#or even just an angst edit of all 4 of them

[gendrsoup]

listen listen, if any dbda editors were to make an edit of edwin and charles (or just edwin rlly) to the song "harpy hare", i would be forever in your debt and also die for you btw

[thewidowsledger]

Looking Out For Two

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags | Warnings: +18, Natasha has a penis, pregnant reader, brief smut, pregnancy, daddy kink, Wanda being a Natasha hater, dark Natasha if you squint, violence, organ trafficking, angst, bad writing

Author's Note: This is not proofread y'all so I might edit, please excuse my silly and stupid mistakes; English is not my first language. A friend requested this to me, they said they requested it to a writer here but unfortunately they went on hiatus, so here I am bringing their ideas to life, xo.

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

You stared at Natasha in disbelief, hurt and anger warring inside of you as you watched her settle in your shared bed.

The words echoed in your mind.

I am with a child Nat…your child.

And suddenly all of the emotions and doubts and fears that you had been pushing aside came rushing back to the surface.

⧗

You paced nervously in your shared bathroom. You had taken not one, but three pregnancy tests, just to be sure. Each one showed the same result: 2 lines=positive. The news had your heart racing. You knew Natasha was coming back today, and the timing of these tests was undeniably nerve-wracking.

"Fuck this…this can't be."

Just as you were contemplating how to break the news, JARVIS’s calm, artificial voice filled the room through the speakers. "Miss Y/L/N, the team has returned. Your partner Agent Romanoff is back."

Panic set in as you realized Natasha could walk in at any moment. You scrambled to hide the pregnancy tests, fumbling with them in your haste. Shoving them into a drawer, you quickly composed yourself, though your heart continued to race.

Before you could even make it through the door Natasha stepped into your shared room, her expression hard and distant. She barely glanced at you as she set her bags down. "Hey," she said curtly.

Your eyes suddenly lost its light when you were welcomed by her cold demeanor. This wasn't the welcome you were used to. Typically, when Natasha came home, she'd greet you with a rose or a small souvenir, accompanied by her warm kisses and affectionate hugs. Sometimes, she would throw you over her shoulder and you ended up tied up in your shared bed. On occasions when you were the one returning from a mission, she would shower you with kisses and hugs the moment you stepped through the door. Sometimes she would even pick you up directly from the mission site, bringing you back to a room meticulously prepared with rose petals on the bed and a luxurious bathtub filled with rose petals and wine. Those gestures always made you feel cherished and loved.

But now, it is different.

"I uhm, I made you cookies baby and your favorite hot chocolate. I know how much you missed them, you know the last time we called…" You scrambled through your words as you noticed Natasha eye you like a predator watching its prey, she slowly dropped her bags and walked towards you.

You were just wearing one of her shirts that is oversized to you and a pink underwear. She reached your face, it was oh-so-gentle, her thumb brushing your cheek, as if you're going to break. She hummed as you talked and scrambled your words. You were falling for her once again as you stared at her eyes…you watched as her eyes slowly dilated. Your eyes grew bigger with panic, but when you were about to pull out from her embrace that's when her other hand gripped your ass and immediately pulled you with a bruising kiss. You moaned, gripping her biceps as her tongue fought its way to your mouth. You felt her hips and her hardened length bucked towards your throbbing core.

"I’ll take a shower." She said as she pulled away, leaving you on edge. She moved past you, heading straight to the bathroom without another word or touch.

You were left alone, gasping for air with an aching heart and a confused mind not to mention the needy ache on your throbbing core. But you immediately brushed your feelings off, you gave her a benefit of the doubt. Missions can be tough at times, you think to yourself so you just went to your shared closet and grabbed some fresh clothes for her to use, you also put some pajamas for yourself.

Couple of minutes after, you went about preparing the bed, expecting Natasha to rest after her shower or maybe you can still talk, you think to yourself once again.

What if she didn't want this?

You screw your eyes shut as you fluff the pillows and tidying up the sheets on your shared bed.

Maybe I’ll just move out and not tell her about it. I’ll just raise our child alone and…I—

You were standing by the bed, lost in your thoughts, when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. You let out a small gasp, startled by the unexpected embrace.

Natasha smirked against your neck as she felt you jump a little in surprise. She enjoyed the way your body reacted to her touch, and the way you were always on edge whenever she was around.

"I don't remember you wearing this pajamas before I got in the shower, hm?" She whispered seductively, she almost growled in your ear. "You seem distracted, baby."

"Daddy can fix that."

"B-but, wait, Natty, love? Can we talk?"

Natasha was on a mission to make you forget about whatever it was that was on your mind, to make you forget about anything else but her. Her kisses and touches were relentless as she continued to explore your body with her cold hands fresh from the shower, slender fingers digging into your waist before going under your shirt and slowly reaching for your nipples.

"We need to talk," you gasped out, trying to push her away. But it was like trying to move a boulder—she was really determined, like she always is.

"No talking," she whispered against your neck. "Just us."

"Nat, please…" You whined as she soothe her tongue that's gently lapping over yet another mark she just made on your skin.

"Please what, baby?" She smirked, when she felt you tried to pull away, she pressed herself firmly against your back.

"We need to tal—"

"Hm, but we're talking now, love. Aren't we?" Not letting you finish your words.

Natasha watched you as you pulled away from her grasp, her expression betraying no emotion as you pleaded with her to talk. She then chuckled low in her throat, clearly enjoying the way you were pushing her away. Her smirk grew wider as she sensed your frustration.

"Come now, love," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Is there really something so important that we need to talk about right this instant? I'm so tired after that mission, I'd rather just relax with you."

Frustration and anger bubbled inside of you, and you lost it.

"No Natasha! We need to talk now," you almost screamed, your voice filled with desperation. "This can't wait."

Natasha paused for a moment, her eyes flashing with irritation as you screamed at her saying her full name. She was not used to it, and for being disobeyed, let alone shouted at.

"And why can't it wait, huh?" she asked, her voice cold and calm as she leaned back against the bed. "It's late and I'm tired. The mission was exhausting and I’ll just sleep now."

You stared at Natasha in disbelief, hurt and anger warring inside of you as you watched her settle in your shared bed.

The words echoed in your mind.

I am with a child Nat…your child.

And suddenly all of the emotions and doubts and fears that you had been pushing aside came rushing back to the surface.

⧗

As you opened your eyes, you immediately noticed the absence of Natasha beside you. Groggy and still half-asleep, you looked around the room, searching for any sign of her. But she was nowhere to be found. You sat up in bed, feeling a wave of nausea wash over you. You rushed to the bathroom and barely made it in time to throw up into the toilet. As you knelt there, feeling weak and dizzy, you realized that you hadn't felt nauseous like this since...since you were pregnant.

After a few minutes, you rinsed out your mouth and stood up, feeling the room spin around you. You braced yourself against the wall, taking deep breaths to steady yourself.

Suddenly, the voice of JARVIS broke through the silence. "Agent Y/L/N, I have been informed that the Avengers have been summoned for a mission today. Agent Romanoff is currently in the meeting room now together with the team."

As you sat there, trying to process the information that JARVIS had given you, the artificial intelligence noticed your distressed state. "Is everything alright, Agent Y/L/N? Do you need me to call Agent Romanoff?"

You quickly shook your head, trying to hide the panic that had surged through you at JARVIS's suggestion. "No, no, that's alright," you said quickly. "I'm fine, really. There's no need to call her. I’ll be there in a minute."

You silently cursed the presence of JARVIS in your room. "Stupid AI," you muttered to yourself. "Why does he have to be installed everywhere in the compound?"

You breathe, touching your tummy before you proceed to clean the bathroom, the sight of the toilet with your puke making your stomach churn, but you pushed through the nausea and cleaned it thoroughly anyway. Once you were done, you cleaned yourself and moved to the bedroom and quickly dressed yourself, putting on your mission gear. Your eyes fell upon the box of cookies that you had made for Natasha. They sat there, untouched, you felt your heart ache once again and a tear rushing down your cheek. You grabbed several of the cookies and stuffed some into your mouth.

As you walked at the compound Wanda saw you, she noticed the tears streaming down your face. "Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, her words carefully chosen.

"My cookies are good, right?" You asked between sobs.

Wanda stood there, stunned by your question and your emotional response, she carefully chose her words to avoid upsetting you further. "Of course they taste good, love," she replied. "Where's Nata—"

But before she could say anything more, you immediately shoved a handful of cookies into her mouth with your free hand, not wanting to hear the name she's about to mention. Wanda's eyes widened in surprise as she tried to speak, but her words were muffled by your sweet cookies.

As you cried and leaned against Wanda, she patiently let you rest on her shoulder. Even with her mouth still filled with your cookies, she gently reached up to pat your head, offering what comfort she could.

"Shh, it's okay," she tried to comfort you, her words slightly muffled by the food in her mouth.

As your tears began to subside, Wanda gently spoke up. "Hey, Y/N, I think they're waiting for us in the Quinjet now." You nodded and managed to compose yourself and brush off the last remaining crumbs of the cookies out of your suit.

The two of you started making your way towards the Quinjet when you saw Maria.

"Cookie?" You offered her.

Maria looked at you and glanced at Wanda that gave her a just take it or else she'll have a tantrum look. Maria looked skeptical at first, but she knew better than to refuse. Reluctantly, she accepted the last cookie from you. Your smile widened as she ate the last crumb of the cookie.

"What's wrong with her?" Maria asked Wanda as they both trailed behind you.

Wanda's reply came in a low hiss, her irritation palpable. "I don't know! She was crying. And I am going to kill your buddy!"

You turned to look at them but just as you turned around, your eyes narrowed as you picked up on the hint of irritation in the voice of Wanda. Their words were instantly replaced with fake smiles as they noticed your suspicious glare.

As the three of you reached the Quinjet you felt a bit more steady now that you had gotten your emotions under control.

You watch Maria and Wanda get past you before you speak silently aloud, addressing the unborn child in your stomach. "Please be good to mommy okay? We're going on a mission now," you said softly. "I promise you, this will be the last one. Afterwards, I'll retire."

The words were meant as a promise to both the child growing inside you and to yourself—this mission would be your last as an agent.

Before the three of you could come in. The atmosphere onboard the Quinjet was tense as JARVIS addressed the team, scanning the three of you. The AI's voice chimed in, breaking the silence.

"There appears to be a pregnant agent among the three of you."

Wanda, Maria, and yourself froze in your tracks, exchanging nervous glances with each other. The revelation had sent a wave of trepidation through all of you.

JARVIS continued speaking.

"Furthermore, it is suggested that they must not participate in this mission. It is imperative that they rest and refrain from engaging in any strenuous activities."

You felt the weight of JARVIS' words settle upon you, the realization that you were in fact the pregnant agent in question sinking in.

"Stupid AI." You muttered as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"That's not me, I just fucked Darcy last night." Maria held both of her hands in the air.

"What the hell? You didn't need to tell us that!" Yelena shouted in disgust.

"I told you they were doing it. Give me my 20 dollars, Sam." Tony celebrated and pointed a finger gun at the Falcon.

Sam went behind Steve and whispered, "Let me borrow 20 dollars."

"My money can wait, Cinderella!" Tony laughed as he patted Sam’s shoulder.

The moment Maria spoke up, causing the team to gag at her blunt revelation, your heart skipped a beat. Everyone's attention was suddenly drawn away from the earlier revelation of this stupid AI, and you breathed a small sigh of relief.

But as you glanced over at Natasha, you could still feel her eyes boring on you. Her gaze was intense, and you could sense her suspicion. The tension in the air was thick as the team attempted to process Maria's blunt statement.

Your heart raced in your chest as you looked at Wanda, silently pleading with her through your eyes. She picked up on your silent plea, understanding the truth that lay hidden beneath your words.

Emotional in the morning, check. Wanda began, as if ticking off a list in her mind. Cookie cravings, check.

This may not be a complete list but I know it's not me.

You watched her standing beside you, she was fidgeting but in her mind everything was just hitting the nail on the head. Then, with a moment of hesitation, Wanda closed her eyes and spoke three simple words.

"I am pregnant."

Your eyes widened in shock as Wanda spoke up. The team wasted no time in congratulating her, enveloping her in hugs and celebrations.

"You're pregnant huh?!" Yelena shrieked in excitement, she was the first to pull her in a tight hug.

"Yeah it's me!" Wanda winced slightly, feeling a pang of guilt for the lie she was covering up on your behalf.

"We have a little witch incoming, yeah?" Steve’s eyes sparkled with joy.

Tony couldn't help but chime in as well, a smirk on his face. "We didn't bet on this one, Wilson."

Sam chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, I know."

As Natasha approached Wanda to offer her congratulations, Wanda's usual soft demeanor vanished. Her anger and frustration with Natasha over the previous situation with you were evident even though she has no idea about it.

"Congratulations, Wanda." Natasha spoke gently, extending a hug.

But Wanda swiftly deflected her affection, stepping back to maintain a distance. "Save it, Natasha," she responded curtly.

Natasha, trying to shrug off Wanda's cold approach towards her, mentally blamed it on the emotions associated with pregnancy.

"Must be those pregnancy hormones," she murmured under her breath.

As the team continues to surround Wanda, she snuck a glance in your direction. You mouthed a silent "thank you" to her, acknowledging the sacrifice she had made. In turn, Wanda mouthed back a quiet, "Take care and the baby," her words carrying a deep undertone of understanding and worry.

Suddenly, Natasha walked towards you and asked, "Are you okay?" she gently touches your arm. But you ignored her question, choosing to remain silent. Your mind was elsewhere, torn between gratitude towards Wanda for what she did for you and a deep desire to keep your own pregnancy hidden from the team and even from the mother of your child.

Without responding to her, you gently shrugged her hand off your arm and moved past her, walking into the Quinjet. You avoided her gaze, not wanting to betray your emotions.

The Quinjet lifted off, leaving behind a scene of excitement and well wishes for the witch. You retreated into the corner, seeking comfort in the familiarity of your own presence.

As the aircraft ascended, you instinctively placed your hand on your stomach, gently caressing the growing life within.

The team received a mission assignment from Fury to infiltrate a hospital involved in illegal organ trafficking, targeting children. The focus was the children's wing, and the objective was to put an end to the operation. It was emphasized that no stone should be left unturned to ensure the safety of the children involved. The intel also suggested the involvement of Hydra's experimentation. While specific details about their latest projects remain undisclosed, their history in this regard is grim.

Maria approached you, her expression was serious as she sat down beside you. "Left wing, that's ours."

"And it's the center of the operation, correct?" You confirmed, a pit of anxiety knotting in your stomach.

She nodded. "That's right. The operation is taking place there. You ready for this?"

You subconsciously once again placed your hand on your stomach and took a good look at Natasha who was piloting the Quinjet.

"Yes," you murmured, though the nervous tremble in your voice gave you away.

⧗

"Guys."

Natasha, Bucky, and Bruce exchanged looks of concern as they heard Wanda's voice through their comms.

"Wanda?" they called in unison.

Bruce was the first to speak. "You shouldn't be on comms right now. You're supposed to be resting. I'll call Dr. Cho to check on you."

Wanda winced at the mention of Dr. Cho, once again reminded of the cover up she had to do…or the lie rather. She knew the truth, but she couldn't reveal it to the others, she's not in the right position to say it.

The three immediately noticed Wanda's distress and exchanged alarmed glances.

"What's wrong, Wanda?" Bruce asked.

"Where's Y/N?" Wanda hurriedly asked.

"She's out now on the mission with Maria." Bucky informed Wanda through comms.

"I knew this was going to happen. Fuck!" Wanda hissed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Natasha's brow furrowed, barely glancing up from her mission report at the mention of your name.

"Bucky, get her back in." Wanda immediately demanded, ignoring the presence of Natasha through the comms.

Natasha’s confusion deepened, and her frustration grew as Wanda demanded someone else to get her girlfriend back to the Quinjet. "And why should he do that?"

"Just get her back in!" Wanda insisted, her voice rising slightly.

Natasha's frustration peaked, realizing Wanda was deliberately shutting her out. But she remained calm, not wanting to distress her, "Wanda, you must be tired. Right now you should be focusing on yourself and the baby. Y/N will be fine, don't worry. She's good at looking out for herself."

Wanda’s irritation boiled over, her patience wearing thin. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath as she whispered.

"She might have a hard time looking out for two."

"What? What do you mean, Wanda?" Bucky asked once more, trying to grasp the meaning behind Wanda’s words.

"Maria can handle herself just fine, Wanda. Y/N doesn't need to look out for her." Natasha responded dismissively, trying to reassure her once again that you don't need to look out for your partner.

But clearly, Natasha knows nothing.

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant, Romanoff! Your girlfriend might have a hard time looking out for herself and for the baby growing in her stomach! So right now, Romanoff I need you to get your girlfriend out on that mission before anything happens to her!" The anger of Wanda echoed through the earpiece of the three Avengers.

"I had to cover up for her earlier, I’m not the one who's pregnant, she was. She doesn't want anyone to know, even you, Natasha, ‘cause it seems like you don't have time to talk about it." Wanda gritted her teeth as she revealed the cover up she did for you.

Then suddenly an urgent call for backup was heard through the comms.

"Back up, we need back up!"

It was Maria, her voice sounding strained and her signal cutting in and out.

"Natasha! Y/N…I can't see Y/N, Y/N is taken!"

Natasha's blood ran cold at Maria's words. The word sent a shiver down her spine, and her heart thumped heavily against her chest. She clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"No," Natasha whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. Fear and anger welled up within her as she heard the words.

Without a moment's hesitation, they heard Tony respond, "I'm on my way, Maria. I'll get there as soon as I can. And you Romanoff, you have to get your girlfriend!"

Wanda hissed harshly to Natasha through the comms, "If anything happens to my bestfriend and my niece I will kill you myself, Natasha. I will fucking kill you myself."

Natasha's jaw clenched at Wanda's harsh words. She knew she was only expressing her fear and concern for you and the baby, but the threat still stung.

She gritted her teeth and muttered a retort.

"I will kill myself if I won’t be able to save them. So save it, Wanda."

⧗

The room was eerily quiet, a chill running down Natasha's spine as she scanned her surroundings. She cautiously stepped forward, her senses on high alert. Suddenly, a figure lunged from the shadows, but Natasha was quick to react. Before they could make a move, Natasha had kicked away their weapon and delivered a swift punch to their stomach.

Another figure appeared behind her, but Natasha swiftly dodged the attack and delivered a well-placed kick to their chest.

As she fought off the attackers, Natasha unsheathed her batons, the metal gleaming in the dim light. With a flick of her wrist, she extended them and began to whirl them around, blocking attacks and delivering precise strikes to vulnerable spots. Meanwhile, she kept her other hand free, ready to use her widow bites at a moment's notice.

Natasha's heart raced as she sprinted through the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps echoing against the cold concrete. Natasha's mind went on high alert the moment she entered the room and saw you lying unconscious on the bed and a doctor preparing some medical supplies beside you. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight, her adrenaline pumping through her veins, making her nerves tingle.

The doctor spoke up, his voice breaking the tense silence in the room.

"You finally came," he said. "Your wife's been waiting for you.”

"Who are you?!" Natasha's voice held a dangerous edge, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the doctor, her gun pointing at him.

The doctor raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, a smug look on his face as he regarded Natasha's gun pointed in his direction.

"Now, now, Romanoff," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern. "You wouldn't want to cause any distress to Mrs. Romanoff here, would you? You might wanna put that gun down."

Natasha’s grip on her gun tightened momentarily before she reluctantly began to lower it. She didn’t want to risk endangering you further by provoking him.

The doctor smirked, clearly amused by her cautiousness. He knows damn well how much power he holds now that he has you captive.

"I'm Doctor Strange. And…I am your wife's doctor for today. She's your wife right? Girlfriend? Partner..? Whore? Whatever you want but I prefer that we call her your wife, okay Romanoff?"

Natasha’s heart plummeted as he pulled out a surgical knife, her fear instantly skyrocketing.

"Don't! Do not fucking touch her, I’ll make you regret it!" she snarled, but he seemed unbothered by her threat.

Strange smirked, the glint in his eyes making Natasha's skin crawl. He began to rip your suit open, exposing your stomach.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, her voice shaking with anger but also fear for you.

The doctor chuckled, his expression smug as he began to apply some ultrasound gel to your stomach, his eyes glued to your bare skin.

Strange's tone was mocking as he asked Natasha a question that cut straight to her heart.

"Did you know she was pregnant?" he asked, as if he were casually inquiring about the weather.

Natasha swallowed hard, she almost choke with her words, "I uh...I didn't..."

"You didn't know until now did you?" Strange chuckled, a sadistic smirk on his face not letting her finish, "Oh, that's a shame," he taunted.

"You are a bad mother."

Natasha flinched as the words hit her, and for a moment, she was speechless. The words stung, even more than any physical blow could have.

Her mind flashed back to the night before this mission. She remembered that you had tried to talk to her, begged her to have a conversation but she dismissed you.

Now she hated herself for that, the realization hit her with a sickening weight, and she silently berated herself for her ignorance. You shouldn't be here if she listened to you.

Strange hummed as he began to move the transducer around your stomach. He looked up at Natasha, a sly smile on his face.

"I wasn't always a doctor, you know," he said, his tone almost nostalgic. "In fact," he continued, his gaze returning to the monitor. "I started out working with Hydra when my sister died."

"You might have heard of them, right? For sure you intel already informed you that. Not exactly the most upstanding group of people." He murmured.

"Oh look at that! That's your baby Romanoff!"

Natasha's eyes flickered towards the ultrasound machine, her heart pounding as she saw a life, her offspring on your stomach. The sight of the tiny, flickering image of the baby inside you softened her expression momentarily.

Strange chuckled as he watched Natasha. He leaned casually against the counter, one hand resting on the ultrasound machine before he got back to examine your stomach once again.

"As I was saying," he continued, his tone casual. "I didn't want to remain a lowly foot soldier forever," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I wanted more power, more control. So I branched out on my own."

Strange pressed the transducer deeper into your stomach, causing you to whimper in pain.

"Don’t—"

The doctor immediately pointed his finger in the air, shushing her.

He then continued, his tone nonchalant, his gaze fixed on the monitor, watching the image of your stomach intently. "I started my own precious business and then…"

"Everything I'd worked for, years of hard work and sacrifice!" he spat out, the pressure of the transducer increased and he watched how it dug deeper to your stomach on the monitor. "And you, Avengers just waltz in like they own the place and ruin it all!"

Strange paused, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. The pressure on your abdomen loosened slightly before he glanced at Natasha, his expression almost apologetic.

"Sorry," he said, his tone smoothing back to its usual calm. "I didn't mean to shout. It's bad for the baby, you know." He chuckled softly, his hand gently caressing your stomach.

Natasha's heart pounded in her chest as she watched Strange's expression shift from calm to enraged in an instant. His words and his behavior were unpredictable, and that made her more anxious. She maintained a facade of calm, her eyes never leaving you.

"Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place." He smiled, an evil one, his eyes flicking up to Natasha, wanting her to take a good look on the monitor.

Natasha's expression remained neutral, her eyes fixed on the ultrasound monitor as Strange pointed out the growing body of your baby.

"Isn't that nice?" he said, his tone clearly a mockery.

"Must be hard," with a sinister edge to his voice. "Knowing there's nothing you can do to protect what's most precious to you."

The doctor's laughter was cold and cruel. But what was truly horrifying was the way his gaze dropped to your abdomen, and he began to caress your stomach with a gesture that made Natasha's skin crawl.

"All you can do is watch and pray I don't do anything...unwanted," he repeated, his tone sickly sweet.

He then slowly grabbed the surgical knife and his eyes scanning Natasha's face for any reaction. A cunning smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he noticed her flinch.

"Oh, did that scare you?" he asked, his voice dripping with menace. "Why are you scared? You're not the one lying on this table?"

He chuckled darkly, waving the knife in front of her face.

Strange's fingers continued to play with the knife, slowly twirling it around in his hand. He seemed to take pleasure in seeing how it made Natasha uneasy. Her breath quickened and her heart pounded against her chest as she watched him.

She tried to keep her emotions in check, desperately wanting to remain calm, but the sight of the gleaming blade in his hand made her instinct scream in alarm.

Strange leaned back, the knife momentarily forgotten in his hand as he turned his attention to your still unconscious form. He moved closer to you, his fingers gently prying your eyelids open.

"Beautiful eyes," he commented, a hint of admiration in his voice. "These eyes could be a valuable asset to the right people."

Natasha's ears perked up at Strange's words, a lump forming in her throat as she realized his intentions.

"What the fuck did you say?"

"Oh, Romanoff. Your baby might hear you curse. You'll kiss your baby with that mouth?"

He moved away from examining your eyes, setting the knife down on the counter. He reached for a file that was among the various medical supplies and paperwork scattered around the room. He flipped through the pages, reading aloud to Natasha.

"Martin Joseph Novarich," he said, his eyes scanning the file. "He's just eight years old. Familiar with the name?”

Strange continued to read from the file, oblivious to Natasha's inner struggle.

"The boy has a rare genetic disorder that affects his eyesight," he said. "He needs a corneal transplant to restore his vision, and the process requires a perfect donor match. And his father, the president, is willing to do anything to save his only child.”

Strange smirked, his eyes scanning Natasha's face.

"Think about it," he said, his tone almost teasing. "Your wife's eyes could give the president's son a new lease on life. Or her liver could help someone else in desperate need."

Her anger flared at his words, her muscles tensing as she struggled to control her emotions when he started listing off your organs one by one, suggesting that it could be used for donation. The thought of your organs being harvested like some kind of donor bank was almost too much to bear, it made her skin crawl, it made her blood boil.

"And let's not forget," Strange added, a sly note to his voice, "that she might have more than just one healthy organ."

"She's an agent," he pointed out. "She probably leads a healthy lifestyle, so her organs are likely in great shape. And I think yours too, Romanoff.”

Strange suddenly put on a fake frown, pretending to be remorseful as he took a glance on your abdomen.

"Oh, my apologies," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "I almost forgot about the poor, innocent child in your wife's stomach." He grabbed a cloth and wiped the gel out of your skin’s abdomen.

He then trailed the knife over your stomach, Natasha's breath hitched in her throat.

"Don't," she hissed, her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare.”

The doctor continued to trail the surgical knife and then he finally nicked the skin on your abdomen, Natasha's face contorted with anger and horror.

"Oops…too late. Just a small one, don't worry." Strange chuckled darkly, his eyes locking with Natasha's. Her eyes trailing between the knife and on your stomach.

A loud booming sound rang outside the room, startling both Strange and Natasha. Seeing an opportunity, Natasha reached for the gun she had to put down earlier. She aimed it at Strange, who slowly raised his hands in surrender.

In a desperate move, Strange pushed your bed towards Natasha, trying to interfere with her aim and make her miss. However, Natasha was too quick and too skilled. She pulled your bed towards her and immediately placed your unconscious state behind her back making sure that your bed was within range.

She immediately turned when she heard a clinking sound. Natasha fired, the bullet hitting Strange in the shoulder.

"I missed." Natasha sighed as she placed the gun at your bed. "That was a very dumb move doctor."

Natasha's voice was icy as she spoke, her eyes locked on Strange's face.

"You know what, doctor?" Natasha set the gun down on your bed. Her hand moved to your cheek, gently caressing it before moving slowly and gently over your stomach, wiping away some of the blood that slowly dripped there.

Natasha walked over to where the doctor was cowering, a surgical knife in her hand. She knelt in front of him trailing the knife in the wounded shoulder.

"I am a great shot when I'm pissed."

She then held his shoulder ignoring his startled yelp of pain, she deftly used the knife to dig deeper into his shoulder, intent on retrieving the bullet lodged there. She extracted it from his flesh.

As she dug deeper, working to extract the bullet, Strange cried out in pain. But instead of feeling any remorse, Natasha felt a deep sense of satisfaction at seeing him suffer. She knew she had the upper hand now, and she was going to make him pay for what he had done to you.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she muttered, her eyes fixed on his face. “I told you, I’ll make you regret...”

"Touching..."

"My..."

"Wife! "

With a final tug, Natasha finally got the bullet with a satisfied smirk briefly crossing her face. Natasha picked up the gun from your bed, loaded the bullet back in the chamber and spun it slowly with a flick of her wrist.

She turned her gaze back to Strange, who was still reeling from the pain. Her voice was low and dangerous as she spoke.

"And doctor," she said, the gun pointed straight at his head.

"I don't waste a bullet. Ever."

Next

[wonustars]

In Front of Me (Teaser)

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriend to lovers, angst, smut (18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: TBA (this teaser: 679) ⊹ release date: TBA

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time. ⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, bestfriends to lovers (?), unrequted love, emotionaly stunted charcters, wonwoo has a bit of an ego, toxic!wonwoo&reader. (more tags and smut tag added to full fic when posted.) ⊹ note: im really excited to share this with you all. its not by any means done but heres a teaser for now since ive been away for so long ♡ also the teaser is not edited so pls just ignore if theres typos hehe. lov u all pls come into my ask box cuz i refuse to shut up abt this story :p.

⊹ masterlist, taglist, fic playlist.

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo.

Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the break up, to lose feelings first, every decision was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling. 

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up to your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been. 

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his bestfriend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it. 

{໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -。꒱ྀི১  ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙}

Less than fourty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence is perfectly normal, then maybe, you would eventually end up answering him. 

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them? 

1:27 p.m.  [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond. 

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u.  [1 photo attachment] 

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today? 

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he had witnessed. 

4:30 p.m.  [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw. 

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin of all people solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back. 

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he can keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up.

⊹ a/n: if u want to be apart of the taglist please fill out the form, comment or send an ask! please note that i'll only add those who have an age indicator somewhere in their blog! thank you ♡

[fushitoru]

chapter 4: the game a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary: satoru has some revelations about you. both you and satoru share some quite...happening days at the manor, including an eventful game of pall mall. (4.9k)

a/n WARNING this chapter is suggestive. like always minors dni. not edited at all bc im sick of this chapter lol (like always i fear). see u at the bottom ;)

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest reader, 

It has come to the attention of This Author that Miss Itadori, the undeniable diamond of the season, has made her appearance at Gojo Manor a full week ahead of the rest of the ton. Such early arrival can only provoke speculation: might the tender buds of affection be blossoming in the Kentish countryside? Shall we soon witness Miss Itadori departing with more than just fond memories, perhaps even a ring upon her finger? These are the very questions now fluttering through the minds of young ladies and their ever-watchful mamas, who may find their carefully laid plans to ensnare Lord Gojo dashed before the house party has even begun.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Gojo leaned back in his chair, fingers absentmindedly drumming on the armrest as he watched you fumble with the library door. The soft fabric of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder, a glimpse of bare skin catching in the dim light⸺something not lost to Gojo’s eyes as he watched your figure disappear angrily. Your face was flushed, eyes wide and uncertain. Despite the flurry of emotions playing across your features, what struck him most was the way your hands trembled as you fought to maintain composure.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. You had come here⸺of all places⸺into his sanctuary, and for what? A part of him couldn’t reconcile the image of you sneaking into the library in the dead of night with the proper, composed lady you portrayed during the day. The whole encounter felt surreal, leaving a knot of confusion coiled tightly in his chest.

His gaze lingered on the empty doorway after you vanished, a strange hollowness settling in his chest. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the feeling, but it clung to him like the shadows of the room. His fingers tightened around the armrest, knuckles whitening as if he could grasp onto something concrete⸺something that made sense. But all he was left with was the lingering echo of your footsteps in the hallway and the ghost of your flushed face in his mind.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. His mind kept returning to the way your nightgown had slipped from your shoulder as you fumbled with the door. The pale fabric had slid down so effortlessly, exposing the curve of your bare skin. It wasn’t scandalous, not really⸺not enough to warrant the way his thoughts kept circling back to it. And yet, he couldn’t shake the image, the unexpected flash of vulnerability. The sight of it stirred something in him, a quiet confusion that unsettled his usual composure.

What was it that made him notice? Gojo’s brow furrowed as he considered it, his fingers absently drumming on the armrest of his chair. He had witnessed plenty of women in far less modest circumstances (most of them courtesy of his friends, who forced him to go to ridiculous events), and yet, this felt different. There was something about the way you had tried to maintain your dignity, the way you had fought to compose yourself even as your face flushed and your nightgown betrayed you. It was... distracting.

The memory of your fearful expression gnawed at him. He had expected haughty arrogance or calculated charm, not genuine fear. You weren’t like the people who usually surrounded him, playing their part in society's grand performance, all vying for his attention. There was an intelligence in your eyes, a spark that made him feel something unsettlingly close to admiration.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it matter that you were different? Why did he find himself enjoying your company, despite the fact that you seemed entirely uninterested in his? He drummed his fingers against the armrest, contemplating the possibility of pursuing you for the rest of the season⸺though he quickly dismissed the thought. You were uncooperative, difficult. A chase after you would be nothing short of exhausting. 

And yet...

His attention shifted back to the desk, to the scattered papers you had left behind. Gojo reached for them, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the parchment as though handling something fragile. The numbers and diagrams were a mess of scribbled notes, and yet, they held a strange familiarity. His brow furrowed as he traced the lines with his eyes, piecing together the fragmented calculations. Then, like a puzzle falling into place, it clicked.

Venus. Of all things, you had been calculating the size of Venus.

Gojo’s hand froze midair, hovering over the papers. He blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He had assumed⸺no, expected⸺you to be reading some frivolous romance, a book about love and passion, something fitting for a young lady sneaking into a library. But instead, you were working on complex celestial calculations.

He had pegged you for a typical young lady of the ton⸺someone more interested in the latest gossip or the affections of suitors than in the stars. It annoyed him, more than he cared to admit, that he had been wrong.

Gojo set the paper down, his hand resting on the edge of the desk as he leaned back in his chair. The flicker of irritation that sparked in his chest was unfamiliar, unsettling even. It wasn’t just that you had surprised him⸺plenty of people had done that before. No, it was the fact that he had misjudged you so completely. He prided himself on being perceptive, on seeing through people’s masks with ease. Yet here you were, slipping past his assumptions with nothing more than a few scribbled notes and a fleeting presence.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time in a long while, he felt uncertain. Gojo wasn’t used to feeling this way⸺unsettled, annoyed, and a little too curious for his own good. He tapped the papers lightly, lost in thought. What did it mean that you had gotten under his skin like this? That he found himself wanting to unravel the mystery of you, to see what lay beneath the surface of your carefully constructed facade?

A sigh escaped his lips, low and quiet. His hand finally left the papers, and he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers he couldn’t quite grasp. The world around him was filled with people who either fawned over his charms or remained blissfully unaware of his true nature. But you? You saw right through him. You challenged him, unsettled him, made him question things he had never thought to question before.

With a final glance at the empty doorway, Satoru leaned forward again, ready to dive back into his work. But this time, his thoughts weren’t solely on his family’s ledgers. They were on you⸺and the undeniable pull that had started to form between you.

And inevitably, because Satoru is distracted, he lets the lull of sleep sneak up on him, swathing him in its deep, heavy blanket.

No, Satoru hears himself think. You’re not supposed to be here.

You’re sitting on his bed, somehow made it up to his chambers. A part of Satoru comprehends⸺in all his sleep-deprived glory⸺that he is definitely dreaming, but there’s an overwhelmingly stubborn part of him that dominates his entire consciousness, refusing to accept the fact. 

You’re leaning on your elbow, resting on your side on the foot of his bed. Part of him wants to believe that you are really here, sheer nightgown that seems to get shorter and shorter⸺slipping up your thighs⸺every time his consciousness paints an image of you. The sheer material drapes over your figure, accentuating the gentle curve of your waist and the fullness of your hips, painting a picture that torments him.

“My lord,” you whisper. 

It’s just his title, but your voice carries a sweetness it never holds in reality, dripping with an unfamiliar softness that makes Satoru’s heart lurch. Panic takes root, and he scrambles back, trying to distance himself from the fantasy in front of him. His back slams against the headboard as he fights to resist⸺not just you, but the part of himself that aches to abandon all notions of honor. That part of him that craves to do things to you that are anything but honorable.

Then, he notices your smile. It’s not the polite, practiced smile you show at balls or to suitors vying for your attention. This one is sincere, warm⸺a smile that speaks of affection, the kind you’ve never shown him before.

Like you are in love. 

And you are not helping Satoru in his restraint because you position yourself, crawling like a predator, straddling his lap. Satoru is suddenly breathing too fast, his chest tightening with the weight of desire and disbelief.

Your lips are at his ear. Your lips are so soft. “Touch me,” you say, trailing your lips down feather light across his jaw. 

Right now, you are in love. With him. You are his, and Satoru desperately does not want to fight it. 

He does not want to. 

Your hands start trailing down his torso, and now he registers that he is simply wearing a linen shirt and underwear because you are tracing the edge of his underwear, touching his inner thighs, getting so, so impossibly close to⸺

“No,” he rasps, squeezing his eyes shut. “I am a man of honor.”

But that’s a lie. One that Satoru clings to, because admitting the truth would shatter everything he’s built. His identity, his values⸺they all rest on the lie he’s desperately trying to hold onto.

What he really wants is nothing between you and him.

He wants that flimsy nightgown gone, the one that barely covers your thighs and what lies between them. He wants to keep the candlelight burning so he can see every inch of you, learn every detail of your body. He wants to slip off your chemise and explore the softness of your skin, trace the swell of your breasts, the dip of your hips, and taste the sweetness of your lips.

Satoru can’t focus on anything except the fact you are utterly, scandalously close to him, sitting on his lap and staring at him as if you love him. 

And his treacherous heart wants to abandon duty, honor, the dukedom, the royal family⸺everything⸺and simply take you. To feel the weight of you pressed against him, wrapped around him.

But just as his hands move to cup your face, you start giggling. “No, you are not.”

Satoru blinks, confused.

You laugh again, light and teasing. “You are no man of honor.”

And suddenly, your laughter echoes in his mind, filling the room with its taunting melody. It etches itself into his thoughts, leaving an indelible mark.

“You are a coward.”

You entered the drawing room to break your fast, Choso by your side, and immediately locked eyes with Gojo, who was already seated at the table with his mother. He quickly looked away, focusing on the toast he was slathering with an ungodly amount of jam.

As you moved to sit at the table with Choso, you couldn't help but study him. Gojo appeared more disheveled than usual, perhaps a bit fatigued, though any sign of vulnerability quickly vanished when your mother spoke.

“Lord Gojo, it is a fine morning, is it not?” she inquired with her usual warmth.

Gojo smiled, leaning back in his chair with his characteristic nonchalance. “Indeed, Lady Itadori, especially as I am blessed with such lovely company as yourself and your daughter.” His eyes flickered toward you, an arrogant glint in them before they shifted back to your mother.

You and Choso exchanged exasperated glances. 

