery and quivery. And it brought wet heat between her legs.

Bold and fearless, Maisy swirled her tongue and hummed. Making it dirtier than it needed to be. Making it louder. Making it wetter.

And he didn't seem to mind it. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it just as much and encouraged her to go even further, moving his thumb side to side while digging his other four fingers into the skin of her cheek and neck.

It was so good. So unexpected. And so desperate.

To put so much energy into something like sucking a finger. To feel herself going mindless as she tightened his wrist between her hands and brought him closer, then sucked him deeper. Breathing in and out through her nose, then completely forgetting about their surroundings and pushing her head down to fit his whole finger inside. And losing herself as she sucked. And sucked. All over again.

"Jesus Christ," Harry murmured, backing her into the back door of his car, tilting her head up and pulling his thumb off from her mouth. "That's enough."

Everything happened so fast, that before she could even process the information or blink her eyes open, Harry had already pressed his lips to hers in a desperate move.

They first met awkwardly and clumsily, hitting each other's cheeks and chins. But then Harry cradled her jaw and kept her in place, taking the lead and capturing her lips for a much hungrier and experienced kiss.

A soft tingle ran between her legs, and Maisy moaned softly, so softly she barely even noticed it. She dragged her hands up to his shoulders, then to his neck, and to the back of his head. Harry hummed, and she threaded her fingers between his curls and tugged, standing on her tiptoes and parting her lips to take things further. Searching for his tongue while he searched for hers. Tasting each other with the same devotion and effort she had just tasted his thumb. Moving in perfect sync, and making sure to taste every corner and every inch.

Harry dropped his hand from her face to her bum, giving it a rough and forceful squeeze and sucking all the air around them through his nose.

Maisy hummed, holding onto his hair tightly as she rolled her hips forward. Harry smirked into the kiss, then slid his other arm down, filling both of his hands with her ass. He squeezed her again, this time digging his nails into both of her cheeks and pulling her forward while he also stepped closer, and finally fully pressing their hips together.

His growing bulge nudged between her legs, and a gasped moan came out of her throat.

"Fuck," he breathed out, breaking the kiss to roll his hips on hers.

"Oh God…" she sighed, taking the opportunity to drag her wet lips to his jaw. That was so embarrassing. Maisy had to stop. She really had to stop. She needed to stop. They both needed to stop. And yet she couldn't. She didn't want to. Because Harry was getting hard while making out with her. She could feel him pressed against her hips and she didn't want to lose the feeling. She didn't want to step away. So she didn't. She moved her mouth thoughtlessly, instead, savoring as much as she could of him. Feeling his stubble under her tongue, and his scent under her nose.

"Fuck," he murmured, timidly rubbing himself up and down her front. "That's…" He swallowed. "Feels good, baby."

Maisy hummed, mapping kisses from his jaw, to his ear. She tangled her fingers around his curls, holding her weight while speaking softly and as close to him as she could. "Take me home, Haz."

"Mhmm…" Harry nodded, his hair brushing her temple.

She moved back towards his cheek, leaving a wet trail behind while making his mouth her final destination.

"Please?" she asked, then kissed him shortly.

"Sure." He nodded again, leaning in— "Anything you want." —and kissing her again.

Maisy smiled. The way he seemed enraptured by her was cute and sweet, but also extremely arousing. She could only imagine the things they would do under the influence of that dynamic, and she couldn't wait to find out. But the only way she would be able to do all the things she wanted to do was if they weren't standing in the middle of the street, only two blocks and a half away from their friends. So she sucked his bottom lip and pulled away, letting it slide softly between her teeth while stroking his scalp.

"Now," she whispered, watching him stand there, at her mercy, with closed eyes and parted mouth. "Take me home, Harry, please."

He opened his eyes.

"Wha—" He licked his lips, and shook his head. "I mean, yes." Out of breath, he nodded once, and then twice, and then thrice. "Yeah. Ok. Home. Yes."

Maisy giggled. Still caressing the back of his head, she flinched her chin back and pulled away slightly, only to be able to watch him better. "You okay?"

"Dunno. Think 'm high right now."

She frowned, holding herself from laughing any louder than she should. "High?!"

"Mhm. Pretty sure I got high from your kisses."

"Oh my God." Maisy snorted. She placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him off, but his hands on her ass didn't allow her to put any actual distance between them.

"Think I developed an addiction—"

"Shut up."

"—and your mouth is my drug—"

" — Harry! — "

" — I need more — "

" — You're ridiculous—"

" — Gimme more — "

He kissed her again, and although Maisy couldn't stop laughing at how lame and silly he was, she still kissed him back. He smirked, seemingly proud of her reaction, then moved his large hand to her face and cradled her cheek, leading the way into a much slower and tender pace. His mouth was suddenly gentle, moving carefully while discovering a new side of their relationship. Not a desperate and hungry version, like it'd been up until then, but a smooth and thoughtful one. Made of sweet and calm kisses. Of gentle pecks, and timid tugs. Of wet lips, and honest affection.

Eventually, their eagerness toned down, dissolving into a different kind of longing for each other. Less desperate on one hand, but much more intense on the other.

Harry sighed, then broke off the kiss.

"Let's go," — he pecked her lips one — "then." — two — "Let's go home." — three — "Mine," — four times — "Or yours?"

One last kiss, lingering longer than the others, and Maisy finally blinked her eyes open. Harry's hand was warm on her cheek, and she felt herself needily nuzzling against it. She took a minute to catch her breath, and also to adjust to the dim lights, taking the opportunity to meet his touch with her own hand and turning her face just enough to press a kiss to his palm. Then, she whispered, "Yours… Take me back to yours."