Your mother chuckled, clearly charmed. “Oh, my lord, you flatter me. Tell me, what do you favor for breakfast? I am always curious to hear of others' preferences.”

“Clearly, it is toast drowned in enough jam to satisfy an army,” you muttered under your breath, delicately spreading butter onto your own toast.

Gojo’s eyes flashed, and he couldn’t resist a retort. “At least I do not indulge in something as dull as butter.”

You stiffened. “Butter is far superior to such overwhelming sweetness. Jam annihilates the taste of the toast itself, rendering it pointless.”

“And butter,” he shot back, “adds nothing but blandness. It is unremarkable, simple, and tasteless.”

A surge of heat rose to your face, ready to deliver another sharp remark, but before you could respond, Duchess Gojo’s lilting laughter filled the room. “Oh, my dears, what a lively couple you make!” Her tone was teasing, her eyes alight with amusement. “Such spirited conversation at breakfast⸺how delightful!”

Both you and Gojo stiffened, your faces flushing, though whether it was from irritation or something else entirely, you couldn’t say. You hastily turned your attention back to your toast, while Gojo busied himself with his tea.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together lightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Since we are all in such a lively mood this morning, I do believe a game of pall-mall is in order once breakfast is through. The garden is in full bloom, and the weather is perfect for it.”

Your mother smiled graciously. “A wonderful idea, Duchess. It has been some time since we last enjoyed a game.”

“Indeed,” the Duchess agreed. “And I daresay a little friendly competition will do us all good. What do you say, Lord Gojo?” She turned to her son with a knowing look. “I trust you are up for the challenge?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “I never shy away from a challenge, Mother. But do be warned, I have no intention of losing.”

“Confidence is a virtue,” you remarked dryly, reaching for your teacup, “but do not let it cloud your judgment. Pall-mall requires more than mere bravado.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Ah, a challenge from you as well. This shall be an interesting morning indeed.”

“Let us hope your skills in the garden match your flair for words, my lord,” you retorted, your tone light (for the sake of preventing your mother a heart attack) but your gaze to Gojo sharp. 

Duchess Gojo’s laughter rang out once more, her eyes gleaming with delight. “Oh, this will be most entertaining! Come now, let us finish our breakfast, and then we shall see who emerges victorious on the field.”

You took a sip of your tea, pointedly ignoring the way Gojo’s gaze lingered on you as you did so. The day had barely begun, and already, you felt the familiar tension of being in his presence. But if there was one thing you knew, it was that you wouldn’t back down from a challenge⸺whether at the breakfast table or in the garden.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Now, we must let our diamond choose first. After all, she is the only lady participating today.”

You smiled warmly at her, a polite nod of appreciation. Gojo, however, frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced between you and the bag of mallets. “Are we not simply setting her up for victory?”

Turning to him with an innocent smile, you crossed your arms. “What’s that, my lord? Are you unable, as a man, to deal with the loss of your chosen mallet? I know some men depend heavily on certain familiars to win.”

Gojo held your gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dismissive shrug, he looked away. “Choose whatever you want. I will be sure to defeat you regardless.”

Duchess Gojo placed a warm hand on your back, encouraging you forward. “That’s the spirit, my son. Now, Miss Itadori, do choose which one you fancy.”

You approached the bag of mallets, your eyes scanning over the selection. They varied in subtle shapes and sizes, each one seemingly tailored for a different style of play. Your gaze settled on a mallet slightly larger than the others, painted a light blue shade. Its weight and shape seemed particularly advantageous for aim and control—perfect for directing the ball with precision.

As you picked it up, Gojo’s expression darkened, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes. “Of course, she chooses the best one,” he muttered under his breath.

“Well,” Duchess Gojo crossed her arms. “I suppose it’s only fair that you all let the lady go first.” She turned to you, nodding. “I will go join your mother for tea inside, my dear.” Winking, she adds, “Show these boys how real ladies do it.”

As the duchess took her leave, Choso, always the supportive brother, leaned over to you with a small smile. “Excellent choice, sister. Show them how it’s done.”

You gave him a grateful nod and positioned yourself for your turn. With a graceful swing, you sent the ball rolling smoothly across the lawn. Choso clapped in approval, but when you looked up, Gojo and Yuji were both glowering at you from the sidelines.

Gojo’s lips curled into a smirk, clearly not amused by your success. “Beginner’s luck,” he commented dryly. Yuji could only nod in mindless agreement to Gojo, and you graced him with a glower. Traitor.

Now it was Gojo’s turn. He stepped forward with confident ease, positioning himself with the mallet as though he had been doing this his entire life. With a swift, practiced swing, his ball shot forward and struck a target dead center. Yuji’s eyes sparkled with admiration, practically beaming at Gojo’s skill.

Choso and you exchanged petulant glances, unimpressed by Gojo’s display. But Yuji’s excitement only grew, and he couldn’t resist praising his mentor. “Incredible, my lord! You never miss!”

Choso’s turn came next. With a focused look, he lined up his shot and knocked Gojo’s ball right out of position, sending it tumbling off course into a forested area. Gojo let out a forced laugh, masking his irritation as best as he could, and you clapped and let out a small, petty giggle. “Good shot, brother! I fear Lord Gojo will have to travel much distance to retrieve and get it on course.”

You would come to bite your words.

When it was Yuji’s turn, he aimed with all his might and sent your ball flying out of position. You gasped in outrage, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, you will pay for this.”. 

Gojo, on the other hand, gave Yuji a hearty pat on the back, beaming with pride. “Well done, Yuji. Well done.”

It was now your turn, and you stomped your way towards the forested area where you and Gojo’s balls had traveled towards. Soon enough, Gojo was following after you.

The path was shaded by trees, and the coolness of the forest was a welcome relief from the heat of the sun. You could help but give each other glares until you finally broke the silence.

 “How dare you bewitch my brother into turning against me?” you accused him, stepping over a stray root.

Gojo rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “It appears that Yuji’s blood is indeed not thicker than water,” 

 “Or maybe⸺just maybe⸺your charm isn’t as infallible as you think.”

Keeping pace beside you, Gojo scoffed. “And yet, here you are, still engaged in conversation with me. I must be doing something right.”

You shoot him an angry sideways glance. “I’m only here because my ball is, unfortunately, in the same direction as yours. Nothing more.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so it’s mere coincidence that fate keeps pulling us together.”

“More like unfortunate circumstance.”

The two of you continued bickering as you searched for your wayward balls. The back-and-forth banter echoed through the forest, neither of you willing to back down.

Finally, you spotted them⸺your ball and Gojo’s⸺resting precariously on top of a narrow stream of water. You both halted, glancing at each other, and then, without a word, you raced forward.

Gojo reached the water’s edge first, but you weren’t far behind. Neither of you hesitated as you waded into the shallow stream, your focus entirely on retrieving your respective balls. The bottoms of your clothes became soaked in the cool water, but neither of you paid it any mind, too busy grappling to reach your goals first.

Just as you managed to scoop up your ball, your dress snagged on something in the water. You stumbled forward, colliding directly into Gojo, who had just retrieved his own. The sudden impact sent both of you toppling into the water.

You landed squarely on top of him, the shock of the fall leaving you momentarily dazed. Gojo blinked up at you, his breath catching as his gaze dropped to your now-dampened bodice, honing in on your bosom. For a moment, his usually sharp and calculating eyes softened, confusion flickering across his face as if he didn’t quite understand the effect you were having on him.

You scrambled to find your words, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t mean to⸺”

Before you could finish, Gojo gently grasped your shoulders and helped you off of him. He stood up first, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he brushed off his wet clothing and offered you a hand. You took it, steadying yourself as you rose to your feet.

Gojo swallowed hard, clearly at a loss for words. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then quickly closed it, shaking his head. “I must go,” he muttered,.

Without another word, he turned and left, leaving you standing there in the stream, confused and flustered as you watched him disappear into the trees.

“I am not impressed.” Nobara impassively stares you down with a glower.

You fluttered your fan, maintaining a delicate air of mock innocence. “Whatever do you mean, my dear friend?”

The two of you sat at a small table on the terrace, its stone surface warm from the midday sun. Before you, the expansive field served as Gojo’s personal training ground, scattered with targets and archery equipment. Gojo and his protégé, Yuji, had clearly been at it for hours, their bare skin glistening with sweat under the relentless sun. They moved with a practiced ease, their focus entirely on the task at hand.

Gojo was currently demonstrating a particular stance to Yuji, his voice carrying faintly over the terrace as he corrected the younger man’s posture and grip. Yuji, ever the diligent student, watched him with an intensity that bordered on awe. You couldn’t help but reflect that his expression now⸺determined and assured⸺contrasted much with his encounter with you at the game. 

Nobara’s eyes narrowed as she regarded the scene. “Why are we here?” she asked flatly, her gaze lingering on the two men.

You turned to her with a smile, fluttering your fan with exaggerated elegance. “Why, to record in my journal, of course. One must capture the beauty of Mother Nature when it presents itself so generously from this terrace.”

Her expression remained unimpressed. “Is it truly Mother Nature that has captivated you, or Lord Gojo’s bare skin?” She glanced down at your unopened journal, its quill resting untouched beside it. “And how much progress have you made in this recording of yours?”

You couldn’t suppress a laugh, caught in your own half-hearted excuse. “Well, even you cannot deny that he presents a rather fine figure, can you? And I will get to my writing in due time. Inspiration must first strike, after all.”

Nobara sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “I cannot fathom how you find pleasure in looking upon a man who has caused you so much distress. Many times, in fact.”

You glanced back toward the field, watching as Gojo effortlessly pulled back his bowstring, the muscles in his back rippling with the movement. His form was impeccable, each action a demonstration of his skill and strength. Yuji, in contrast, struggled to replicate the motion with as much ease and accuracy, though his determination was evident.

"He’s clearly enjoying himself," you commented dryly, turning your attention back to Nobara. "Torturing me, that is. I might as well make due of my harrowing and demeaning stay here and enjoy some aspects of Gojo. I swear, he delights in the fact that I’m stuck here."

Nobara’s eyes narrowed, and she snorted. "Oh, absolutely. Men like him don’t get much amusement in life unless it involves making someone else miserable."

You shook your head, remembering the library encounter all too vividly. Gojo had seemed genuinely surprised to find you there, and yet he had taken to taunting you with his usual smugness. That infernal smirk of his had been etched into your memory.

"I almost wonder," you mused, "if he was actually shocked to find me in the library. Perhaps I caught him off guard for once."

Nobara raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing? Looking for a book on how to survive insufferable dukes?"

You chuckled softly. "No, I was reading about Venus, actually. But Gojo⸺he assumed I was indulging in some silly romance. Imagine his surprise when he realized I was working on calculations instead."

Nobara’s lips twitched upward in amusement, but before she could respond, a loud thud! echoed across the terrace. Both of you looked down just in time to see Gojo's arrow hit the target dead center.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he would show off. That insufferable man never missed an opportunity to flaunt his skills. Yuji, predictably, looked like he was about to faint from admiration.

Gojo notched another arrow, his back muscles rippling as he drew it back with practiced ease. His abs tightened with the effort, and though you told yourself you were merely observing his technique, your gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. The tautness of his form was, undeniably, impressive.

“It is a shame,” Nobara remarked, her voice breaking through your thoughts. “He does present a rather fine figure. If only his character matched his appearance.”

You blinked, realizing that your gaze had lingered on him for far too long. “What?”

Nobara glanced at you, her expression half-amused, half-pitying. “I merely observe that if his manners were as well-formed as his physique, he might be a most agreeable companion.”

You opened your fan again, waving it lightly in front of your face. “Perhaps. But we both know that appearances can be deceiving.”

Nobara’s expression turned serious as she looked at you. “You must find yourself a husband who is both well-formed and well-mannered, my dear. Else I shall be forced to gouge out my eyes every time I am called to attend on you.”

You sighed dramatically, closing your fan with a soft snap. “Whatever you say, Nobara.”

Yet, even as you dismissed her words, your gaze drifted back to the field. Gojo was a puzzle, indeed. And whether you liked it or not, he had captured more of your attention than you were willing to admit.

Satoru is sweaty and hot, and therefore he must rush back to take a cold bath. 

The weather is quite warm, he must admit to himself. Teaching Yuji had been nothing sort of pleasurable; the boy’s physical prowess was quite impressive, and he learned things very, very fast. If Yuji were to keep learning and working on his skill, he would easily be up to Gojo’s level or even surpass him. 

As he climbs up the stairs to the terrace, he wipes his brow, which has budded with sweat. When he crosses a table that overlooks the field, he notices a book. His mother and him wouldn’t expose any books like this⸺a fine and intricate design covering the top⸺to the harsh, humid weather, so he picks up the book, frowning.

Frowning, he picked it up, curiosity getting the better of him. The book felt unfamiliar in his hands, and as he opened it, the words within seemed to swim before his eyes. Annoyed, he rubbed the sweat from his forehead and squinted, finally making out the fine, neat handwriting on the page.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

Satoru's eyes widened, and a flicker of intrigue sparked within him. He flipped to the next page, where the writing grew messier, more hurried.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

His eyes widened. If he had been intrigued before, now he was thoroughly captivated. This had to be you. His heart began to beat faster as he quickly turned to another page, where the ink was still fresh, and a pressed leaf lay nestled between the pages.

If I were to base my choice of husband solely on physical appearance, I must confess that Lord Gojo would be a most compelling candidate. However, to consider him without regard to his character would be a grave disservice to myself and to dear Nobara, who would bear the consequences of such a choice daily.

I hold out hope for a suitor with a similar strength of physique, one whose form displays power and grace, much like Gojo. His muscles, so clearly defined, speak of formidable strength and control—his back rippling with every pull of the bowstring, his breath labored as he steadies himself.

Alas, such attributes, though appealing, are not enough…

His fingers hovered over the delicate page, the words sinking in. A part of him wanted to laugh at your sharpness, your refusal to fall prey to his charms, but another part⸺one that kept resurfacing and resurfacing against his will, showing up even in his slumber⸺felt something else entirely.

…What a pity, indeed.

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n i feel like the only important plot point in this chapter is that gojo is a boobs guy

sorry if this chapter was a little icky :( i prefered publishing this than having to subject my dear beta reader to having to edit this mess or even me having to think about it further. i will rest so that the next chapter is better <3 (lots of fluffy moments to come in the next one)

gojo when you spawned in his bedroom

will finally treat myself to answering asks after I wake up since i'm done with this dreadfull chapter <333 jesus it's 3am

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

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[ikeucity]

𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨. ― (희승)

「 ᴘᴀʀᴛ (2/4) ᴏꜰ ᴋᴇᴜʀɪ'ꜱ ʟᴏꜱᴇʀ! ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀᴜ 」 previously on loser! edition: 𝗝𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗝𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗘. ― (제이)

▸ pairing. loser!heeseung x tutor!reader ▸ wc. 36k

warning. this story contains themes of slow-burn romance, fluff, and mild angst, sub!hee (??), alcohol-use, cute drunk moments, emotional connection. while the story leans heavily on wholesome and lighthearted moments, there may be mild language and themes of insecurity. explicit content (18+). mdni.

after jay kicks him out for drunkenly spilling his secret, heeseung is set on drowning his sorrows. what he doesn’t know is that you’ve had your eye on him for a while. with a bit of liquid courage, you decide to make your move. your attempt to impress heeseung leads to way more than you bargained for.

credits to @slvtella, she is the one who gave me a base storyline and i just added sprinkles.

heeseung stumbled out of jay’s room, his vision swimming a little as the vodka hit him hard. he could still feel the embarrassment creeping up his neck, heat rising to his face as he replayed the disaster in his mind. why the fuck did he have to blurt out the one thing no one needed to hear tonight? jennie. jay’s fucking sex doll. heeseung groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, cringing at the memory. he had one job tonight—be the perfect wingman, help jay finally hook up with the girl he’d been crushing on for months. instead, he got piss-drunk and spilled the dumbest secret right in front of her. he could still see the look on jay’s face, the way it shifted from shock to betrayal in seconds. heeseung felt like a fucking idiot. “stupid, fucking idiot,” he muttered under his breath, avoiding eye contact with anyone as he pushed through the crowded room. it felt like every pair of eyes was on him, like they all knew what he’d done. the music was loud, bass pounding through the floor, laughter and chatter filling the air, but it didn’t matter. all he felt was out of place, a walking fuck-up. he definitely needed more alcohol. heeseung found his way to the kitchen, grabbed the first bottle he saw, and made a beeline for the couch. the couch was safe, away from the crowd, away from the judgment. he slumped down, tipping the bottle back, letting the sharp burn of alcohol flood his throat. maybe if he drank enough, he’d forget how badly he screwed up.

the party moved on without him. people laughed, danced, paired off, while heeseung just sat there, watching like a ghost. he wasn’t part of their world, not tonight. maybe not ever. he could feel the alcohol numbing him, dulling the sharp edges of his embarrassment, but not enough to forget. “what a fucking night,” he muttered, taking another drink. he wasn’t the guy who got the girl, never was. just the awkward dude who couldn’t even wingman right. maybe that’s why he got so wasted in the first place, trying to feel like he belonged here, like he could keep up with everyone else. heeseung shifted, his eyes catching the couple next to him. they were all over each other, lips locked, hands roaming. he could feel their heat, their bodies pressed so close he could practically feel them on his skin. he tensed up, looking away, pretending like he wasn’t sitting there, the third wheel on their couch. he tried to move, inch away, but his legs felt like lead, weighed down by the alcohol. their wet kisses filled his ears, the low murmur of their voices mixing with the music. it was too much. he gripped the bottle tighter, praying for an escape, but every time he looked around, the room seemed more packed, more suffocating. moving meant more awkward interactions, more people looking at him like he didn’t belong. so, he stayed put, sinking deeper into the couch, swallowing down another long gulp of vodka.

and then he saw you. you were across the room, eyes locked on him. not judging, not laughing. just… watching. there was something in the way you looked at him, something soft, curious. like you saw him, really saw him. and not in the way everyone else did, not like the awkward fuck-up stuck between a horny couple. there was no pity in your gaze, no judgment. heeseung blinked, his heart stuttering in his chest. it wasn’t the alcohol this time—it was you. you looking at him like that. he hadn’t noticed you before, too caught up in his own mess, but now? now you had his full attention. and suddenly, he didn’t feel so invisible. didn’t feel like the guy who always messed everything up. for a second, it felt like maybe, just maybe, the night wasn’t a total loss.

heeseung had no clue you’d been watching him all night.

even now, as he sat there looking like a complete wreck—his hair a tousled mess, his eyes half-shut, drunk as hell, slouched into the couch like he was hoping it’d just swallow him up—you couldn’t tear your eyes away. it was pathetic, honestly. but something about the way he always seemed so out of place, so awkward, drew you in more than it should.

he never noticed you. not like you wanted him to, anyway. you’d been crushing on him for longer than you cared to admit, but always from a distance. it wasn’t like you could just go up to him, make it clear you were into him. he’d probably freeze up, stutter through something dumb, or worse, think you were messing with him.

because that was lee heeseung—awkward as hell, too wrapped up in his own world, and so fucking oblivious it made your chest ache. he wasn’t the guy everyone noticed, wasn’t smooth or charming. he was just… there. but you didn’t care. you liked him. more than you should, probably.

you liked how real he was, how he always seemed like he didn’t know where he fit in, even when he tried so damn hard. he wasn’t perfect, far from it, but that’s what made him so fucking endearing. every time you saw him—whether it was in class, during group work, or at parties like this, blending into the background—you couldn’t help but notice. the way he’d sit off to the side, like he was hoping no one would call on him, or how he zoned out completely, probably thinking about the games he’d play when he got home. you noticed the way his eyes lit up just a little when someone talked about sports, like it was the one thing he was secretly proud of.

and now here he was, stuck on that couch next to some couple basically mauling each other. they were all over each other, hands and mouths everywhere, and heeseung looked more uncomfortable than ever. he was stiff, like he didn’t know what the hell to do with himself, his eyes darting around the room, looking for some way out.

god, it made your heart flip.

you couldn’t stop staring, watching the way he scratched the back of his neck, like he was trying to make himself smaller, invisible. no one else noticed, but you did. you always noticed. and maybe that’s why you’d never had the guts to make a move. you didn’t want to add to his discomfort, didn’t want to freak him out when he already had enough on his plate just trying to survive the night.

you liked him too much. way too much. but you were careful. you stayed in the background, letting him be, never wanting to scare him off. you were always there, always watching, wishing he’d look at you the way you looked at him. but he never did.

until now.

the alcohol in your system was doing something, messing with your head, making you feel brave—or stupid. you weren’t sure which. but for a second, you thought… was he looking at you?

heeseung’s eyes, hazy with drunkenness, seemed to meet yours. his expression was curious, like maybe—just maybe—he’d noticed you this time. your heart skipped a beat, that stupid giddy feeling hitting you hard. but then, just as quickly, the moment passed. he blinked, his gaze darting away, and that familiar awkwardness took over again. it was like he hadn’t even meant to look at you in the first place, just happened to zone out in your direction.

you liked him too much. way too fucking much.

the alcohol wasn’t helping. it was pushing you, telling you to go for it, to stop sitting in the corner like a damn creep and just talk to him. your heart was pounding, your palms fidgeting in your lap as the idea crept up on you. this wasn’t you—you didn’t make moves like this. but right now? with the buzz in your veins and the way he looked like he could use someone to save him from this disaster of a night?

fuck it.

this might be the only chance you had. and besides, you were tipsy. what did you really have to lose?

you shifted in your seat, adrenaline kicking in, your mind spinning with possibilities. it wasn’t like he’d push you away, right? not heeseung. not when he was sitting there, awkward and alone, looking like he’d appreciate anyone giving him a way out.

before you could stop yourself, you stood up, heart racing and mind spinning from the alcohol. heeseung hadn’t even noticed you as you walked toward him, the music and chatter fading into the background, each step toward him feeling heavier, more uncertain. the couple next to him had finally fucked off, leaving the seat next to him empty, and you weren’t about to waste the opportunity. who knew where they went? who cared? it was just you and him now, and that was all that mattered.

as you got closer, you watched heeseung straighten up a little, like he was finally free from the suffocating makeout session happening beside him. you saw the relief in his face, the way his shoulders relaxed, and he let out this small, tired sigh. poor guy had been through hell sitting there. you could almost feel his discomfort from across the room, and it tugged at something deep in your chest. he shifted back against the couch, clearly buzzed, his eyes slightly glazed, and though he wasn’t as tense anymore, there was still that air of frustration clinging to him. you could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts swirling in his head.

it made your chest ache seeing him frown. you knew he wasn’t the most confident guy, but damn, you didn’t think he was this hard on himself. the more you watched him, the more you wanted to be near him, to sit next to him and maybe make him feel a little less alone in all this mess.

but god, you were just as awkward as he was. every nerve in your body felt like it was buzzing as you made your way over, trying not to trip over your own feet. heeseung, predictably, didn’t even notice you coming. he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts, lost in his head like always.

you stood there for a second, gathering whatever courage you had left, and then slid onto the couch beside him. you tried to do it smoothly, but your nerves made everything feel stiff, awkward. heeseung barely glanced up, still too caught up in his anxious energy, but you could tell he was struggling. the way his body slumped forward a little, the tension in his hands as they gripped the empty bottle… yeah, he was a mess.

you cleared your throat, trying to break through his haze. he glanced at you, almost like he didn’t really see you at first, and then quickly looked away. classic heeseung—too stuck in his own head to notice when someone was actually paying attention to him.

“hey,” you said, voice shaky but determined. “uh, you good?” as soon as the words left your mouth, you cringed internally. seriously? that’s what you went with? but it was too late to take it back now.

he blinked, staring at his drink for a moment before glancing at you again. “uh, yeah. fine.” his voice was quiet, almost unsure, and he took another quick sip, like he was trying to drink his nerves away. you weren’t surprised, honestly. you’d expected this.

you pushed forward, hoping to keep the conversation alive despite the awkward start. “so, uh… you come to these things often?” you winced as the words left your mouth, knowing how lame and cliché they sounded. his lips twitched, maybe the beginning of a smile, but it quickly disappeared as he turned back to his drink, downing more of it.

“not really…” he mumbled, voice already slurring a bit. yeah, he was definitely drunk, and he was definitely not handling it well. heeseung was never the guy who could drink much without turning into this red, nervous, slurry mess.

but you weren’t about to give up. leaning in slightly, you tried again. “it’s pretty loud in here, huh? kinda overwhelming.”

he nodded, muttering something under his breath as he took another long drink, clearly hoping the alcohol would somehow make him less awkward. but instead, it seemed to pull him deeper into his own head. with each sip, he retreated further, barely answering your questions.

by the third question, it was clear he wasn’t going to be much of a conversationalist tonight. he was chugging his drink like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart, and you could tell he was barely hanging on. “so… what do you do when you’re not, uh, here?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation into something he might enjoy talking about.

heeseung blinked, his face flushed as he struggled to respond. “uh… y’know… stuff,” he muttered, sounding more and more like he wanted to disappear into the couch entirely.

you sighed softly, not even upset. still, it was a little disappointing to see him this far gone, too drunk to even attempt to keep up the conversation. heeseung had a habit of sabotaging himself like this, and tonight was no exception.

eventually, his words turned into grunts, his eyes growing heavier with each drink. you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, watching him fumble with the now-empty bottle, clearly surprised he’d finished it so fast. his hands scrambled awkwardly on the table, searching for more alcohol, and you watched him with an amused smile, feeling the warmth of your own buzz settling in.

you had no idea how many drinks you’d had at this point, but you were tipsy enough to feel bolder, less afraid of making a fool of yourself. seeing him struggle for another drink, you leaned in, holding out your cup with a small grin. “hey, you can have mine.”

he looked at you, blinking a few times like he was trying to process what you’d just said. for a moment, you thought he’d refuse, but then he let out a quiet, awkward laugh and took the cup from you. “uh, okay…” he mumbled, his fingers brushing against yours as he took it, that tiny contact sending a spark through you, making your heart skip.

you watched him take a sip, his eyes lingering on the cup like it was the holy grail, and for the first time tonight, he seemed a little more… open. maybe it was the alcohol loosening him up, or maybe it was because you’d given him something without expecting anything back. either way, he wasn’t brushing you off anymore.

he took another small sip before looking at the cup again, then back at you. he hesitated for a second, then held it out to you, his fingers brushing yours as he handed it back. “here… you probably want this back,” he slurred, his voice soft, a little unsure. you smiled, shaking your head as you gently pushed the cup back toward him.

“nah, it’s all yours. seriously,” you said, your heart skipping at the brief contact.

he blinked, glancing down at the cup before he looked back up at you, a bit surprised. “oh… uh, thanks,” he muttered, clearly still a little thrown off by your kindness, but not nearly as guarded as before.

you tried again, feeling a little braver now. “so… you having an okay time?”

this time, he didn’t hide behind the cup. he glanced at you, his expression softening just a bit. “uh, yeah… just, y’know, not really good at these party things,” he admitted, his words still slurred, but now more open, more willing to talk. “too many people… and, uh, stuff.”

you nodded, sipping the last bit of your own drink, feeling the warmth spread through your veins. “yeah, i get it. sometimes it’s a lot. but hey… at least you’ve got me to talk to now, right?”

heeseung blinked again, like he hadn’t even considered that you might actually want to talk to him. “yeah… I guess so,” he mumbled, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. it was small, barely there, but it was enough to make your heart flutter a little.

with both of you sufficiently drunk, the tension started to ease. maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that he was starting to realize you weren’t here to judge him, weren’t here to make him feel awkward or like shit for being himself. either way, conversation started to flow, clumsy and random, but comfortable.

each time you asked a question, heeseung would take a sip, trying to answer without tripping over his words. you found yourself laughing softly at his attempts to sound smoother than he was, finding his drunken honesty almost endearing.

heeseung was definitely at the point where you knew he wasn’t going to remember anything tomorrow. his eyes were glazed over, movements slow and a little too loose, words slurring together more with every sip. but there was something cute about how hard he was trying to stay present, like he wanted to keep talking, even though the alcohol was winning.

you, on the other hand, were riding the same buzz, but it just made you bolder, like all your usual fears had melted away. and before you could stop yourself, the question slipped out.

“so… you like games, right?”

you already knew the answer, of course. heeseung always talked about games whenever you managed to get him to open up, but something about the alcohol made you want to hear it again. maybe it was just an excuse to keep him talking, to keep the conversation going.

heeseung blinked, slow and confused, like he was trying to process what you just asked. “games?” he repeated, voice thick and sluggish, but then he gave you a small, drunken smile. “yeah… love ‘em. they’re, uh, fun.”

you bit your lip to keep from laughing at how ridiculously simple his answer was. “yeah? what’s your favorite?” you pressed, not even caring that you already knew—he was talking, and that was all you wanted.

he squinted, like he was trying to remember through the haze in his head. “uh… I dunno. depends,” he muttered, gripping the cup a little tighter as he took another shaky sip. “like… fps stuff. and sports games. y’know.”

you chuckled softly, nodding. “fps, huh? that’s cool. I bet you’re pretty good at them.”

he shrugged, but a small, shy smile crept onto his lips again. “yeah… I guess,” he slurred, his head tilting a little as he tried to focus on you. “but I dunno, ’m not good at… other stuff,” he mumbled, voice growing softer, trailing off into his drunken haze.

you leaned in, feeling a rush of warmth as you pressed a little more. “what do you mean, ‘other stuff’? come on, you’re good at games, right?”

he let out a half-hearted laugh, his eyes closing briefly like he was fighting off sleep. “maybe… but not good at, uh… everything else,” he mumbled, barely holding on to the conversation.

“we should play sometime,” you said, throwing it out there without expecting much, just feeling bold enough to suggest it.

he blinked slowly, his head bobbing a little before he mumbled, “yeah… that’d be cool.”

and with that, he slumped back into the couch, his drink slipping from his hand as he finally gave in to the drunkenness, completely checked out. you sighed softly, shaking your head with a smile as you watched him.

the brief moment of contentment you had was short-lived. reality smacked you hard—he wasn’t going to remember any of this. not you, not the awkward conversation, nothing. what the hell were you even doing? he was practically passed out, slumped against the couch like a dead weight. there was no way he was going to remember anything, let alone you trying to talk to him.

you sighed, glancing around the party, hoping someone—anyone—might notice how far gone heeseung was. but no one gave a shit. everyone was too busy dancing, making out, or lost in their own little worlds to even glance in his direction. great. of course, no one noticed. and where the hell was jay? wasn’t he supposed to be keeping an eye on things, especially since heeseung came with him?

you scanned the room again, feeling your stomach twist in frustration. still no sign of jay. perfect. heeseung’s head lolled to the side, completely oblivious to the chaos around him. someone needed to make sure he got home safe, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.

“heeseung?” you leaned closer, shaking his shoulder lightly, trying to wake him up. no response. you tried again, a little louder, shaking him harder this time. “hey, come on. wake up. you're wasted, we need to take you home.”

his eyes fluttered open, but he looked so out of it, like he had no idea where he was. “home…?” he mumbled, his voice a raspy whisper.

“yeah, home. do you even know where your phone is?” you asked, your concern growing as you watched him struggle to focus.

he blinked slowly, his hands fumbling through his pockets but coming up empty. “uh… no?” he muttered, his voice barely coherent.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t shake the worry settling in. “okay, hold on. we’ll figure it out.” you glanced around again, hoping jay would miraculously show up, but no such luck. just more people partying.

“heeseung, you gotta wake up a little,” you said, shaking him again, but he was barely coherent. his eyes opened for a second before closing again, his head drooping back down.

this was gonna be a long night.

he stirred slightly, blinking up at you with that same drunken daze. for a second, you thought maybe he was starting to come around, but then, in the most slurred, half-assed voice, he muttered, “y'know… if i was a controller… i’d let you push all my buttons.”

you stared at him, blinking. did he really just say that?

his eyes widened in slow motion as the realization hit him, his face turning bright red. he groaned, slapping his hands over his face like he could hide from the embarrassment. “shit… that was so dumb,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands. “why’d i say that…”

you couldn’t help it—you laughed. it was absurd, so random, and so fucking corny, but in the cutest way possible. “seriously, heeseung?” you teased, biting back more laughter as he squirmed in embarrassment. “that’s your best line?”

he let out another groan, his hands still covering his face. “i’m such an idiot,” he muttered. “just… pretend i didn’t say that. please.”

shaking your head, you grinned despite how ridiculous the situation was. yeah, he was a drunken mess, but that dumb line somehow made you like him even more. “don’t worry, it wasn’t that bad,” you said, nudging his arm lightly. “just… maybe save the pick-up lines for when you’re less drunk.”

heeseung peeked out from behind his hands, his face still flushed, and let out a defeated sigh. “god, i’m really gonna forget all this tomorrow, aren’t i?” he muttered, sounding like he’d already accepted his fate.

you sighed, the reality hitting you again. “yeah, probably. but hey, at least you’ll forget that awful line too.”

he gave a weak laugh, still clearly mortified but trying to play it off. “i’m gonna need to drink even more to forget that one,” he half-joked, his hand fumbling around, searching for another drink. but before he could even find anything, his body gave out completely, and he blacked out mid-reach.

without any warning, he collapsed off the couch, hitting the floor with a loud thud. your eyes widened in shock, a shriek of surprise slipping out before you could stop it. “heeseung! oh my god!” you gasped, scrambling to check if he was okay.

you dropped to your knees next to him, heart pounding as panic started to rise in your chest. heeseung was out cold, completely knocked out from the alcohol. shit. you tried shaking him gently, calling his name, but nothing. he didn’t even stir. not even a flinch.

“heeseung?” you called again, shaking his shoulder a little harder, but he was gone. damn it. you couldn’t just leave him like this. you needed to find jay or someone who could help, but when you glanced around the room, it was clear no one was paying attention.

where the hell is jay? you cursed under your breath. wasn’t this his party? wasn’t he supposed to make sure shit like this didn’t happen? you got up, your eyes darting around, searching for any sign of him. you started knocking on random doors, hoping one of them would lead to jay.

after a couple of tries, you heard a muffled voice from behind one of the doors. “JUST GO AWAY!”

you froze. that was definitely jay, and he sounded pissed. you stared at the door, debating whether to knock again, but you weren’t about to deal with him in that mood. he’s clearly busy with his own shit, you thought, your stomach twisting in frustration.

with a sigh, you glanced back at where heeseung was sprawled on the floor, completely out of it. no one else was going to help, and jay was a lost cause. guess it’s up to me.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself. there’s no way i’m leaving him here like this. he’d never make it on his own, and no one else seemed to care. kneeling down beside him, you muttered, “okay, heeseung… let’s get you home,” even though you knew he wasn’t going to hear you.

you tried lifting him, but holy shit, he was heavier than he looked. “damn it,” you grunted, barely managing to prop him up against the couch. “come on, work with me here,” you muttered under your breath, even though you knew he was too far gone to do anything.

shit, where does this guy even live? you stared at him for a moment, realizing you had no idea. you shook his shoulder again, this time a bit more urgently. “heeseung? hey, you gotta wake up. where do you live?”

he blinked up at you, his eyes unfocused, his head swaying as he tried to process what you said. “wha…?” he mumbled, voice thick and slurred.

“heeseung, i need to get you home. where do you live?” you asked again, louder, hoping something would click in his foggy brain.

he blinked again, looking like he was trying to focus, then lazily pointed in some random direction. “i… live, uh… over… there?” he mumbled, before his hand flopped back into his lap like he’d just given you the most important information ever.

you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this was. “yeah, over where exactly, genius?” you muttered, giving him another shake. “come on, focus. where’s your house?”

heeseung squinted, his face scrunched up like he was trying to solve the hardest math problem ever. “my house… well, we’re not at my house right now,” he said, giggling to himself like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

you rolled your eyes, but a laugh slipped out before you could stop it. “yeah, thanks for clearing that up.”

he squinted again, like he was finally realizing how unhelpful he was being. “no, wait… i got this,” he slurred, lifting a finger like he was about to say something profound. “my mom… she makes pancakes. really good ones,” he mumbled, his head bobbing as he tried to stay awake.

you sighed, half amused, half frustrated. “heeseung, how is that supposed to help me get you home?”

he shrugged weakly, his eyelids fluttering shut. “i dunno… but pancakes are good,” he mumbled, clearly on the verge of passing out again.

god, this is going nowhere, you thought, trying to suppress a smile. as much of a mess as he was, you couldn’t help but find the whole situation kind of funny. here he was, trying his best to be helpful, and all he could come up with were pancakes and vague directions.

“alright, buddy,” you muttered with a sigh, shaking him a little more firmly. “let’s try this again. do you know your address?”

heeseung nodded, then immediately paused, like he’d forgotten what you just asked him. “uh… what was the question?” he mumbled.

you sighed, shaking him a bit harder. “heeseung, please. what’s your address?”

he blinked slowly, and after a few moments, it finally seemed to register. “oh… uh… i live like… three blocks from here? yeah… three blocks,” he muttered, sounding half-asleep but at least coherent enough to give you a real answer.

“three blocks?” you repeated, more to yourself than him. “okay, i can work with that.”

looking down at him, still a complete mess but not entirely unconscious, you steeled yourself for what was coming. “alright, come on,” you said, grabbing his arm and using every bit of strength you had to pull him up. “let’s get you home.”

heeseung stumbled to his feet, barely managing to stay upright as he leaned heavily against you. as you guided him toward the door, his body weight pressing into yours, he gave you this drunken, confused look, his words slurred as he blinked at you in disbelief. “you’re really helping me? why?”

you couldn’t help but laugh a little at how genuinely surprised he sounded. “because i’m not about to let you pass out on some random couch—or worse, end up in a ditch,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get lost trying to find your way home.”

heeseung blinked again, his face scrunching up in a mix of confusion and what looked like genuine gratitude. “oh… that’s nice,�� he mumbled, sounding almost touched. "thanks… like, really… that’s… nice.”

you shook your head with a grin, keeping him steady as you both made your way out of the house and into the cool night air. the sounds of the party faded behind you, replaced by the quiet of the neighborhood, the occasional distant car the only noise breaking the stillness.

"it’s no big deal,” you said, adjusting your grip on his arm to keep him from wobbling too much. “just making sure you don’t end up in a situation you’re gonna really regret tomorrow.”

heeseung let out a low, awkward chuckle. “yeah… ‘preciate it. didn’t think anyone’d… care enough to help,” he muttered, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe you were doing this.

you glanced over at him, his head lolling slightly as he stumbled along. despite his drunken state, you couldn’t help but smile softly. “well, now you know someone does.”

you walked in relative silence for a bit, his steps still unsteady, but he was at least following your lead. but then, halfway to his place, he suddenly mumbled. “man, i was already at jay’s house, though. i could’ve just crashed there… people know me there…” his words dragged out, like he was trying to convince himself of something. “and now i gotta walk home… and… i gotta pee…”

you stopped in your tracks, blinking at him.  oh, my god. he was right. this whole party is at jay’s place. of course he could’ve stayed there. your stomach twisted as the realization sank in. “oh my god, i’m an idiot.”

heeseung, in his drunken haze, nodded solemnly, like you’d just made some grand discovery. “yeah… but i gotta pee though.”

“wait, when i knocked on jay’s door earlier, he sounded super pissed,” you explained quickly, trying to justify your mistake. “i didn’t think he’d let you crash there. he seemed really… busy.”

heeseung blinked a few times, processing your words through his foggy brain before shrugging lazily. “yeah… jay can be a dick when he’s stressed.” he stumbled forward again, catching himself on you. “but, uh… yeah, it’s my fault. i said some dumb shit earlier. no wonder he’s mad.” he sighed, his head hanging lower. “guess i really do need to go home.”

you stood there for a second, letting it all sink in. turning back now seemed pointless. you’d already walked this far, and heeseung himself had admitted that he probably pissed jay off. crashing there would’ve likely been a disaster anyway.

you sighed, adjusting your grip on him again. “well, we’re almost halfway there. might as well keep going,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “and, uh… we’ll find somewhere for you to pee on the way.”

heeseung let out a half-drunken chuckle. “thanks for… not leaving me in a ditch.”

“yeah, well, you’re welcome. just… don’t pee on yourself, okay?” you teased, shaking your head as a small smile tugged at your lips. the whole situation was absurd, but somehow you were both laughing about it.

“actually… if you could stop here?” heeseung mumbled suddenly, already fumbling with his belt as he swayed slightly. you blinked at him, confused for a second, but then it hit you—he was really about to pee. right here.

“uh, okay, sure,” you muttered, glancing around awkwardly as he stumbled off to the side of the sidewalk, finding a random bush to aim at. you quickly turned your back, trying to give him a bit of privacy, though the whole situation felt ridiculous.

you stared up at the sky, doing your best to pretend this wasn’t happening. this night just keeps getting better, you thought, cringing as the unmistakable sound of him fumbling around and finally peeing filled the air.

heeseung froze midstream, clearly realizing how loud it was. “uh… sorry, this is… louder than i thought,” he mumbled, his voice laced with embarrassment.

you couldn’t help but snort, biting your lip to keep from laughing out loud. “it’s fine, heeseung. just… finish up,” you said, shaking your head, doing your best not to die from secondhand embarrassment. what a mess.

heeseung groaned softly. “i’m so fucking sorry… this is the worst…”

“just… don’t fall over, okay?” you teased, still looking away, but you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“i'm trying,” he muttered, clearly more embarrassed with every passing second. the sound of his pee hitting the ground seemed to echo in the quiet night, and you could practically feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off him.

finally, after what felt like the longest, most awkward moment of your life, he zipped up and stumbled back over to you, still red-faced and avoiding your gaze. “okay… all done,” he mumbled, clearly mortified.

“great,” you said, trying to sound upbeat as you started walking again. “let’s never speak of this again.”

as you reached out to steady him, your arm slipping around his waist to support him for the walk ahead, heeseung suddenly jerked back a little, still wobbly but clearly distressed. “shit… i didn’t wash my hands,” he mumbled, voice thick with drunken regret, like this was the worst thing that had happened all night.

you couldn’t hold it in anymore. a loud, genuine laugh burst out of you, echoing down the quiet street. “oh my god, heeseung, it’s fine,” you managed between fits of laughter, your shoulders shaking as you tried to hold yourself together. “we’ll survive.”

he blinked at you, his expression confused and a little lost, staring at his hands like they were contaminated with something deadly. “but, like… germs,” he slurred, his face scrunched in concern.

“it’s fine,” you repeated, still giggling as you shook your head at the absurdity of the situation. “we’ve been through so much tonight. i think i’ll survive without you washing your hands.”

heeseung squinted at you for a second, then let out a small, sheepish laugh. “yeah… okay,” he muttered, stumbling back toward you. “but, like… sorry.”

“no need to apologize for that,” you said, still grinning as you slipped your arm back around him, helping him walk again, this time without him pulling away. “you’re not the first drunk person to forget about hygiene.”

he chuckled, leaning heavily on you as you both continued down the street, a little more relaxed now that the awkwardness had passed. “still… i’m a mess, huh?” he mumbled, more to himself than to you.

“yeah,” you agreed with a soft smile, keeping him steady. “but it’s okay.”

because it was heeseung. no matter how messy, awkward, or downright ridiculous the night had been, it was perfect in its own weird way. the fact that you were here with him—this version of him, drunken, embarrassed, and just so him—made it feel like something special.

heeseung, oblivious to the thoughts running through your mind, kept leaning on you, muttering little apologies under his breath, his head hanging low as he walked. but you couldn’t stop smiling. you could’ve left him at the party, passed out and miserable, let him wake up tomorrow with no memory of any of this. but instead, you were here, guiding him home, laughing at his drunken antics, and feeling this strange sense of contentment.

he might forget everything by morning—forget the dumb pick-up line, the awkwardness, even this entire walk home. but you wouldn’t. this wasn’t perfect by any traditional standard, but it was real. and in its own way, that made it… kind of perfect.

as you both continued walking, the night air cool around you, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. this moment, as strange and chaotic as it was, felt like yours to hold onto.

finally, after what felt like forever, you made it to heeseung’s house. your legs ached a little from the walk, but relief washed over you as you stood in front of his door. you reached out and rang the doorbell, hoping someone inside would answer and help you out.

nothing.

you rang it again. still nothing.

“come on,” you muttered under your breath, glancing over at heeseung, who was leaning against the wall beside the door, half out of it. he was barely holding himself up, his head bobbing as he blinked slowly at the house.

“heeseung,” you said, nudging him lightly. “do you have a key or something?”

he mumbled something incoherent, still not exactly helping the situation. you sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to figure out what to do next. standing there for what felt like forever, you finally turned to him again.

“heeseung, come on. help me out here. do you even live here?”

he blinked a few more times, his expression blank before he suddenly focused on the door. “oh… wait… yeah, it’s unlocked,” he slurred, like it had just occurred to him.

you stared at him, a mix of disbelief and amusement washing over you. “seriously? you could’ve mentioned that ten minutes ago.”

heeseung just grinned sleepily. “sorry… drunk.”

you sighed, shaking your head as you reached for the door handle and pushed it open. “alright, let’s get you inside.”

you helped him inside, guiding him carefully through the doorway, but the second you stepped into the dimly lit entrance, hesitation washed over you. you glanced at heeseung, who was barely able to stand, his body weight practically leaning on you, and then around the quiet house. should you even be here?

“um… are you sure i should help you in?” you asked, unsure if you were overstepping. the last thing you wanted was to intrude, but the thought of leaving him in this state alone didn’t sit right either.

heeseung gave a lazy nod, still leaning heavily on you, his words slurred. “yeah… i’m good. you’re good. ‘s fine,” he mumbled, though the way he said it wasn’t exactly convincing.

you carefully stepped inside, trying not to make too much noise just in case his parents were home. the last thing you needed was to wake them up and have to explain why their son was stumbling around like he’d just lost a fight with a bottle of vodka. tiptoeing through the house, your nerves on edge, you glanced around—it was eerily quiet.

“heeseung… where’s your room?” you whispered, praying he’d give you a straight answer.

he squinted at you like you’d asked him to solve a riddle. “uh… upstairs? or… maybe… downstairs?” he mumbled, clearly just as lost in his own house as you were.

he thought about it for another second before nodding. “upstairs… definitely upstairs,” he slurred, as if he’d finally cracked the code.

you gave him a skeptical look but decided to roll with it. slowly, you began leading him up the stairs, each step feeling like an exercise in stealth, hoping with every creak that no one else would wake up. your heart raced a little more with every step, praying you’d get to his room without waking anyone.

at the top of the stairs, you paused, glancing down the hallway. “okay, which one’s your room?” you asked quietly.

heeseung blinked, swaying a little as he pointed down the hall. “uh… second door on the right? yeah, that’s it,” he mumbled, his voice full of uncertainty.

you sighed but figured it was the best lead you had. guiding him to the door, you opened it slowly, half-expecting it to be the wrong room.

“alright, home sweet home,” you whispered as you helped him inside. “now let’s get you into bed before you pass out in the hallway.”

as you stepped into his room, his scent hit you instantly—a mix of something clean but a little musky, warm, and somehow comforting. your heart fluttered for a moment, and you took in your surroundings. the room was exactly what you’d expected, messy but lived-in. clothes were strewn across the floor, his gaming setup in the corner, and his bed, barely made, was in complete disarray. it was so… him.

distracted by the details of his space, you shook it off and focused on the task at hand. get him to the bed.  guiding him over to the mattress, you gently helped him sit down. he flopped back with a groan, limbs heavy and uncooperative, sprawling across the bed in a way that made you shake your head.

as you were about to leave him to sleep it off, you noticed how dry and cracked his lips were. he’s gotta be dehydrated, you thought, glancing around the room for something. you spotted a half-full water bottle on his desk and grabbed it, kneeling beside the bed.

“hey, heeseung, drink this,” you said softly, nudging his shoulder to wake him enough to take a sip. “come on, you’ll feel better.”

he blinked groggily, clearly struggling to stay awake, but when he saw the water, he mumbled something incoherent and reached out slowly. you guided the bottle to his lips, tipping it carefully as he took a few slow, sloppy sips. a bit of water spilled down his chin, but he managed to drink most of it.

“there you go,” you murmured, using your sleeve to wipe the droplets from his face. “better?”

he hummed softly, his eyes already closing again, the water seemingly calming him a little. “thanks…” he muttered, his voice barely audible as he sank deeper into the bed, finally looking more comfortable.

you couldn’t help but smile at how helpless he looked, sprawled out like a kid who’d played too hard and crashed. he was a mess, but god, you couldn’t deny how endearing he was in this state. with a soft sigh, you stood there for a moment longer, just taking him in—his messy hair, flushed face, the way he was finally peaceful after such a chaotic night.

“thanks, heeseung, i had a lot of fun,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, knowing he wouldn’t hear or remember any of this. it didn’t matter, though. this night had been something you’d treasure, as imperfect as it was.

you pulled out your phone, glancing at the screen, debating whether to text someone for a ride home. as you turned to leave, ready to let him sleep off the rest of his drunken haze, you suddenly felt a tug on your arm. your heart jumped in your chest.

heeseung had grabbed your wrist, his grip clumsy but just firm enough to stop you from walking away. you turned, wide-eyed, looking down at him. he was still half-asleep, his eyes barely open, but the message was clear—he didn’t want you to leave.

“where’re you going?” heeseung slurred, his voice low and heavy with sleep, but the question hit you harder than you expected. your pulse raced, caught completely off guard by the way he held onto your wrist, his grip firm enough to keep you there. for a moment, you couldn’t even find the words to respond.

“home,” you finally managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. his hand was hot against your skin, and despite how out of it he was, heeseung managed to pull you closer. before you knew it, you were standing right at the edge of his bed, his sleepy eyes blinking up at you like he was trying to figure out what to say next.

heeseung stared at you, his brow furrowed in concentration as if he was trying to fight through the fog in his brain. “you… don’t have to go,” he mumbled, slurring his words but sounding oddly sincere. “i… i’m really glad you helped me and… y’know, stayed.”

you raised an eyebrow, half amused and half confused. “heeseung, you’re drunk.”

he groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “yeah, but… i don’t want you to leave yet,” he admitted, his voice nervous as his eyes darted away. then, out of nowhere, he blurted, “you can… maybe just… stay here?” the moment the words left his mouth, his face flushed deep red, and he quickly backpedaled. “i mean—not like that! i mean, we could… like, just…”

he trailed off, clearly mortified, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his awkwardness. “what are you trying to say, heeseung?” you teased, watching as his face grew even redder.

he sputtered, clearly struggling to string together a coherent thought. “i—I’m not asking you to sleep with me! i just meant—you could, uh, cuddle? if you wanted to?” his voice grew quieter with each word, until he was practically whispering, his eyes wide with embarrassment.

you stifled a laugh, shaking your head. “heeseung, you don’t even know me,” you said teasingly, though your heart was doing flips at how vulnerable he was being.

he looked up at you, his eyes a little glassy but serious despite the alcohol clouding his mind. “i… i know enough,” he mumbled, his words slow and slurred. “you’re not dangerous. and you kept up with me even when i was, uh, difficult.”

he tugged on your wrist gently again, his expression almost pleading. “just… please?” he asked softly. “it’s… nice when you’re here.”

your heart melted a little at his honesty, and you let out a quiet sigh before sitting down on the edge of his bed. the moment you did, his grip on your wrist loosened, and heeseung gave you a sleepy, grateful smile. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

he blinked up at you with his heavy-lidded eyes, his face still flushed with both drunkenness and embarrassment. “so, um…” he slurred, clearly nervous, “how can i politely ask you to allow me to cuddle you?”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly at how ridiculous he sounded. in all his drunken glory, he somehow managed to be both an absolute mess and the sweetest guy in the room. as he sluggishly shifted toward the pillows, his movements slow and awkward, it was clear he was urging you to follow him, his hand still loosely holding onto yours.

you stared at him, unsure if you should actually move closer, but heeseung was fully beckoning you, his eyes droopy yet focused on you, like he wasn’t going to let you leave without getting his way.

“uh…” you hesitated. “heeseung, I don’t think you’re exactly in your right mind right now.”

he looked up at you with the most pitiful puppy-dog eyes, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “but… i really wanna cuddle,” he mumbled, his voice soft and a little pleading. “and you’re… really comfy-looking.”

“comfy-looking?” you repeated, biting back a laugh.

he nodded, his head bobbing lazily as he made grabby hands at you from the bed. “yeah… you’re like… a human pillow or something.”

you snorted at that. a human pillow? only heeseung could make something that ridiculous sound like a compliment.

“come on,” he muttered, slurring his words even more as he patted the spot beside him. “just… for a bit. i’ll be good, i swear.”

with a sigh, you finally gave in, sitting down beside him on the bed. “okay, but if you drool on me, I’m leaving,” you teased, though your heart was hammering in your chest.

heeseung grinned lazily, clearly pleased with himself, and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “deal,” he mumbled, already half-buried under the blankets, his breath warm against your shoulder.

“wow, you smell good,” he mumbled sleepily against your shoulder, his voice thick with drowsiness but laced with genuine appreciation. his nose brushed lightly against your skin as he inhaled deeply, like he was savoring the scent.

you froze, your heart pounding in your chest. was this really happening? heeseung was cuddled up next to you, telling you that you smelled good, like it was the most casual thing in the world, while your brain was going into overdrive.

“you smell like…” he paused, his words slow and thoughtful despite his drunken state, “like… vanilla. and… something warm, like fresh laundry.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how oddly specific his observation was. vanilla? fresh laundry? it wasn’t anything special, just the everyday scent of you—clean, comfortable, and familiar. and somehow, even in his drunken haze, he’d picked up on that.

your cheeks flushed as he snuggled closer, his arm loosely draped around your waist, his warmth radiating against you. is this real? your mind screamed as your heart raced, pounding in your chest like it was about to explode.

heeseung nuzzled closer, his breath tickling the side of your neck as he lazily muttered, "yeah, like… really comfy. you feel… safe.” his voice trailed off, and for a moment, you thought he was finally drifting off to sleep.

but then, you felt it—something unmistakable pressing lightly against your thigh.

was he…? your brain scrambled, trying to process the situation as the atmosphere shifted from soft and sweet to something entirely different. heeseung, still half-drunk and completely unaware of what he was doing, shifted closer, his body pressing tightly against yours. his arm around your waist pulled you into him, and he let out a soft sigh, completely oblivious to the storm he was creating inside you. your mind was a mess, caught between pure panic and disbelief. part of you wanted to wake him up, shake him out of this, and bolt for the door. but the other part of you… the part that didn’t want to admit how much you liked this, that part wanted to stay.

you shifted, trying to pull away, to put some distance between you and heeseung, but your body betrayed you, jerking forward in an awkward attempt to escape. and that’s when it got worse. every time you moved, he pressed closer, chasing the warmth of your body like he was seeking comfort. the way he nestled against you, so warm, so close—it made your mind spiral with thoughts you couldn’t control.

oh god, how big is he? the question flashed through your mind before you could stop it, heat rushing to your face as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. stop it, stop thinking like that, you scolded yourself, but it was impossible. his body was too close, too solid, too… there.

you swallowed hard, guilt creeping in as you realized that, drunk or not, heeseung had no idea what he was doing. he’s drunk, you reminded yourself. he doesn’t know.  but every time you shifted to create some space, he followed, letting out a soft, sleepy groan and instinctively pressing deeper into you.

and before you knew it, his body had nestled itself right between your thighs. your breath caught in your throat, and every little movement from him sent a ticklish, torturous sensation through you. you tried to ignore it, to focus on anything else, but then his hard length brushed against your clothed core, and your hips jerked involuntarily, a wave of panic and heat spreading through you.

oh fuck, this is bad. you could feel it—feel yourself getting wet, and your mind screamed at you to do something, anything, to get out of this situation before it got worse. but heeseung, completely unaware, kept moving closer, his body acting on autopilot, chasing the comfort of your warmth.

you froze, caught between the desire that was creeping in and the guilt that was clawing at your conscience. what the hell were you supposed to do now? your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—desire, confusion, guilt, panic. you were stuck, unable to pull yourself away, and then the worst thing happened.

a soft, unexpected moan slipped from your lips.

the second the sound left your mouth, heeseung’s breathing changed. it became heavier, more deliberate, like he was responding to the noise. a low groan rumbled from him, and though his movements were sluggish, they felt more… intentional.

his hot breath fanned over your ear, and before you could stop yourself, you turned your head, desperate to see if he was awake—if he was really aware of what he was doing. and that’s when your eyes met his.

your breath hitched.

he was already looking at you, his eyes half-lidded and dazed, but there was an intensity behind them that made your pulse race. but the more you stared, the more you realized—he wasn’t fully there. his eyelids fluttered, his gaze distant, but somehow still focused on you.

he let out another low groan, his voice raspy as he mumbled, “this feels… good…” his words were slurred, heavy with sleep and alcohol, but the raw honesty in them sent a shiver down your spine.

his hand brushed lightly against your side, his fingers grazing your waist, and another soft groan escaped him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. he nuzzled against you like he was sinking deeper into a dream, his body responding to yours without any awareness of the chaos he was causing.

his breathing grew more ragged, and his grip on you tightened, like he was afraid you’d slip away. “no… you can’t leave…” he muttered, his voice shaky and filled with a desperation that made your heart pound. “you’re not real… it’s a dream… just a dream…”

the conviction in his voice was clear—he thought this was all a dream. he was convinced that none of this was real, that you weren’t really there, that everything was part of some fantasy his drunken mind had created. a pretty girl in his bed, your warmth against his body, your scent filling his senses—it was too perfect for him to believe it was real.

heeseung inhaled deeply, as if trying to memorize the way you smelled. “wow…” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending another shiver down your spine as your back arched involuntarily. “no… don’t go.”

his grip on you tightened, becoming more possessive, as if holding onto you would keep the dream from slipping away. his fingers, trembling slightly now, traced the side of your waist, slipping under your top. his touch was tentative, almost like he was confirming that you were still there, that this dream of his hadn’t disappeared.

and with each touch, your body reacted, your stomach clenching, your thighs pressing together as you felt yourself getting wetter by the second. his fingers danced across your skin, soft and slow, and you could barely breathe.

heeseung’s desperation grew with each passing second, his movements more deliberate, needier, as his lips pressed warm, clumsy kisses along your neck. each kiss sent jolts of electricity through your body, and despite the alarm bells blaring in your mind, you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. god, you couldn’t help it.

there was an unexpected tenderness in the way his lips moved against your skin, a slow, deliberate trail that made your heart race, pounding so hard it almost hurt. part of you knew you should stop this, pull away before it went any further. but then heeseung groaned softly, his lips pressing a little harder as he bit down gently on your neck, and the last of your resistance melted away.

you were drunk too, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions, making your body react without thinking. every kiss, every touch, left your skin tingling, and you let out a shaky breath, barely able to hold back the moan that slipped from your lips. instinctively, you tilted your head back, giving him more access as your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, your mind lost in the moment.

but then you felt him shifting, his hands fumbling as he slowly tugged down his pants, and panic sliced through the fog in your mind. heeseung, wait, you thought, but your voice came out shaky. “this isn’t a dream,” you whispered, but it was like he didn’t hear you—or worse, he didn’t believe it.

he let out a low, frustrated groan, shaking his head. “no… you’re not getting away this time,” he mumbled, his words thick with need. “just… let me put it in. please.” his voice was so desperate, filled with a longing that made your heart twist in your chest. it was like he had begged for this in his dreams, over and over again.

the sound of his cock slapping against his stomach was unmistakable, and your mind reeled as you heard him whine, “i’m so horny,” his tone almost childlike in its frustration, like he couldn’t handle being denied any longer. his hand wrapped around his length, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as he positioned himself, dangerously close to you.

the air between you felt thick, heavy with tension. he shifted again, and then he asked, almost too dejectedly, “do you really not wanna do it?” the way his voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability in his tone, made your stomach churn with guilt.  god, yes, you thought. you do want this. but he was drunk, confused, and he had no idea what he was doing.

before you could find the words to say anything, you felt him. the tip of his cock brushed against your damp, clothed core, and you let out a shaky gasp. “please,” he whispered, not giving you a chance to speak, his voice laced with desperation.

oh fuck it.

before you even realized it, your body was moving on its own, pulling him closer, your hands reaching behind to grip his waist and press him against you. the desperation in his voice, the raw need in his movements—it was contagious, wrapping around you like a fever, and any trace of rational thought disappeared.

heeseung groaned softly, his breath hot against your neck as his hips moved more frantically, grinding against you with a helpless urgency. his cock, hard and throbbing, dragged along your clothed pussy, sending shivers up your spine with every slow, torturous movement. you could feel every pulse, every inch of him pressed so close, teasing you.

his tip grazed the entrance of your pussy, the friction lighting up your body, making you gasp. “fuck,” you whispered, your hips rolling against his, your body responding to his every move. each drag of his cock against you only made you wetter, the thin fabric of your underwear soaked from the tension building between you.

heeseung’s breath came in heavy pants, his head resting against your shoulder as he let out a soft whine. it was like he couldn’t get enough of you, his body chasing the friction, the need to be closer, to feel more. “mhmm… yes, god yes,” he muttered, his voice thick and broken, filled with raw need.

any hesitation you had melted away, consumed by the heat of the moment. all that mattered now was this—the way heeseung’s body was pressed against yours, his hands gripping your waist like he was holding on for dear life, his cock rubbing against you with a desperate intensity.

“please,” he whined again, his voice trembling, thick with need. his hips stuttered against yours, the friction driving him wild as he ground into you, chasing that feeling that seemed just out of reach. “just… let me… just a little more…”

his lips brushed against your ear, his voice barely a whisper, shaking with desperation. “just the tip? please?”

the way he spoke, his voice filled with such need, sent a shiver down your spine. you could feel him, pressing against the entrance of your pussy, his cock straining, desperate for just a little more.

every nerve in your body lit up in response, your skin tingling with anticipation. you knew you shouldn’t cross this line, knew it was wrong, but the way heeseung begged—how could you say no?

just the tip, he had said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. and fuck, you wanted it. more than anything in that moment, your body was screaming for it.

your breath came out shaky as you considered it, your hips tilting up ever so slightly, pressing against him. you wiggled your hips, testing the waters, wanting to see how he’d react.

heeseung gasped, his body trembling against yours as you teased him. his reaction was immediate, a soft, needy groan slipping past his lips. “please… stop teasing,” he murmured, his voice husky, desperate. “let me feel your pussy…”

the nerves that had been creeping up on you only made the moment more intense. your hands trembled slightly as you slowly lifted your skirt, the fabric bunching around your waist. each movement was heavy with anticipation, your breath hitching as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down, shakily. the cool air hit your skin, and the awareness of how wet and ready you were for him made your head spin.

you weren’t a virgin, but god, the intensity of this moment made you feel like you were crossing some new, dangerous line—and you loved it.

heeseung propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes locking onto yours as his hands gently cupped your cheeks, pulling you closer. the desperation in his gaze was undeniable—he needed to see you, to watch every flicker of emotion cross your face as the intensity of the moment built between you. his breath came out in shaky pants, his gaze half-lidded, filled with hunger and disbelief.

“please…” he whispered, his voice raw and filled with awe as he leaned in, his hands sliding down your body to grip your thigh, pulling it up toward your chest. the closeness, the need between you two, had your heart racing, matching his shallow, ragged breaths.

his eyes darkened with need as he released his cock, painfully hard, guiding it toward your exposed entrance. “just the tip,” he repeated, his voice trembling with desperation, like he was trying to convince both of you to believe it was enough. his hands shook slightly as he held your thigh in place, steadying himself as the head of his cock brushed against your wet, sensitive entrance.

the warmth of him teased your slick folds, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, there was no turning back. heeseung let out a soft, needy groan as he slowly pushed the tip inside, the stretch immediate. your pussy tightened around him, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped, your body instinctively responding to the pleasure of him barely entering you.

as he eased the tip in further, heeseung grunted, his breath hitching in his throat as your tightness enveloped him. the warmth, the snug grip of your body around him—he hadn’t expected it to feel this good. not like this. his jaw went slack, a low, breathless moan escaping his lips as his head tilted back, his eyes squeezing shut in pure bliss.

heeseung trembled, overwhelmed by how easily he slid inside, the pleasure shooting through his body like fire. “fuck,” he rasped, his hands gripping your thigh tighter as he tried to hold himself back, his body shaking with the effort. but the feeling of you wrapped around him, even with just the tip, was driving him insane.

“ohhh yes…” he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as though you were his lifeline. his body trembled as he fought to maintain control, the promise of “just the tip” quickly slipping from his mind. you could feel his desperation in the way he shook, the tension in his muscles as he struggled to keep his word. but the way your body clenched around him, how tight and wet you were, made it nearly impossible for him to stop.

heeseung’s head lolled forward, his eyes glazed with lust as he gazed down at you, panting heavily. “so… fucking tight,” he muttered, his voice trembling, barely able to form the words as the pleasure overwhelmed him. his cock throbbed inside you, each pulse sending a wave of pleasure through both of you, his body clearly begging for more, desperate to push deeper, to give in to the need that was consuming him.

he was trying so hard, his breath shaky and shallow as he struggled to hold back. the slick between your legs coated his cock, making every movement feel so much more intense. “wow, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice quivering with awe and raw need. there was a frantic edge to his words, like he couldn’t believe what was happening, but he also couldn’t stop himself from craving more. his body shook with restraint, but the desperation spilling from his lips betrayed him.

“please… it feels so good,” he whimpered, his hips stuttering as he slid the tip in and out, teasing both of you. the sound of his cock moving against you, the slickness of your arousal, only made you both want more. every time he pulled back, the sensation left you aching, desperate for him to push further.

“can i… just a little more?” heeseung begged, his voice cracking as he gently pushed the head of his cock in again, only to pull it back out with trembling restraint. “your voice, your wet pussy… fuck… i can’t hold back,” he mumbled, his words coming out in shaky, breathless pants.

heeseung’s fingers dug into your skin, holding on for dear life as he fought the overwhelming urge to push deeper. you could see it in his eyes, the battle he was losing, the way his body was shaking, desperate to feel more of you.

despite how much you wanted it too, you found the strength to shake your head. “no,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, trying to hold on to some control in the situation. you couldn’t let this go any further.

heeseung let out a soft, defeated whine, his head dropping in frustration as he continued to thrust the tip of his cock in and out, his body visibly trembling from the effort of holding back. “okay… okay… 'm sorry, just the tip,” he repeated, his voice filled with both submission and longing, his hips grinding slightly against you despite his promise. he was trying so hard, you could see it in the way his muscles tensed, his hands gripping your hips as though they were the only thing grounding him. “i’ll be good, i’m trying not to put it all in, i promise… just the tip,” he mumbled again, like he was convincing himself just as much as he was you. his hips jerked forward in short, erratic bursts, trying to keep the sensation alive without pushing deeper. every tiny movement made him shudder, his breath catching with every second that passed.

“f-fuck…” heeseung stuttered, his inexperience painfully clear in every shaky breath, every clumsy but eager movement. he was overwhelmed. completely lost in the sensation of your pussy, barely able to comprehend the pleasure that had him teetering on the edge.

“holy fuck… it's—” his voice cracked as his hips jerked forward again, the tiny thrusts barely giving him relief, yet still too much for him to handle. his hands clutched your hips tighter, his body trembling as he struggled to maintain control, but the way you squeezed around him, how tight you felt, made him shudder.

you could feel his desperation in every sloppy, uncoordinated thrust. his lips parted, little gasps and whimpers escaping every time he pushed just barely inside you, the sensation clearly overwhelming him.  he was fucking adorable, the way he whined, the way his voice broke with every breath, the way his whole body trembled in need.

“you’re s-squeezing me,” he stuttered, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his breath hot and shaky against your skin, making everything feel that much more intense. you couldn’t help it—your hips began moving on their own, rolling into him, meeting his small, desperate thrusts. your fingers dug into the sheets, and you gave in, pushing back against him, taking his cock bit by bit, your body responding to his in a way that made you crave more.

“shit,” heeseung whimpered, his voice breathless, on the verge of losing control. “oh god, i’m actually inside you… i-i…” his confession was innocent, almost vulnerable, and it sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body, turning you on even more.

“yes, that feels so good…” you whispered shakily, your words heavy with pleasure. it did feel good, despite his inexperience, despite his trembling hands and ragged breath. he was making you feel so fucking good, and it was impossible to deny it.

you moaned louder, your hips rocking back against him, each thrust from him fueling your own need. he was desperate, but so were you.

as you took him deeper inside you, you both gasped in unison. the stretch of him filling you was intense—he was bigger than you expected, and the way he fit inside you, stretching you so perfectly, made you cry out. your hips picked up the pace, sliding up and down his cock with an eager, desperate rhythm. the need to feel him deeper, harder, consumed you.

“fuck, heeseung, you’re stretching me so good,” you gasped, your voice dripping with lust. your walls clenched around him, wet and tight, and each time he responded with a breathless hitch, his whole body trembling beneath you.

“i can’t…” he whimpered, his voice cracking, overwhelmed by the sensation. his hands gripped your hips, trying to steady himself, but he was just as lost in the moment as you were.

his jaw hung slack, his eyes fluttering shut as he whimpered softly, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. he was struggling, unable to keep up with the rhythm you set, his movements sloppy and unfocused. you could feel it—he was on the verge of losing control.

then, it happened—a loud, choked sound escaped him, followed by a shudder that rocked his entire body. his breath caught in his throat, his jaw clenching as a deep, desperate moan tore from his lips. “oh—oh fuck, agh!” he gasped, his voice cracking as he shook beneath you.

before you could fully register what was happening, you felt it—the sudden warmth flooding inside you as he came, hard. his hips jerked wildly, his cock twitching uncontrollably as he spilled into you, his entire body trembling with the force of his orgasm. he tried to hold back, tried to last longer, but it was too much—he was too inexperienced, too caught up in the moment to stop himself.

“oh shit, no,” heeseung whined, his voice barely audible, his hands clutching your waist as he struggled to catch his breath. his eyes were squeezed shut in a mix of embarrassment and lingering pleasure, his face flushed as his chest heaved from the intensity of his release. you could feel his frustration radiating off him as he came down from his high, clearly upset with himself for losing control so quickly.

heeseung’s eyes fluttered open briefly, his gaze hazy and dazed, looking up at you with a mix of shame and apology. “i’m… i’m so sorry,” he mumbled, his voice weak and slurred, struggling to get the words out. “i couldn’t hold it in…” regret washed over his face, his brow furrowing in disappointment as his body sagged beneath you, the exhaustion from the night quickly taking over.

“m’ sorry…” he slurred one last time, his voice barely a whisper before his head lolled back against the pillow, completely spent. his grip on your waist loosened, his hands falling away as his body succumbed to sleep, leaving you on top of him, alone with your thoughts. his chest rose and fell steadily, his breath evening out as he drifted into a deep, drunken slumber, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling inside you.

you sat there for a moment, still processing everything that had just happened. your body still buzzed with the warmth of desire, but it was unfulfilled, leaving you aching with a strange mix of emotions. even so, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you looked down at heeseung, now passed out beneath you, his face soft and peaceful in the dim light.

oh, heeseung, you thought, shaking your head softly, letting out a quiet sigh.

as you caught your breath, you took in the sight of him—his face completely relaxed, the tension from earlier gone, leaving him looking innocent, almost angelic.  you like him so much. the way he had been so desperate, so shy and eager to please—it made your heart swell with affection, despite the mess of the situation.

but then reality hit you like a cold splash of water. shit, he really came inside me. panic bubbled up for a moment, but it quickly faded as you remembered—you’re on birth control. everything was safe, and relief washed over you. thank god for that, you thought, running a hand through your hair as you tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions.

you glanced back down at him, his face still slack, peaceful, completely unaware of the chaos he had just been part of. what a night. you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself, the absurdity of it all settling in.

but as much as that warmth lingered, as much as you liked heeseung, the weight of the situation started to press down on you. things are complicated now. really complicated. the intensity and desire of the night didn’t erase the fact that it had been a mess from the start.

sure, he was home now, safe in his bed, and that was the least of your concerns. if you left, he’d be fine, but the thought of facing him in the morning, with both of you piecing together the night’s events, made you feel uneasy.  no, you couldn’t stay.  leaving seemed like the best option, for both of you. it was better to avoid the awkwardness and confusion that would come when the alcohol wore off, leaving only the raw reality behind.

quietly, you moved around the room, making sure he was tucked in comfortably. you adjusted the blanket over him with care, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin as you pulled the covers up to his chest. as you stood there, looking down at his sleeping face—peaceful and completely unaware of everything—despite the chaos of the night, it had been special.

messy, chaotic, and complicated, but in its own strange way, one of the best nights you’d ever had.

you leaned down slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, whispering, “thank you,” even though he couldn’t hear you. heeseung remained still, breathing deeply, lost in whatever dreams his drunken mind had drifted to.

with one last lingering look, you quietly slipped out of his room, closing the door softly behind you.  it was time to go.

as you made your way out of his house, your mind raced, replaying everything that had just happened. how did it even get to this point? just hours ago, you had been at that party—drinking, laughing, watching heeseung from across the room like you always did, quietly from the sidelines. everything seemed so normal then. and yet, somehow, the night had spiraled into something else entirely. the walk home, guiding his stumbling, drunk self, making sure he didn’t end up passed out on the sidewalk somewhere. you had seen his room, tucked him into bed, made sure he was safe. how did it escalate from that to…

you stopped in your tracks, eyes widening as a sudden realization hit you like a punch to the gut. fuck, he probably doesn’t even know your name. you never mentioned it, and he was too drunk to ask. not once did heeseung stop to question how you knew his name, or why you were even with him. the entire night had unfolded in a blur of concern, awkwardness, and then passion, but through it all, not once had you introduced yourself.

the more you thought about it, the more absurd the whole thing seemed. it wasn’t just some drunken mistake—it was more than that. you’d shared something with him, even if it was messy, rushed, and impulsive. something had happened between the two of you, something raw and unexpected.

but maybe… maybe it didn’t need to mean anything. maybe it was okay for it to just be what it was—a fleeting moment, chaotic and imperfect, but still somehow… perfect in its own strange way.

as you walked down the quiet street, the cool night air filling your lungs, you felt your head begin to clear. the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were content. you didn’t need heeseung to remember every detail, or even remember your name. it didn’t matter if he never asked who you were, or if he didn’t wake up in the morning knowing what had happened between the two of you.

it was enough that it happened at all.

heeseung, with all his shyness and awkwardness, had let you in. he had been vulnerable with you—drunk as he was, yes, but still, he’d let his guard down in a way that felt meaningful to you. even if he didn’t remember, even if it never came up again, you would still have this night to hold onto.

a soft sigh escaped your lips as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. it didn’t need to be more than that. you didn’t need answers, or closure, or some kind of follow-up. this night had been unexpected, but it was yours now—yours to keep, to remember, to cherish in your own way.

for the first time since the night began, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. it didn’t need to be perfect. it didn’t need to be anything at all, really. what mattered was that it had happened, and that, in its own way, it had been exactly what you needed.

and as you walked away, disappearing into the night, you felt lighter, more content. this moment, chaotic and impulsive as it was, belonged to you now, and that was enough.

heeseung groaned, his head pounding like someone was hammering nails into his skull. every throb behind his eyes made him wince, the hangover hitting him like a truck. he shifted under the covers, pulling the blanket over his face to block out the harsh light cutting through the room. his throat felt like sandpaper, mouth tasting like something had died in it. he blinked, trying to shake off the fog clinging to his brain. what the hell happened last night?

“wasn’t i at jay’s?” he muttered, squeezing his temples, trying to force some clarity through the pounding headache.

he pushed himself up slowly, blinking through the haze, but panic already began settling in his chest. his clothes were a mess—pants barely hanging on, his boxers sticky with dried cum. wait… what the fuck? his brows knitted together, confusion swirling in his mind. this wasn’t just the aftermath of a wet dream. something felt different. the smell in the room… it was strong, musky. sex. it had to be. but it wasn’t just his usual scent. this was unfamiliar, unsettling even.

he sat up fully, heart pounding as he scrambled to piece together what had happened. did i have some crazy dream? shit, i can’t remember. he tried to shake it off, telling himself he was probably just being paranoid. maybe jay brought me home, and i’m overthinking it.

but the thought didn’t sit right. jay wouldn’t drag my ass home like that, he thought, especially not when he was wasted. no, something else was off. that’s when it hit him—the scent. he inhaled cautiously, slow and deliberate. was that… vanilla? it was faint but clung to the air around him, something soft, delicate, feminine. his chest tightened with unease.

how the hell would a woman’s scent be here? he thought, his pulse quickening. there’s no way. i don’t have that kind of luck. if something did happen, she probably left the second she realized what a fuck-up he was.

“what the hell?” he mumbled, throwing himself back onto the bed, frustration spiking. nothing was adding up, no matter how hard he tried to piece it together. every time he reached for a memory, it slipped away, like water through his fingers. but the scent lingered. it was like a soft whisper of something that had happened, something real, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

and he liked it. god, as confusing as it was, that scent—it was comforting, like a warm hug wrapped around him.

he shook his head, deciding to push the thoughts away. maybe jay—or someone else—brought me home, he reasoned, and the rest was just a weird, jumbled mess in my head.  yeah, that had to be it. he rubbed his temples in a futile attempt to ease the pounding in his skull, letting out a long sigh.

he flopped back onto the pillows, pulling the blanket up to his chin, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to block out the chaos in his mind. whatever it was… it didn’t matter. if something had happened, he couldn’t remember it now. and maybe that was for the best.

he took one last breath, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air around him, and allowed himself to drift back into the haze of sleep, convincing himself that when he woke up, everything would make sense again.

heeseung dragged himself across campus, head still pounding from the aftermath of last night, a heavy knot twisting in his stomach as he neared jay. this is gonna be rough, he thought, each step feeling heavier as he approached. jay stood by the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in anger—still pissed, and heeseung knew there was no easy way around it.