He leaned in to kiss her temple, then brushed his lips on her skin as he spoke. "Back to mine it is, then."

— — — — —

In five years, Harry had already driven Maisy home, to the grocery store, to parties, from parties, to work, from work, to the hospital, to Niall's, and even back to her parents house.

In the process, Maisy had watched him a lot. She had watched him enough to memorize the way he would spread his legs and switch his foot between pedals, the way he would relax into the car seat and blindly shift gears, or the way he would place his elbow by the window and hold the steering wheel with one hand. More than not, she'd admired him secretly, too pent-up to say anything, and too afraid to let him show how much he affected her. Only a few times she had been brave enough to praise him out loud, although usually hiding behind some joke about how much he tried to look cool while driving, and never admitting how deeply attracted to him she actually felt.

That day though, as he drove them back to his apartment, whilst everything seemed to be still the same between them, everything seemed to be just as different and new. Because now, while she watched him turn the steering wheel, she also couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened in the middle of the street. And now, as she watched him flex his arms and shift gears, she also couldn't stop thinking about the feeling that kept dripping out between her legs.

"You're staring," Harry said, stopping at the traffic light. He turned his head to the side and smiled, sliding his now free hand against hers and intertwining their fingers once again.

Biting her lip, Maisy tried her best not to beam at him. It was useless, though, and her mouth ended up curling into the biggest and most genuine grin.

"I am," she laughed, then shrugged. "You look hot when you drive."

Harry widened his eyes, but there was a twinkle behind his gaze that made her feel comfortable about his reaction. As if the shock of her words did nothing but please him.

"Hot?" He squeezed her palm. "You think?"

Maisy nodded.

"I do, yeah… It's just… Hard to look away."

"Hmm…" Slowly, he let go of her hand, then placed his palm on her thigh, spreading his fingers open and digging them slightly into her flesh. "Keep looking, then."

Heat spread under her skin, and goosebumps rose all over. Harry's hand was large and heavy, and it covered so much of her leg that it was hard not to pay attention to it, or to ignore how close it was to a place she didn't think he would ever actually be. And yet a place that he had teased just minutes earlier. A place that he had rolled and pressed himself against. A place that he had fully woken up that night.

And judging by the way he grasped her in that exact moment, and by the way he had touched her earlier—so thirsty to squeeze and press her closer—Maisy knew he would be good at… Everything. She knew he would be the one to match the expectations no other guy had been able to match up until then. And she knew that he would be the one to set her body on a whole new level of fire. Not because other guys hadn't been good—after all she'd had some pretty great sexual experiences in her life—but because he was different to her. They felt different.

And she wanted to get a taste of that. She wanted to have him. She wanted him to touch her. And she wanted it all right now.

"Ugh." Maisy shuffled on the passenger seat and looked away from him, watching the empty street and covering the back of his hand with her palm. "Why is your place so far away?"

Harry smirked, and although she couldn't see him, she could feel the burning of his eyes all over her chest.

"It's not, actually," he said, so low and so husky that it felt almost calculated. As if he knew the effect it would have on her. "I think you're just eager to get there."

He squeezed her thigh, getting his fingertips just a little bit deeper into her, and Maisy faced him again.

If he wanted to play that game, then she would play it just as well.

Staring into his eyes, she scooched down a little, then dragged his hand along with hers. Sliding it just an inch up through her thigh. "I think I am, yes."

His gaze faltered for a moment, dropping down to where she was guiding their touch. Maisy bit her lip, enjoying his attentiveness, and kept moving their hands, stopping only when his pinky finger reached the crease between her thigh and her pelvis. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed her body, pinching her flesh with his fingers.

Maisy sighed, hypnotized on how pretty and hot and cute and manly he looked. All at the same time.

"Aren't you?" she asked, making sure her voice acted as a mirror of her current feelings, and sharing with him the sensual and confident side of her. One she had never been able to show him before, but was dying to.

Harry licked his lips and exhaled through his nose, then looked back at her face. He blinked a couple of times, then asked, "Hm? Am I what?"

Holding back a smile, she slid her fingers up his wrist, freeing his hand from her touch at the same time she brought her other hand around and placed it on her other inner thigh.

"Eager," she murmured. She squeezed her own leg, just like he'd done it before, and made her way up to the place her body most wanted him to be. "To get home… And touch me."

"Jesus Christ." Harry looked between her legs and swallowed, sinking his nails so deeply into her flesh that Maisy couldn't help but hiss at the pain.

Moving her palm from her inner thigh to the back of his hand, she finally directed him to her burning and aching center. She circled her other fingers around his forearm, holding tightly onto him, and rolled her hips timidly, subtly. Almost as if she didn't want him to see it—but also making sure he would not only see it, but that he would also feel it.

"I want you to touch me," she murmured, rolling her hips for a second time.

He dug the heel of his palm between her legs, then pressed his fingertips onto her center. "I can see that."

"You don't want to?"

Harry glared at her. Something seemed to have snapped inside him, and his voice got darker when he asked, "What do you think?"

Maisy shrugged, trying hard to create complete, full, coherent sentences while Harry's hand was finally there. "I hope you do. And that I'm not embarrassing myself."

He stroked his fingers through her wetness, curling his fingers and meeting his own palm as he grabbed between her legs—so harshly and so firmly that Maisy closed her eyes and squirmed on the passenger seat. She gasped quietly, leaning into his arm and pressing her forehead near his shoulder. Fully letting him take over the situation.

"I like this side of you." He loosened up his fingers, then moved them up and down, over and over again, spreading her wetness as best as he could despite the layers of clothes that covered her. "Almost made me lose my game over there. But look at you now… Did you always feel like this?"