“yo, jay,” heeseung started, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding jay’s glare. “did you take me home last night? 'cause, uh, I honestly don’t remember shit after you… well, after you kicked me out.”

jay’s glare deepened, and the irritation practically radiated off him. “nah, man, i didn’t take you home. why the hell would i after you fucking ruined my shot with her? figured you’d just pass out in the living room or something. i wasn’t about to deal with your drunk ass.”

heeseung’s stomach churned. fuck, guilt weighing down on him even more. he had hoped maybe jay had cooled off, but hearing it so bluntly only made it worse. “look, man, i’m sorry,” heeseung muttered, his shoulders slumping. “i was wasted. i didn’t mean to bring her up like that. shit just slipped out.”

jay’s eyes rolled, sharp as a blade. “yeah, well, you didn’t just bring her up, heeseung. you made it sound like i was screwing around with other girls or some shit. like, seriously? i finally got the confidence to talk to her after losing my virginity, and you just shit all over it.”

heeseung winced, feeling the weight of his own stupidity. “fuck, dude. i didn’t mean to screw it up for you. i’m really sorry.”

jay sighed, the tension still there, but starting to thaw. they’d been friends too long for one drunken mistake to completely shatter things. deep down, jay knew heeseung wasn’t trying to sabotage anything—he was just a dumbass when he drank too much.

“yeah, well, next time, don’t be such a fucking idiot,” jay muttered, though his tone had softened. “you shouldn’t even be getting that drunk and saying stupid shit like that. just… keep your mouth shut next time, alright?”

heeseung chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease between them. “yeah, yeah, I got it. i owe you for this one.”

jay’s lips twitched into a smirk, his irritation fading. “damn right you do.”

heeseung exhaled, relieved. they were good again—thank god. no matter how much of a mess he was, jay wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. not for long, anyway.

later that day, during class, heeseung couldn’t get his mind off the night before. his memories were patchy, but nagging fragments kept resurfacing—the scent of something soft and feminine, the way he’d felt when he woke up.  none of it added up. the more he tried to piece things together, the more his head spun.

sitting in the back of the lecture hall, he leaned over to jay, keeping his voice low. “hey, do you, uh… know if i was with anyone last night?” he tried to sound casual, but the shakiness in his voice gave him away.

jay raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “what, like, with a girl?”

heeseung shrugged awkwardly. “yeah, or like… did anyone leave with me? i can’t remember shit.”

jay snorted. “dude, after you started running your mouth about jennie, i stopped keeping track of whatever the hell you were doing.”

heeseung frowned, feeling even more confused. if it wasn’t jay, and no one saw me leave… who the hell got me home?

jay glanced at him again, picking up on the unease written all over heeseung’s face. “why, man? you get lucky or something?” he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

heeseung felt heat creep up his neck, shaking his head quickly. “no, no, it’s not like that. just… never mind,” he muttered, sinking back into his seat.

jay gave him a curious look but didn’t push it, turning his attention back to the lecture. but heeseung’s mind wasn’t on the professor—it was still stuck on the unanswered questions swirling in his head.  who brought me home? and… what else happened that I can’t remember?

he leaned back in his seat, frustration gnawing at him.  why the fuck does this scent keep haunting me?

by lunchtime, jay and heeseung sat at their usual spot in the cafeteria, but something felt off. heeseung dropped his tray beside jay’s and sat down, glancing at him. jay wasn’t his usual self—the cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a frown as he stared at his phone, scrolling through pictures of his crush. the same girl heeseung had messed things up with the night before.

“damn, man,” heeseung muttered, feeling the weight of guilt settle heavy in his chest. “you still upset?”

jay didn’t look up, his frown deepening as he swiped through the photos with more force than necessary. “what do you think?” he muttered, barely acknowledging heeseung’s presence.

heeseung sighed, poking at the food on his plate, knowing he’d screwed up bad. “look, i said i was sorry,” he offered, hoping it might ease the tension.

jay finally looked up, irritation clear on his face, though it wasn’t the kind of anger that led to a fight. “yeah, i know. but you don’t get it, man.”

heeseung nodded, knowing full well how deep jay’s frustration ran. he’d watched his friend build up the courage to approach his crush for months, and heeseung had been the one to ruin it all in one drunken moment. “i do get it,” he said quietly. “i’d be pissed too.”

jay sighed, tapping his fingers against the table in frustration, the weight of the whole situation pressing down on him. he wasn’t angry anymore, just… defeated. heeseung could see it in the way jay was starting to give up on his crush, all because of one dumb mistake.

“honestly, i don’t even know why i’m still thinking about it,” jay muttered, shaking his head. “she’s probably telling all her friends i’m some creep now. what’s the point?”

heeseung winced, guilt gnawing at him. “you don’t know that, man. maybe if you explain, she’ll listen.”

jay let out a small scoff, though it didn’t have the usual bite behind it. “i bet she’s already told hanna i’m a complete joke.”

the silence between them stretched uncomfortably. heeseung didn’t know how to fix this, didn’t know what to say to make things right. jay sighed again, finally setting his phone down on the table, poking at his food without much interest. the sharp tension had dulled, but it was still there, hanging between them like a shadow.

“look,” heeseung said, his voice softer, “if there’s anything i can do to make it right, just tell me. i know i screwed up, but maybe if you talk to her—”

jay shook his head, cutting him off. “nah, dude. you know me.” he paused, his jaw tight, clearly holding back more than he was saying.

heeseung leaned back against the bench, feeling the weight of jay’s frustration sinking deeper. it wasn’t just about the girl—jay felt exposed, vulnerable, and that’s what hurt the most.

“sorry, man,” heeseung muttered, his voice thick with regret. “i didn’t realize how much it meant to you.”

jay dragged a hand through his hair, sighing again. “it’s whatever now. i’m done trying. you’re my friend, heeseung, but this whole thing just makes me feel like a complete idiot.”

heeseung’s chest tightened at jay’s words. “you’re not an idiot.”

jay shrugged, pushing his food around the plate like it didn’t matter. “i don’t know, man. now i have to live with the fact that she’s probably never gonna talk to me again. it just sucks.”

he looked over at heeseung, his expression softening a little, the frustration giving way to exhaustion. “i’m not holding it against you, heeseung. we’re good. i’m just… over it.”

heeseung felt a small weight lift off his shoulders, but he still nodded, feeling like he owed jay more than just an apology. “i get it. if you ever wanna hang out, no games or anything, just let me know.”

jay gave him a tired smile. “yeah, thanks, man.”

they sat there for a moment, the silence more comfortable now, settling into that familiar rhythm between them. heeseung was just about to take a sip of his drink when the cafeteria doors swung open, and professor kang strode in, making a direct beeline toward their table.

heeseung glanced at jay, both of them confused as to why their professor was heading straight for them.

heeseung didn’t need to see professor kang’s face to know he was screwed. the sharp, predatory gaze the professor wore as he strode toward their table sent a chill down his spine. heeseung and jay exchanged a look—shit, what now?—but neither dared to move.

“lee heeseung,” professor kang’s voice boomed across the cafeteria, slicing through the chatter. heads turned, eyes locking onto him as the weight of curiosity and judgment settled over the room. beside him, jay stifled a laugh, leaning over with a smirk. “good luck, man,” he whispered, like heeseung was about to face a firing squad.

kang’s stride was too confident, too smug for heeseung’s liking, and his expression all but screamed that this wasn’t going to end well.

“oh no,” heeseung muttered under his breath, dread creeping in.

professor kang stopped in front of their table, crossing his arms, his glare cutting through heeseung like a knife. “heeseung, your grades…” he trailed off, raising a brow. “let’s just say they’ve been less than satisfactory.”

heeseung swallowed hard, resisting the urge to fidget under the professor’s piercing gaze. “i… uh… i’ve been working on it,” he stammered, knowing damn well he hadn’t even opened a textbook.

kang chuckled humorlessly. “working on it? from what i’ve seen, you’ve been avoiding it like the plague. and you know what that means.” his eyes flicked to jay, who had stopped laughing and was now watching intently, clearly enjoying heeseung’s impending doom.

heeseung’s stomach dropped. this is bad.

“starting tomorrow,” kang continued, his voice dripping with satisfaction, “you’re going to have a tutor.”

heeseung blinked, thrown off. “a tutor?”

kang nodded, his smirk deepening. “yes, a tutor. and not just any tutor—one of my best students.”

jay couldn’t hold back his laughter this time, snorting and covering his mouth. “good luck with that, man.”

heeseung felt like the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on him.  a tutor? really?  he could barely hold a normal conversation without stumbling over his words, and now he was supposed to sit through tutoring sessions with some overachiever? fantastic.

“wait—uh, professor…” heeseung stammered, trying to think of an excuse. “i think i can handle this on my own. really, i don’t need—"

kang wasn’t having it. “it’s not up for debate, heeseung. i’ve already spoken to your parents. they’re expecting results.” his gaze shifted back to jay with a smirk. “if you think you can dodge this like you and jay do with your other responsibilities, think again.”

heeseung’s heart sank. he told my parents? fuck, now he was really screwed.

as if things couldn’t get worse, kang reached into his pocket and pulled out a list. heeseung’s stomach churned.

“let’s review the subjects you’re failing, shall we?” kang’s voice rang out, drawing even more attention. heeseung’s face flushed as heads turned, the whispers starting to spread like wildfire.

“math, history, science… and english,” kang listed, each word hitting like a punch to the gut.

jay was losing it beside him, laughing uncontrollably. “dude, that’s like… everything.”

kang wasn’t finished. “and let’s not forget economics. thirty-two percent on your last quiz. truly impressive.”

the cafeteria buzzed with whispers, and heeseung could feel every pair of eyes on him now, judging, mocking. he wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“look, professor,” heeseung started, his voice edging into panic. “i know my grades are bad, but i don’t need—”

kang raised a hand, silencing him. “you’ll be working with y/n. starting tomorrow.”

heeseung blinked, confused. “who… who even is y/n?”

jay leaned in, grinning from ear to ear. “only the top student in every class, dude. you’re so fucked.”

kang nodded, clearly enjoying himself. “y/n is the best. if anyone can get you back on track, it’s her.”

heeseung’s heart raced, and in a desperate plea, the words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “wait, professor, can’t you pick someone else? anyone else? please?”

kang raised a brow, his amusement barely hidden. “why? do you have an issue with y/n?”

heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise to his face.  the thought of being tutored by someone so smart, someone who would probably think he was a complete idiot, made his skin crawl. and the fact that it’s a girl? great, just great. “it’s just… i don’t even know her. maybe a guy would be better?”

jay burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “oh man, this is priceless. you’re doomed.”

kang wasn’t budging. “there’s no one better than y/n. i’ve already made arrangements, and she’s agreed. besides, your parents are fully on board.”

heeseung’s face fell. there’s no getting out of this. “professor, please. i’m begging you.”

kang’s eyes narrowed, his tone final. “this isn’t up for discussion. y/n will be tutoring you at your house, every day after school. and if you even think about bailing, your parents will be notified, and the consequences will be much worse than just bad grades.”

the cafeteria had gone dead quiet, more students now eavesdropping on the conversation. jay, meanwhile, was practically shaking with laughter, enjoying every second.

“fuck,” heeseung muttered, slumping in his seat, defeated. “i’m done for.” kang gave him one last satisfied look before walking away, leaving heeseung to wallow in misery. jay slapped him on the back, still grinning like an idiot. “bro, this is gonna be hilarious. y/n tutoring you, at your house? i’m showing up just to watch you crash and burn.”

heeseung groaned, burying his face in his hands. “this is a fucking nightmare. i’m gonna make a complete fool of myself.”

jay leaned in, his grin widening. “oh, trust me. i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

heeseung stared blankly ahead, his mind trying to process what had just happened. tutoring, with y/n, at my house, every day. there was no escape.

“i am so fucked.”

heeseung slammed the stall door shut, leaning his back against it, trying to catch his breath. how the hell am i supposed to survive this? tutoring with some girl he didn’t even know? he rubbed his face, feeling the tension building behind his temples. he can barely talk to girls without turning into a stuttering idiot, and now he has to deal with this?

just skip it, heeseung, a voice in his head whispered. who’s gonna care if you bail?

but he knew he couldn’t. professor kang and his parents had him on lockdown—there was no running from this now. fuck.

he checked his phone, tapping his foot impatiently. jay was supposed to meet him after class, their usual spot in the restrooms to decompress and talk shit, but jay was nowhere to be found.

“where the hell is he?” heeseung grumbled, dialing jay’s number.

the phone barely rang twice before jay picked up, his voice low and irritated. “yeah?”

“dude, what the hell? you ditched class without telling me? we could’ve bailed together,” heeseung snapped, his frustration boiling over.

jay sighed heavily on the other end. “i didn’t wanna hang out. just need space.”

“yeah, well, next time, fucking tell me,” heeseung barked, the edge of anger creeping into his voice. “you’re being weird as shit lately.”

there was a tense silence. jay’s irritation bled through the phone. “i’m fine,” he snapped back. “i just need space.”

before heeseung could say anything else, jay hung up, leaving him standing there, staring at his phone like an idiot. great. fucking great.

he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, frustration bubbling inside him. “fuck,” he muttered, running his hands through his messy hair.  jay bailing is the last thing he needed.

he stepped in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. he looked like hell—dark bags under his eyes, his hair a wreck, and he felt like the world was crashing down around him. i can’t deal with this shit right now.

heeseung grunted, pulling out his phone again to type a text to jay: call me when you’re done being a moody bitch.

just as he was about to hit send, someone crashed into him, hard. his phone slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor as he stumbled back.

“shit,” he cursed, quickly bending down to scoop up his phone. he looked up, ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind, when his gaze landed on you.

you stood there, wide-eyed and disoriented, about to apologize when your stomach dropped. oh fuck. it’s him.

lee heeseung—the guy you’d been secretly crushing on for months. the same guy you’d kind of hooked up with. and now, the guy you were supposed to tutor. what are the fucking odds?

your mind raced, panic rising in your chest. of all the people to run into, why did it have to be him?

“uh… s-sorry,” heeseung stammered, his eyes flicking toward yours before quickly darting away, clearly flustered. “i didn’t see you.”

your heart pounded in your chest, your mind spiraling. just moments ago, you had found out you were assigned to tutor him.  heeseung. the same guy who had begged for you, desperate and needy, finishing way too fast. yet, somehow, it was one of the most intense moments you’d had.

and now, he didn’t even remember.

“uh, it’s fine,” you mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tension tightening your stomach. get it together. he doesn’t remember. just act normal.

you forced a smile, your mind buzzing with the memory of how his body had felt against yours, the heat between you, the way he’d gripped you like he couldn’t get enough. stop thinking about it.

as you opened your mouth to say something—anything—his scent hit you. that familiar scent. your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your cheeks burn. shit, not now.

heeseung’s brow furrowed as something flickered in his eyes, like he was trying to place a memory. the scent tugged at his mind, but he couldn’t quite figure it out.

“i—i’m y/n,” you stammered, your nerves tightening your throat. “i’m, uh, your tutor.”

heeseung blinked, the words sinking in. y/n? the girl professor kang mentioned? the best student in every class. fuck.

“oh, uh, y/n,” he mumbled, feeling dumb as hell. “right. i’m heeseung.”

as if i didn’t already know that. you let out a small breath of relief, grateful that he wasn’t connecting the dots. thank god.

“nice to meet you,” you managed to say, even though your heart was racing like a runaway train.

heeseung nodded awkwardly, his thoughts spinning. the scent still tugged at something in the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside. no way.  you seemed too… well, smart and collected. and cute. he felt his face flush as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“uh, yeah, nice to meet you too,” he muttered, his brain still whirling, trying to figure out why you seemed so familiar. but for now, he let it go.

the awkwardness between you was thick, both of you standing there like you were stuck in some weird limbo.

“so, i guess i’ll see you tomorrow for tutoring?” you asked, desperate to escape the tension.

heeseung scratched the back of his head, feeling just as awkward. “yeah, sounds good.” i sound like a fucking robot. he glanced down at his shoes, mentally kicking himself for how weird this was.

“okay, cool,” you mumbled, your voice cracking slightly. why am i like this?

heeseung nodded again, gripping his phone so tight it was a miracle it didn’t break. “looking forward to it,” he said, immediately regretting how stiff and formal it sounded. who the hell says that?

you swallowed the embarrassment, shifting from foot to foot, trying to appear casual when everything inside you screamed awkward. “so, um… what subject do you wanna start with tomorrow?”

heeseung paused, like he was mentally sifting through his options, before blurting out, “uh… history? i suck at that.” he let out a nervous laugh that sounded more like a wheeze than anything else.

you forced a small smile, unsure if you were supposed to laugh too or just nod. “history it is.”

the silence that followed felt like it lasted an eternity. neither of you knew how to end the conversation without making things worse, both awkwardly standing there, too self-conscious to make a move.

“i… should go,” you finally said, pointing toward the bathroom door like it was the most obvious thing in the world. you winced immediately, what the hell was that?

“right!” heeseung blurted, his response way too eager. “you probably have to pee. bathroom. makes sense.”

you cringed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “yeah, i’m about to burst,” you muttered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. oh god.  without waiting for him to respond, you darted into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as fast as possible.

heeseung stood there, dumbfounded, replaying the conversation in his head. what the fuck did i just say? he muttered, dragging a hand through his messy hair in frustration.

inside the bathroom, you leaned against the wall, pressing your palms to your face, trying to calm your racing heart. i’m about to burst? seriously? the embarrassment washed over you in waves as you replayed the entire cringeworthy conversation in your head.

tutoring tomorrow, you reminded yourself, taking a deep breath. just get through that, and everything will be fine. he doesn’t remember… right?

heeseung muttered curses under his breath as he shoved his things haphazardly into his bag. there was no way he was staying at school, letting the anxiety about tutoring with you eat at him all day. he’d rather face it head-on, get it over with, and maybe not lose his mind in the process.

as he slipped out of the bathroom, his heart pounded, the hallways feeling too small, too crowded. his mind replayed every awkward moment from earlier—the way he’d stumbled through his apology when you ran into each other, the way he fumbled over his words.  and now i have to spend hours with her? at my house? every day?

and my room’s a fucking disaster. panic crept into his chest. shit, i gotta clean up. his pace quickened as he made a beeline for the exit. and the porn stash. fuck, gotta hide that.

he practically sprinted the whole way home, bursting through the front door with a sigh of relief when he realized his parents weren’t home yet. thank god. he had some time to fix the chaos that was his bedroom before you saw it.

he stood in his doorway, staring at the disaster that was his room. clothes were scattered everywhere, empty food containers littered his desk, and his bed looked like a tornado had swept through. fuck, i’m a slob.

without wasting any time, he threw himself into cleanup mode, tossing clothes into his closet, kicking dirty socks under his bed, and frantically shoving cans and wrappers into the trash. out of sight, out of mind.  he glanced around for anything incriminating and yanked open his bedside drawer. the stash of magazines sat there, mocking him. with a frustrated grunt, he stuffed them into the back of his closet behind a pile of sneakers, hoping you’d never find them.

just as he was tossing the last of the junk into his closet, he heard the front door creak open. shit, they’re home.

“heeseung?” his mom’s voice echoed up the stairs. “you home already?”

he froze, feeling like he’d been caught doing something illegal. “uh, yeah! just… studying!” he yelled back, cringing at how fake that sounded.

footsteps approached, and soon enough, his mom was standing in his doorway, raising an eyebrow at the semi-clean room. “wow, you cleaned your room. impressive,” she said, crossing her arms with a smile. “so… professor kang called. you’re getting a tutor?”

heeseung groaned, flopping onto his bed. “yeah, i know.”

his mom walked over, ruffling his hair affectionately. “it’s not a bad thing, heeseung. you could use the help. maybe it’ll give you some confidence.”

confidence?  heeseung could barely talk to people without feeling like he was choking on his own words, and now he had to sit through hours of tutoring with you, someone who was smart, pretty, and totally out of his league. disaster waiting to happen.

“mom, it’s just awkward. i don’t know her. what if it’s weird?” he said, trying to explain without giving away how much this was freaking him out.

“it’s okay to be a little awkward. just try,” she teased, shaking her head. “who knows? maybe you’ll make a friend.”

he cringed at the thought. “mom, please.”

she laughed, giving him one last ruffle of his hair before walking out. “just give it a shot.”

“and no skipping the tutoring sessions, heeseung!” his dad shouted from downstairs. “professor kang said she’s one of his best students!”

he rolled his eyes, groaning. of course, dad’s on board.

as soon as his mom left, heeseung flopped back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. the reality hit him again—you were going to be in his house. in his room. tomorrow.

and then, there was that scent. it clung to his memory like a whisper he couldn’t shake. every time he thought about you, that faint vanilla scent flooded his mind.  why the hell is this scent fucking me up so bad? he shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tension in his chest grow and… lower. fucking great.

he sat up, running his hands through his hair in frustration. get it together, man. but no matter how hard he tried to push it aside, your scent lingered, making him restless… and hard.

he grabbed one of the magazines from his stash, flipping through it to try and clear his head, but it wasn’t working. his thoughts weren’t on the glossy pages. they were on you. the way you looked at him earlier, the way your voice sounded when you said his name, that damn scent that wouldn’t leave his mind.

he tossed the magazine aside with a frustrated groan. this is fucking stupid.

the tightness in his jeans wasn’t going away, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, his mind kept drifting back to you. she’s smart, pretty… and she’s going to be sitting in this room tomorrow, tutoring me.

and then it hit him, full force. i have a crush. a stupid, overwhelming, all-consuming crush on my tutor.

“fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his face.  this is gonna be a disaster.

your fingers trembled around the straps of your backpack, grip so tight your knuckles had gone white. standing outside his house, all the memories came flooding back, overwhelming you. this house, this fucking house.

“goddamn it,” you muttered, biting hard on the inside of your cheek. how the hell were you supposed to pull this off? how were you supposed to walk into that house, sit there with him, and pretend nothing ever happened? like he didn’t get wasted and stick his piss-stained dick in you, thinking it was some messed-up dream?

your heart pounded, stomach twisting into knots tighter and tighter. every detail from that night replayed in your mind—his drunken giggles, the way his arm slung lazily around your shoulder when you walked him home, and then… that.

you stared at the door, pulse quickening the longer you stood there. just knock, you told yourself. just get it over with. but your feet were glued to the spot, hand hovering over the doorbell like a coward. you wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans, trying to force air into your lungs.

after what felt like forever, you finally knocked.

the door swung open almost instantly. it wasn’t heeseung though—it was his mom, smiling wide, completely oblivious to the storm of hell brewing inside you. “oh, you must be y/n! come on in, dear.”

you plastered on a smile, stepping inside even though everything inside you screamed turn around, walk away. the smell hit you immediately—familiar, something warm and comforting, but god, it twisted your stomach with nerves. your pulse hammered as the memories washed over you, the same house, the same scent. shit, this is real.

“heeseung! your tutor’s here!” his mom called out, her voice carrying through the house like everything was perfectly normal. she turned back to you, still beaming. “he’s been so nervous about this, you know? but we think this’ll be good for him. he really needs the help, poor thing.”

you nodded, forcing that fake smile to stay on your face, even though inside you were screaming. he’s nervous? what about me?

“heeseung, come down already!” his dad’s voice rang out from the living room, laced with amusement. “don’t keep her waiting, son.”

heeseung stumbled into view at the bottom of the stairs, looking just as flushed and panicked as you felt. his eyes met yours for a split second before darting away, awkward as hell. “uh… hey,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

you forced out a shaky, “hey.”

his parents exchanged amused glances, like they were in on some joke. “heeseung, sweetheart, relax,” his mom said, patting him on the shoulder. “y/n’s here to help, not interrogate you.”

heeseung let out a weak laugh that sounded on the verge of breaking. “yeah, i know, mom.”

from the living room, his dad chuckled. “you’re acting like it’s the first time you’ve ever had a girl over. lighten up.”

your face burned with heat, the irony punching you right in the gut. if only they fucking knew.

heeseung’s face turned beet red, and he looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock. “dad, please,” he muttered, practically begging for the conversation to stop. you shifted uncomfortably, wishing for the same.

his mom, still smiling, turned back to you. “he’s been talking about this all day, you know? but you’re such a sweet girl, i’m sure you’ll make this easy for him.”

heeseung visibly cringed at her words, his gaze glued to the floor. “mom…”

“what? it’s true!” she laughed, giving him another pat before finally leaving. “we’ll leave you two to it. make yourselves comfortable, okay?”

you nodded stiffly, heart racing like it was ready to burst out of your chest. this is a fucking nightmare.

heeseung barely lifted his head as his mom disappeared down the hall, leaving the two of you suffocating in silence. neither of you moved. the tension was thick, almost unbearable. after what felt like an eternity, heeseung finally cleared his throat, still not meeting your eyes. “uh… we can, uh, go to my room. for the tutoring.”

“yeah. sure,” you mumbled, trying to sound normal while your heart pounded against your ribcage.

he led the way upstairs, every step another painful reminder of that night. heeseung’s shoulders were stiff, his back rigid—he looked just as fucked up over this as you did, but that didn’t make it any easier.

his room hit you like a slap in the face. this fucking room. heeseung motioned to the desk without looking at you. “you can, uh, sit there. i’ll just… grab my stuff.” his hands fumbled through his bag, shaking like this was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

you slid into the chair, trying to steady your hands as you opened your own bag. “maybe we should start with history?” you said, your voice coming out shaky.

heeseung froze for a moment, then nodded, his fingers trembling as he grabbed his books. “yeah. history. sure.”

he pulled out a textbook, but it slipped from his hands and hit the desk with a loud thud. “sorry,” he muttered, face turning red as he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to stay as far from you as possible.

“it’s fine,” you whispered, flipping through the textbook even though your hands were shaking like crazy. this is so much worse than you thought it’d be.

heeseung scratched the back of his neck, his knee bouncing with nervous energy. “so… history. what chapter?”

you pretended to focus, flipping through the book without really looking. “uh… chapter seven? ancient civilizations.”

“right,” he nodded, but you could tell he didn’t give a shit about ancient civilizations. his eyes kept flicking to you and then back to the book, like he couldn’t decide if he should look at you or not.

jesus christ. every glance at him brought back flashes of that night—the slurred voice, his hands on you, the heat of his breath against your neck. and now, here you were, pretending like none of it ever happened.

“uh… any questions on the chapter?” you asked, your voice cracking despite your best effort to sound normal.

heeseung shifted uncomfortably, his knee bouncing faster. “not really. i mean… i just don’t get why any of this shit matters, you know?” he let out a nervous laugh, scratching at his neck again. “like, why do we need to know about a bunch of dead guys?”

you forced a laugh, but it came out awkward and stilted. “yeah, i guess that’s one way to see it.”

and just like that, the suffocating silence returned, hanging over the room like a weight neither of you could shake.

“thanks for, you know, doing this,” heeseung mumbled, breaking the thick, uncomfortable silence. his voice was low, barely above a whisper, like he was trying not to make things even more awkward than they already were. “i know it’s probably boring as hell.”

you shook your head quickly, almost too quickly. desperate to respond, to fill the heavy tension weighing down on the both of you. “no, it’s fine. really.” your voice came out too eager, almost like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

your nails dug into the wood of the desk as you clenched your hands. the awkwardness was suffocating, thick in the air, making it hard to even breathe. every second you spent sitting there was another reminder of the memories you were trying so hard to bury. this was shaping up to be the longest fucking day of your life.

but then, something unexpected happened.

at first, heeseung was stumbling over every single word, barely managing to string together a coherent sentence. his nervous energy practically spilled out of him, the tension in the room reaching a breaking point. but as you started actually going over the material, you noticed something that surprised you. beneath all that nervousness, he wasn’t completely clueless. in fact, there was something sharp underneath all that anxiety.  he’s not stupid, you realized, a bit caught off guard. he just hasn’t been taught right.

as you started asking him about key points from the chapter, he struggled—obviously. he could barely meet your eyes without his face turning bright red. but little by little, he found his footing. his responses became clearer, more confident, though his voice still wavered slightly. the blushing didn’t go away, but with each right answer, you saw a flicker of pride in his eyes that he tried—and failed—to hide behind his nervous façade.

the air between you started to ease, just a little, like the worst of the awkwardness was finally fading. but your muscles were still tight, your whole body feeling the strain of holding yourself together in the same room as him. fuck, I need a break.

stretching your arms over your head, you stood up. “hey, um, i’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” you said, your voice casual, but the truth was you needed to step away before the tension swallowed you whole.

as soon as you stood, heeseung froze, his eyes going wide like you had just found some dark, terrible secret. his mind spiraled into overdrive. shit, did i leave something out? his heart raced, his eyes scanning the room frantically. fuck, i hope she doesn’t see anything.

he scanned the room, panicking, making sure everything was hidden. is there something i forgot to stash away? goddammit, no, it’s fine, everything’s hidden. he kept repeating it to himself like a mantra as he watched you head toward the door, praying to whatever god might be listening that you wouldn’t find anything embarrassing.

it’s fine. everything’s hidden. she won’t see shit.

but then, as you walked past him, it hit him again—that scent. the one that had been messing with his head since the moment you stepped into the house. heeseung’s breath caught in his throat, and his entire body reacted, a tension tightening low in his stomach. why the hell does she smell so good? the question ricocheted through his mind as a rush of heat surged through his chest, making his skin prickle.

he didn’t understand why, but your scent was driving him crazy, pulling at something deep inside him he didn’t want to acknowledge. it was all he could focus on, filling his head, clouding his thoughts.

completely unaware of the turmoil happening just a few feet away, you walked past him like nothing was wrong, heading to the bathroom. meanwhile, heeseung sat there, gripping the edge of the bed like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.

as soon as the bathroom door shut behind you, heeseung let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. fuck. his thoughts were a mess, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. he leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. this is gonna be so much harder than I thought.

when you came back into the room, heeseung was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking like he’d seen a ghost. his hands fidgeted nervously with the pillow he had awkwardly placed over his lap, and you quickly realized what he was hiding—he wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

“ready to pick up where we left off?” you asked, trying to pretend you didn’t notice. but it was obvious. he was flushed, his eyes darting away, and when he nodded, his voice cracked.

“y-yeah, sure. let’s get back to it.”

he was acting weird as hell, but you didn’t push it. you sat back down, flipping open the textbook, trying to focus. but every time you glanced at him, you saw how he squirmed, his knuckles white as he gripped the pillow over his lap. what the hell is going on with him? you wondered, but tried to brush it off.

“so, we were talking about the fall of the roman empire…” you leaned in slightly, pointing to a page, your shoulder brushing against his arm. it was just a casual touch—nothing to make a big deal about—but his reaction was immediate and intense. he stiffened, going rigid like he’d been electrocuted, his hands clutching the pillow even tighter.

“uh—I’ll be right back,” heeseung muttered, standing up so fast he nearly knocked the pillow off his lap, almost exposing exactly what he didn’t want you to see. he fumbled, yanking the pillow back into place, his face burning bright red.

you blinked, utterly confused as you watched him practically run out of the room. “okay… yeah, sure.”

heeseung slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, leaning against it like it was his last line of defense. fuck, fuck, fuck. his entire body was on fire, his mind spinning out of control. this can’t be happening. the scent of you, the way your shoulder brushed against him—it was all too much. now, he was hard as a rock, panicking like a fucking teenager.

he turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face, his hands shaking. “get it together, man,” he muttered to his reflection, staring at the mirror as if it could fix everything. but no matter how hard he tried, the memory of your touch, your scent, clung to him, making his pulse race and his skin feel too tight. i’m so screwed.

back in the room, you sat there, still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. he’s acting so weird. maybe he was just anxious, maybe he needed a minute to calm himself down. but the way he bolted out? way too dramatic. something was definitely off.

and then you heard it.

at first, it was faint—so quiet you almost convinced yourself you’d imagined it. but then it came again, clearer this time: a low, breathless moan.

your eyes widened, your heart stuttering in your chest. oh my fucking god. no. there’s no way. you froze, straining to hear, but now there was no mistaking it—the soft, needy sounds coming from behind the bathroom door. he’s jerking off.

because of you.

a rush of heat shot through your body, every nerve on fire as you sat there, paralyzed by the realization. what the hell am I supposed to do? your heart hammered in your chest, torn between shock and… something else. something hotter, more dangerous, pooling low in your stomach as his muffled groans filled the room.

you pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting, your breathing shaky as you listened. it was insane, this whole situation was insane, but there was no denying the effect it was having on you. you were turned on, and that knowledge sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite suppress.

when heeseung finally returned, he looked way too refreshed, like he’d just hit the reset button on his whole system. his face was still flushed, but there was a smug, almost guilty glint in his eyes. he thought he’d gotten away with it.

he smiled awkwardly at you, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “uh, sorry about that,” he mumbled. “don’t worry… i washed my hands.”

you laughed—an actual, real laugh that slipped out before you could stop it. something about the way he said it, like a dumbass joke he thought would break the ice, hit differently. it reminded you of the night, a jolt of familiarity running through you, an inside joke only the two of you would get.

“we’ve already been through so much material today. i think i’ll survive without you washing your hands.”

the second the words left your mouth, you saw it—the flicker of recognition in his eyes, the way his face shifted, like something deep in his brain snapped into place. fuck. his body went stiff, the color draining from his face before flushing a deep, panicked red.

heeseung’s wide, frantic eyes locked onto yours, his voice cracking when he spoke. “what?”

your heart dropped, hands going clammy as the weight of it all crashed down on you. shit. you could see it in his face, the way realization slowly crept in, the horror dawning on him. he remembers.

“what?” you echoed, panic rising in your chest. but then you saw it—the way his expression crumbled, the memories hitting him like a freight train, dragging both of you back to that night.

“fuck,” heeseung muttered, stepping back, his eyes darting between you and the floor like he was trying to escape a nightmare. “that was you?” he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of the question.

the second he said it, your stomach dropped. this can’t be real. you stood there, frozen, heart pounding, every beat louder in your ears. heeseung’s eyes were wild, panicked, and when your expression confirmed the truth he dreaded, he stumbled back like he’d just been hit.

“that wasn’t a dream?” he practically shouted, his voice cracking, the panic raw and undeniable.

you didn’t have words. what the fuck could you even say? you stared at him, mouth open, trying to catch your breath as the weight of everything settled over you both like a goddamn storm.

heeseung’s hands flew to his head, fingers gripping his hair as he muttered to himself, “holy fuck, holy fuck,” over and over again. his eyes were wide with disbelief. “i thought… i thought i fucking dreamt that.”

you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. your throat felt like it was closing up, memories of that night replaying in sharp, excruciating detail. you watched as heeseung flinched, stepping further back from you like you’d just set him on fire. guilt, panic, and something else flickered across his face, thickening the air between you.

he stared at you, voice trembling. “you knew?”

his question felt like a punch to the gut. you swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you tried to find something to say. but everything felt stuck. “i… i didn’t…” you stammered, feeling your face burn as the walls closed in on you. “i didn’t think you’d remember.”

heeseung groaned, fingers pulling at his hair as he started pacing, his whole body a bundle of nerves. “holy shit, this is fucking unreal,” he muttered under his breath, voice barely holding together.

he stopped in his tracks, turning to face you with wide, panicked eyes. “so you knew the whole time?” his voice rose, cracking. “you knew and didn’t say anything?”

you blinked, your heart hammering against your ribs, hands trembling as you tried to explain. “i didn’t think you’d remember,” you whispered, voice small.

he let out a frustrated groan, collapsing onto the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. “fuck.”

heeseung looked back up at you, his voice cracking under the weight of everything. “i’m so fucking sorry, but like…” he hesitated, panic clearly building again. “was this whole thing… planned?”

the question slapped you in the face. planned? your mind reeled for a second, trying to catch up. “planned?” you repeated, disbelief bubbling up. “heeseung, no! what the hell? of course not.”

he blinked, still wrecked with guilt, but now his expression wavered, uncertainty creeping in. “so… you weren’t pretending?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. “the tutoring—was that real?”

you sighed, rubbing your temple. oh my god. “professor kang literally told me this morning that you were failing. i didn’t even know until today.”

heeseung blinked at you, still processing, stuck in his daze. then heeseung narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. “so you just act like it never happened?” he asked, voice tense. “why?”

the air thickened with tension, your throat tightening. do i really have to explain this?

“because…” you hesitated, looking away. “i didn’t think you’d want to remember it like i wanted to.”

heeseung’s eyes softened, scanning your face, the weight of your words sinking in. realization slowly dawned on him.

“wait,” he said, voice lower now, more serious. "you wanted to? i don't get it.”

your heart skipped a beat, body freezing in place. every muscle tensed up as your mind scrambled. fuck.

there was no turning back now.

you closed the textbook in your hands with a quiet thud, the sound cutting through the thick silence. your heart raced, palms sweaty as you tried to steady your breath.

heeseung’s eyes stayed locked on you, dark and intense, searching your face. the air between you crackled with something electric, something you couldn’t shake. you didn’t want to.

“did you?” he asked again, voice softer this time, almost like he was afraid of what your answer would be. “did you want that night to happen?”

you swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling into your bones. the room felt like it was closing in, every breath getting harder to take. you didn’t want to lie, didn’t want to pretend like it didn’t mean anything. but saying it out loud? confirming it? that was like stepping into something you couldn’t undo.

“i—” your voice cracked, and you looked down at the closed book in your lap, gripping it like it could somehow ground you. “yes,” you whispered, your throat tight. “i wanted it, but i never expected it to... go that far.”

heeseung froze, hyper-focused on you, the rest of the world fading into the background. his eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours like he was seeing you for the first time. and before you knew it, he was moving closer.

his face was inches from yours, so close you could feel his warmth, his breath unsteady. but there was no awkwardness this time, none of that usual nervous energy. he didn’t even seem to realize how close he was, or how this should’ve freaked him out.

he just stared at you, unwavering, like he was trying to see inside your head, trying to understand every word you weren’t saying. his breath hitched, and you could feel the tension between you shift, deepening.

“cause i’ve always…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung’s breath faltered, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“seen you,” you finished, voice soft but steady, the confession hanging in the air.

he blinked, stunned, disbelief written all over his face. “seen me?” he echoed, like he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what you’d just said.

you could see it in his face—the insecurity, the doubt. why me? that’s what he was thinking.

you leaned in slightly, meeting his eyes. “i know what you’re thinking, heeseung. you think you’re a loser, right? that’s what you see when you look in the mirror.”

he flinched, the words hitting him square in the chest, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to argue, but couldn’t. the room felt heavier now, the silence deafening.

“but, god,” you breathed, your voice faltering for a second. “i was happy we had that moment, even if you didn’t remember me. i was just… content, heeseung.”

you paused, watching him closely, seeing the way your words settled into him. “you’d probably freak out if you woke up the next morning remembering what happened, so i let it go. i didn’t want it to be complicated.”

heeseung’s voice was barely a whisper, raw and hesitant. “you’re really making it seem like you like me, y/n.”

your heart pounded in your chest, every muscle in your body tight. you swallowed hard, biting your lip before finally speaking.

“seem like?” you said, your voice soft but certain. “heeseung… you think i’d have gone through all of this if i didn’t?”

his breath caught, his eyes wide with shock. it was like he hadn’t even considered the possibility.

“i don’t seem like i like you,” you added, your voice steady now. “i do like you.”

his breath hitched again, his eyes flickering with something intense, something raw. he looked at you, stunned, like he was finally seeing what had been in front of him the whole time.

“i always have,” you admitted, each word bringing a wave of relief. “and at that party… i just wanted to make a good impression. you were drinking by yourself, and—” you paused, a small smile creeping onto your lips, “adorably so.”

heeseung stared at you, his eyes wide, disbelief still lingering, but slowly giving way to something else. the weight between you both was shifting, the tension thickening, but in a different way now.

as the truth settled in, you felt lighter, like you’d been carrying a weight for so long and had finally let it go.

but heeseung didn’t react the way you thought he would. instead, he pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them, staring off to the side like he was anywhere but here with you. he was listening—fuck, you could tell—but he couldn’t look at you. not really. and that hurt more than anything. the silence between you was thick, almost unbearable, your chest tightening with every second that passed.

he was processing it all, you knew that much. but seeing him curled up like that, so small, so fucking vulnerable—it made something in you twist painfully.

“anyway… i’m sorry for not telling you,” you whispered, voice shaking under the weight of guilt that had been sitting on your chest for what felt like forever. “i just… i felt like i took advantage of you.”

he didn’t say shit for a moment, just let out this long, heavy sigh like he’d been holding everything in, and now it was all crashing down on him. his eyes, distant and glazed, started to focus again, and the expression on his face shifted—like all the pieces were finally clicking into place.

“no, y/n,” he muttered, voice low but steady. “i kept you here, didn’t i?”

you blinked, staring at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. the words hung between you, heavy, like the truth of it was sinking into both of you at the same time.

“it’s all coming back now,” heeseung said, sounding a little stronger this time, more certain. “i remember… you were kind. you didn’t have to take me home, but you did. and… you made me feel safe, y/n. i didn’t want you to leave.”

his voice softened then, almost trembling. “i asked you to stay, right? because… you put up with me.”

his head dipped, eyes flickering toward you before quickly looking away again, like facing you was too much. “i even asked you to cuddle me,” he muttered, and you saw him wince, the embarrassment creeping up his neck, turning his ears pink. “god, that was so cringy.”

he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide from himself, like the memories were too much to handle. “and then… everything blurred. i couldn’t tell what was real or not.”

his gaze met yours for just a second before dropping again, his voice barely above a whisper. “and you smelled so fucking good,” he admitted, voice cracking. “and… i got horny. like, really fucking horny.”

he buried his face in his hands again, clearly mortified by his own words, his whole body tense, like he was bracing himself for something. his breathing was ragged, the weight of everything crashing down on him all at once.

“i…” he started, voice shaking. he peeked up at you, shame all over his face, red as hell, like he wished he could disappear right then and there. “i even… came inside you, didn’t i?” his voice cracked on the words, the confession spilling out like it was choking him.

heeseung’s eyes finally locked on yours, searching—fuck, maybe he was looking for forgiveness or something—but all you could see was how raw, how broken he was, like he was laying everything bare in front of you. his body was wound tight, waiting, terrified of what you were going to say. the air between you was suffocating, thick with everything that had been left unsaid.

“is… is that why you didn’t want me to find out?” his voice wavered, eyes wide, realization dawning on him all at once. “because… you might be pregnant?” the question hung there, thick and cold, like the air itself had stopped moving. his whole body tensed up, eyes locked on you, fear creeping into his expression. you could see him struggling to breathe, his hands twitching nervously in his lap.

“fuck,” he mumbled, barely loud enough to hear. “could you be pregnant?”

you couldn’t help it. you lost it. the laugh ripped out of you before you could stop it, loud and sudden, shattering the tension like a glass hitting the floor. you were laughing so hard your sides ached, gasping for breath in between fits, the absurdity of the moment too much.

heeseung just sat there, staring at you like you’d lost your mind. his eyes went wide, his face going from confused to embarrassed in seconds, the color rushing to his cheeks. he was frozen, completely clueless.

“what the hell—” he stammered, voice cracking. “what’s so fucking funny?”

you wiped a tear from your eye, still giggling. “oh my god, heeseung,” you gasped, trying to get your breath back. “no! i’m not pregnant. that’s not why i didn’t want you to find out.”

he blinked at you, completely thrown off, like he couldn’t process what you were saying. “wait… what?”

“dude, relax,” you snorted, trying to hold back more laughter. “i’m on the pill. and it’s only been, like, what, not even that long ago?”

heeseung’s face was now burning, his embarrassment practically radiating off him. “oh… uh, right,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes like the plague.

you watched him fidget, clearly still mortified. his fingers kept twitching, his face still bright red. “right… okay,” he mumbled, his voice quieter now, embarrassed as hell. “sorry, i just… fuck, i’m still processing all of this.”

the room fell into an awkward silence again, the laughter dying down. you studied his face, seeing that raw vulnerability creeping back in. softly, you asked, “you’re not mad at me?”

heeseung’s head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. “mad? no! no, y/n, i’m not mad at you at all,” he said quickly, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you’d even ask that. “i just… i don’t know, i was scared. i thought i fucked up or made you feel weird.”

his hand went back to rubbing his neck, that nervous habit of his you were so used to by now. “but no, i could never be mad at you. i just… i wish i remembered sooner.”

your voice softened, quieter now, the laughter completely gone. “and if you had remembered… what would you have done?”

heeseung looked at you, finally starting to relax a little. the tension between you shifted, turning into something more open, more real. it didn’t feel so heavy anymore, and for the first time, it felt like you were both being honest.

he let out a long sigh, his lips twitching into a small, awkward smile. “honestly? probably nothing. i wouldn’t have had the guts.”

you blinked, surprised. “nothing?”

he shrugged, his blush creeping back, but this time it felt… softer, like he was just a little shy. “yeah. i’d have overthought the shit out of it. by the time i figured it out, you’d have moved on, and i’d still be sitting there like an idiot.”

he chuckled, the sound nervous but genuine, scratching his neck again. “guess i’m not really that bold.”

you couldn’t help but smile, warmth creeping into your chest. “you never had to be bold, heeseung,” you said softly. “i like you because you’re you. awkward, cute… and you turn red like a fucking tomato.”

you poked his cheek playfully, and he batted your hand away, grumbling, “stop it, y/n.” but there was a smile on his lips, soft and shy. the tension between you had melted, replaced by something lighter, something that felt easy, like you were finally just… okay.

“actually…” heeseung started, glancing at the scattered study materials before turning back to you, his expression kind of nervous. “oh, sorry, i think i’m taking up too much of your time.”

you shook your head quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “no, heeseung, i don’t have a curfew. what were you gonna say?”

he shifted in his seat, eyes flickering to the floor as he tried to gather his thoughts. “it’s just… the morning after that night,” he began slowly, his voice a little quieter now. “i woke up, and i could still smell you. your scent was everywhere, but my memory… it was completely blacked out.”

he looked down, clearly embarrassed, like reliving the confusion made him uncomfortable. “i tried piecing it together, but nothing made sense. i thought maybe i dreamt it. but now… now that i remember, it feels like this weight’s been lifted, you know?”

you watched him, that familiar warmth spreading through your chest. he seemed like he was finally making sense of it all, and seeing him find some clarity in the mess of things made you smile. but before you could say anything, a knock on the door interrupted the moment.

heeseung’s mom came in, completely oblivious to the tension lingering in the room. she was all smiles, carrying a tray of snacks like everything was perfectly normal. and the second she walked in, heeseung shot up from his seat, looking so damn stiff and awkward, you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at how ridiculous he looked.

“oh, no need to stand, sweetheart,” his mom chirped, setting the tray down with a proud grin. “brought you two some snacks. keep up that energy while you study!”

“uh, thanks, mom,” heeseung mumbled, his voice strained, like he was trying so hard not to die of embarrassment.

his mom winked at you, completely missing the vibe in the room. “don’t let him distract you too much, y/n,” she teased before walking back out, leaving the door cracked open.

heeseung sank back into his chair, his face bright red, still not able to look at you. he was so flustered, you could practically feel the secondhand embarrassment rolling off him.

you couldn’t help it—you grinned, leaning back a little, eyebrow raised. “you okay there, heeseung?” you teased, smirking at how frazzled he looked.

“yeah, totally fine,” he squeaked, voice way too high-pitched to sound convincing. “just… didn’t expect her to come in.”

“she’s sweet,” you said, reaching for one of the snacks on the tray. “it’s not a big deal.”

he let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck like it was a reflex. “yeah, she just… can be a little overprotective sometimes.” he finally glanced at you, but you could tell he still wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear.

you chuckled, taking a bite of the cookie. “i think it’s cute. besides, we got snacks out of it, so i’m not complaining.”

he smiled, and for the first time, it actually looked like he was relaxing a bit. there was this softness in his expression now, his guard dropping. “thanks… for not making it weird and for coming back here.”

you paused, surprised by the sincerity in his voice, but then smiled at him warmly. “heeseung, i wouldn’t have come back if i didn’t want to.”

the tension between you both seemed to melt away, the air feeling lighter now, like you could just exist together without all the heavy shit hanging over you. you popped another cookie into your mouth, enjoying the calm after all the earlier intensity.

“so, now that your mom’s gone,” you teased, leaning back in your chair, “you wanna pick up where we left off? or are you too traumatized to continue?”

heeseung shook his head, his smile lingering on his lips. “nah, i’m good now. besides, you’re supposed to be tutoring me. can’t bail on that.”

you laughed softly, trying to hide the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “oh, i would never. besides, you’re doing pretty well. maybe i’m not even needed anymore.”

heeseung glanced at you, his expression softening in a way that made your chest feel tight. “nah, i still need you.”

the way he said it—so simple, so honest—caught you completely off guard. your heart skipped a beat, but before you could even process it, he turned back to the snacks, picking one up like he hadn’t just said something that made your entire body feel warm.

for the next week, you found yourself going to heeseung’s house almost every day. each time you walked through that door, it was like a layer of awkwardness between you both peeled away. with every study session, heeseung started to relax, not just with the material but with you. his stuttering wasn’t as bad, and there was this growing confidence in the way he answered your questions. it made you feel proud, seeing him actually believe in himself more.

of course, he was still his awkward self sometimes—blushing like crazy whenever his mom brought in snacks or when you caught him staring for a second too long. there was an ease now, a rhythm, this natural back-and-forth that felt… good.

as the days went on, heeseung began to open up more, not just about school, but about everything else. he told you about his favorite music, the stupid shit his friends did, even embarrassing moments that made him groan but that he still shared with you anyway. it felt like you were getting to know him all over again, piece by piece, like he was finally letting you see the parts of him no one else got to.

you were both hunched over the desk, working through equations when the door suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall. you both jumped, startled, as jay barged in with his usual loud energy and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“yo, heeseung!” jay’s eyes flicked between the two of you, then settled on a teasing smirk. “oh, shit. am i interrupting something?”

heeseung shot up from his chair, his entire face turning bright red. “jay, what the hell, man?” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

jay completely ignored him, his grin only widening as he stepped further into the room like he owned the place. “so this is what you’ve been up to, huh? no wonder you’ve been ditching us all week.” his eyes shifted to you, mischief sparkling in them. “studying, huh? real convincing.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh at how flustered heeseung looked. “we’re literally going over formulas, jay,” you said, holding up your notebook as proof.

jay leaned casually against the doorframe, that playful smirk still on his lips. “yeah, yeah, formulas,” he teased, but there wasn’t any bite in his tone. “so… is that a no to valorant?”

heeseung looked like he was tempted, his posture shifting as he considered jay’s offer. you couldn’t help but chuckle softly—heeseung had been working his ass off. he deserved a break. “hey, it’s fine,” you said, closing your notebook and packing up your things. “you’ve earned it. we can pick this up another day.”

heeseung shot you a grateful smile, clearly relieved. “thanks, i’ll finish the assignments, i promise.” there was sincerity in his voice, and you knew he meant it, but before he could say anything else, jay cut in with his usual easy grin.

“thanks for not hogging him, y/n. i was starting to think he’d forgotten about me,” jay joked, nudging heeseung playfully.

you laughed, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “heeseung’s been doing great. you’d be surprised how much he knows, jay.”

heeseung’s cheeks flushed again, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always did when he was embarrassed. “jay, come on…”

“what?” jay grinned, throwing an arm around heeseung’s shoulders. “i’m just saying, it’s good to see my buddy killing it. but seriously, y/n, thanks for helping him out.”

you smiled warmly at heeseung, feeling proud of how far he’d come. “see you tomorrow, heeseung. don’t forget to review what we went over, okay?”

heeseung nodded, his voice soft but filled with appreciation. “yeah, i will.” his gaze lingered on you for a second longer, a flicker of admiration in his eyes before jay gave him a light shove toward the door, both of them grinning as you waved goodbye.

as soon as the door clicked shut, jay turned to heeseung with a shit-eating grin, barely holding back laughter. “thanks, i’ll finish the assignments, i promise,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice, dripping with sarcasm. “you’ve got it bad, man.”

heeseung groaned, running a hand through his hair, cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. “shut the hell up,” he muttered, though the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

“nah, seriously though,” jay continued, nudging him with his elbow, his grin widening. “you’ve got heart eyes for her, bro. i’ve never seen you like this.”

heeseung buried his face in his hands, groaning louder. “i’m gonna kill you.”

jay, clearly enjoying himself way too much, flopped onto the bed with zero regard for heeseung’s sanity. “so, what’s the deal, man? y’all have been ‘studying’ for, like, days now. spill it.”

heeseung, looking completely mortified, muttered, “jay, get out.”

“nah, i’m good,” jay shot back, smirking. “come on, just ask her out already. what’s the worst that could happen?”

heeseung avoided his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “it’s not that simple.”

jay groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “bro, it is that simple. she likes you too. it’s so fucking obvious.”

heeseung’s face went a deeper shade of red. “you think?”

jay scoffed. “dude, she’s been coming over for a week straight. you really think it’s just for the tutoring?”

heeseung hesitated, then quietly muttered, “well… she did say she liked me.”

jay’s eyes went wide, and then he burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “wait, what? she said she liked you? and you’ve just been sitting on that info like an idiot?”

heeseung cringed, feeling more and more like a complete idiot by the second. “yeah… and, uh… we hooked up,” he added, barely above a whisper.

jay’s laughter came to an abrupt stop. his jaw dropped. “what the fuck? you hooked up with her?”

heeseung nodded, wincing at the memory. “yeah…”

jay was practically vibrating with excitement, eyes wide. “oh my god, heeseung finally fucking did it! you didn’t dream it? it actually happened?”

heeseung groaned, rubbing his temples like he could erase the embarrassment. “it’s real, jay. it happened.”

jay collapsed back onto the bed, laughing hysterically. “holy shit. but—how did it go down?”

heeseung shifted awkwardly, his voice dropping to a mumble. “i, uh… came too soon.”

jay’s laughter died instantly, replaced by a choking noise. “what?” he stared at heeseung in disbelief. “you came early?”

heeseung winced, face burning with shame. “i was drunk, man… it just happened.”

jay shook his head, smacking his forehead dramatically. “dude, you had one shot, and that’s how it went down?”

heeseung groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “trust me, i know.”

jay just stared at him, shaking his head in disbelief before smacking heeseung’s arm. “so, what now? you’re just gonna sit here, do nothing, and keep pretending like she’s just your tutor?”

heeseung blinked, caught off guard. “uh… yeah?”

jay groaned louder, throwing his hands in the air. “you’re killing me, dude. she likes you, you like her, you’ve already hooked up, and you’re doing nothing?”

heeseung shrugged, clearly conflicted. “i don’t know, man. i’m not good at this shit. what if i mess it up?”

“you already messed it up,” jay teased, though his smile softened a little. “and she’s still coming over. what’s stopping you?”

heeseung bit his lip, hesitation clear in his expression. “but… what if she’s just being nice?”

jay rolled his eyes so hard you’d think they’d get stuck. “she’s not just being nice, dude. stop overthinking this.”

heeseung sighed, finally giving in. “fine, i’ll ask her. but if it gets weird, i’m blaming you.”

jay grinned wide, slapping his back. “trust me, she’s not going anywhere.”

but even with jay’s pep talks, heeseung still couldn’t bring himself to ask you out. every time he tried, the words got stuck in his throat, and he convinced himself that staying quiet was safer. he didn’t want to ruin whatever the hell you two had going on—whatever this was.

so he settled.

you were still coming over, still sitting beside him during these study sessions that had long turned into just excuses to hang out. you didn’t seem to mind, and truthfully, neither did he. there was a comfort in the way you both just were. heeseung stole a glance at you while you were focused on your notebook, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. every time he thought about asking you out, that fear crept back in. so for now, this would have to be enough.

“by the way,” your voice cut through the haze of heeseung’s thoughts, snapping him back to reality. he blinked, focusing on you as you kept going. “i won’t be able to come over tomorrow.” his stomach dropped instantly, but he tried to act casual, even though he could already feel himself missing you. “oh, really? why not?” he asked, his voice light, like it didn’t bother him at all. “my childhood friend, jake, is coming back, and i’m picking him up from the airport,” you explained, smiling easily. jake? childhood friend? the name hit him like a punch in the gut, and his mind started spinning. “oh… jake, huh?” he repeated, forcing the words out, trying to keep the unease out of his voice.

“yeah, we haven’t seen each other in years,” you said, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him. “we’re just gonna catch up and hang out.” heeseung nodded, forcing a smile that felt way too tight. “sounds cool.” his mind, though, was screaming who the fuck is jake? the thought of you spending time with some other guy—a friend you clearly cared about—made his chest tighten. he didn’t want to feel jealous, but it crept in anyway. he cleared his throat, trying to play it cool, but the words came out too forced. “so, uh… jake?” you glanced at him, noticing the slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. you raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching into an amused smile. is he seriously jealous? “yeah, we’re pretty close,” you said, watching him carefully, finding his reaction kind of adorable. “he’s like a brother to me. we grew up together.”

heeseung nodded again, but his expression stayed stiff, that faint frown deepening. “right. like a brother.” it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

you bit your lip, holding back a laugh. the way he was squirming was too cute. “heeseung… are you jealous?” you teased, your voice playful as you watched him struggle to keep his cool. his eyes widened, and he straightened up in his seat, clearly caught off guard. “what? no, i’m not jealous!” he blurted out, his voice way too high-pitched to sound convincing. “why would i be jealous? it’s just… jake.” you couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was getting. it only made you like him more. he actually cared. “i think you two would get along,” you said, enjoying his discomfort just a little too much. “he loves gaming, like you and jay. i’m sure you guys would hit it off.” heeseung blinked, trying to process what you just said, but the mention of jake still had him thrown. “fit in with us?” he repeated, his voice hesitant. “he’s a gamer too?”

“yeah, he’s obsessed with valorant,” you grinned. “you guys would probably end up playing for hours if you met.”

heeseung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the jealousy still eating at him. “sounds… cool, i guess,” he mumbled, trying not to let his frown take over. “so… he’s just a friend, right?” you laughed, shaking your head at how obvious he was being. “yeah, just a friend, heeseung.” he hesitated for a second, his voice dropping to a whisper, barely loud enough for you to hear. “have you kissed him?” your eyes widened at the sudden question, but you quickly recovered, fake gagging in response. “no way! it’s not like that,” you said, laughing. “he’s like family.” heeseung’s entire body relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “oh… okay, good,” he mumbled, his tone sheepish but relieved. you grinned at him, leaning in a little closer, enjoying how easily he got flustered. “were you really that worried?” heeseung’s blush deepened as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “i don’t know,” he muttered, his eyes flicking nervously to your lips. “just… had to be sure.” “why?” you pushed, raising an eyebrow as you leaned in just a little more, watching him squirm. “does it make you feel better that i kissed you and not jake?”

heeseung froze, his entire face turning a deep shade of red. his eyes widened in panic, like he was scrambling for something to say but had nothing. “i—I mean, yeah, maybe a little?” he stammered, clearly flustered and caught off guard. you smiled wider, seeing how easily he unraveled around you. “so it matters?” you teased, not letting up. he bit his lip, looking like he wanted to crawl under a rock. “well… yeah,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “it matters because… i like you.” the confession hit you like a truck, and you quickly lifted your notebook to shield your face, trying to hide the way your cheeks burned. heeseung just said he liked you, and your heart felt like it was about to burst. “oh right… i never actually told you,” heeseung mumbled, suddenly realizing the weight of his words. just as you lowered your notebook to respond, the door slammed open, and the moment was shattered. “dad, seriously?” heeseung groaned, rubbing his temples as his dad burst into the room, completely oblivious to the situation. “let’s celebrate!” his dad shouted, grinning like it was the best idea ever, with his mom trailing right behind him, bottles and glasses in hand like they were about to throw a full-blown party. you and heeseung both stared at them, caught off guard. “what?” “just saw your grades, kid! you passed everything! we’re celebrating!” his dad announced, shaking the bottles with excitement. “y/n, you’re joining us too!” his mom added, extending a glass toward you. you exchanged a quick look with heeseung, both of you in shock, trying to process what was happening. heeseung let out a defeated sigh, clearly resigned to his fate. “yeah, sure… why not.” you couldn’t help but giggle, nudging him playfully. “guess we’re celebrating, then.” his dad raised a bottle triumphantly. “i called your mom, y/n,” he said, flashing a proud grin. “she said you could stay the night!”

both you and heeseung instantly turned bright red, whipping your heads toward each other in disbelief. “what?” you said in unison. “yup!” his mom chimed in, completely unfazed. “figured it’d be fun. besides, you two have been spending so much time together, it just made sense.” heeseung groaned, sinking further into his chair, clearly mortified. “dad, you can’t just… do that.” your cheeks flushed even more, completely thrown by how casually they planned it. “uh… if it’s really okay…”

heeseung peeked through his fingers, still looking like he wanted to disappear. “yeah… if that’s what you want.”

you laughed awkwardly. “well… looks like we’re having a sleepover.” “but she’s a girl!” heeseung blurted out, clearly panicking. “well, isn’t she your girlfriend?” his dad asked, like it was the most casual thing in the world. both you and heeseung froze, turning an even deeper shade of red. “what? no!” you shouted at the same time, the words tumbling out in unison. his mom chuckled, clearly amused by how flustered you both were. “oh, come on, you two are practically inseparable.” heeseung groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “mom, it’s not like that!” you cleared your throat, trying to regain some composure. “yeah, we’re just… friends,” you said, though the word friends felt strange given everything that had happened. his parents exchanged a knowing glance but thankfully didn’t push it. his dad waved his hand dismissively. “well, either way, it’s settled! y/n’s staying, and we’re celebrating!”

before either of you could argue, his mom was already clearing away the textbooks, setting down the bottles and glasses like they’d planned it all out. heeseung groaned again, muttering into his hands. “this is a nightmare.” you giggled, nudging him gently. “looks like we’re having a party.” “please kill me,” he muttered, but you could see the hint of a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. your eyes flickered toward the bottles of alcohol on the table. “looks like they want us wrecked,” you mumbled. heeseung peeked out from behind his hands, glancing at the alcohol. “they’re trying to ruin my life,” he grumbled. you laughed, picking up one of the bottles. “well, we could always just… go with it. celebrate your grades, make a night of it.” heeseung raised an eyebrow, still hesitant but clearly tempted. “you wanna get wrecked with me?” “why not?” you grinned, pouring a small shot. “might make things less awkward.” he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “yeah, well… anything’s better than this.” he grabbed a glass, finally giving in. “let’s just hope my parents don’t come back.” “why? you planning something?” you teased, watching him fumble with the bottle. heeseung froze for a second, eyes wide before quickly pouring the drink, mumbling, “n-no, I just… thought it’d help loosen things up.” you laughed, thoroughly enjoying how flustered he was getting. “i’m not gonna bite, heeseung.” he handed you a glass, managing a shy smile. “yeah, well… i might need a few of these to survive tonight.” he raised his glass with a grin. you raised yours, smirking as you clinked it against his. “here’s to surviving tonight.” heeseung downed his shot too fast, immediately coughing from the burn. “shit,” he muttered, wiping his mouth.

you shook your head, laughing at him. “lightweight.“ “hey!” he protested, pouring another shot, clearly determined to redeem himself. “i can handle it.”

you took a sip of your drink, the heat crawling down your throat as you leaned in, a grin teasing your lips. "so, heeseung,” you started, your voice light, playful. “what’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done? i bet there’s a troublemaker hiding in there somewhere.”

heeseung blinked, clearly thrown off by the question. “wildest thing?” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he was actually trying to come up with something. “uh… does passing out drunk at a party and making you carry me home count?”

you shook your head, grinning wider. “nah, that’s just you being a dumbass.”

he laughed, the sound a little looser now as he leaned back in his chair. the alcohol was starting to settle into him, easing the tension in his shoulders. “okay, okay. i’ve done some dumb shit with jay, but nothing… wild. not like you’re thinking.” “really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “not even a single scandalous high school moment? i’m disappointed.” he snorted, shaking his head. “if you’re looking for scandalous, you’re barking up the wrong tree. i’m awkward as hell. you know that.” you leaned in a little more, closing the space between you just enough to make him shift in his seat. “yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t surprise me,” you said, your voice dipping low, teasing, with something heavier lingering beneath it. the atmosphere shifted, the air thickening as you hovered closer. heeseung swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to your lips before darting away again, his nerves clear as day. “i can be full of surprises,” he mumbled, though his tone wobbled, like he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. “oh yeah?” you leaned back, pretending to think it over, enjoying the way he squirmed. “like what?”

heeseung grabbed his shot glass and downed it like he needed it to survive, the alcohol clearly giving him the little boost of courage he was looking for. “well, i’m here, aren’t i? with you. that’s gotta count for something,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the way his voice wavered gave him away. the nerves were still there, bubbling just under the surface. you chuckled softly, your eyes holding his. “yeah, i guess it does,” you murmured, your words carrying more weight than before, something unspoken, something just on the edge of everything you weren’t saying. the conversation kept going after that, but the energy between you two had changed. it was lighter, more comfortable, the tension from before still there but softened. you laughed together, swapping embarrassing stories and favorite movies, the topics flowing easily. but every now and then, you’d catch him staring a little too long, or feel the brush of his knee against yours under the table, and each small touch sent sparks buzzing across your skin. heeseung fiddled with the empty glass in front of him, his voice dropping, more hesitant. “you know, you’re… different than i expected.” you tilted your head, heart picking up pace. “oh yeah? what’d you expect?” his eyes stayed on the glass, thumb tracing along the rim as he shrugged. “i don’t know… i guess i didn’t expect to feel like this.” “like how?” you leaned in slightly, your curiosity spiking, the tension between you building, thick with something unspoken. heeseung inhaled deeply, lips curling into a small, awkward smile. “honestly? i thought i’d never have a girl interested in me. they’re usually, uh… repulsed.” you blinked, his bluntness catching you off guard. “repulsed? heeseung, you’re not repulsive,” you leaned closer, your words carrying more weight. “awkward, maybe, but in a cute way.”

he let out a short, self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head. “nah, you don’t get it. i’ve had girls literally avoid me. so when you stuck around? i didn’t know what to do.” “well, i’m still here, aren’t i?” your voice softened, leaning in even more. “and i’m definitely not repulsed.” heeseung’s eyes met yours, his face flushing deeper as he tried to process your words. “yeah… i guess you’re different,” he mumbled, voice shaky, like he didn’t fully believe it. you leaned in, your knee brushing against his under the table, the contact sending sparks up your spine. “i don’t think you give yourself enough credit, heeseung. the only person getting in your way… is you.”

heeseung swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to your lips, lingering for just a moment before darting away. “fuck,” he muttered, barely audible. “why do you even like me? i feel like i’m gonna mess this up any second.” you smiled softly, your voice dropping to a whisper. “maybe that’s why i like you. you’re real. awkward, messy, but real.” he ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, muttering under his breath, “and a guy who came in, like… seconds.” you bit your lip, trying not to laugh as a flush crept up your neck. “yeah,” you leaned in, your voice teasing, a little bolder. “but i didn’t mind.” heeseung’s eyes widened, snapping to yours, shock and disbelief written all over his face. “you didn’t?” you shook your head, your hand brushing against his lightly. “nope.” you held his gaze, watching him swallow, his breath catching, the tension between you rising. heeseung’s voice came out barely more than a whisper, breath shaky. “i thought you’d hate me for that.” “if i hated you, i wouldn’t be here,” you said softly, your fingers lingering against his. “and i definitely wouldn’t still be thinking about it.” heeseung’s eyes darted down to your hand, then back up to meet your gaze. his lips parted slightly, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “fuck,” he whispered, the tension in his voice obvious. “i’ve been thinking about it too… a lot.” he shifted, grabbing a pillow to cover the growing bulge in his pants, trying to hide it, but failing miserably. “damn, y/n,” he muttered, torn between embarrassment and the arousal coursing through him. “this again?” you teased, leaning in with a smirk. “gonna jerk off to me in the bathroom again?” heeseung froze, eyes wide as realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “wait… you knew?” his voice cracked as he sat up, completely caught off guard.

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “oh yeah, i knew. you weren’t exactly subtle, heeseung. these walls are thin.” heeseung groaned, burying his face in his hands, the pillow slipping from his lap as he practically melted into his chair. “oh my fucking god,” he muttered, voice muffled by his hands. “this is so embarrassing.” “hey, no judgment,” you said, your amusement barely contained. “it’s kinda flattering, honestly.” he peeked through his fingers, still horrified but curious. “flattering?” you nodded, your grin widening. “yeah. at least i know i have that kind of effect on you.” heeseung groaned again, slumping further into the chair, torn between wanting to disappear and being completely turned on. “fuck, y/n…” he muttered, his voice strained with frustration. “i’m starting to think you’re a liar. 'cause it’s like you never get as flustered as i do. shy, yeah, sure… but do i even make you wet?” his voice came out breathless, desperate, searching for reassurance.

the boldness of his question hung in the air between you, thick and heavy with anticipation. your heart raced, your lips parting as you considered your answer.

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by how bold he’d gotten, but the smirk on your lips couldn’t be stopped. “oh, you really wanna know?” you teased, eyes locking with his.

heeseung’s breath caught, but he nodded, his face turning redder by the second, gaze not leaving yours. “yeah,” he whispered, voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it. “i need to know.”

leaning in close, you brushed your lips against his ear, letting your breath ghost over his skin, the tension between you crackling like electricity. “well, let’s just say…” you paused, savoring the moment, then pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes again, your voice dropping low, “i’ve been wetter than i care to admit this whole time.”

his eyes widened, his breath catching, the weight of your words hitting him hard. “fuck,” he groaned, running a shaky hand through his hair, clearly torn between excitement and embarrassment. “why are you so good at this?”

“i’m not,” you murmured, your voice dripping with teasing heat. “i just don’t have a dick to give me away when i’m turned on.”

heeseung let out a breathy laugh, the tension in his body spilling over, but the flush on his cheeks remained. “fuck,” he muttered again, shifting awkwardly, the pillow doing absolutely nothing to hide the obvious. “that’s so unfair,” he whined, his frustration clear in the way he fidgeted. “you just sit there all calm, and i’m over here losing my mind.”

you leaned back, the smirk never leaving your lips. “why don’t we drink a bit more then?” you suggested, your tone playful but laced with challenge, watching the way he struggled under your gaze.

heeseung swallowed hard, clearly debating whether alcohol would help or push him deeper into the mess. “yeah, maybe…” he muttered, his hands trembling as he reached for the bottle again. “fuck, i need to calm down.”

you chuckled softly, amused by how flustered he was. “take it easy,” you teased, raising your glass. “you’re making this way too fun.”

heeseung groaned, downing his shot far too quickly, wincing as it hit his throat. “fun for you, maybe,” he mumbled, setting the glass down with a shaky hand, his face still flushed with heat.

you threw back your own drink, feeling the burn in your chest, but what really made your pulse race was the way he was looking at you now—his wide eyes, the way his lips parted like he was struggling to breathe, that growing desperation in the air between you both. “heeseung?” you whispered, voice trembling with the warmth of the alcohol and the intensity of his gaze. he blinked, like he was trying to snap out of it, but his eyes stayed glued to yours. “god,” he muttered, voice strained like he was barely holding it together. “you’re making it so hard to think straight.” you bit your lip, and his breath hitched, his chest rising and falling in these shaky, uneven breaths. “don’t do that, please,” he practically begged, his voice laced with desperation, eyes squeezing shut as his head fell back, neck exposed, tension radiating off him like heat. “don’t do what?” you whispered, voice soft, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles on his thigh. you pushed the pillow out of the way, and the second your hand made contact, heeseung gasped, the breath in his throat trembling like he was on the verge of falling apart.

“that,” he rasped, his body trembling under your touch, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. you leaned in closer, your hand drifting higher, watching him unravel beneath your fingers. “i thought you wanted this,” you teased, your lips brushing lightly against his ear. heeseung’s eyes fluttered open, staring at you with this raw mix of desire and desperation. “i do… but you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “i can’t handle it… not when you’re this close.” “then touch me,” you whispered, voice dripping with temptation, the tension between you suffocating. “don’t you want to?” heeseung’s eyes shot open, wide, filled with disbelief. “can i?” he asked, voice shaky, his hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. “you really want me to?” you nodded slowly, your breath grazing his lips, every part of you buzzing with anticipation. “yes, heeseung… i want you to.”

for a second, he hesitated, but then his hands, trembling, finally made contact, resting on your waist, tentative and careful like he was scared he might break you. “fuck,” he whispered again, fingers tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer, his voice cracking with disbelief. “i can’t believe this is happening.” “what if i cum just from touching you?” he muttered, nervous excitement all over his face, his hands still shaking slightly as they gripped your waist harder. you didn’t even answer, just straddled him, thighs pressing down on either side of his hips, and the second your lips crashed against his, it was like all of his control snapped. heeseung’s arms wrapped tight around you, pulling you against him like he couldn’t get close enough. his kiss was hot, needy, filled with every ounce of tension that had been simmering between you both. instinctively, your hips ground against him, and both of you groaned at the sensation. he broke the kiss, lips trailing down your neck, hot and messy, his breath burning against your skin as he groaned, hips pushing up into yours, hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. and then, in one quick move, he lifted you up like you weighed nothing, placing you down onto the bed. the sudden shift made your heart race, excitement thrumming through your veins as he hovered over you, eyes dark and wild with need. but then, just as fast as it started, you saw the hesitation flicker across his face again, that shy, unsure side of him slipping back. his hands hovered just above your body, trembling all over again. “wait, y/n…” he whispered, voice shaking. “i don’t wanna mess this up.” “heeseung…” you whispered, your voice soft as your hands cupped his face, pulling him in close. “you’re not messing anything up. i want this. i want you.” heeseung swallowed hard, eyes locked on yours as if he was trying to process the reality of what you just said. “you’re sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, like he still couldn’t believe this was happening. “i’ve never been more sure,” you reassured him, pulling him even closer, your lips brushing against his. he hesitated for a second, breath shaky as he stared at you, then slowly started fumbling with his shirt, his hands trembling. even as he undressed, his eyes never left yours, like he was afraid to break the connection. the intensity in his gaze, even though you were still fully clothed, sent shivers racing up your spine.

when his shirt finally hit the floor, revealing his toned chest, he froze, hovering above you like he didn’t know what to do next. his hands trembled, barely grazing your skin, unsure and nervous. “heeseung,” you whispered again, gentle but insistent, urging him forward. “it’s okay… come here.” “you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against your neck, his voice thick with need as his lips pressed hot kisses along your skin. his grip on your hips tightened, and you could feel the slight tremble in his hands, his restraint barely holding. “can i take it off?” heeseung’s voice shook with desire as his fingers hovered at the hem of your shirt. the question hung in the air, thick with anticipation. you nodded, giving him the green light, and he wasted no time, peeling your clothes off piece by piece, his breath catching in his throat with every inch of skin revealed. his eyes were dark and hungry, devouring your body. “fuck…” he muttered, voice thick and almost breathless, his fingers grazing your waist, trailing up to your ribs.

“i’ve imagined this…” he confessed, his voice raw and rough, his hands trembling as he unclasped your bra. his eyes locked onto your chest, pupils blown wide as he whispered, “and fuck, you’re even better than i imagined.” his lips trailed lower, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest, his hands wandering down until his fingers found the waistband of your pants. “i need to see all of you,” he whispered, his breath shaky as he slowly tugged your pants and panties down. the way his gaze devoured you made your pulse quicken. once you were completely bare beneath him, heeseung paused, taking in the sight of you with a mix of awe and disbelief. “wow…” he whispered, his fingers trailing up your thigh, the touch light but electric. “you’re perfect.” he settled between your legs, his breath shaky as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to your core. “god, y/n…” he groaned, fingers gripping your hips as his nose brushed against your heat. “it’s so pretty… and wet,” he muttered, almost to himself, before dipping his head down and dragging his tongue over your folds. the groan that escaped him was pure need as his lips wrapped around your clit, swirling his tongue in slow, messy circles. "you taste amazing,” he moaned against you, the vibration of his voice sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. he was uncoordinated, his movements sloppy and inexperienced, but the raw hunger driving him made up for it. your hips bucked involuntarily, his groans muffled as he buried himself deeper between your thighs, sucking and licking with frantic desperation.

“heeseung,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer as your body arched beneath him. his fingers found your breasts, squeezing with nervous eagerness.

he whimpered against your pussy, his desperation evident in every flick of his tongue. “i want more,” he groaned, voice strained as he latched onto your clit, sucking harder, his movements growing frantic.