"Oh God," she mouthed onto his bicep. The fabric of her pants, plus her thong, didn't allow her to feel him properly, but she felt enough to quiver from head to toe, and enough to make her want more.

She spread her legs wider, and Harry increased the pressure and speed of his stroke, moving his fingers faster and more forcefully.

"Tell me, did you always feel like this when I drove you places?" he insisted. "Did I always make you this wet?"

Maisy nodded, and grunted.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know it's—It's kinda inappropriate, isn't it? I—Sorry—"

"Shh,shhh… It's not." Harry rubbed her covered entrance in circles. Quick circles, experienced circles, making her get wetter and wetter. "Wish I knew sooner, that's all."

He focused on performing his task with only one finger, then, pressing it between her lips and then rubbing circles in search for that spot that would drive her insane. As soon as he found it, Maisy jolted and moaned, unable to contain herself anymore.

Still holding onto his arm, she recovered the strength on her other hand, covering his knuckles and fingers and guiding his touch once again. She helped him so he could touch her like she wanted him to, so he could keep pressing and stroking her exactly where she needed him to, and before she could notice it, she was fully rolling her hips on their connected hands. Searching for more friction. Desperate for relief.

Harry groaned, and she arched her back. He pressed faster, and faster. And she was there. Almost there. So, so, so almost there.

She just needed some more rolling, just like that, some more gasping, oh God, yes, and then—

And then someone honked behind them.

They both jumped. Maisy pressed her legs together and covered her center with one hand, while Harry straightened up and stretched his arm across her chest—as if that would hide her the flush from her cheeks, or the desperation from her breath, or the lust from her eyes.

The car behind them honked again. And again.

"Wha—"

"Green," she breathed out, pointing to the traffic light while her chest moved up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

And the car behind them honked, again.

"Shit," Harry mumbled, letting go of Maisy to shift gears and press the clutch pedal, then easily letting it go again. "Sorry… Sorry."

Still out of breath, she kept her legs pressed together and nodded. "Yeah, I—Yeah…"

He sped up before pressing the clutch pedal and shifting gears again, driving as fast as he could through the city.

Maisy clenched her thighs, then between her legs, and shuffled on her seat.

Peeking at her, Harry sighed.

"Shit. I'm sorry."

Maisy nodded again. How long did they just spend there? Stupidly parked at a traffic light? And how many green lights did they ignore?

"You ok?" he asked, eyes on the road and both hands on the steering wheel.

She shifted and rearranged herself, feeling the burning desire between her legs turn into sticky coldness.

"Yeah… I just…" Maisy said, watching the neighborhood through the window and chuckling lightly. "I forgot we were there."

"I know, me too," Harry laughed. "Shit. Completely lost track of time, too."

"Mhm."

She laughed.

And then they both laughed.

Peeking at her again, Harry grabbed her hand one more time, pulling it from her lap and taking it to his mouth.

"Don't worry, by the way." He kissed the back of her hand, then took their connected hands to shift gears. "I'll take care of you as soon as we get home."

She smiled, then intertwined her fingers with his. "Mhm. You better."

"Ok," Harry said, turning the steering wheel and straightening out the tires. He put the car into neutral and lifted the handbrake, then took his feet off the pedals and twisted the ignition key. The engine stopped working, but silence didn't have enough time to settle before he tapped her leg twice and spoke again, "Get out."

He stepped out of the car, and Maisy blinked. Smiling to herself, she shook her head and reached to open her door, but Harry was already there, doing the job for her and offering his hand for her to hold.

She narrowed her eyes, and looked up at him.

"C'mon," he said, wiggling his fingers. "Out."

She opened her mouth to call him out for his demanding tone, but ended up snorting and chuckling, instead.

"Well, look who's eager now," she muttered, taking his offer and grabbing his hand, then getting out and stepping aside.

The last five minutes of the drive to his place had been completely silent, and although his promise of taking care of her as soon as they got home lingered between them, all the events of that day had finally started catching up with her brain while Harry's thumb soothed the back of her hand and she watched the streets go by through the window. Tiredness and sleepiness got a hold of her muscles, and her thoughts worked at a much slower pace than before. So whilst she still found herself desperate to get to his apartment, she also wouldn't have complained about taking a short nap first.

"To be fair," he said, "been eager since I first saw you tonight."

He slammed the door shut, and its bang echoed around the parking lot. Maisy looked around, fixing her outfit while Harry moved to stand in front of her. He seemed to be the only neighbor who hadn't been in the building that night, all the other spots already occupied by different types of cars. Other than that, everything was quiet, as if they were the only two people awake in the entire town.

"What happened to building maintenance?" she murmured.

Harry tilted his head and smiled, placing his hands on her hips and caging her between his body and his car. "Building maintenance?"

Looking over his shoulder, Maisy rested her hands on his chest and shrugged. It hadn't always been intense, gray darkness and dim lights, had it? She usually walked into the building through the front door, so she couldn't remember the last time she'd been there, but she was pretty convinced it used to look more appealing than… That.

"Yes. Half of the bulbs are gone," she pointed out.

He lifted his hands to her face, brushing his thumb over her jawline while sliding the other four to the back of her neck. "Are they?"

Guiding her to look at him, he tilted his chin down and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Maisy sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying his softness. "Mhmm…"

He pulled away, only enough to murmur, "Didn't notice."

And then he kissed her again. Curling his mouth around her bottom lip and getting a taste of it, then letting it go and repeating the process with the upper one.

Kind of dizzy, Maisy dropped her palms to his waist, grasping at his t-shirt for some balance just as he tilted her head to the side and drifted his kisses to her cheek.

"It's just…" She swallowed, keeping her eyes shut and focusing on the way his wet lips caressed her skin. "Kinda dark… Isn't it?"

Harry hummed, pressing more and more kisses. He took his time moving towards her ear, meanwhile drawing small circles on her lower jaw and pushing her body against the closed door.

"It is dark, yes," he said, brushing his nose next to her ear and allowing every word to resonate inside her. "Means no one can see us."

Maisy rested her weight on his car, and Harry waved both hands up through her hair, holding it into a ponytail. With a gentle but firm tug, he pulled her head back, then moved his kisses down to her neck.

God. That felt good.

Really good.

He kissed her again. And again, and again, and again. Parting his lips slightly and making it wet. Making it sweet. Making it noisy. Hmmmm…

She parted her lips, breathing heavily through her mouth. Heat seemed to rush to every spot he touched, and she could feel her pulse racing in her throat.

So good.

"I mean," she barely managed to say. "Maybe… Someone… Could…"

He hummed again, a little longer this time, letting her know he was listening even though he seemed much more preoccupied about covering her throat with warm, needy and calculated kisses.

"Yes…" He parted his lips wider, pressing them where her neck met her shoulder and sliding his tongue up and down. Wet, and warm. Once, and twice. "Maybe."

Harry knew what he was doing, tracing a dreamy and sensual path from one side to the other with his plump and juicy lips. Sucking slightly even now and then, soothing with his tongue, teasing with his teeth. Using his large hands to tilt her head as he pleased. Letting her know how careful and affectionate he could be, but also showing off his power and strength.

Maisy's heart skipped a beat, and her legs weakened.

"Wanna risk it?" he asked, breathing hot air into her ear.

Twisting her hands around his t-shirt, Maisy opened her eyes. She licked her lips and swallowed, putting herself together and finding the last remains of energy to say something back to him.

Truth be told, there was something about being the only two in that dark parking lot that made her feel excited to keep going. The danger was a turn on, and there was no other person that could ever make her feel as safe as Harry did, so she knew that if there was a time to be brave and risk it all, that would be it.

At the same time, the idea of getting caught by one of his neighbors—people she more than often encountered in the elevator or walking in the hallway—brought nervousness to the pit of her stomach. It was one thing to make out passionately and let others know how much you were into someone, but getting caught naked and mid-orgasm was completely different. At least when it came to Maisy, of course.

"That eager, huh?" she asked, facing the ceiling and waiting for him to tilt her head back down. "Can't even make it to the fourth floor?"

Her question put a smirk on his face, and it granted her wishes, causing Harry to tighten the grip of his fingers and guide her to look at him again.

"That eager, yes." He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose up and down her own. "Can you blame me?"

He let go of her hair and slid his fingers down, brushing the tips on each side of her neck.

"Been thinking about you in this outfit since I first saw you tonight."

He traced her collarbones, then breezed from her shoulders to her forearms, sliding his own shirt off from her arms, and then going all the way back up to her chest once again.

Her flesh prickled at his touch, and a brief shiver rippled through her, causing Harry's smirk to get even wider.

Just like before, his reaction was enough to snap something inside her. Because even though she enjoyed taking orders and being compliant to someone else's wishes, Maisy didn't enjoy giving all her power away. Not all at once, at least.

So she looked down at her own body, let Harry's shirt hang on her elbows, and raised her eyebrows.

"This outfit?" she asked, as if she hadn't bought that top specifically for that night. Or as if she had never heard Harry talking to the boys about bloody gorgeous tits before. Or as if she wasn't proud of the curves she had to offer. Or as if she hadn't hoped of getting his attention when she'd put the pieces together and stared at herself in the mirror earlier in the afternoon.

"Mhmm…" He grabbed the spaghetti straps between his fingers, then followed their path from her shoulders to her chest. "This outfit."

She glanced up again, then watched him carefully and patiently, fluttering her eyelids while drowning her voice in innocence and naivety. "What about it?"

"Do I really need to say it?"

Maisy nodded. "I would like you to, yes."

Harry hummed, and looked down at her chest. He toyed with the thin straps a little longer, hooking each one inside of his fingers and running through them up and down.

If Maisy would've had to guess, she would've thought he was pondering his next words. Weighing them up. Choosing them carefully. Making sure they wouldn't go unnoticed, and therefore making sure she wouldn't go unaffected. She'd seen Harry flirting so many times, that she knew how much liked the thrill of the chase. She'd also shared a lot of conversations with him about the subject, so she knew how much he cared about making other people feel good, even when he knew it wouldn't go further than a one night stand—although even if she hadn't talked to him about it, she knew that making people feel good was a trait that played a huge part in who Harry was; not only when dating or hooking up, but just in general.

"Well," he eventually said, clearing his throat and answering her question. "I mean, I didn't want to be disrespectful at the club, but…"

He moved his hands, leaving the straps of her top behind and tracing its edge instead.

"To be completely honest…" He brushed the tips of his index and middle fingers across her cleavage. Teasingly and featherly. Eying his own movements. Scanning the patterns he drew all over the swell of her breasts. "And only because you're asking…"

He paused to glance into her eyes, then slid his tongue between his lips and looked back down to his hands.

"I couldn't stop staring at these," he finally added.

Maisy's skin tingled, and her insides quivered. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the way his fingers made her feel. Enjoying the fact that he'd been staring at her breasts. And enjoying even more the idea of him filling his hands with them and giving both a forceful squeeze. Shit. She swallowed.

Her heart hammered in her ears, though, and her lungs didn't seem to keep up with so much information. She knew Harry could feel her chest moving up and down frenziedly under his touch, meaning that, once again, it would be impossible for her to hide how breathless he made her feel.

So she would have to use it in her favor, instead.

Shifting on her feet, she leaned fully into the car and breathed in deeply, filling up her chest and pressing her cleavage briefly into his hands. Then, she exhaled through her nose, leaving Harry's fingers running over empty air.