“heeseung…” you moaned, your body shaking with the intensity of it all, your legs trembling as you teetered on the edge of release. “fuck, you’re perfect.”

he lifted his head, lips glistening with your arousal, eyes wide and uncertain as he asked, “do you like it? am i doing good?”

your heart swelled at his words, at the vulnerability mingled with his overwhelming need to please you. “yes, heeseung… fuck, yes,” you breathed, fingers tightening in his hair. “you’re doing so good. i love it.”

his face lit up at your praise, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips before he dove back in with renewed determination. his fingers fumbled at your entrance, sliding inside you, hesitant but eager, trying to mimic what he’d seen in porn. his movements were clumsy, but the desperation in each thrust, in every flick of his tongue, was enough to push you closer to the edge.

his fingers pumped in and out, curling inside you as his mouth worked messily over your clit, his body trembling with the effort to make you cum. every whimper, every shaky breath only added to the tension building in your body, sending you spiraling higher and higher.

“heeseung… don’t stop,” you gasped, your voice breathless, pleading. “please—don’t stop.”

“shit, i’m making you cum, aren’t i?” he whimpered against your core, his voice shaky with anticipation. “it's so warm...”

and with one more thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, pulling you under. your hips bucked, thighs squeezing around his head as you cried out his name. heeseung moaned against your clit, the sound vibrating through you as he worked his fingers inside you, prolonging the pleasure as long as he could.

“fuck, y/n… you’re so hot,” he groaned, his voice thick with awe as he watched your body writhe beneath him. "so fucking pretty when you cum…”

heeseung’s face was flushed, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he looked up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “did i do good?” he whispered, voice trembling with the weight of everything that just happened. his hips kept grinding against the mattress, searching for some kind of relief, his cock straining painfully against his pants. the sight of him so worked up, so needy, had you biting your lip to keep from giving in too quickly. “you turn me on so much…” heeseung’s voice cracked, overwhelmed by the sight of you. he was a mess, nearly shaking as his need for you grew stronger, and the lust was becoming unbearable. he's so fucking horny. “please, y/n… i need to be inside you,” he begged, his voice raw with emotion. “i can’t… i need you.” but instead of giving him what he wanted, you leaned down, your breath hot against his ear, and whispered, “not yet.” heeseung froze, wide-eyed, panic flashing in his expression as he tried to process what you said. his breathing got shallow, and he almost looked like he was about to break, but before he could speak, you grabbed him by the face and kissed him hard, hot, and breathless. it left him gasping, his hands trembling as they clawed at your waist, desperate to feel you, to have you.

“shit, i can taste myself on you,” you murmured against his lips, and the sound of your voice alone made him moan. His hands gripped you tighter, but every touch felt like it was pushing him closer to the edge, like he was going to lose control at any second. “i thought you—” he tried to say, voice barely holding together.

you cut him off, flipping him onto his back with one swift move, leaving him stunned beneath you, his breath coming in sharp gasps. The way you moved over him, the way your lips trailed down his chest, sent shivers up his spine. “wait,” he pleaded, his hands fisting the sheets as your lips grazed his skin, leaving a burning trail in their wake. “god, if i wasn’t so wasted that first time… it would’ve felt this good.” you smiled against his skin, your tongue tracing a line along his waist as your fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants. heeseung gasped, body tensing in anticipation, completely at your mercy. “i want it to feel better than you ever imagined,” you teased, slowly pulling his pants down. when his cock sprang free, hard and leaking, you hummed in satisfaction, eyes locking onto his as you leaned in, dragging your tongue up from the base to the tip.

heeseung let out a loud, desperate moan, his back arching off the bed. “fuck… oh my god,” he cried out, his voice cracking as pleasure hit him like a tidal wave. “this feels—” he couldn’t finish, his words dissolving into incoherent sounds as you swirled your tongue around the tip, tasting his precum. every flick of your tongue had him trembling, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, his hips jerking up into your mouth uncontrollably. “more,” heeseung begged, voice barely a whisper, body shaking with need. his desperation was clear in the way his fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tight but not pushing—like he was too afraid to break the moment, even though he needed you so badly. you took him deeper, inch by inch, savoring the way he bucked underneath you, his moans turning louder, more frantic. heeseung’s jaw went slack, his head thrashing back into the pillow as he clenched his eyes shut, trying to hold on but clearly losing the battle. “y/n,” he groaned, his voice breaking, raw with need. “how are you—oh my god, this is insane.” his breathing became erratic, his hands fisting the sheets as the pleasure built inside him, spiraling out of control. you could feel him tense, his entire body shaking as the tension mounted higher and higher.

“oh fuck, fuck… i can’t—” he panted, panic edging into his voice as the intensity threatened to overwhelm him. “wait, s-slow down… what if i can’t get hard again—”

but that wasn’t enough to stop you. you took him deeper, your hand stroking him in time with your mouth, driving him closer to the edge with every motion. his moans turned into ragged, broken sounds, his hips bucking up into your mouth despite himself.

“ah, y/n—” heeseung gasped, the tension inside him snapping all at once. his entire body seized, his hands gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles turned white. with one final thrust, he came hard, spilling into your mouth with a loud, desperate moan that echoed through the room. his voice was raw and unrestrained, his mind blank from the sheer intensity of it all.

as he finally looked down, he saw you still between his legs, your lips hovering close to his still-twitching cock. then he heard it—the soft sound of you swallowing, gulping down everything he’d just given you.

“no fucking way,” heeseung whimpered, wide-eyed, voice trembling with disbelief as you licked along his still-sensitive length, your tongue teasing him in slow, deliberate strokes. every touch sent jolts of electricity through his already overstimulated body, but despite it all, his cock stayed hard, throbbing under your attention.

you raised an eyebrow, that playful smirk pulling at your lips as you glanced up at him. “oh? still hard from that?” your fingers wrapped around him, stroking his cock lightly as you spoke.

heeseung’s head dropped back onto the pillow, his hands fisting the sheets. “i-i shouldn’t be… i don’t even know what’s happening,” he groaned, voice thick with pleasure and exhaustion. “but fuck, y/n… that was—holy fuck.”

his breath hitched as you moved, straddling him with an ease and boldness that left him completely wrecked. “don’t tell me you’re gonna— you’re killing me,” he muttered, chest heaving, trying to sit up, his hands reaching for you. but before he could get a grip on anything, you had his wrists pinned down above his head, your hips hovering just above his throbbing length.

“shh…” you whispered against his ear, your voice soft but demanding. “let me take care of you.”

heeseung whimpered, eyes wide and filled with lust and disbelief, completely at your mercy.

“but i… fuck, i want this so bad,” he whined, voice cracking, body practically vibrating with need. “i want you to ride me, but i also want to…”

you silenced him with the smallest movement, pressing your hips down just enough to have him gasping. “you’ve done enough,” you whispered, lips brushing against his ear, making him shiver. “now it’s my turn.”

heeseung’s body tensed under you, his head pressing into the pillow as he watched you take control, watched you slowly lower yourself onto him. “wait…” he gasped, feeling the way your warmth enveloped him, the sensation hitting him all at once.

you rode him slow at first, deliberate in every motion, your body grinding against him with an intensity that had him completely undone. “just like that, please,” heeseung whimpered, voice trembling as he sniffled, overwhelmed.

his hands clenched into fists above him, pinned down by your grip, his hips bucking up to meet your movements, trying desperately to keep up. every squeeze of your warmth around him, every roll of your hips, sent shockwaves through his entire body, his cock pulsing, threatening to push him over the edge again.

“not so fast… y/n,” heeseung begged, his voice breaking, glassy eyes filled with desperation. “your pussy… fuck, it’s so tight—i don’t think i’m gonna last—shit,” he panted, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“am i still making you feel good?” he whimpered, the need for reassurance thick in his voice. “i wanna make you cum…” his words wobbled, dripping with pride and vulnerability, desperate for your approval.

your moans answered him first, loud and unrestrained, and even though that was enough for him, he needed more. he needed to hear it straight from your lips. driven by the sound of you coming undone, he bucked his hips harder, faster, trying to match the rhythm you set, every roll of your hips pushing him deeper.

“you look so good… i love this… fuck, i love you,” heeseung choked out, barely coherent as the words tumbled from his lips. his hips jerked beneath you, wild with desperation, his breath ragged, voice broken. "i love fucking you… you're so wet, make my cock feel so good—" he babbled, eyes half-lidded, entirely mesmerized by the way you moved, by the pleasure consuming both of you.

“i love you,” heeseung repeated, voice raw, thick with emotion. his hands twitched, still pinned down by your grip, desperate to touch you, to pull you closer as his love and need for you flooded every inch of him.

the way you bounced on him, making sure he fucked you deep with every thrust, had heeseung completely shattered. every moan slipping from your lips was like a hit straight to his sanity, and the tight, wet grip of your pussy clenching around him had his vision blurring, his mind spiraling. “fuck, i’m so close—please, please let me cum in your pussy,” he begged, voice trembling, the desperation in every word clear. “i wanna see it spill out of you.”

you leaned down, your breath hot against his ear, sending a shiver through him. “oh yeah? how bad do you want it?” your words teased, but they hit him like a punch, and he locked eyes with you, pleading silently, needing you to take him over the edge, needing you to give him the release he craved.

“so bad… please, it’s all i want—fuck, please!” he sobbed, voice cracking as his hips bucked uncontrollably, his body convulsing beneath you. pleasure and need swirled inside him, almost unbearable, and you still didn’t let up. each roll of your hips, each slow grind, was torture, dragging him right to the brink, his hands flexing, desperate to hold on, desperate for you.

“i’ll even—” he gasped, his chest heaving, “fuck—i’ll eat it out of you, eat my cum out of your pussy once i’m done,” the words tumbling out in a breathless moan as his head fell back against the pillow, lost in the intensity. the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding only added to the heat between you, his mind spinning, overwhelmed by it all but still needing more.

“you're crazy, hee,” you groaned, breathless, “you’d really do that? what else have you been thinking about doing to me?”

his hands gripped your ass tighter, guiding your movements, his hips thrusting up to meet you with a frantic need. heeseung’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, his eyes blown wide with lust. “i think about you all the time,” he admitted, voice hoarse, shaky from how raw it all felt. “every night… thinking about you riding me just like this. fuck—sometimes i imagine you tying me up, keeping me there so i can’t move… and i’d just have to take it.”

he choked on a moan, the fantasy making his body shake beneath you, each confession spilling out uncontrollably. “you’d be in control,” he whimpered, words barely coherent. “make me earn every second i spend inside your pussy…”

the thought alone had him dizzy, his body quivering beneath you. “and then—fuck, i’d be so desperate, i’d cum so fast, but you wouldn’t stop, would you? you’d make me keep going, even when it hurts… 'cause i want it, i want all of it.” his voice cracked, hands shaking as he held onto you for dear life, eyes glazed with pure need.

he was practically vibrating, his whole body humming with arousal, his mind clouded with filthy thoughts that only made him more desperate. “wanna learn how to make you squirt with my mouth,” he gasped. “could spend forever eating your pussy.”

your own arousal spiked at his words, his dirty fantasies making your heart race as you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “you want me to sit on your face?” you whispered, your voice dripping with teasing cruelty. “want me to smother you with my pussy until you can’t breathe?”

heeseung’s entire body shuddered, his grip tightening on you as he gasped. “yes, fuck yes,” he moaned, voice trembling with need. “please, suffocate me with it. i want to drown in you, taste every inch of your pussy. i’d let you use me until i can’t think straight, i swear. fuck… just… anything.”

you bit your lip, smirking as you watched heeseung completely unravel beneath you. “so you want to be my little toy, huh?” you teased, grinding down on him harder, forcing a loud, broken moan from his lips.

his entire body tensed, head falling back against the pillow as he whimpered, hands clutching your hips with desperate need. “yes, fuck, i’d be anything you want, just use me,” he begged, his voice cracking. “please, y/n… i just want to make you feel good.”

“oh, heeseung,” you cooed, amusement dripping from your voice as you leaned down, kissing him deeply, your tongue teasing his as he moaned into your mouth. “you’re such a good boy, aren’t you? always so eager to please.”

he groaned, trembling as you continued to ride him, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room. “yes, i just wanna be good for you,” he whispered, barely holding it together.

his words, his submission, his desperation—it only pushed you closer to the edge.

you quickened the pace, grinding harder, faster, driving him to the brink of insanity. the tight, wet heat of your pussy squeezing him had heeseung losing the last shred of control. his breath hitched, his body stiffened beneath you, overwhelmed by the building pressure.

“fuck, y/n—i’m gonna—" his voice cracked, trembling as he begged for release. his hands twitched, desperate to touch you but still pinned down. “please, i can’t—i’m gonna cum,” he whimpered, tears filling his eyes as he stared up at you, completely at your mercy.

but you didn’t stop. pushing him deeper into that maddening pleasure, his hips bucked beneath you uncontrollably. “please, please,” he sobbed, his voice shaking, body trembling as his orgasm hit him like a wave, stealing his breath. “oh fuck, oh god, please—” his moans grew louder, higher-pitched, raw with submission as he came deep inside you, cock pulsing wildly.

“i can’t—i can’t stop,” he cried, tears streaking his flushed cheeks as his hips jerked beneath you, unable to control the way his body responded. “i’m so sorry—no, i’m cumming so much,” his voice cracked, filled with both pleasure and apology as his release seemed endless, his cock twitching violently, spilling more and more inside you.

and the sight of him like this—lost in his own pleasure, tears running down his face, voice shattered—pushed you over the edge.

your body tensed above him, the pressure inside you snapping, and your orgasm crashed through you in powerful waves. a loud, unrestrained moan ripped from your throat, your body trembling as you rode the high, your walls clenching tight around his cock, milking every last drop.

as his orgasm finally began to fade, heeseung was still gasping for air, his body trembling beneath you, completely spent and sensitive. small, broken whimpers escaped his lips as the intensity of it left him dazed, his skin slick with sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly.

even after his release slowed, every slight movement made him jerk beneath you, soft, needy moans slipping out. “y/n…” he whispered, voice shaky, barely able to form words. “i couldn’t stop… you made me… fuck, it was so much.”

his eyes fluttered open, hazy with exhaustion and pleasure, his face still flushed and tear-streaked. when your body settled down on top of his, heeseung’s trembling hands reached up, pulling you close. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, trying to catch his breath.

“i’m so sensitive… so fucking sensitive,” he murmured, voice barely audible, his body shivering beneath you. every small touch sent shocks through him, leaving him overstimulated, yet still craving your warmth, your touch.

heeseung’s grip on you tightened, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you close, chest heaving against yours. soft, shaky kisses pressed to your skin, his lips brushing gently against your neck. “that was… i don’t even have words…” he let out a soft, breathy laugh, still panting, mind completely blown by everything that had just happened. “i didn’t know… it could feel like that,” heeseung whispered, his voice shaky with disbelief.

“so you love me, huh?” you teased, resting your head against his chest and glancing up at him with a playful smile.

heeseung’s heart stuttered, post-orgasm bliss now mixing with a wave of nervous energy that hit him all at once. his cheeks burned a deep red as he tried to find the right words, arms still wrapped tight around you, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“i mean… yeah, i guess i did say that, huh?” he mumbled, embarrassment thick in his voice, his eyes darting away from yours for a second, too flustered to meet your gaze.

he bit his lip, trying to hide how hard his pulse was racing, but then, as if he couldn’t hold it back any longer, he shyly glanced back at you. the vulnerability in his eyes was clear, he answers, “but fuck… yeah. i do.” the blush on his face deepened, spreading down his neck, hot and intense. “i love you.”

he let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous, clearly unsure of how to navigate this new level of intimacy. “didn’t really plan on confessing like this, though…” he sighed, gaze flickering to the ceiling, face still flushed. “such a dick move, right? confessing during sex…” the nervous chuckle that followed only made his embarrassment more obvious.

his hands rested gently on your back, a bit hesitant, like he didn’t know how to fully relax into this moment. “i didn’t mean for it to come out like that… it just—” he paused, struggling to find the right words, his voice softening, more sincere now. “it felt right… but not because of the sex.” his eyes found yours again, searching your face, his voice a quiet plea. “i meant it, y/n. even if it was the worst possible timing, i really do love you.”

he paused again, his blush darkening, clearly thinking about his premature orgasm from that first time. “god, you could’ve had anyone, and you still decided to tutor me after that mess…”

his words hung heavy between you, and you could feel the rapid thudding of his heart beneath your palm. he was still so vulnerable, even now, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you had chosen to be here with him—his arms wrapped around you, both of you lying together after the most mind-blowing sex of his life.

“heeseung,” you whispered, your voice firm but filled with warmth. “i wanted you then, and i want you now. that doesn’t change just because things didn’t go perfectly.”

heeseung stared at you, eyes wide with disbelief, like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what you were saying. “really?” his voice was quiet, fragile, like he was afraid to believe it.

“yes, really,” you reassured him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “i love you. you don’t have to be perfect for me to feel that.”

his face lit up instantly, a wide, boyish grin spreading across his face, almost as if he wanted to cry from sheer happiness.

“say it again,” he practically whined, his voice overflowing with joy as he eagerly leaned down to kiss you, lips messy and eager.

you laughed into the kiss, pulling him closer, your heart swelling at the sight of him so happy. “i love you,” you repeated, louder this time, playful. his whole face lit up like a kid on christmas morning, and you could feel his excitement in every touch, every eager kiss, his hands pulling you as close as possible.

“yup, i’m never gonna get tired of hearing that,” he mumbled between kisses, his hands roaming your back, holding you tighter. “say it forever.”

“well, i totally fell in love with you first,” you teased, looking up at him with a playful grin.

heeseung’s smile widened, eyes gleaming with mischief. “i should be thanking you for that, 'cause i would’ve been way too chicken to do anything.” he chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “seriously, i wouldn’t have done shit.”

“was it because of my—” he started, obviously about to crack a joke, but you cut him off with a laugh, shoving him lightly.

“don’t even try it,” you teased, giving him a pointed look. “it wasn’t because of whatever you're about to say.”

he grinned, refusing to drop it. “no, really—was it because of my charm or my amazing… skills?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, even though his red face gave away how flustered he still was.

you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “it’s because you’re awkward, sweet, and everything i didn’t know i needed,” you said, voice softening as you leaned in to kiss him again. “but sure, let’s pretend it was the 'skills.’”

“look at you, mr. confident all of a sudden,” you teased, feeling the warmth spread through you as he relaxed completely, more playful and at ease than ever before.

heeseung shrugged with a smirk. “maybe i’m learning from the best,” he murmured, leaning in for another slow, deliberate kiss. “you bring it out of me, y/n.”

“whatever, hee,” you chuckle, and he groaned softly at the nickname, arms tightening around you as he buried his face in your hair, pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

“a nickname?” he gushed, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes shining with excitement. “i’m totally your boyfriend now, aren’t i?”

his excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how happy he seemed. “yes, you’re totally my boyfriend now,” you teased, running a hand through his hair, watching him grin down at you like he was the happiest person in the world.

“fuck, i love that,” he mumbled, his voice filled with pride and affection as he kissed you again, this time slower, savoring the moment. “your boyfriend,” he whispered between kisses.

he pulled back slightly, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “so…” he started, mischief clear in his voice, “can i tell jay you totally made the first move?”

you snorted, shaking your head. “heeseung, you can tell jay whatever you want,” you teased, brushing your hand along his jawline. “i know you just wanna brag that you didn’t cum prematurely this time.”

heeseung blushed, but his sheepish smile was impossible to miss, his eyes gleaming with playful pride. “well… i mean, it’s kind of a big deal, right?” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “i finally made it through without embarrassing myself, so yeah… maybe i will brag a little.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, laughing softly as you nuzzled into his chest.

heeseung’s grin widened, but then he shifted, his fingers trailing down your side with a teasing glint in his eyes. “oh, but before i do that…” he murmured, sending a shiver down your spine. “remember what i said earlier?” he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“i still want to eat my cum out of your pussy.”

the heat rushed through you, your pulse quickening at his words, and you felt your body tense with anticipation. heeseung’s eyes darkened, filled with lust and longing as he watched your reaction, waiting for you to give him the green light.

“fuck, hee,” you whispered, breathless, your body already responding to the idea. “you’re really gonna do that?”

he nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, breath hitching slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours, wide and full of anticipation. “if you’ll let me,” he whispered, voice soft and pleading. “i… i want to so bad.” his hands trembled slightly as they rested on your hips, his gaze filled with a mix of awe and desperation.

heeseung’s entire body shuddered as he lowered his gaze, like he couldn’t bear the weight of how much he needed this. “you’re gonna love it,” he whispered. “please… tell me i can.”

you couldn’t resist the way he begged, voice trembling with need, so you nodded, granting him what he so desperately wanted. without hesitation, heeseung kissed down your body, his lips soft, breath hot against your skin. when he reached your core, he paused for a second, taking in a deep breath like he was savoring the moment.

“thank you,” he whispered, barely audible, before his tongue flicked out, tasting both you and the remnants of his cum. the sensation sent a shockwave through your body, making you jerk slightly from the overstimulation. his grip tightened, keeping you steady as his tongue worked slow, deliberate strokes along your slit.

“fuck,” he groaned, eyes rolling back for a second, licking another long, slow stripe. he looked up at you, eyes wide and submissive, tongue covered in the mixture of his cum and your juices. without breaking eye contact, he swallowed with a deep moan, like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. “we taste so fucking good,” he mumbled, diving back in with more eagerness, licking your pussy clean.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, guiding him as he continued, every flick of his tongue sending electric shocks through your body.

the overstimulation was intense, but his desperation to please made it impossible for you to ask him to stop.

heeseung pulled back only when he was sure he’d cleaned every last drop, his lips glistening, chest heaving. “did you like it?” he asked, voice trembling, eyes still wide, desperate for approval.

“yeah, you did so good,” you whispered, still catching your breath.

he smiled, pride swelling in his chest, and he kissed your inner thigh before crawling up to hold you tightly. his body trembled with exhaustion as he collapsed into your embrace.

“come on,” you whispered softly, brushing the hair from his sweaty forehead. “let me take care of you now.”

heeseung blinked up at you, too tired to protest even though you could see he wanted to. “but—”

“no buts,” you teased, kissing him gently. “you’re exhausted. I want to run you a bath.”

he watched you with those wide, trusting eyes as you moved around the room. grabbing his hand, you pulled him to his feet, guiding him to the bathroom. “you don’t have to do this,” he whispered, but the look of gratitude on his face said otherwise.

“i want to,” you insisted, turning on the tap, watching as the water filled the tub. his body was flushed, still trembling from everything that had just happened, mind blown from the intensity.

“sit,” you commanded softly, helping him into the tub. the moment the warm water enveloped him, heeseung let out a soft sigh, leaning his head back, his eyes fluttering shut.

kneeling beside the tub, you ran your fingers through his damp hair, massaging his scalp. he hummed contentedly. “this is nice,” he whispered, voice sleepy.

“you deserve it,” you murmured, kissing his temple. “just relax, heeseung.”

he smiled lazily, reaching for your hand, squeezing it gently. “thank you for this… for everything.”

as he started to drift off, he opened his eyes, a playful glint shining in them. “hey… does this mean i can tell jay now?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “you can do whatever you want, hee.”

grinning like a little kid, he grabbed his phone and, with zero shame, called jay. “hey, jay?” he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice was still filled with excitement. “yeah, you’ll never guess what just happened… nope, no premature shit this time. and guess who made the first move?”

your eyes widened in disbelief, laughter bubbling up. “you’ve got to be kidding me, heeseung,” you muttered, shaking your head.

he winked at you, a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he continued bragging to jay. “told you i’d brag,” he mouthed, clearly proud of himself.

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[repulsiveliquidation]

Did I Cross The Line? || Alexia Putellas

warnings : angst. i am not entirely happy with it but if I kept editing, it would only become worse lol. Loosely inspired by the meaning of ‘Wildflower’ by Billie Eilish.

summary : There were two people to love. Alexia could only have one.

You started off as best friends. Two peas in a pod. One never without the other. You and Alexia were never seen apart from each other. Her mother was like your mother, and vice versa. Both families were like one big one all because Alexia decided she wanted to be friends with you at 4 years old and she kicked a football at you in kindergarten. 

You cried, of course, and she got so scared when the teacher scolded her and called her mother to school for it. She sheepishly apologized and when you accepted it, she kissed your cheek where the ball smacked you. 

“Mami always kisses my booboos so they feel better faster!” 

“Really? My mami does too…” 

A football to the face was the price you paid for a girl whom you would give your life for. 

That was until Jenni came along. 

Alexia looked at her differently. It was new. She’d never been this happy in a relationship before and you could not have been happier for your best friend. 

Alexia was someone who loved her friends. She wasn’t shy to show her affection and to boldly display her feelings. You were more reserved and outwardly didn’t like it when she was being touchy. 

Deep down though, her touch brought calm to your storm. You were always anxious before games and Alexia knew this; she made sure to stand beside you and hold your hand to squeeze three times before you left the tunnel. 

Today, Alexia stood beside you in the tunnel, chatting away to Jenni who was only half listening. Your hands shook with adrenaline and fear, palms itching to reach for Alexia’s hand to calm you down. 

The kind of friend she was to you showed itself in times like these. She could feel the fear radiating off you and without even looking back at you, her hand reaches for yours and you feel your body relax and react to the heat from her palm. 

“You okay? You look pale,” she whispers, looking concerned at you. You look up at her slightly taller figure and nod, gripping her hand tighter. 

“Fine, just nervous for the big game,” you lie, hoping she didn’t see the slight bit of jealousy that creeped into your head. 

“You’ll be fine, hermana, we’ll win this.” 

You nod again, feeling sweat on your brow. She squeezes your hand three times and faces forwards, walking out while you follow. The game went smoothly and you sailed to a 3-0 win easy peasy. 

At training a few days later, you arrive at the changing room a little energized only to be met with screaming. 

You stood at the door and listened carefully, not wanting to interrupt anyone when you recognized the voice yelling her head off. 

Alexia was yelling. 

“She’s my best fucking friend, how could you make me choose?!” 

“Well, she’s all you talk about! If I wanted to know her, I would have wanted to date her instead of you!” 

“You’re not good enough for her!” 

“I’m not good enough?” Jenni laughs, “You’re the one who got rejected when told her I love you while piss fucking drunk! May I add that we were already dating at that point; I knew you loved her and not me!”

”How dare you?!” 

You hear bags being zipped and boots clamoring all over the changing room. Alexia storms out of the room and you back away from the door just in time. She doesn’t even see you standing there pretending you didn’t hear them, seeing Jenni try to run after. She, unlike Alexia, notices you standing there looking like a deer in headlights. 

“Speak of the devil,” Jenni quips mockingly, “you were listening weren’t you?” 

“You didn’t make it hard not to,” you say as you roll your eyes, pushing past Jenni to put your kit bag in your cubby and run after Alexia. 

“Ale!” You call, running through the stadium looking for your best friend. She’s sobbing in her car, crying more when you knock on the passenger window gently. The doors unlock and you quietly climb in. 

“You heard.” 

“I didn’t get there in time to hear all of it, no.”  

“Jenni’s leaving,” Alexia takes a deep breath to stop herself from crying before she continues, “and she’s asked me to come with her.” 

“Why did you say no?” 

The tears start to flow again and she cries harder, now unable to catch her breath. She grabs the steering wheel and still can’t breathe so you take her hands in yours and hope she calms like you do. 

Her panic attack exhausts her and she’s in no condition to drive. A quick text to the group chat and you’ve got both your bags in her car and are on the way to her house. She’s passed out in the passenger seat and snoring a little, still holding your hand in the center console. 

Your hand holding hers feels familiar and comfortable. You’re sure she’s passed out and can’t really feel anything but unbeknownst to you, she was quite aware of her surroundings and knew she was close to home. 

Close to you. 

You really don’t want to wake her but you’ve pulled into her driveway and can hear dogs barking so you tap on her shoulder gently. You’re tempted to kiss the back of her hand but you refrain from it, feeling the restraint tug at your heart. 

She rouses and smiles softly at you, eyes puffy and nose red. She shuffles into the house with you right behind her. 

You make yourself at home, brewing two cups of tea. It fills the house with a lovely smell of jasmine, which eases your anxiety. She takes a mug from you, eyes filling with fresh tears. Her body shakes with fear, brain in overdrive. 

She was always open with you. But this time, her lips stayed sealed. It broke your heart. 

“Alexia, talk to me,” you whisper, eyes searching for hers. She doesn’t look at you, teary eyes instead glued to the floor. 

She sips the tea and it burns her tongue, the sudden rush of pain makes the tears she was fighting with win. They stain her cheeks and reveal her true feelings. 

She loved you. 

And she has for longer than she cares to admit. 

Dating Jenni was just an attempt at denying her feelings. She loved you. But she loved Jenni too. 

It was like she was having an out of body experience. She was sitting right in front of you and she had never seen like you she did right this second. But she knew now that she did in fact see you this way. 

She looked at you differently from Jenni. She took care of you differently from Jenni. She saw you differently from Jenni. She may have loved both of you, but there was a clear difference. 

She did those things differently because she loved you differently. 

She didn’t know you felt the same. You loved Alexia too. Boy did your heart break when they first got together. You wanted to break things she got you. You couldn’t wear her clothes you had in your closet anymore. You pulled away when all you wanted to do was crawl into her skin. 

You had to lie that day at the bar. You had to break her heart. She loved someone else didn’t she? You couldn’t let her be hung up on someone like you when she had someone like Jenni begging for her attention. 

She was La Reina. Two time Ballon d’Or winner. Queen of FC Barcelona. 

You were just…you. 

“I love you!” Alexia yells; fresh hot tears stream down her face. She looked like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. There was a clear release of tension in the room and it was magical.

When her lips touched yours, there were feelings shared that could be left unsaid. Feelings only the two of you needed to know. She loved Jenni, and there was a conversation to be had tomorrow but for today, she had all that she needed to make it through the night. And quite possibly the rest of her life. 

Alexia pulled you into her lap, hands resting on your waist in a deathly grip, clearly afraid you’d just disappear into thin air. 

“I love you too,” you whispered against her lips, feeling her perfect smile adorn her face again. 

As Alexia held you in her arms the rest of the night, you realized something. You were not just…you. 

You were the girl who took a ball to the face like a champ, though it left your cheek bruised for days, all because a 4 year old was too shy to say hello. 

You were the girl who fought a boy twice your size when he tackled Alexia dangerously. 

You were the girl who walked in and out of her house like it was your own. 

You were the girl so scared of walking out onto the pitch you needed your best friend to hold your hand. 

You were the girl Alexia, from the moment she laid her eyes on you at the kindergarten playground, wanted to be friends with her entire life. 

You were wanted, needed and cherished by your best friend. But there was more, so much more left for you to uncover. 

Was the next step in your relationship a line you wanted to cross? 

“Alexia?” you asked, looking back at her. She was smiling and you felt your heart melt. But you remained steadfast. 

“Sí?”

“What are you going to say to Jenni?” 

Alexia’s smile dropped, her arms around you slacked and her face turned into fear. 

What was she going to say to Jenni? She was going to break her heart for sure but what would be the right words? Were there the right words to tell your girlfriend you loved someone else and you were only with her because you were in denial? 

The night dragged on that day, on one hand you were over the moon to have Alexia to yourself but you felt bad for Jenni who was also a close friend, knowing she was in for a day she would want over as fast as possible tomorrow. 

“Jenni, just listen to me, please!” 

“There’s nothing to listen to, you’re in love with her and not me. Moving away was a good idea, that way I won’t be a constant reminder of a barrier in your relationship,” Jenni says calmly, standing right in front of the door outside the changing room. She turns, a pained smile on her face. 

“You two deserve each other. Please don’t break her heart like you did mine.” 

Alexia asked you to wait outside and you did, trying your best not to eavesdrop like before. Jenni walks out and you can see how hard she’s trying not to cry. She sees you and sits beside you, an awkward silence in the air. There was a war going on inside you, one that made your anxiety skyrocket. You were shaking, sweat building up on your brow. You tried to hold your own hand to no avail. It was nothing like Alexia’s palm in yours. 

Jenni takes your sweaty palm and rubs the back with her other. 

“Please don’t feel like this is your fault,” she starts, looking at your hand in hers. “We were having problems from the start. She has always loved you in a way that was reserved only for you.” 

You look at her and tears of your own begin to prickle. You felt bad for her; you should be comforting her since she was the one affected by all this and yet here she was comforting you. 

“Jenni…” 

“No, please. She loved me,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “but she loved you more. More than anything in this world. She told me she was terrified of losing you when we got together. She was always your girl. She was never mine to love.” 

Jenni stands, leaving your hand in your lap and using hers to wipe her tears. 

“She always wished I was you," Jenni says, taking a deep breath, "now she’s got her wish. I just hope she doesn't regret it.”

[readychilledwine]

Could i request something where az and reader are mates. They have a huge fight and “break up” and reader leaves the court. She finds out that she is pregnant and writes him a letter. He never shows up so she thinks he doesn’t want the baby. Rhys visit the court she is in and sees her with a child maybe a couple months old. He is mad because she didn’t told him and when he ask her why she keeps his nephew away she tells him that she wrote az but he never answered. Rhys is mad and ask az what is up with him to just leave his pregnant mate. Unbeknownst to him that az was searching for her the whole time. Az tells him that he never got a letter and they find out that maybe elain burned it. It takes some time for them but they find their way back and just fluff azriel dad who teaches his son how to fly.

( you could write more angst between reader and az because of elain or you could use a maid or something who wants az)

Here Without You

Summary - Being a single mother was more painful than you'd ever thought it would be, especially when your son's father was just a court away.

Warnings - Angst, Elain showing those claws, single mom status, a child, PPD and the thoughts that come with it, **edited to add** cheating

A/N - I had one of my friends who is a single mom help me with this one while also imagining my life without baby daddy, and um, yeah. We cried a lot, so hopefully, you all do too.

*message from Liz regarding the ending at the end*

💙Peep my Azriel Masterlist Here💙

You had decided whatever you had done to offend the Mother must have been truly unforgettable and unforgivable as you sank against the wall of your family chambers in the Day Court Palace.

Being a new mother was the hardest thing you had ever and will ever do. You had finally gotten Nox down after 3 hours of fussing and tears, and now you waited. He'd sleep 2 hours if you were lucky, wake up crying, and you'd start the process over.

You had wished for your mate more times than you could count, but that bridge was long gone and burned. He had ensured of that by not coming when you wrote him, by not even bothering to write you a response.

The last fight between you and Azriel had been ugly. Glasses had been thrown, a bottle of wine knocked over in rage, cruel words you would both have to live with ringing in your ears like a scream. 350 years. Gone. Thrown away like garbage. All for Elain.

Selfish, plotting, destructive Elain.

You stood, body swaying with sleep deprivation setting in before sitting at the table where your now cold food set. You were too tired to eat, choosing to instead drink the water you had been desperately craving 4 hour ago.

You had wished you could turn it to wine, drink it with no consequences, and still feed Nox when he woke, but that was not the reality of the world. So, instead, you allowed the room temperature flavorless beverage to slide down your throat before moving like a ghost to the couch. There was no point in getting comfortable in your own bed. You would have to be up soon anyway. It wasn’t as if you had help.

You were alone.

And that wasn't even the most painful part of it.

The most painful part was setting in doubt. The growing disbelief that you weren't capable of this, that Nox deserved more, that you should have dropped him at the cabin you had no doubt Elain had moved into, leaving him with her and Azriel to allow you to-

You cut your brain off, refusing to put those words into a full thought. Refusing to believe that your disappearance or death was better for your son than this.

This had to be enough, you had to be enough, because Gods if it wasn't and you weren't, then what truly was the point in living any longer.

Helion entered your chambers the next morning, eyes falling to where you were sat on the floor, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through you. He placed a large warm hand on your shoulder before taking Nox from your arms. "I know I can not offer much of a break due to his feeding cycle, but when is the last time you ate a hot meal, y/n?"

You shook your head. He was 2 weeks old. You supposed it had been before labor. Since then, it had been moments begging for just a second of deep sleep. Moments begging for the Mother to help you, to guide you. Moments where those prayers went unanswered as if they were just thrown into a void. "I don't remember."

Helion could have killed Azriel for you, for Lucien, for Nox. He almost had when you had winnowed yourself here, collapsing in his arms from the exhaustion magic and a growing babe had caused your body.

You hadn't known when you came to the Day Court, begging your oldest friend for a week of safety and healing that you were pregnant, but the High Lord had scented it the second you appeared.

It left him wondering how the hell Azriel hadn't.

"Let me hire a wet nurse for you," he offered again, knowing you would turn it down since your depressive state had you hyper fixated in this belief that all you were good for now was your breasts, and if you gave that duty away, what purpose did you have? "At least for the next few hours. To give you time to rest?"

You still shook your head, messy, tangled hair trying to sway. "I can't. I can't burden someone else."

Helion turned his head away from you, willing himself not to cry at the emptiness of your voice, at the lifelessness you had become.

"The Night Court and Spring are coming today," he started slowly. "I am the magic selected neutral ground for Tamlin and Rhysand to begin setting a peace treaty and trade routes." He waited for your reaction, almost breaking further as you gave him none. "Do you want to see any of them?"

"Lucien and Tamlin."

Helion felt his heart shatter for Cassian, the male who had been asking about you for months now. "The general-"

"Is Azriel's brother. And probably has taken his side. Attempts to see me are probably to give him some sick sort of satisfaction."

He dropped the subject immediately. Nox was asleep, content in the High Lord's arms. "I have time before they arrive, go nap." Helion ordered it, eyes blazing a soft gold and forcing you into submission.

Your bed had never felt so soft.

Helion was walking with Nox around the Palace, smiling and cooing the little male. He was always content when he was being held, and you were so deeply asleep you hadn't even noticed Helion holding the boy to your chest as he nursed. He walked towards where Lucien and Tamlin were.

His son, his pride and joy, looked just radiant in his Day Court attire. The soft, off-white pleaded fabric draping him showed the new healthy build he had gained since Azriel and Elain's transgressions, a golden snake wrapped his bicep, new golden earrings adorned those many piercings.

Lucien paused, a look of concern etching his face when he saw Nox before shaking his head rapidly.

But it was too late, Helion was already in the room where Rhysand also stood with the Inner Circle. The Lord of Night's face fell as he looked at the Illyrian boy, looking so happy up at Helion as he dozed off.

Cassian had frozen, mid sentence with Nesta. He had tried to take a step, wanting to see the babe he immediately knew was his nephew. His eyes met Helion's pleading with permission to approach. Elain's face had paled. A mix of guilt and fear running across it before she schooled it into a faked look of hurt and sadness.

But it was Azriel's face the broke the High Lord. It was a look he knew all too well.

The look of a father who missed the birth of his child.

The look of a father who didn't know he had a child.

The look of a father mourning lost time.

Lucien moved to Helion, taking Nox before leaving the room quickly. The boy did as he always did when his head found Lucien's warm bare shoulder. He released a heavy breath, snuggling into that familiar scent and warmth. "Your mother did not call for me last night," they all heard his soft voice trailing off, speaking to their nephew softly.