"And?" she asked, feeling herself taking control once again. "What's your verdict?"

He peeked at her and took a step forward, fingers finding her again. "My verdict?"

"Mhm. You like them?"

Harry wiggled his eyebrows and nodded, letting her know he understood the question.

Focusing on one breast, he moved his index finger up and down, drawing a straight line, then repeating the process an inch or two to the side.

"I think they're gorgeous," he said, connecting the two lines with a horizontal stroke.

Maisy smiled. "Thanks. I think so, too."

Harry smiled, too, then moved to her other breast. "You do, huh?"

Once again, he traced two vertical lines, and connected them horizontally with a third one.

"Mhmm…"

"Can't see why you wouldn't." He reached her sides and drifted down, roaming through her ribcage. "Can't see why anyone wouldn't."

He got past the exposed skin of her waist, then to the waistline of her pants.

"These are really nice, too." He sneaked four fingers between the fabric and her stomach, leaving only his thumb out as he grabbed onto the waistline and pulled her forward. Maisy gasped quietly, almost unnoticeable, stumbling on her feet while Harry skimmed his other hand down through her belly. "But I bet this one" —he tilted his chin down while she tilted her head up, and then he cupped between her legs, fully palming and covering her heat— "looks better."

Maisy snorted, pressing herself into his touch. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Holding each other's gazes, they both smirked.

Harry pushed his hand into her, backing her up and forcing her into the cold car while stepping forward. "Am I supposed to pretend I'm not dying to take your clothes off?"

Maisy shrugged. "I mean, I would rather if you got right into it, but if you want to keep playing games…"

Harry's smirk faded away. He rubbed his fingers up and down, making sure to stroke from one side to the other. Harsher. Fully. From her entrance, to her front. Just like he'd done earlier that day. But somehow even better.

Oh God. Maisy blinked, then moved her palms up to his arms, holding tightly onto him while flickering her eyes all over his face.

Something had happened.

There were no traces of playfulness or teasing anymore. No more smirks, no more cluelessness. No more fake oblivion. No more mulling over his words.

Harry looked focused and determined. Sure of himself. And yet ready to crumble.

"'M not playing games," he stated, touching her. Always touching her. "Would never play games with you."

Oh. The information clicked inside her mind, and she squeezed his arms. "I—I know."

She hadn't meant it like that, and she knew Harry wasn't messing around with her. He wouldn't do that. If he didn't want her, then he wouldn't be with her. Simply as that.

"Good." He slid his foot between her boots and parted her legs, then spread them even wider with his knee. "Now, I'd really like to make you cum."

Applying more pressure to his hand, he rubbed circles, just like she'd guided him earlier.

Ohh… Maisy fluttered her eyelids, then fully closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, holding back a moan and turning it into a soft whine, instead.

"Can I make you cum, pretty girl?"

Turning the corners of her mouth up, Maisy nodded.

"Right here?" He moved faster. "Right now?"

Oh God. She swallowed, then slid her tongue through her parted lips and glanced at him.

"I—Oh God—" The words flew out from her mind to her mouth, and she dropped her forehead to his chest. "Are there—Shit—Are there cameras here?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Then—"

"We can barely afford light bulbs. Or so I've heard."

"Oh my God," she chuckled, twisting his t-shirt inside her fingers as the feeling grew more and more intense with each stroke. "Shut up, and—Oh God… Just… Fuck."

"Yes?" he asked, the smile clear in his voice.

She breathed in and out, heavily and loudly, and slid one hand from his arm to her own waist. Pulling away from his chest, she stared into his green eyes and unbuttoned her pants.

"Touch me." And then, she unzipped them. "Now."

Harry smirked. He looked around and over his shoulder, then stood by her side and pushed her further towards the front of the car, closer to the wall. Maisy sighed, and relaxed. It was good to know they were in sync. That no matter how much they wanted to do that, none of them got to the point of disrespecting each other's—or other people's—boundaries.

And then, he sneaked his hand inside her pants, and every one of her worries and random thoughts vanished away. She focused on him, and on the things he did to her. She focused on the way he stood straighter and stretched his arm, then got in between the lace of her thong and the warmth of her skin. She focused on the way he stepped forward and relaxed his body into her side, too, throwing his free arm around her neck while angling his other forearm to get his fingertips past her hair, and right into her wet flesh.

"Fuck."

They looked at each other for a second, and then they both chuckled, simultaneously leaning in for a whole new kiss.

"Fucking finally…" Harry mumbled.

He dipped his middle finger between her folds and stroked it up and down, collecting her wetness and spreading it around. Maisy shivered, and her hips jerked forward, almost against her will. With a grunt, Harry pulled his hand off from her pants and broke the kiss, bringing his middle finger to his mouth and sucking it in.

He closed his eyes when tasting her, and Maisy's body got on fire. Grabbing his t-shirt into fists, she pulled him closer, then licked her way around his jaw. Tasting whatever inch she could reach, and as much as she could, while he put his hand back inside her pants.

"C'mere." He kissed her again, and dipped his fingers between her folds again. Stroking them up and down. Spreading her open. Getting to know every corner of her.

Maisy sighed. She moved her hands, grabbing his neck, and his bicep, then let her body react to his wonderful, skillful fingers. His never stopping fingers. Stroking up and down, up and down. Rubbing circles. Pressing her clit. Rubbing her clit. So good. So, so good.

"Oh God." She leaned into him, moving her hips and searching for more friction. "Harry…"

"Yeah?"

More. She needed more.

"Ugh," she practically whined, opening her eyes. "Touch me."

"I am touching you."

She smacked his shoulder. "Then touch me more."

Harry laughed, then quickly kissed her again. He hunched slightly and pressed his middle finger inside her. Just barely, though, not even making it to his first knuckle before freezing and kissing the corner of her mouth.

"Like this?"

"More."

Half an inch forward.

"Like this?"

"Oh my God!" She grabbed his wrist, and glared at him. "I hate you so much right now!"

He smiled, kissing her cheek, and her chin, then her mouth. "No you don't."

Maisy rolled her eyes. "I do, yes."

"Hmmm."

With half of his middle finger still inside her, he pressed one side of his hand on her clit, then went back to rubbing circles.

She let go of his wrist and placed both hands on his shoulders, then threw her head back and rolled her hips back and forth.

"You said you'd make me cum…"

Keeping the steady movement of his hand, Harry kissed her cheek.

"You're right, baby."

Baby.

Maisy throbbed between her legs, then squeezed her eyes shut.

"I did say that," he added, and she huffed.

"So make me, damnit."

"Alright baby," —he bent his knees, then pushed his middle finger deep inside her— "Alright."

Oh.

Maisy moaned.

He slid his hand and pushed his finger out. Then thrusted back inside. Curving it, he pressed it against her wall, searching for that spot that would drive her insane. When he found it, Maisy's knees wobbled, and she melted into him.

"Oh God." She looked into his eyes, breathing from her mouth while he stared back at her.

"Yeah?" Out. And in. Hitting into that same spot one more time. "Right there?"

She bit her lip, and nodded. "Mhmmm…"

He pulled his lonely finger out, then pushed two inside. Aiming for that same delicious spot, over and over again. Making her feel good—so, so good.

She held onto him, hypnotized as she watched the beautiful green of his eyes, and he threaded his free hand through her hair, pulling her till his lips were against her temple. Breathing into her while he worked his strong fingers inside her. Pumping so hard that she could hear her dripping wetness in the dead-silent parking lot.

"God…" She bit her lip. "I dreamed about this for so long."

"Yeah? Is it like you dreamed it would be?"

"Much… Much better."

Harry sighed, then tightened the grip around her hair and tilted her face to the side. "C'mere."

He kissed her firmly, then, connecting their lips and keeping them together while he tried his best to angle his arm and hit the spot hidden inside her.

"Fuck…" She moaned into his mouth. "Can you… Oh God… Can you make it three?"

He hunched down, wriggling inside her pants to adjust his hand.

"Shit." He pulled away from her mouth and looked over his shoulder, then back at her. "Can't with these pants… And I don't want to undress you here…"

Maisy nodded. "Okay."

"Sorry." He pumped in and out again.

"It's—It's fine, I just… I need more."

"Then I'll give you more."

He pulled his fingers out and held her tightly with his palm, then spinned her body around. Pressing his chest to her back and hovering over her shoulder, he held her body firmly with his other arm, and proceeded to work between his legs. He pressed one finger to her clit and rubbed circles, gradually increasing the speed and pressure of his movements. The new position allowed him to relieve some of his own tension, too, rocking his hardening bulge against her ass.

Maisy melted into his hold, throwing her arm up and around his neck and holding tightly onto him while moving her hips back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That was so much better.

Oh God.

He squeezed her tighter, keeping her in place while he made sure to give her everything she needed and wanted. More pressure, more speed. Kisses to her neck, and to her jaw. Breathing hotly into her ear.

"Yes, yes." She pulsed, throbbed, and quivered. "Oh God."

Harry moved steadily, but faster. Pushing her further, and further.

"That's it, baby," he murmured into her ear. "That's it. C'mon."

He pushed her further and further. And even further.

Until Maisy finally exploded, shuddered, and trembled.

''Ah!"

She fell forward, and Harry grabbed her. Pulling her upright, and driving her through her climax. Out of breath and numb, she grabbed his wrist and squeezed him. Silently begging for him to stop.

He complied and pulled his fingers away from her clit, soothing her and shushing her when she hissed. But then he removed his hand from her pants and automatically took it up to his mouth, licking and sucking the mess she'd made while humming next to her ear. As if she was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

Maisy moaned, almost painfully, holding onto his arm around her waist and instinctively drawing circles with her ass up and down his length.

"Please. Please. Just take me upstairs now."

— — — — —

The walk to the fourth floor happened in a rush. They didn't let go of each other while walking, nor stopped kissing or touching when they got inside the elevator. And by the time they were inside the living room, Harry's t-shirt was already on the floor and Maisy's boots were long forgotten by the door.

They blindly guided each other around the furniture, kissing and touching while they unbuttoned each other's pants. Harry's were the first to get lost on the hallway, and Maisy didn't miss one second before feeling him up through his briefs. He grunted and sighed, chasing her mouth while encouraging her to take the rest of her clothes off.

Maisy stumbled as they got inside his bedroom, and they both laughed, having to slow down and take a deep breath before moving on. But then she sat on the foot of the bed and Harry kneeled in front of her, going along with every single one of her movements and helping to undress her.

He kissed her legs, and moved his lips up her body, losing himself with her scent when he nuzzled his nose between her legs. He kissed her on top of the laced thong, and then pulled the item off her body. He moved up, and they captured each other's mouths once again. Kissing, sucking, nibbling. He felt her up, and she felt him up. She squeezed him with her palm, and traced him with her fingers. He breathed in and out heavily from her mouth, too worked up to properly kiss her. And then she kissed his bottom lip, holding it and sucking it into her mouth as she slid into the elastic of his briefs and finally touched him.

Harry moaned. So raw, manly, and helpless at the same time that it made her smile.

She stroked him up and down, then. Up and down, up and down. He was full, firm, and hot under her hand. Rigid. Solid. His own neediness had already gotten him wet, but not enough for her hand to slide as smoothly as she would've liked, so she pulled it off and brought it to her mouth.