"You will tell me everything I do not know," Rhysand demanded as if he was in his own court. "When the fuck was he born. Why were we not informed of her pregnancy?"

Tamlin looked to Helion, digging the shit further. "Is she in the same room as last time?" The Lord of Day nodded. "I will go see her while you all deal with this."

Helion didn't answer, walking to the centered round table and taking the head seat. "To begin, Rhysand, this is my court. You will not make demands of me in my home." They all sat, aside from Azriel. His gaze was locked on the hallway Lucien and Tamlin had gone down.

If he ran, he could catch them. He could see you. He could-

The slam of hands on a table ripped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped to Helion. The High Lord was blazing, glowing like the sun itself, heat radiating from him. "Sit. Down."

An hour later and Rhysand had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. "You saw her send each letter?"

Helion rolled his eyes, nodding again. "Every month after every check up and once after the birth."

Rhys pointed to Azriel. "But you never got them?"

"My son wouldn't be in another court if I had," Azriel's voice mirrored yours. Broken, empty, mourning. Mourning what was, what he had missed and would never get back. "You're sure she sent them to me?"

Helion could have snapped his neck. "Who else would have fathered her babe? You are the one who stepped out of the bonds of marriage and mateship. Not her."

Azriel paused, a sudden look of anger gracing his face as he looked up at Elain, shadows curling his ears. Nuala appeared, setting envelopes down in front of Rhysand. "In her room. Under her bed in a locked chest. Along with every communication you had tried to send to y/n, my lord."

Feyre gasped, turning her back to Elain and leaning further into Rhysand, holding Nyx tightly between them. She remembered those first few weeks. The sleepless nights, the pain, the emotional down pour. She would not have survived without Rhysand. Without Nesta and Mor. Without Cassian and you and Azriel. Her sister, the one who had held her as darkness swallowed her mind after her son's birth, had allowed you to endure this alone.

Azriel's hands shook, reaching for that stack. He separated out the letters. 10 for him. 2 for Rhysand and Feyre. 2 for Mor. 2 for Amren. 4 for Cassian and Nesta.

Helion stood. "I will let you all process this. Call for me when you are ready to do negotiations. The sooner you all leave, the better for her."

Rhysand's eyes shot up. "You won't let us explain to her-"

"Does it change the fact that he took Elain to their marriage bed? Does it change that he signed the annulment papers." Silence filled the room. "I believe that's why she left. Correct?" Rhys grit his teeth nodding. "Then all this changes is me, someone she trusts and feels safe with right now, informing her of what happened and allowing her to decide if she wants to reach out again from that point." He made a pointed look at Elain. "Which would not matter since I cannot see you removing the parasite from your court."

Helion walked into your room to Lucien and Nox laying skin to skin, a blanket over them as Tamlin held you, long fingers running through your dark hair. "And?" His son said.

"Your mate hid the letters regarding her pregnancy." Lucien whistled. "She's a snake hiding behind beautiful scales."

Azriel had tracked down your room with his shadows easily. The inner circle had been excused for the negotiations and allowed to explore the city. Cassian had flown Elain home, Mor and Amren winnowing Nesta behind them. Cassian wanted Elain out of his house, and Azriel could not have been more grateful to his brother for having his back.

He entered the room slowly and quietly. You were placing the babe in a crib on the balcony. It was shaded from the sun, shielded to remain the perfect temperature, and yet gave him access to fresh air, to the breeze.

You turned, eyes wide the second you saw Azriel. He moved to you so quickly that you could hardly process it. One second, your feet were on the ground, and the next, arms held you tight against him. Azriel was breathing deeply, memorizing your scent all over again.

He set you down, keeping you close to his chest, and sent a prayer to the Mother. "Elain hid all the letters," he began slowly. "She kept them all in her room. I didn't know. Had I known about you, about him, I would have crawled the very depths of hell to bring you back home to me."

You didn't answer. Tears fell as your body relaxed into him. It wasn't fair. The hold he had on you. The need you still felt in your bones when he touched your skin. You ached for Azriel so deeply it echoed into your bones. You longed for his smell. His voice.

Azriel took your silence as permission to continue. "I made a mistake. I will never be able to make up for it. Elain knew the second you left, I wanted to correct this. I was so blinded by her, by the feeling of being needed like that again, that I forgot how precious your independence was. How beautiful it is."

He couldn't stop himself from kissing the top of your head. "You are all I think about. Morning, noon, and night, it is always and will always be you. I am so sorry for what I have done. I am sorry for hurting you, for ruining us, for hurting the family we should be raising together. There are no words for my remorse."

"Why?" Your voice broke as you asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Azriel pulled back to look at you, hand raising to hold your chin and force eye contact. "Y/n, you are not at fault for my actions. You did nothing wrong. There is no partial blame, no what ifs. I fucked up. I made a mistake and it cost both of us everything. You are the victim of my actions, not the catalyst."

He saw you process those words and saw as they sunk in. "You were and are more than I will ever deserve. I want to spend my lifetime making up for it. Becoming a male you are proud of. I want to be the father I never got to have. I want to be the husband and mate you deserve. I know it will take time, and I do not expect your forgiveness today, but if you give me a chance, I will go to my grave worshipping the ground you two walk."

"Do you want to meet our son?" He broke at the question, feeling the bond opening back on your end. "This doesn't mean we're back together. It means we need to coparent for him while we work on things." He nodded rapidly, following you to the bassinet.

It felt like the world was coming full circle. You knew it would take time, that you two had many things to discuss first. This was a needed good start, though. Your pain eased slightly as you pulled back the curtains to the crib and whispered, "Azriel, this is Nox, your son."

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

**I have received some pretty nasty anon asks, some unconstructive comments, and a good amount of general negativity regarding this fic. If you are unhappy with the ending and want to know why I made the choices I made as the author, click #discussingherewithoutyou. Unconstructive comments will be receiving the same copy and paste answer from here forward.

My time and content are free. If you do not like them, scroll.

General Taglist:

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

[coquitokisses]

Back Together | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, (husband!Bucky Barnes x wife!reader, dad!Bucky Barnes x mom!reader)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/Tags: Bucky being dad and hubby material, fluff, angst maybe?

Summary: Bucky and reader are married and have two girls, but because of Bucky’s work, reader decides to “break up” and have been separated for a few months. (Let’s say that this “job” was when the whole thing with John Walker happened in TFATWS, idfk lol)

A/N: so I’m currently writing a fanfic (on wattpad) and I had this idea, but I’m not there on the fanfic just yet lol so I decided to just post it here (also, my first language isn’t english so if there are any errors or mistakes, I’m sorry lmao)

The girls are like 4 and 5 years old and those aren’t the names I have planned on using for the fanfic, but it’ll do for now.. and Steve is alive and well lol (he doesn’t make an appearance, but I do mention him, like I said, this idea came as I was writing a fanfic so what I did was try and edit it a little bit so yall don’t need context and shit lol just enjoy okay?)

A/N #2: this is my first time doing this so just bare with me please lmao

It’s almost 10 pm which means Bucky must be on his way to bring the girls back after having them for the weekend. You were away in Seattle the whole weekend for work, but anyways it was Bucky’s turn to stay with the kids. They were supposed to stay with Wanda tonight, but since you arrived earlier than anticipated, you told her that Bucky was gonna bring them over.

You’re not on the best terms. Actually, you’re broken up at the moment and have been like that for like three months now. It all started because of Bucky’s “job”. You always said that he wasn’t being careful with the things he did and you didn’t like the constant worrying about him every time he went out to do his things. He didn’t really see it that way which made you get into a really bad fight and you decided to break up because he wasn’t putting his safety, or his family, as a priority and you didn’t like that.

Which was kinda true. So you’re currently not living together. Bucky has been staying with Steve, or with Sam whenever he comes to New York. The girls usually stay with you and then Bucky takes them on the weekends, but whenever you can’t take them to school (or get them on time) or something on week days, then Bucky takes them without a problem.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick them up for you?” Wanda asked while on FaceTime with you

“It’s alright, red, don’t worry.” You replied “Besides, Bucky’s probably on his way anyway.”

“Still haven’t talked?”

“Well we talk, just not about us.” You said walking out of the kitchen

“And are you guys still, like, mad or..?”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“Steve told you he got out.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I just.. I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him about it.”

“Well I think you need to.” She said “Just have a little chat and see where things are at.. you guys still love each other.”

And you did. Of course you did. And the girls want you to get back together too. But you just haven’t talked about it again.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You replied and just as you said that, you saw the car lights through the window “He’s here, I gotta go.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, love you.”

“Love you more.”

You hung up the call and left the phone on the couch before heading to the door. You opened it and saw Bucky walking over to the house holding Olivia, your youngest, in his arms and Eloise was walking right next to him. And the three of them just looked tired as hell.

“Hi mommy.” Eloise ran over to you

“Hi, pretty girl.” You immediately hugged her

“Say hi to mama, Liv.” Bucky said as he got closer

“Hi mama.” Olivia opened her arms wanting you to pick her up so you did

“Hi, my angel.” You kissed her cheek

“Sorry to bring them so late, we just got out of the cinema.” Bucky said

“Buck, it’s fine, they don’t even go to school yet.” You told him “Did you guys have fun?” You asked the girls

“So much fun!” Eloise replied excitedly “We also went to the trampoline park earlier.”

“Oh well that explains why someone’s a little more tired than others.” You looked at Olivia and she rested her head on your shoulder

“Mommy, can daddy tuck us in tonight, please?” Eloise asked

“Baby, I’m sure mommy had a really long and tired flight and she just wants to sleep.” Bucky told her

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You said “Daddy will tuck you in, sweetheart.” You tucked a few strands of Eloise’s hair behind her ear

“Daddy, come on.” She grabbed Bucky’s hand

You all went inside and you gave the girls a quick shower before Bucky helped them get in their pjs.

“Mommy, are we staying with auntie Wanda tomorrow?” Eloise asked as she got on her bed

“Yes, baby, I need to go to work.” You replied

“Can’t we stay with daddy?”

“Daddy works too, honey.” You moved her hair out of her face “I thought you liked staying with auntie Wanda.”

“We do, but we wanted to stay with daddy again.” Olivia spoke

“Well I can pick you up at auntie Wanda’s house when I get out of work, how does that sound?” Bucky told them

“And we can get dippin dots too?” Olivia looked at him with puppy eyes

“We can get whatever you girls want.” He said squishing her cheeks making her giggle

You couldn’t help but smile a little. You loved watching Bucky with the girls, he really is an amazing father and they love him like crazy.

“Alright it’s getting super late, time to sleep.” You said to them

“But mom!” Eloise pouted

“No buts, listen to your mom.” Bucky said “Come on, get in bed both of you.”

Each of the girls got in their beds and Bucky went and tucked them both. They have their own separate rooms, but they’re pretty close and they’ve always wanted to sleep in the same room so when the time came and you bought Olivia her big girl bed, Bucky just placed it in Eloise’s room. Anyways, when the time comes when they get to the point where they don’t even want to look at each other, you’ll probably make Bucky move Olivia’s bed back to her room and problem solved. But for now, they absolutely love being in the same room.

“I love you.” Bucky kissed Olivia’s forehead “And I love you.” He then kissed Eloise’s “So so much.”

“We love you too, daddy.” They said

“Now get some sleep because auntie Wanda is coming early tomorrow to pick you up before I leave.” You leaned down to kiss each of them on their heads “I love you both so insanely much.”

“Love you too, mommy.”

“Now go to sleep or I’ll call the slender man.” Bucky said as he turned off the light

He quickly closed the door once you got out of the room and the girls let out a scream that made you both laugh.

“You’re evil.” You chuckled “Creating them traumas so young.”

“It gives them strength.”

You rolled your eyes laughing. “Of course.”

You both went downstairs and then Bucky went back to the car to bring back Olivia’s shoes and a few toys that the girls left in the car. While you put them on the dining table, Bucky was just telling you what they did and how the girls were on the weekend.

“Liv didn’t even asked for my help to wipe her after using the bathroom.”

“No?!” You looked at him kinda shocked

Potty training Eloise was way easier than training Olivia. First she was afraid of the toilet being flushed, then she was afraid that something would come out and bite her, then she didn’t want to stay alone while using the toilet. It’s been a rollercoaster for all of you.

“No, she did it all by herself.”

“Oh my god, really? I’m gonna cry.” You said with a hand on your chest

“She said she’s a big girl and big girls don’t need any help to go potty.”

“She is a big girl.” You said “Fuck, they’re both getting so big.”

“They are.” He nodded “How was Seattle?”

“Fucking amazing.” You said excited “It’s so pretty.”

“And how did it went? Are they planning on transferring you?”

“Hell no, I told Nick I’m not leaving New York.” You replied “If we were still living in the compound, then this would’ve been a whole different conversation, but we’re not and we have kids now so no, I’m not leaving even if they pay me more.”

“Well if they are paying you more then..” he raised his eyebrows

You laughed. “You know what I mean, idiot.” You rolled your eyes “But no, I’m not being transferred.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Nick said that they needed someone like me for some training.” You answered “It was great, I got to teach a few people about self defense, how exciting.”

“I’m glad.” He said with a small smile

He was genuinely happy for you. He knew how much you’ve missed working like that. Being an agent, a spy, you missed it. But at the same time, it wasn’t really in your plans anymore ever since you got pregnant with Eloise. It happened during the blip as well so you weren’t exactly working as an agent or spy anymore so you just decided to leave it behind for good. Until recently.

“You know, if it’s really what you want, then go for it.” He told you “The girls aren’t stopping you and neither am I.”

“I know, but it’s just that I feel like I’m on a different stage in life now.” You said “It felt fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong.”

“Then do it, talk with Nick and tell him to put you out there, that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“We’re not going anywhere, you know that, right?” He said and you looked at him “And how cool would it be for the girls to say that their mommy is a spy?”

You laughed. “They will brag about it for sure.”

“And the best part is that you’re great at it and always have been.”

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You shrugged looking at the time on the stove “It’s getting very late.” You looked at him

“Ouch okay, I’m leaving.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes

“Are we gonna keep this up?” He looked at you

“What?”

“This nonsense.” He motioned his hand between the two of you

“This nonsense?” You arched an eyebrow “Do I need to remind you whose fault is it that we’re on this position right now?”

“It could’ve gone so much better, but little miss I’m extremely petty over here, doesn’t like to listen to people and doesn’t care about anything other than her opinion.” He said

“Oh don’t make me mad, James.” You crossed your arms

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

“I think you can go now.” You said turning around and starting to walk away

“See what I mean?” You heard him say from behind “Can’t we just talk about it like normal people?” He asked following you

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” You said turning around to look at him

“Well I think it is.”

“Bucky..”

“Y/N, come on.” He sighed “It’s been three months, are you gonna keep pushing me away?”

And he’s right, you’ve been kinda pushing him away. To be honest, the whole thing could’ve been avoided if Bucky and you came to an agreement, but you never did. You were upset that he was going away with Sam to do all these things that you weren’t okay with and you were thinking about the kids, which, at the moment, he wasn’t doing and that pissed you off. That was the whole thing. He didn’t want to empathize with the way you were viewing the whole situation and he was kinda making you look crazy. Saying things like “it’s not a big deal” or “everything will be alright, you don’t need to freak out”.

How does he expect you to not freak out when he doesn’t care about doing all this dangerous things? Was he insane?

In other circumstances, if you didn’t have kids for example, maybe you would’ve been a little bit more okay with it, maybe. But it’s a whole different scenario now.

And you were kinda pushing him away, sort of. But it wasn’t intentional, it’s just that you were kinda petty and there were times where he wanted to kinda fix things, but you wouldn’t let him because you would find a way to push him away unconsciously.

“You made me feel like I was exaggerating when I clearly wasn’t.” You said

“Because at the moment I did feel that way and I didn’t want to view the situation the way you were.” He explained “And I know I was wrong for that and I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh. “You still went.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed here with you, I regretted it the moment I left with Sam.” He said “And I came back as soon as I could.”

“And you stayed with Steve.” You rolled your eyes

“Baby, you wanted to kill me, do you really think I was just gonna come and ask you to take me back after that shit? Like you were just gonna accept me.”

“… Well, you’re kinda right.”

“I know, Steve told me you were pissed and that you wanted to punch me.”

“I did tell him that.” You nodded

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s fine, just forget it, I’m sick of the topic anyway.” You replied leaning on the back of the couch

“But are we fine?” He asked

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Well I’d say we are, kinda.” He got closer to you “You want me to do anything?”

“You could start by fixing the damn back door.”

“Again? But I just fixed it a few months ago.”

“Well I think you did it wrong because the doorknob is broken again.”

“I need to change that fucking door already.” He rolled his eyes “Anything else? Are you still mad at me?”

“A little.” You replied

“Just a little?” He moved his hands to your hips “I can help you change your mind.”

“Easy there, soldier.”

“Easy my ass, come here.”

Before you could even protest, his real hand grabbed your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss that screamed need. You really missed his kisses and just the way he would always give you a peck, whenever and wherever, whatever you were doing, he didn’t give a single care in the world. This man could see you sitting on the toilet and he still would go and give you a quick kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered on your lips “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“I did too.”

“Can we please never fight again?” He gently put his forehead against yours

“As long as you don’t piss me the fuck off doing some stupid shit like that again, we’re good.”

“Good.” He nodded before kissing you again

“And I swear to god..” you started saying between kisses “If I see you again that close to John Walker, I’m gonna kill you.”

“I know.” He said lowering his hands to the back of your thighs and picking you up

masterlist

a/n: should I post the fanfic here? What do we think? Lol (I’ve been thinking about it A LOT lately)

**UPDATE! I ended up uploading the fanfic and here is the masterlist for it lol

Anywaysss, hope you liked this! <3

(Likes and reblogs will be appreciated)

[soggyriceee]

strawberry | Konig nsfw

| this one is a smut, but also angst. basically, Konig gets you to use your safe word for the very first time after being gone for a year in the German base. so, I hope you all enjoy :) |

warnings: rough sex, crying (not good kind) angst, aggressive konig, not edited, will be edited in the morning

╰┈➤

Konig was always gentle during sex. and it a hundred percent had to do with the fact he was literally twice your height and then some. yes he left hickeys, small small bruises on your hips from his grasp, left your legs a bit wobbly. but those were normal considering his size. and even when you reassured him you liked that, he would always apologize profusely, getting you anything you need for hours and hours after.

but tonight, he was a whole other man. he wasn't the same kind and giving Konig. and to an extent you liked the new dominance, the new aggression. it was hot.

until it wasn't.

Konig had been between your legs, fingering and eating you out for about an hour. he was hungry, and not for edible food. he was hungry for you. that sweet pussy of yours, your tight cunt gripping his fingers or dick. he missed it while he was back in Germany for some mission he had given you little information about. all you knew was he was in the middle of Germany, killing potential threats.

already you had came 4 times (that he allowed). he was so pussy drunk, he hadn't realized the tears that brimmed those pretty eyes. in fact, his eyes were closed, his lower half grinding into the bed. you were sure he had already came in his pants at least twice at this point. he would occasionally whimper into you pussy, his hips moving faster against the bed. " fuck ive missed this pussy maus.. you dont even understand." he said into your drenched cunt. a mix of saliva and cum ran down your legs, a big puddle underneath the both of you.

"k-konig can we.. take a break please." you cried from above, your legs shaking despite his mouth simply on your thighs, leaving more and more marks. he nipped at the soft flesh of yours after those words came out, a low growl leaving his lips. " how dare you ask such a question?" he rose, pulling his pants down. and you were right.

his dick was layered in his cum, more of it dripping out from the tip. he was so agonizingly hard, he couldnt bare to fuck into the bed anymore. he needed what he dreamt of every night since leaving. and he needed it now. "imma fuck my babies into you liebling.. make you swollen with them." he said, almost to himself, as he grabbed the base of him, looking down at your pussy.

as much as you wanted him to rearrange your guts, you were drained. he had made you so overstimulated, you could barely form thoughts. it was hard trying to even raise your head from the pillow. but he didnt care. he hadn't realized it before, but as much as he does want to cherish your body like its a rare piece of art from olden times, worth millions of dollars, he loved seeing you fucked out just as much. he loved seeing how he had complete control over your body and there was nothing you could do. it sparked a whole new person in him, one that you were quickly growing scared of.

before you could process his tip sliding slowly into you with ease, his hips were already slamming into yours, his balls hitting your cum soaked ass with so much force, the sound filled the room. your hands clutched onto his shoulders for dear life, your eyes squeezing shut. " you look so fucking pretty maus.. so fucking pretty. all fucked out like this.. shit~" he groaned, his eyes watching your face twist in what he believed was pleasure.

and for a bit it was. until he raised your leg all the way up, leaving the other down. your leg fell over his shoulder and your arms flopped to your side. he was hitting directly at your cervix and it hurt. but he was in so much pleasure. his head fell back as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his lips spitting out dirty phrases in both English and German.

and of course, being away from sex for a year, Konig was beyond sensitive. he came for the first time within the first few thrusts, his head falling into your bruised breasts, whimpering out how good it feels. but that didnt stop him. he kept going.

his hand found its way to your throat, gripping it unintentionally hard. with the mix of tears and now the shortness of breath, it was all a lot on your body physically. Konig had gotten to carried away inside your pussy, the way it sucked him back in. "fuck maus.. your s-so wet.. im close again~" he whimpered, his lips latching to your breasts to find space to mark it yet again.

at this point you were literally going in and out of vision. his grip on you grew tighter as he released yet another load into you. you too felt your pussy leaking, unaware of the knot that was in your stomach. you were feeling too many things at once that you ended up going completely numb. you whimpered below him, trying to find anything to get him to realize that you needed a break. but the tears that fell from your eyes only made him wanna fuck you more.

he slid out, watching the mixture of cum literally pour out of you. your thighs were soaked and red from the constant biting and nibbling a few moments ago. your face was red as well from the lack of oxygen. he let go of your neck, licking his lips as if he was deciding what to do with you next. all he knew, was that he wanted to keep fucking you.

he grabbed your legs and pressed them together and into your chest. immediately you felt his dick slide right in, going at his fast pace yet again. "k-konig please- I-i cant" you managed to choke out, your head hitting the bed frame with each thrust he gave you. this was when the fun for you ended. it only made him more and more horny, seeing you tap out so soon after he began to fuck you.

the look in his eyes was not the same look when he came home, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hand as he ran up to you, lifting you off the ground and placing kisses all over your face. no. this look was dangerous. it was almost like it was the same look he had on the battle field.

his hand went back to your throat, his head tilting to the side slightly. "shut up a-and fucking.. take it. I know.. you missed this a-as much as me." he growled, moving his hips only faster and deeper. but you couldnt take it. you truly couldnt take it.

by the time you felt your 6th orgasm approaching, you began to see white light in the corners of your eyes, and you knew you were truly at your limit. "s-strawberry" you tried to say as loud as you could. but the sounds of your cunt and konigs whimpers, he couldnt hear you. his thrusts kept going until you felt him release inside you again, his grip on your throat enough to snap your throat. and at that same time, what you though was impossible happened. you had the most painful orgasm ever, your body feeling like it was going to shut down entirely. it was like you had nothing else to give.

""fuck libeling.. gimme one more.. be a good girl." he whispered breathlessly, his hips beginning to once again, move. this time slower but still deep. but you physically couldn't take it.

once you felt yourself begin to doze off from the lack of oxygen and overstimulation, you were finally able to coherently and loudly say, 'strawberry'.

╰┈➤

you woke up about a half hour later, your throat sore and body just as sore. you tried to turn but your legs gave you a painful sign to stay put. thats when it all came back what had happened. of course, it made tears well up in your eyes. you'd just seen a side of Konig you never thought you'd see. a side of him he kept hidden from you.

you stayed completely still, looking into nothing until you heard sniffles coming from the floor behind you. of course, you tried to move but it hurt. but eventually you were able to turn to your side, a few pained moans leaving you every now and then. thats when your eyes landed on Konig sitting on the floor, head in his hands as tears seeped through his fingers.

"Konig?" you said, wincing right after. but he didnt look up. he kept his head in his hands, his chest rising and falling quick. and you knew what this was. you'd been with him for so long, you knew exactly what he was going through based off his body. but as much as you wanted to help him, you genuinely couldnt feel your legs. "please come here.. I cant get up. let me hold you." you said, reaching your hand out. but still, nothing.

you felt a pain in your chest watching him like this, unable to do anything. you wanted to help him, reassure him that everything is okay. but words only do so much for him, he needed you to physically show him everything was okay. "Konig please I-" "I h-hurt you. im s-so s-sorry." he spoke out, hyperventilating throughout all. he began to rock on the floor, crying harder into his hands.

hearing him cry, it made you want to cry with him. especially since, you couldnt do anything but try and talk to him. "Konig please." you tried reasoning with him. but he couldnt get himself off the floor. thats when you decided to drag yourself off the bed, no matter how much pain you felt. you knew that yes you needed help too, but you weren't gonna get any if your help was having a panic attack.

once you got to the end of the bed, you crawled off of it slowly, your hands hitting the ground first, legs second. you groaned at the light impact, but still dragged yourself over to Konig. he was shaking when you got to him, his cries not stopping, even when you rested your hand on his foot. "Konig please stop crying.. look im okay. im alive." "but you almost weren't." he was looking up now. seeing his red puffy eyes broke your heart. and seeing you, looking lifeless and not responding to him made him even more worried for you than you were for him. the only thing that kept him going was your pulse, and barely that.

"I-i almost k..killed-" he couldnt finish his sentence before sobbing into his hands again, shaking his head. your head dropped, you didnt know what to say. you'd never experienced this issue with Konig, with anyone before. you'd never had to use your safe word and you never expected to. "Konig.. can you look at me?" you finally spoke, your voice stern.

he looked up at you, wiping his eyes. " it was an experience, okay? yes it was scary and yes it could've gone wrong. but it was a could've situation, not a did happen situation. as much as I want to help you feel better, I cant do that if I cant see you, and talk to you like I am now." your hand took his, squeezing gently. he sniffled and nodded, looking straight into you. " right now, I need help too. so lets help each other feel better." you said, smiling softly at him.

he looked down at your neck, some of the hickies leaving behind dried blood or bite marks. some even both. his heart dropped as he ran his eyes down your body again, the thsirt he put on you the second he realized you had passed out, barely covering the similar marks on your thighs. "im.. im so sorry maus.." he whispered, shaking his head.

you smiled and grabbed his face, leaning in as slow as you could as to not hurt yourself, leaving small kisses on his cheek. " I love you Konig, okay? you got a bit carried away. you've been gone a year. its normal. unexpected, but I understand. just please, next time-" "ill treat you like your made of glass libeling." he finished, grabbing your face.

Konig knew deep down, he'd never forgive himself for this. for putting you in danger like that, for turning into the man he was on the battlefield. he'd never forgive himself, no matter how many times you told him it was okay. it wasn't. and he felt worse about being the one on the floor crying instead of showering you in love.

he stood, grabbing you with such ease into his arms, flipping you bridal style. you clung to his neck, smiling at him. "lets go give you a bath, ill order your favorite food. or I can cook. then we can watch that show you've been watching. we can do anything you want maus.. I love you." he said, walking towards the connected bathroom.

and you both did just that. the rest of the night you stayed in, cuddling and watching your favorite shows. as bedtime grew closer for you both, he began to clean the marks along your body, kissing each one and apologizing after them all. he felt so bad, and he was willing to go above and beyond, and even then some, to make you feel like the beautiful princess you were.

[kroosluvr]

present day

if every day will be like this from now on, i'll look forward to every single one.

ok. Sits down. help meeee i tried using csp's comic tools for once (and also gradient maps + coloring w monochrome) to save time bUT I ENDED UP SPENDING THE USUAL AMT ANYWAY SO. . erm. WELL IT WAS FUN ANYWAYS

hiiiiiiiii i wrote this script 4 months ago nd finally did it (had this on the backburner for 20 million yrs bc i wanted to get out other angst bullshit first)

the parallels of goro's back (x3) on the first 2 pgs are kinda not 1:1 as i'd like but REGARDLESS i still like them. goro, who had utmost control over his life, running it like a machine, regardless of how he feels or if he's tired or if he wants to give up.......he was in control. knowing, of course, that his life is on the line at every waking moment, but since he was always on edge, always alert, he was still in control.

but now, surviving the long winter and coming out to the other side, he's lost that control AND that edge. now what is he left with? what is there left?

very speficially in the 2nd page.... i think its so <3 YAY <3 that goro, now, doesn't feel the need to take such spic-and-span clean-cut care of his appearance.., guy who rolls out of bed and throws on a shirt to go hangout w akira and sumire. he decides to tie up his hair and forgoes his gloves... feels more "comfortable" to change his apperance, to let down his guard a little. <- was the rough symbolism JKDSHKFS

sumire getting the choco croissant but letting goro have the first bite YEAHHHH WHATEVER

4th page symbolism is also rough i didnt think abt it too hard LMAO. 3rdsem goro watching his detective prince self leave. he knows acutely well that chapter of his life is over - whether he survives the long winter or dies in it. all that he knew - even though it was miserable and awful and frustrating and dangerous - is gone.

and now there's just this: the present day. whatever that means.

i think something important to me abt royal trio is just the idea of Learning To Just Exist: no need for a "purpose" or a "calling" or some overarching "goal". they just learn to exist.

and of course none of them really have a benchmark for "wow i like this i want to live like this" so they just roll with the punches, as they always have, but yknow. finally getting to live their honest student life as they always deserved

edit: and most importantly for goro, i think, is learning to cut himself some slack. "despite everything" he says, despite all the shit he's endured AND all the shit he's done, he feels like this is "right." whatever that means, he's ready to take it day by day to figure it out. AND THATS THE WHOLE THING Punches wall really hard

edit: I ALSO FORGOT. i think the sentiment of "being waited for" for goro means a lot. since he had to do everything by himself, fight for himself, decide everything for himself frm such a young age, the idea of akira and sumire waiting for him, inviting him out simply for him to be there -> is really meaningful to him, more than they could know.

edit AGAIN: also goro sleeping in means a lot to me. i imagine that guy has pretty terrible insomnia. ALSO HE HAS A BEDFRAME! i like the thought of his apartment being so /r/malelivingspaces throughout the game. he doesn’t deserve a bedframe. BUT HE HAS ONE NOW!

goros expressions in the last page gve me a hard time. sparkly....

also im SO freaking sorry if his voice isnt too well-written... i had a crisis over the wording while draiwng htis so much DSKHASKDASJK AND THE PANELING AND WHATEVERRR IDEK WHAT IM DOINGGG but it was fun!!!! exploratory..... regardless i will keep workign to do him and royaltrio justice. THUMBSUP EMOJI.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Simple Things

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

Cause your presence still lingers here (it won't leave me alone)

(In which a procrastinating writer starts another series to continuously procrastinate on)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 5.8K (lowkey shocked I managed that)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Look at me not being a liar! I'mma try to be good with updates but we all know me. This first chapter is mainly buildup and it's not my favorite but it's important to get the plot rolling. I know very little about California and it's going to become more and more apparent throughout this series so everyone who knows Cali, just pretend thanks! Did I edit? Yes. Are there probably still mistakes? Also yes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked, and what you wanna see next!

February 2033

“Anywhere but GSV,” Paige says adamantly, staring at the white wall in front of her, instead of her exasperated agent. 

Talia lets out a deep sigh, perfectly manicured sharp red nails tapping incessantly against her desk. For the most part, Paige is a dream client and when Talia says jump, she says how high. It’s easy to trust Talia’s vision when she hasn’t let her down once since Paige’s management company has assigned her to their basketball sensation. But most of those decisions had been about endorsement opportunities, opportunities that wouldn’t have other ramifications on the rest of Paige’s life, opportunities that didn’t come with personal consequences. 

“Paige-”

“How about the Sparks?” 

“They’re not offering nearly as much.”

“I’m okay with taking a pay-.”

“You do not pay me as much as you do for me to let you finish such a stupid sentence.”

“Fine,” Paige spins around in her swivel chair, “you’re telling me nobody else is offering me anything as big as GSV.”

“Well I mean Indiana…” Talia trails off, barely able to hide an impish grin at Paige’s pronounced eyeroll, “and of course you could always just stay in Dallas.”

Paige winces at the mention of the current team. With one championship and two MVP campaigns under her belt, it would be incorrect to say her time with the Wings hadn’t been fruitful but she’d never felt quite at home here. And that had been before the personnel changes had hit Dallas and suddenly, the team coming off a near perfect season with a trophy in their hand, was struggling to keep themselves in playoff contention. Paige had stuck it out two more seasons after, a testament to her loyal nature and desire to start and finish her career at the same place like many legends had done but ultimately enough had been enough and she’s come to terms with the fact that she’s not meant to be a part of the Wings forever. 

“Can’t you try talking to the Sparks again?” she says, hands massaging her temple as she resorts to begging, “it’s fucking L.A. they’ve got to have some money lying around somewhere.”

“Even if they did, you and I both know the Sparks aren’t a good fit basketball wise either. GSV has everything you’re looking for. They need a PG and you need a championship contender who’s offering you a deal like they are. You can’t throw all of that away just because-”, Talia bites her lip, catching herself before she can vocalise out loud the real reason they’re having such a complicated conversation about what should be a simple decision. 

Paige swallows uncomfortably, skin prickling with that all too familiar fire that spreads through her veins every time her past brushes a little too close to her present. It would be impossible to keep them from ever colliding, but for almost a decade now, Paige has managed to keep them separate beyond absolute necessity. She’s done the cordial handshakes when the Wings played the Valkyries and given due diligent praise when the media had asked about the competition, but that was it. More than that would have been like willingly walking into a fire with kerosene all over her body. And Paige can’t do that, not when the burn marks from years and years ago, still haven’t healed. 

“Team chemistry is important,” Paige says finally, “I might be an on-court fit at GSV but that won’t matter if it’s a disaster off the court.”

Talia sighs and Paige can tell she’s fighting the urge to whack her head against her desk, “it’s been years Paige. You've lived a whole life without each other. The two of you are adults. You’re professionals and you’re two of the best goddamn players in the league. You have the same goal; you want to win. You don’t think you can put that behind you to get you both what you want?”

You've lived a whole life without each other

It’s like a well-aimed arrow that barely breaks skin but shatters something underneath, something buried deep within, something she should have gotten rid of years ago but hasn’t been able to let go of yet. Something that feels a lot like a forever she’d never gotten to live out and an always that had flown out of her reach. And Paige knows nobody lives the life they’d expected to live at fifteen or even eighteen but the truth is that most of her dreams had come true. The only thing missing was the person she’d expected to be there by her side when they did. 

“Okay listen,” Talia begins again, “here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Bossy,” Paige smirks, bracing herself, knowing she’s not about to like the next words out of Talia’s mouth. 

“You’re going to go to San Francisco,” the older woman raises a silencing hand the minute Paige tries to protest, “you’re going to meet the front office, you’re going to meet the GM and you’re going to tour their facilities. And if after talking with them and seeing all they have to offer, if it’s still not enough to counter having to play with her, then we can revisit this conversation.”

“Can I say no?” Paige tilts her head with a sigh. 

Talia smirks and it’s enough for Paige to let her head finally hit the table, “your flight leaves in two days.”

***

Azzi wakes up to a light weight sprawled over her back and tiny fingers rubbing circles against her temple. She can’t help but smile, keeping her eyes closed and listening to the sound of her daughter’s quiet breathing as the little girl continues her ministrations. It’s a new skill she’s been taught, to wake her mom up like this instead of screaming. So far, Azzi think’s it’s been a successful transition. 

“Mama,” Stephie whispers in Azzi’s ear, “are you awake yet cause I really really want waffles.”

Azzi laughs, finally flipping herself over and Stephie squeals as she goes from on top of her mother, to landing on the bed, “I thought you said you wanted pancakes last night?”

“I did,” a thoughtful look crosses the five-year-old's eyes, “I think I changed my mind.”

“You think?” Azzi suppresses a smile. It’s uncanny really how she’d given birth to her perfect mini-me. The moment the nurses had placed the tiny little creature into her waiting hands, she’d noticed immediately how much it felt like looking through a door into her childhood. And with every passing day, it seems Stephie morphs more and more into Azzi. From the way her face betrays her every emotion to the way she can’t make a decision to save her life, it’s all Azzi and really it makes sense, because Stephie is all Azzi’s. 

“Yes,” Stephie nods matter-of-factly as she sits up onto her knee and pulls at Azzi’s blanket, “so can you get up and make me waffles now?”

“Oh of course I can, your highness,” Azzi says dramatically, rising off the bed and letting Stephie climb onto her back, “would you like chocolate sauce or maple syrup with that your majesty?”

Stephie groans, burying her face in Azzi’s neck as if her mother has asked her to make the most difficult decision in the world. They settle into their morning routine, Stephie brushing her teeth as Azzi goes through her meticulous skin care regiment, occasionally dabbing little bits of this and that on her daughter’s skin, eliciting soft giggles from the little girl. It’s her favourite sound in the entire world. Azzi’s life isn’t perfect and there’s a million what if’s, one bigger than all of the others, that plague her mind sometimes but then she looks at Stephie, and she knows she wouldn’t change a single decision she’d made. Because they’ve all led to this moment, 9 am on a Friday, making waffle batter as her five-year old sits on the counter-top. It’s not everything but it’s enough. 

The frantic sound of a door being haphazardly slammed open has both Stephie and Azzi startled, until Colleen comes bursting through it like a tornado. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Azzi’s best friend and manager says, out of breath, as she throws her car keys on the kitchen table.

“Hi Aunty Leen,” Stephie grins, waffle batter all over her mouth as she continues to dip and lick. 

“Hey kiddo,” Colleen ruffles Stephie’s hair before sitting down and staring pointedly up at Azzi, “you might wanna sit down for this. I have news.”

“Sorry to break it to you Collen but your new h-o-o-k-u-p-s are not sit-down-newsworthy,” Azzi smirks as Colleen scrunches up her nose trying to keep up with the spelling. 

“Oh trust me Az, I wish this was about my h-o-o- whatever,” Colleen takes a deep breath, “GSV is meeting with a potential point guard this week.”

“I would hope so. We really need a PG if we’re gonna redeem ourselves next season.”

“Right, well- you see- the thing is-”

“Today if you can please Colleen,” but there’s this knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Her sixth sense that’s been dormant for years is prickling and if she’s honest with herself, Azzi knows the next words that are about to come out of Colleen’s mouth before her best friend has even said them. 

“GSV wants to sign Paige,” Colleen says slowly. 

For a moment there’s silence and it’s ridiculous how all it takes is her name for Azzi’s mind to start flipping through pages and pages of a photo album she’s buried deep in the treasure chest of her mind. And for a second, she allows herself to get lost in a flood of everything we could have been until the sting of her hand slipping against the waffle iron jolts her back to reality. 