Harry took the opportunity to take the last item off, his shaft hitting his stomach and making him hiss. He stroked himself, crawling over her body before diving into her neck.

Maisy squirmed, and moaned. She searched for his hand, and once she grabbed it, she pulled it directly to her chest.

"Want them in your mouth," she murmured, squeezing her breast with the help of his hand.

Harry buckled his hips into hers, and cursed into her skin. He sat on his heels and brought her along by her arms, then pulled at the sleeves of his own shirt to take it off her body.

"Tomorrow morning you're wearing this again," he said, holding up his shirt in his hand and then throwing it to the floor. "And I'm gonna fuck you in it."

Maisy smiled. "Yes, sir."

He sighed then shook his head, and she giggled. Lifting one arm, she unzipped her top with the other one. Harry helped her get rid of it, and then he was all over her body once again. Snuggling into her chest and parting his mouth to get a taste of her breast. Squeezing it into his hand and sucking it fervently. Nibbling her nipple, flickering his tongue. Sucking even more.

"Bloody fucking gorgeous," he mumbled around her.

"God, yes." She relaxed into the mattress, threading her hands into his hair and arching her body into his mouth. "Take more."

He sucked deeper, unashamedly slurping as he drooled all over her skin and grinded against her hips.

Maisy exploded with pure, raw, and wild need for him. She bent her knees and placed her feet on the bed, then spread her legs open. Stretching her arm between their bodies, she grabbed his length and pressed his tip between her folds, rubbing up and down her wetness.

"Fuck." She moaned, rolling her hips up.

"Jesus Christ," Harry grunted. "You're so fucking sexy."

He moved to her other breast, massaging the one he had just abandoned. Losing himself in her taste and squeezing her just as fiercely as he sucked her into his mouth.

Fuck. Maisy really liked that. She really liked when men loved her breasts, but Harry being the one who sucked them into his mouth was mind-blowing. It made her feral. It drove her insane.

"Hell yes." She moaned, and he moaned.

She threaded her free hand around his curls and pressed him closer to her chest. Hoping to suffocate him with her breasts. "Keep going…"

Harry hummed, drinking her in while writhing against her hand.

She scratched his scalp with one hand, and pressed him between her folds with the other. Rocking her hips back and forth while he got drunk on her. "Just like that…"

He searched for her hands, then, slotting their fingers together and sinking them onto the mattress while he devoured her entirely. Letting her breast go with a loud pop and moving immediately to her neck.

"I need you," he mumbled, spreading open-mouthed kisses to whatever he could reach. "Now. I need you now."

She hooked her legs around his waist, adjusting so he could roll and rub himself against her clit. "Mhmm… Please."

He bit her neck, and she dropped her head back, arching into him and squeezing his hands.

"Condom," he mumbled. "I'll—Condom…"

"Mhmm…"

Maisy nodded, dropping her legs to the mattress, and Harry moved, stretching to open the drawer on the bed side table. She took the opportunity to kiss his neck, and his shoulder, tasting him slowly and fervently. He grunted, having trouble concentrating, but eventually grabbed a foil package and moved back to her mouth.

He kissed her, then pulled away to tore the wrapper open with his teeth, and kissed her again. They moved together to put on the condom, always finding ways to keep meeting for tender and lazy kisses. Once he was ready, Maisy shuffled on his bedsheets and made herself comfortable, watching as he slotted between her legs and then crawled to place one elbow next to her head.

Holding himself with one arm and looking into her eyes, he took one hand down and grabbed himself.

She hugged his neck, and he teased his tip around her clit, then tapped it twice against her entrance.

Maisy hissed, and Harry grunted.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, guiding himself inside her body. "I really, really hope I last."

Maisy laughed, and he smiled. And then they kissed.

She instantly hooked her legs around his waist, resting her heels above his bum and encouraging him to get closer. To go deeper. To fill her.

Kissing.

Panting.

Moaning.

Shivering.

Maisy squeezed her eyes together, feeling the burn of the first stretch. And Harry kissed her again. Maybe trying to sooth her. Or maybe because he just couldn't stay away.

"You good?" he asked, caging her head between his forearms.

"Yeah…" She licked her lips, and blinked. "So good."

"Can I fuck you like this?" he asked. "Wanna see you."

She nodded. "Whatever you want. Just fuck me already."

Harry chuckled, then rolled his hips, sliding in and out slowly, just to test the waters.

"Whatever I want?"

Maisy sighed, and nuzzled her hands into his curls. "Yes. Whatever you want."

In…

And out…

"In that case," he said. "Wanna fuck you like this tonight."

In…

And out…

"And want you to ride me tomorrow."

Maisy smiled.

In…

And out…

"Wearing your shirt?" she asked.

"Fuck yes."

In…

He brushed the side of his nose with hers, and smiled, too. "Nothing but my shirt."

And out…

In…

She nodded. "Mkay…"

And out…

"Hmmm."

In…

And out…

"We'll have…" he started, then kept going as he followed the affectionate and sensual pace of his hips. "The rest… Fuck… Of our lives… To try… Different… Positions… Anyway… Yeah?"

Maisy smiled again. "The rest of our lives, huh?"

In…

Harry kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "Too cliché?"

And out…

She shook her head. "I like the sound of it."

"Yeah… Me too."

In…

And out…

In…

And out…

"Fuck," he growled.

Picking up the pace, he held his weight firmly onto his forearms, then moved his hips and focused on thrusting into her. In and out, in and out, in and out. Faster. And deeper.

In and out.

Maisy whimpered and squeezed her arms around his shoulders, needing something to hold onto as he built a frantic pace.

In and out.

"Took me all this… Shit… All this time to figure it out," he mumbled. "I'm not—Fuck—I'm not letting you go now."

She arched her back, and sank her nails into his back. "I'm not going anywhere."

He smashed their mouths together. Rocking his hips into her. Pounding into her. Faster. Deeper. The bed knocked into the wall. And their skin smacked together.

Hell yes.

So good.

"Don't stop," she pleaded.

So fucking good.

Loud.

Desperate.

Needy.

Hungry.

Feral.

"C'mon baby…" he mumbled around her lips, then took one hand down to her waist. "C'mon…"

More. More. More.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Deep. Deep. Deep.

"Y—Yeah… Right—Shit. Right there… Oh my God… Keep going… Keep going…"

"You're so loud," Harry chuckled, squeezing her waist and keeping up the reckless pace. "Fucking… Love… It… Fuuuck."

Maisy gasped. She scrunched up her face, and gripped his ass with both hands.

"More… I need… More…"

"Jesus Christ…" Still holding his weight with one arm, he let go of her waist and moved between her legs, then rubbed her swollen clit. "Like that?"

"Fuck yes. Yes. Oh God, Harry… Harry… Oh God… Yes."

"C'mon then… C'mon… Let me see you…"

She moaned loudly, crying out as her walls spasmed and contracted around him and all the tension snapped at once, causing her body to tremble from head to toe.

"Fuck—" Harry closed his eyes. "Isy— Shit… I'm… Isy… Fuck."

He shattered on top of her, pulsing inside her walls as he emptied himself inside the condom and went still with each—

last—

fucking—

thrust.

"Fuuuuuck."

He held himself and pulled out, then finally collapsed into her.

Beats of silence went by. Deafening silence. A silence they hadn't ever shared before. Not in five years of friendship. Not with anyone else they'd ever been up until then. A silence that enveloped both of them naturally, that gave them time to recollect their thoughts and catch up their breaths. And a silence that, after another couple of beats, got them both rolling in bed and laughing out loud.

"Oh my God…"

Maisy hid behind her hands, feeling the mattress sink as he got up and got rid of the condom. Although she didn't want to, she followed his steps, going to the bathroom and cleaning herself up.

Moments later, when she walked back into his bedroom, she found Harry laying in bed, wearing clean briefs and waiting for her.

"C'mere," he said, patting the place next to him.

She curled her lips into a smile and practically ran to him, jumping into his bed and snuggling into his side.

"Jesus Christ Isy…" Harry pulled her naked body to himself, sneaking one arm under her neck and sliding the other one around her waist. "I'm so happy and also so fucking mad right now."

"What?" She placed one hand on his chest and hooked one leg around his waist. "Why are you mad?"

"Because!" He laughed. "Can't believe you've been hiding this side from me all this time."

"Hmm… No I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

"No, because I don't even have a side to hide!"

"You totally do. All loud… Chatty… Bossy…"

"That's not true."

"It isss tho…"

"Oh, shut up."

"Exactly!" He laughed even louder, then forced his voice in a poor attempt of mimicking her. "Shut up Harry. Touch me Harry. Fuck me Harry. More Harry. I need more Harry. More Har—Ouch! Heyyyy!"

Maisy let go of his nipple, then slapped his chest. "Stop being stupid!"

"Will you stop fucking pinching me?" he asked, smacking his palm loudly against her ass.

"Shit!" she yelped and laughed, jolting closer to his body.

"You like it rough, don't you?" he added right after, then pinched right under her bum.

"Harry!" Laughing louder, she squirmed inside his arms. "Stop!"

"You like it rough, and you're filthy."

"Oh my God." Maisy rolled her eyes, catching her breath between all the laughing. "So? What's wrong with that? Huh?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Well, then stop judging!"

"I'm not—What? I'm not!" He shuffled, staring into her eyes and caressing her cheek. "Are you kidding me? I fucking love it!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Mhmm… Sure."

Harry shook his head, and smiled. "Don't be silly… It's just… I don't know, but it felt different, y'know? Like… Fucking great sex… But not just like… The sex, sex, y'know? Everything about it… I don't know. I guess I just never had something like this before… Just… So fun and fucking hot at the same time… Y'know what I mean?"

Maisy bit her lip, and nodded. She cradled his cheek and moved closer, then pulled him in for a slow, sweet, and long, long kiss.

"Yeah," she whispered, pecking his mouth one more time and sliding her hand to the back of his head. "I know exactly what you mean."

Harry grunted softly.

"See?" He squeezed her bum. "And you been keeping this away from me! All this time!"

Maisy rolled her eyes—for what felt like the hundredth time. "Okay. Have you thought that maybe, maybe, if you had made a move on me instead of pulling up random girls at bars, you would've known sooner?"

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again.

"You're right." He rested his forehead against hers and nodded. Then, he smiled. "Thank God my girl's got attitude, huh?"

Maisy bit her lip and smiled, too.

But then, she grinned. So big she even giggled.

"Your girl, huh?"

"Mhmmm…" He caressed her side. "If you want to be, of course."

"Am I going to be the only one?"

He pulled away, then looked firmly into her eyes. "I want you to be, yes. I want to do this properly. Wanna be with you. Only you. No-one else."

She threaded her fingers around the curls in the back of his head, then stroked his scalp with soft circles.

"I wanna be with you, too. Want you to be mine."

He smiled, and shrugged. "Already am. All yours."

"Good." She kissed him. "No more being just friends, then…"

"Fuck no!" He laughed, and pulled her in for another kiss. Then, he murmured into her lips, "Fuck that shit. We were never just friends, anyway."

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #here it is...#im gonna post it and hide away forever #byebye

978 notes · View notes