“Fuck,” she curses, immedaitely blowing at her fingers. It does nothing. She should know by now that when things burn, the flames might die out, but even the ashes remain on fire. 

“Bad word Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, unaware that her mother’s world has just been thrown off balance, “you owe me a kiss.”

She juts her cheek out and Azzi complies, trying to ignore the way her heart is desperately trying to beat out of her chest. It only calms down a little when Stephie presses a kiss of her own against Azzi’s cheek. 

“Sorry sweetheart, mama’s bad, Here can you mix this batter for me,” Azzi whispers to the younger girl, distracting her child with something to do, before rounding on her best friend, “she can’t come here.”

Colleen sighs, getting comfortable in her chair, “unfortunately I don’t think you have much choice.”

“The h-” Azzi cuts herself off, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, “the haystack I don’t. This is my team and I don’t want her on it and I’m gonna walk into Ohemaa’s office and tell her exactly that.”

“Right and what exactly are you going to tell her when she asks you why you don’t want the best point guard in the league on your team Azzi? Your team, who mind you, lost in the finals last year because you didn’t have a point guard.”

Azzi flinches, gritting her teeth, both at the reminder of the loss that had happened not long enough ago and the fact that she couldn’t very well go into her boss’s office and blurt out the truth about a tragic relationship that had lived and died in secret. 

“It's a bad idea, the two of us- we’ll kill each other Colleen,” she struggles to string the words together, swallowing away the we already have that tastes like bile on the tip of her tongue. 

“Well you’re gonna have to learn not to,” Colleen says decisively, slipping from being Azzi’s best friend to her manager, “because you and I both know that if you want GSV to win another championship, you’re going to need her.”

“Are you my manager or GSV’s,” Azzi grunts, rubbing a tired hand against her forehead. 

Colleen smiles, “it’s the same thing isn’t it? What’s good for GSV is good for you. And we all know the two of you thrive on the court together.”

“We did. Past tense,” the admission falls like lava from Azzi’s lips, singeing the edges of her mouth as everything that she’d let simmer underneath threatens to bubble over, “there’s no guarantee we still will. Besides, it's all a moot point anyways because she would never agree.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Colleen cocks an eyebrow and Azzi groans at the rhetorical question, waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop, “because last I checked, she’s flying into San Francisco tomorrow.”

***

Paige has a problem. A really big fuck i really want to be a golden state valkyrie type of problem. She’d fought it every step of the way since she’d landed in San Francisco. Something about the city felt like it was bursting with basketball. The drive from the airport into Oakland had been bursting with murals of the Warriors and the Valkyries and for a split second, Paige can see her own face up on the billboards in a #5 Valkyries jersey. She just doesn’t know if it she can imagine herself next to the woman in #35 again, the woman whose smile in the posters is exactly as she remembers it to have been like when it was pressed into Paige’s skin every night almost a decade ago. 

On top of that, Omehaa Nyanin had seemed to know exactly what made Paige Bueckers, the basketball player, tick. Every argument Paige had about why she shouldn’t be Valkyrie, the woman had a counter ready, as if she’d already anticipated exactly what the blonde would say. The Valkyrie coach had been even more prepared with videos of their offensive and defensive sets and how they fit in tandem with Paige’s own skill set, all ready to show off the minute she had walked through the door. It should be the easiest decision in the world to let herself just belong to this world that is screaming her name but there’s a rope around her waist trying to tug her back to safety, trying to tug her away from dousing her still-open wounds in salt. 

Sighing, Paige lets herself into what she’s been told is called the “chill area”. Coach had offered to give her a tour of the facilities herself but Paige had declined, asking instead for her former UConn teammate and currently Valkyrie centre Jana El Alfy to do the honours, desperate for a familiar face who knew her history to bounce her thoughts off. It clearly wasn’t what the woman had wanted, but considering she was trying to convince Paige to choose them, whatever the blonde wanted, she was going to get. Massaging her temples at this irritating predicament she’s unwillingly found herself in, Paige’s head rolls back against the back of the chair, eyes closing involuntarily. 

“You’re not supposed to sleep in here,” a tiny voice echoes and Paige almost jumps out her skin in shock. 

“Fucking hell,” she curses as her eyes fall upon a little girl who seems to have materialized out of nowhere, “shit kid, you scared me.”

The child scrunches her nose and Paige feels her heart beat start to quicken as recognition settles in. She knows this little girl, has seen her on the sidelines at countless games and just like every other time, all she can think of is just how much this child resembles the future Paige had once believed would be hers. 

“You owe me three kisses,” the girl says matter-of-factly, her tone so similar to her mothers. It shouldn’t surprise Paige, not when the kid has those same dark curls, those same doey brown eyes, that same nose scrunch.

“I owe you three kisses?” Paige repeats. 

The girl rolls her eyes letting out a sigh far too grave for someone of her age, “yes. Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. You said three bad words, so you owe me three kisses.”

“And what does Mama say about asking strangers for kisses?”

“Stranger danger duh silly,” the child puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she looks at Paige with a far too familiar expression, “but you’re not a stranger.”

Paige purses her lips, “I’m not?”

“You’re Paige Bueckers. I’ve seen you at Mama’s games and Nanna and Pops have pictures of you in their house,” she stops, staring accusingly, “you don’t know who I am? Did you forget me?” 

And Paige doesn’t know what catches her off guard more. The casual mention of a house that used to feel like a home, of people that used to feel like family or the fact that, that puppy dog stare still has the exact same effect on her that it did years ago, even if the owner of said eyes is different.

“Of course I didn’t forget you. You’re Stephanie,” Paige says softly, trying to muster a smile as she adds the last name, “Stephanie Fudd.”

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” comes the immediate correction, “but everybody calls me Stephie,” tiny hands wrap around Paige’s neck as Stephie climbs on to her lap, tapping a finger on her left cheek as she smiles up at Paige, “so now can I have my kisses?”

Slowly, Paige presses three featherlight kisses against the little girl’s cheek and when Stephie squeals in delight, she wishes she could record it. Someone somewhere is playing a practical joke on her, Paige is sure of it. Because all of a sudden, all the little things she’s been collecting as to reasons why she might just like the Bay Area are starting to feel insignificant in front of this one, in front of Stephie and her innocent smile and the way her free hand is curled around Paige’s neck as if she’ll hold on forever. And the world is definitely playing a cruel prank on her because Stephie can’t be the reason Paige wants to stay, not when her mother’s the reason Paige needs to go.

“Your Mama just lets you run around the building like this?” Paige asks, trying to focus on Stephie instead of the turmoil in her brain. 

Stephie smiles sheepishly, “well I was ‘posed to stay with Aunty Leen while Mama talks to Miss O but then Aunty Leen got a call and I was bored so I came here.”

It doesn’t take Paige too long to decipher that Miss O must be Omehaa, but she’s stuck on who the hell Aunty Leen could be. She’s distinctly aware that her skin has no right to prickle, her hands have no right to sweat, her stomach has no right to knot, she has no right to feel anything when it comes to Stephie’s mother. But jealousy floods through her anyways. 

“Who is Aunty Leen?” Paige asks and then mentally slaps herself for it. 

“Aunty Leen is Aunty Leen,” Stephie explains unhelpfully, “so Miss Buecks-”

“Bueckers.”

Stephie shoots her an unimpressed look, “same things Miss Buecks. Are you here to join Mama’s team?”

“I-” Paige scratches her neck, only slightly taken aback by the direct question, “I don’t know.”

“You should,” Stephies says decisively, “Mama’s team is the best team in the world and Mama’s the best player in the whole wide world.”

Paige can’t help but smile at Stephie’s loyalty, “so why does her team need me then?”

Stephie looks contemplative for a moment before she uses her index finger to beckon Paige towards her, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course you can,” Paige says, leaning her ear down so Stephie can whisper into it.

“Don’t tell anyone but you’re my second favourite player.”

Paige swears her heart feels like it might burst. She’s been plenty of people’s favourite player and it’s always been nice to hear. But somehow, all of that seems to pale in comparison to being Stephie’s second favourite player. 

“Why’s that a secret?” she asks softly. 

“Cause you play for the wrong team silly. I can’t cheer for not Mama’s team,” Stephie huffs and then her eyes twinkle, “that’s why you should play for Mama’s team and then I can support you!”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Paige concedes, battling against the part of her brain that’s conjuring up an image of Stephie on the sidelines, cheering for Paige. 

“What’s log-ic?” Stephie asks. 

“Just means you’re a really smart kid,” Paige says, tapping the little girl’s nose. Her head is ringing with warning bells because this floaty feeling of belonging that’s encompassed in this little bubble she’s found herself in with Stephie is not one she’s allowed to feel, not now, not ever. 

“STEPHIE,” a shrill voice echoes outside and Stephie immediately dives into Paige’s neck, hiding herself in the crook of it as a frazzled woman bursts through the door. Her eyes soften when they fall on Paige and the blonde can’t help the caught expression that filters on her face. She knows she’s done nothing wrong; Stephie had been the one to find her after all. But perhaps it’s because she’s scared Colleen will take one look at her and see that tiny rebellious part of her that wants to fight what’s coming next, wants to fight the woman who’s going to take Stephie away from her. Paige isn’t one to get attached easily. It had only ever happened once before when she was fifteen and she’d just known that the girl shooting three’s next to her on the court was meant to be in her life in one way or another. But things had been simple then. Nothing was simple now. 

“Stephie,” Colleen says slowly, “what have I told you about running away from me?”

Stephie peeks her head out from Paige’s chest, a coy smirk playing on her lips, “not to do it? But you were boring me Aunty Leen.”

Oh that’s Aunty Leen, Paige thinks and she absolutely should not let out a sigh of relief at that but she does anyway. 

“I was on the phone for two minutes, Steph.”

“Two minutes too long,” Stephie counters and Paige has to stifle a laugh. 

Colleen rolls her eyes before holding out a hand, “well your Mama’s nearly done so we have to get going kiddo.”

“Can Miss Buecks come with us?” Stephie asks innocently and both Colleen and Paige freeze. 

“I don’t think-”

“I’m not sure-”

They both begin before their eyes flicker to each other and they can’t help but smile. It’s funny how relationships work, how one snapped string can cause a whole web to dissolve, no matter how hard everyone involved had tried to make it work. 

“I’m waiting to meet someone sweetheart so I can’t come right now,” Paige explains, “but maybe next time?”

And she shouldn’t add that last part, not when Paige should be devising an escape plan to never be in Oakland again instead of giving Stephie false hope about a next time that’s far from guaranteed. But it’s worth it for the way Stephie grins, staring at Paige like she’s given her the world’s greatest gift. 

Before Paige can say anything, the little girl presses her lips against Paige’s cheek and she swears she stops breathing for a moment, “I hope you choose to play for Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I think you’d look pretty in purple.”

***

May 2024

“I’ve figured it out,” Paige says triumphantly as she unceremoniously flops onto Azzi’s bed.

“Well hi to you too babe,” Azzi grumbles as she scoots over to give the other girl space. It’s unnecessary because the minute she does, Paige only moves closer, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s torso. 

“Hi baby,” she whispers before pressing a kiss against her girlfriend’s lips and pulling away so quickly that it leaves Azzi chasing after her. 

Azzi huffs and Paige laughs as she gets herself comfortable, resting her chest on the darker skinned girl's stomach, “I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Our future,” Paige says triumphantly and Azzi can’t help but smile at the our as she intertwines their fingers together. It’s been years in the making and there’s nothing Azzi’s more confident in than those two words. Not everyone finds forever this young, but she’s certain they have because really she can’t imagine a life where they don’t belong to each other, a life where every night isn’t spent exactly like this. 

“And what do you see for our future,” Azzi asks softly. 

“Well it’s simple really,” Paige hums, “I’m going to get drafted wherever next year but the year after,  you’re definitely getting drafted to Valkyries-”

“I don’t know about definitely-”

“Azzi it’s rude to interrupt,” Paige sends her a chastising look. 

“Right of course,” Azzi nods solemnly, “continue.”

“As I was saying. You’re definitely getting drafted to the Valks and then we just have to wait for my rookie contract to be up and boom! I’ll join you in the Bay Area and we’ll be together forever and ever and ever.”

Azzi giggles, brushing her hands through Paige’s hair, “that simple huh?”

“That simple,” Paige promises, catching hold of one of Azzi’s hands to press a kiss to her palm, “it’s us Az, we’ll always be simple. Besides, I think we’d both look pretty good in purple.”

***

May 2033

The Valkyrie facilities are state of the art as expected. Jana is the perfect tour guide, pointing out everything she knows will garner Paige’s attention. As they step foot onto the practice court, Paige feels the overwhelming sense of this could be home that’s been dancing along with her every step of the way today. All the resolve she’d carried with her from Dallas is slowly crashing down and she can practically hear Talia’s sing-song i told you so voice echoing in her head. 

“You’d be really good here P,” Jana says excitedly, doing a little spin.

“You’d be lucky to have me,” Paige teases, as she picks up a basketball and subconsciously starts dribbling. 

Jana laughs, before a serious expression takes over, “we would. We got really close to winning it all last year and I think you might be our missing piece.”

“I want to,” Paige confesses, “I just-” her eyes flicker to the most recent MVP poster hanging on the walls, Jana’s gaze following hers, “I don’t know if I should. It’s so complicated.”

“Only if you let it be,” Jana says as she swipes the ball out Paige’s hands, “don’t think of everything else P, just- just think of the basketball. Because you know basketball-wise, this is the right move,” she passes the ball to Paige with a smirk, tilting her head towards the basket, “why not take a shot at it P?”

Paige shakes her head, palming the ball in her hands, “can’t believe my son’s all grown up.”

“Children of divorce have no choice but to grow up,” Jana says gravely and Paige laughs despite herself. 

Taking a deep breath, Paige raises the ball, arching her arms perfect as she shoots it. It barely touches the rim, before falling through the basket with swish. Hitting the floor with a quiet thud, the ball rolls until it’s stopped by someone's foot. Behind her, Paige can hear Jana cheering for the shot but she barely registers it, her entire attention on the new figure who’s just entered the court. It’s a tale as old as time. Azzi Fudd enters the room and suddenly everything else in Paige’s peripheral fades away, until it’s just her and the girl who still manages to steal her breath away. 

“Nice shot,” Azzi says, as she takes a slow step towards Paige. The air is thick with tension as if a time capsule has been opened and their past is leaking onto the pages of their present, staining it with marks of the you and me that we used to be. She should say something, even if it’s just an acknowledgement of the compliment but her tongue feels dry and she’s scared that if she opens her mouth, all the things she shouldn’t say will flood out instead. 

“Hey Az,” Jana’s eyes flicker awkwardly between her former teammates, “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Had to talk to Omehaa about a couple of things,” Azzi says airly, eyes still fixated on Paige, “Jana can we have a minute?”

“You won’t kill each other will you?” Jana asks nervously.

Azzi laughs and even Paige cracks a small smile, “no Jana, we won’t kill each other.”

“Just making sure because last time-” Jana clamps a hand to her mouth as both Paige and Azzi flinch, “because nothing- you guys- you guys talk. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

She scampers away cursing to herself about putting her foot in her mouth and it would be amusing, if not for the fact that Paige can still barely breathe. They haven’t been alone in a room since last time and the air around them hangs heavy with the casings of the grenades they’d hurled at each other. 

“I’ve never seen you with braids this early in the year. They used to be your summer braids,” Paige remarks slowly. It’s a mundane change to notice but it’s significant of the larger truth, significant of all the time that’s passed, significant of the fact they don’t know these new versions of each other. 

“Yeah um, can’t really do summer braids with the W season,” Azzi chews at her lip.

“Right yeah- yeah that makes sense,” Paige nods. The awkwardness is killing her. She’d never been a fan of the silence, always more comfortable in the chaos but it had been different with Azzi. There had been something peaceful, something calming, about the quiet, when it was just the two of them, hands intertwined, eyes closed, as they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeat. 

“Paige-”

“Are you here to tell me not to come to GSV?” Paige blurts out, “because it’s- it’s okay if you are like I get it. I mean- the two of us- it’s just really fucking complicated so I get it- I get it if you don’t want me here.”

“I didn’t,” Azzi admits and it shouldn’t, but Paige feels it sting anyways, “you’re right. You and I- there’s just a lot there and it would- it would be really complicated and when Colleen first told me I- I was gonna go fight Omehaa and be like abso-fucking-lutely not but-” she sucks in a deep breath, “do you remember the promise we made to each other?”

“We made a lot of promises to each other,” Paige says, unable to keep the harshness out of her tone, “sorry I-”

“No you’re right,” Azzi swallows, “but I meant the promise we made when we first started dating. We said we’d never let the personal affect the professional. We promised each other that no matter what, we’d never let our relationship affect us on the court And I know- I know we’ve broken a lot of promises to each other,” they both let out a breath at that, “but I think- I think maybe we should try and keep this one.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need a championship contender and GSV needs a PG. Paige, I’m not here to convince you to not come to GSV, I’m here to ask you to join our team,” Azzi says resolutely. 

Paige isn’t easily shocked by anything really. She’s lived what she’d consider a pretty interesting life but of course if anyone was going to surprise her, it would be Azzi. Azzi, who has always been an exception to every rule. 

“You- you want me on your team?” Paige repeats, a little dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Azzi affirms, “you told me once that we could be the best backcourt duo in college basketball and we were, even if it was only for a year, we were and so now I’m telling you that I think we could be the best backcourt duo in the WNBA.”

Paige is silent for a second before a smirk takes over her features, “I think I did a lot more than tell you, pretty sure I had a whole video that proved it.”

“Are you asking me to make you a recruiting video?” Azzi raises an unamused eyebrow. 

Paige shrugs, “could be a nice gesture.”

“I have a five year old child, Bueckers. Trust me when I say I don’t have enough spare time for bullshit like that when you can easily just search up our highlights on youtube. Or just look in your trophy case if you’re looking for proof of how good we can be together,” Azzi says, a hint of that familiar sass bleeding into her spiel. 

“We really were good together weren’t we,” it spills out before Paige can stop it and it’s like they’re taking two steps back from each other, the friendly-ish banter of mere seconds ago being clouded by a past tainted by their mistakes, “on the court I mean. We were really good on the court.”

“Right,” Azzi averts her gaze, “just- just think about it okay? This doesn’t- it doesn’t have to be about you and me, not like that at least. It’s about basketball. GSV is the perfect fit for you and you’re the perfect fit for us. And deep down you must know that too, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe I’m just in it for the free trip to Cali,” Paige surmises. 

Azzi scoffs, “you and I both know you make too much money to need a free trip to Cali. If anything, the hotel they’ve given you is probably cheap for your standards.”

“Maybe I just like feeling important? I always did love people showering me with praise.” 

“You always did love the attention,” Azzi grins teasingly, “but there’s one thing you always loved more.”

You, Paige thinks but she can’t say that, “and what’s that?”

“Winning. That’s what this is about. You want another championship, so do we. Come help us and let us help you. It’s that simple.”

As Azzi turns to walk away, Paige can’t help but call out from behind her, “you know I think your daughter’s pitch might have been better.”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips when she turns her face back a little. It’s a new smile that Paige can only assume is Azzi’s Stephie smile,  “yeah? What did she say?”

“She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple,” Paige smirks. 

Azzi laughs, and it’s exactly like Paige remembers,  “it’s that simple huh?”

“It’s that simple.”

[vxnuslogy]

— lost to time ft. sae itoshi

— warnings: angst, character death, slight ooc?

— author's note: a reupload of my favorite work on sae while i finish editing the next 2 chapters of my hazbin series. enjoy!

— first recording

“hi sae! i heard from rin that you’ll be leaving for spain. i’m really sorry i couldn’t come to see you off, i’ve been busy studying, you know, for exams and stuff. but that’s beside the point! i wish you all the best sae! do your best and when you come back home, you better be the world’s best striker yeah? don’t worry, everything will pass by quickly so don’t miss me too much ok?”

sae hated planes. he hated them quite a lot. in was a constant reminder of that time when he was only 14, leaving home to go to spain to live out his dreams only for it to be crushed 4 years later. sae hated the airport, it was always so busy and so stuffy and so cramped. he hated the feeling of being surrounded by unfamiliar strangers, hated the feeling of people brushing up against him even if they didn’t really mean it. sae hated winter. it was the season he severed his bond with his precious little brother after all. it was the season he turned his back on him and it was the season he had wished to never relive again.

-

— second recording

“hey hey guess who’s sending you another voice message? it’s me obviously, why didn’t you tell me you were back already?! if you did i would’ve picked you up from the airport!

……

is something the matter sae? you haven’t picked up any of your parents’ calls and their really worried about you. you can always talk to me remember? i’ll always be here to listen, ok? don’t bottle everything up, it’ll do more bad than good. well, i have to go now. talk with your parents every once in a while will you? ever since you left for spain you’ve pretty much cut off all contact, even with me. that’s all, good night sae.”

sae didn’t really like flowers. he thought they were a hassle. plants that require specific needs and if not met, they’ll wilt. sae was never fond of them but here he was, standing in front of the counter of a local flower shop as the elderly shopkeeper wrapped a bouquet – filled with carnations, gardenias, lilies, roses, and chrysanthemums. 

everything passes.

— college; third recordings

“i got into my dream college sae! can you believe that! honestly, i was really nervous when i took the entrance exams, but thankfully i studied real hard and managed to pass! i’ll be moving into the dorms soon. i’m gonna miss home. oh and rin! i heard he got into a soccer program recently, isn’t that nice! he’s following your footsteps in becoming the best striker in the world. i know, i know, you aren’t a striker anymore but it’s still nice to know that you’re still into soccer at least. by the way, when will you come back home? i kind of miss you, you know. i never got to see you off and when you did come back i was out of town and really busy. what about we plan a meetup or something in the near future? you know, make up for the times we lost? oh, i have to go now! my parents are helping me move in to my dorm. catch you later sae!”

sae didn’t really like coming home. the house he grew up in for the first 14 years of his life felt too foreign to be called home anymore. his parents felt like distant strangers that he just met a couple weeks ago – they felt more like acquaintances than his mother and father. the photos framed around his home felt like ancient relics from thousands of years ago, he didn’t recognize them. sae didn’t recognize himself. 

maybe he spent too much time in spain to the point where it felt more like home. how ironic, he began to realize. he had flown back to japan to escape from his hell that was spain but here he was, in his home, in the bedroom he used to sleep in for endless nights, wanting to go back to the place that left his heart hollow.

“there’s nothing else i could do.” he tried to convince himself as he sat down on his childhood bed, the bouquet of flowers at his side. he could only sigh and let himself fall back into the bed of his long gone home. “everything passes.”

“hey hey hey it’s me again! how have you been sae? i’d like to think that i’ve adjusted pretty well in college. made a few new friends and met some old ones. honestly, i almost didn’t recognize them! i mean, do you remember makoto from middle school. he was a such a problem child back then and now look at him! he’s a scholar now! i guess everyone just starts to become more mature after hitting 18, who knows. thank you again, for the gift. i was definitely shocked when my roommate told me i had a package from you. i can’t believe you still remember that i wanted ‘no longer human’! thank you, i’ll be sure to treasure it. well, that’s all for today. call you some other time sae!”

everything passes.

-

— drunk recordings; the words i wish i could’ve told you sooner

“how do you work this again? ah got it! hehe, hi again sae! i’m at a party right now, man maybe you were right, i do have shit alcohol tolerance. but it’s fine. don’t worry, i’m already on my way home and the driver isn’t some creepy dude that might kill me.

……

you know, i like you very much but i don’t think you’ll believe me. i know i jokingly said that we should marry each other if we aren’t dating someone if we hit our 30s, but i kinda wanna marry you even if we aren’t 30 yet. is that weird? i really miss you. please come home.”

……

“hello? god that was so embarrassing… sorry, could you just forget about what i said in the last recording? um just, gosh i don’t even know. denying it won’t really help right haha… it’s in the past now so don’t mull over too much ok? please, just disregard that last recording. i’m really sorry, it was just me being drunk.”

sae did not in fact disregard that recording. in fact, sometimes in the dead of night he’d think about it and wonder, if he had replied to that specific recording would things have ended differently? 

sae didn’t like deep and evoking questions about ‘what if’s’, he finds them annoying most of the time. and yet here he was now entertaining the idea. bouquet in hand as he casually walked around the neighborhood that the both of you had grew up in. the same twists and turns, same houses, same playground, same everything.

yet the silence was too loud, even for him.

everything passes.

-

— graduation recordings

“well, i think it’s safe to say i survived. i graduated sae, are you proud? man i still can’t believe i was a few point from getting the valedictorian spot but oh well. alls well that ends well i suppose. i heard you won your recent match congratulations mr best midfielder! kinda wish i was there to see it, but don’t worry! in your next match i’ll definitely save up enough money and buy those tickets to spain and your match one day! just you wait, i’ll be the screaming my lungs out and support you, i’m still your number one fan after all!”

sae had some feelings of dissatisfaction when you did not in fact get those tickets to spain and his match. maybe it was his wishful thinking but he really did wish you were there. but he knew it was impossible. 

he remembered the feeling of anger and frustration running through his veins, cursing the heavens above because he felt the need to show the gods his emotions. sae hated thinking about you in that moment. he hated how he felt like he was in a new version of hell whenever you just happened to cross his mind. sae hated you very much.

everything passes.

-

— recordings from 2 years ago

“i’m sorry. i know you should’ve heard it from me but i guess my family beat me to it haha. to be perfectly honest with you sae, i had no plans of telling you. i’m sorry. its just, the thought of breaking the news to you. how could i ever do that to you? i’m sorry. god i’m so sorry sae.”

……

“hey. i received the gift you sent me. you didn’t have to , you know. now i kinda feel bad about having you go on break in the middle of soccer season because of me. but still, thank you. i appreciated you being here, with me. it was a refreshing feeling, talking to you again and just hanging out. work has been really stuffy and felt like i was being caged but you came. you suddenly appeared and suddenly everything was alright again. i know we only said goodbye a couple minutes ago but, i miss you already. sorry. this sounds really weird doesn’t it? anyways, thank you again for the gift. i’ll be sure to wear it everyday. that’s all, have a good night sae.”

……

“hey. sorry for calling at such an odd time. i just. i just felt a little lonely. i sound so stupid i’m sorry. good night sae.”

……

“makoto dropped by today. god he was as annoying as ever but he really cheered me up. he managed to confess to this girl he’s pining over since sophomore year. i’m happy for him. but it really got me thinking about us. i know i told you to forget about that one recording because i was drunk but now that i look back on it, i wasn’t really honest. to you and myself. i know this may be the worst timing to confess but yeah, i like you very much. since primary school, as cliche as it may sound i think it all started when you stood up for me from those bullies. now that i think about, i practically glued myself to your side ever since that day didn’t i? i’m glad you didn’t really mind that. i remember always using homework as an excuse to always have you hang out with me even though i completely understood the lesson. man, where did i get the confidence to do that stuff? but i guess those times are lost in the sands of the past i guess. oh right, sorry, i forgot you didn’t really like those type of stuff. getting all deep and whatnot. well that’s all, i’m getting pretty tired already so i’ll head to bed. good night sae.”

everything passes.

-

— present

“hi. thank you by the way. i don’t know, i just don’t think i’ve ever said that you recently. so, thank you. its a bit funny isn’t it? i would almost always talk your ear off every recording but this time, i can’t even find the words to say. my parents came over, talked to them a bit. rin visited as well. he’s gotten a lot taller than i last saw him, he’s probably taller than you now!

……

sae, thank you. for everything. i’m glad we stayed in touch. i’m glad we stayed as friends.  thank you for making my days seem just a tad bit brighter, though sometimes i wonder what it would be like if we were, you know, dating. wonder what the difference would be. i mean we’d still talk to each other right? maybe holding hands and kisses but that’s pretty much it right? but thinking about it is useless right now. maybe in an alternate universe were actually married and adopted a cat like how we used to talk about.”

“you know, before this very moment. i accepted my fate already. i was content, i was doing fine but now. sae, i don’t want to die.”

“please remember me ok? and i’ll be sure to remember you. i’ll see you again, sae.”

“nii-chan..”

sae could only put his phone back in his pocket. his younger brother standing a good distance away from him. he could only imagine how rin looked like right now. was he pitying him, grieving with him? he’ll never know because he will never turn to look at him. not when your right in front of him.

how many times had he played all your recordings for the past 2 years? maybe a little over a 100 times? maybe close to 200 now?

sae removed all those thoughts as he placed the bouquet on the ground, the wind seemed to answer to his call – you seemed to answer to his call. despite all the pain, all the misery, all the bitter waves of grief that flooded his being whenever he played your recordings, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. he didn’t want to forget what you sounded like. your voice reminded him too much of home.

“happy birthday you idiot.” he said to you, keeping his hands in his pockets, watching the leaves of the flowers in the bouquet sway with the wind. two pieces of paper underneath it threatened to be blown away. “you said you wanted to come visit me and watch my match, well now you can.” two pieces of paper, one a plane ticket to spain the other a ticket to his upcoming match two weeks from now. “you better come watch me alright?” he could only bitterly smile. 

“you’re 30 now,” he whispered, before getting on one knee. placing a velvet box in front of your gravestone. “you should’ve waited for me, you idiot.” sae could only mutter those words to no one in particular. it was as if the world had stopped for a moment, the wind had stopped howling, the sun was nowhere to be seen. he could only see you. “i wanted to marry you too, y’know.”

sae could remember every occurrence where he would sit at his balcony in spain every night after your passing. phone to his ear, listening to all your recordings. but you’ll never know how he replies to them, every single one of them with his own. 

“i told the stars about you and what we could’ve had.” he chuckled, “you’re by far the hardest lesson i had to learn.”

standing up from his kneeling position, he gave you one last look before walking away. rin followed suit, but not before placing something at your grave. a pink book that you had loved till the very end. 

sae hated planes, but he flew back to japan every year. sae didn’t really like flowers, but every year he’d get you a pretty bouquet. sae didn’t like coming home but if it meant getting to visit you, he’d come back over and over again. sae didn’t like reading or any deep and evoking questions but he always humored you whenever you asked him.

sae hated all those things but they reminded him too much of you to let them go. 

and just like your favorite author, when osamu dazai asked to die, he simplu agreed; but just before his death, he suddenly felt obsession with life.

everything passes. just like how you’ll eventually get lost in the sands of time.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[hurtblossom]

You belong with me L.N.4 (part II)

Part 2 of You belong with me

Pairing : Lando Norris x Driver!reader (female)

Summary : Maybe they do belong to each other after all

Warnings : ANGST + Terrible english + Short + swearing

IT'S JUST FICTION ! NO HATE TOWARD MAGUI !

Masterlist

It's been a week since you last spoke to Lando. You have been avoiding him successfully, though he made it hard for you. Every time he was around, you'd try to get out of the room or stay as far as possible from him. You no longer spare him a glace, nor did you exchange a word with him.  

Lando was left confused after you last conversation. Some of the words that you used struck him, and he couldn't stop thinking about you red puffy eyes, and the look on your face. You were so sad, and you seemed heartbroken, which was something he rarely saw on your face.  

⁕ 

Lando was scrolling on Tiktok, trying to get his mind off of you, but the universe seemed to be against him, throwing edits of you every two TikTok's, and even like that, he couldn't take his eyes off you. You were just so beautiful. One of those videos caught his attention. It was the both of you, in an interview, Lando was reading something out of a flashcard, while you were looking at him.  

His eyes softened at that sight. He went to the comments and started to read some of them; "If my partner doesn't look at me the way Y/N looks at Lando, i don't want it", "she's so in love with him it's painful", "the guy is so oblivious. Somebody goes wake him up, I'm begging".  

"What are you doing baby?" Magui asked, entering the bedroom.  

"Nothing, just thinking" Lando said, almost whispering.  

"About what?" She questioned, sitting next to him.  

"Y/N." He simply answered, not noticing how his girlfriend's eyes darkened.  

"That girl really can't take a fucking hint." Magui exclaimed, sitting up. Lando looked at her confused. 

"What do you mean?" He asked. "What did you do Magui?" 

"Nothing. I just talked to her. Told her to stop being so weird with you." The girl explained.  

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Lando scoffed. "Did you tell her to stop bothering me?" Magui nodded. "Why did you do that?" 

"She's in love with you! She's all over you! You have a girlfriend Lando!" Magui yelled, throwing her arms up.  

"When has she ever been all over me?" Lando yelled too.  

"She was always looking for you, laughing at your jokes, trying to comfort you. Always trying to be near you, encouraging you. She has no limits." Magui said.  

"That's because she's a good person. Because she has compassion and because she cares." Lando replied, fed up. "You're fucking insane." He finished, standing up, going to the door.  

"Where are you going?" Magui asked, watching him go.  

"Far away from you." He said, grabbing the handle. "And by the way, we're done. It's over." He slammed the door.  

Lando took his phone out, going directly to your contact and sent you a simple "We have to talk", to which you only replied with a thumbs up.  

⁕ 

You were sitting in your living room, looking at Lando's text, which he sent you about thirty minutes ago. You didn't know how to reply, you didn't feel ready to talk to him still not over the humiliation you went through. What you really weren't expecting, was someone knocking at your door, at almost 11pm. And you really didn't expect the person on the other side of the door to be the man you've been avoiding.  

"What on earth are you doing here?" You asked him, letting him come in.  

"I had to talk to you. And you can't escape from me in here. So, i came." He explained, looking right at you.  

"What do you want to talk about?" You said, sitting on your sofa.  

"I don't want you to stop bothering me" he said. "All of what she said to you, none of it is true."  

"So, I'm not a creep who won't leave you alone?" You asked 

"I'd never say anything like that about you. Never in my whole life" He whispered, kneeling in front of you, so you'd look at him. "You never bothered me. I love it when we talk. I love it when you're next to me. I love it when you laugh at my jokes, and when you comfort me. And I can't even begin to tell you how much I love when you're looking at me."  

"Why?" You asked, your eyes finally meeting his. 

"Because it's only when your eyes are on me that I feel seen, that I feel understood. You get me Y/N." He explained, taking your hand in his. 

"I get you?" He nodded. "I feel seen too, when you look at me."  

"I broke up with Magui." He suddenly said, making you frown. 

"Weren't you happy with her?" You asked.  

"We argued a lot. She isn't the one for me." He replied, looking right at you. "I'd like to take you out."  

"Oh. Really?" Now, you were confused.  

"Yeah." He simply said.  

"Okay. Yeah, I'd like to go out with you." You said, smiling.  

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landonorris you belong with me love ❤️

ynusername my love ❤️ carlossainz okay first of, i feel hurt and betrayed landonorris don't. you're my baby too carlos ynusername #carlando4evah

THE END

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[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 4

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

Chapter Warnings: MC is actin’ a fool (she’s just a little conflicted guys, don't be mad), angst if you squint, second-hand embarrassment, if there are mistakes please ignore them I’m still editing, first kiss and it’s hawt and it's with this yoongi. jfc~!

Word count: 5.6k (approx. 20 mins to read)

Posting date: October 23, 2024

Notes: This would be my last quick update for a while. Next chapter will be out in 3 weeks time earliest. In the meantime, enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Masterlist

Turns out, you actually did have ramen. 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. The whole night had been building to something else. The tension between you and Yoongi had been thicc, simmering for weeks, magnified in every stolen glance, every knowing smile, every deliberate touch.

But all of that changed the moment you stepped inside your apartment. Let’s back track a bit.

You fumbled with your keys, taking at least three tries longer than usual to unlock the door. Your heart was racing, Yoongi’s presence behind you was like a furnace. He must’ve noticed your nerves because he placed his hands gently on your shoulders, trying to soothe you, but it only made you more conscious.

Finally, you made it inside.

Too flustered to even turn on the lights, the dim glow from the kitchen cast long shadows, making the space feel smaller, more intimate. Wordlessly, you both kicked off your shoes and hung up your coats.

“Ramen, huh?” Yoongi teased, his voice low, the smirk practically audible. He wasn’t fooled by the offer. You both knew what ‘ramen’ meant. But for some reason, you were acting like a complete idiot.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, bolting to the kitchen as if the pots and pans could save you. “We could actually eat ramen. I, uh... have some.”

Yoongi didn’t reply immediately, but you heard his slow, deliberate footsteps following behind. That sound alone made your pulse race faster. You yanked open cabinets with more force than necessary, the clattering of dishes betraying your current state of disarray. Grabbing the ramen packets, you held them up like a shield. “I have shin ramyeon, jin ramen, buldak—what’s your favorite?”

When you turned around, Yoongi was leaning against the counter, watching you with a quiet, amused smile. “You’re nervous,” he observed. No shit, Sherlock!

You shook your head, denying it, even though you weren’t fooling anyone—not even yourself. A pack of ramen just fell on your foot. You bend over to retrieve it, and when you stand back up, Yoongi is in front of you, hands outstretched to take the three other packets from your arms and place them on the counter.

The way he was looking at you sent shivers down your spine. You were a ball of yarn, slowly unraveling under this cat’s playful hands. You gulped, turning back to run the pot under the tap.

“Okay,” Yoongi said from behind you, clearly stifling a laugh. “Ramen it is, then.”

You exhaled deeply as you heard him make his way to the living room. You peeped from behind your shoulder. He’s checking out some of the photos from a low shelf, a small smile on his lips. 

Fuck the pot’s overflowing. Hastily, you closed the faucet,  poured out some of the water, and brought the pot to the stove.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asked, his tone casual.

You waved a hand vaguely toward the hallway without even looking, trying to avoid eye contact with him as much as possible. “Just down there.”

And that’s when you messed up. Because after that, everything changed.

When he came back, something was off. He looked... discombobulated. His face caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“What?” you asked, sprinkling dehydrated vegetables from the Shin Ramyun pack into the pot. “What happened?”

Yoongi tilted his head, biting back a grin. “Your room… it’s, uh, very...”

It took a second, but then it hit you. Hard.

“Oh no...” Your stomach dropped. You are the biggest idiot of all time.

He hadn’t gone to the bathroom. He went to Chae’s room. Chae, your BTS-obsessed best friend, whose room is practically a shrine to Yoongi and his bandmates. Posters, merch, plushies, framed photos—everything. Depending on her mood, Yoongi might even be the featured member on her duvet.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, horrified. “You didn’t—”

“I did,” Yoongi confirmed, voice full of barely contained laughter. He pulled out a barstool and sat down. “Didn’t know you were ARMY.”

“Okay, hang on.” You raised your palms in defense, scrambling to reason. How can you explain this without offending him? “No, I’m not ARMY. Don’t get me wrong. I like you—uh, I mean, I like BTS. But that’s not my room.”

Yoongi nodded, a finger lodged between his teeth to bite back his amusement at your rambling. “I’m just teasing. I saw the neon sign with Chae’s name. Couldn’t miss it.” He shrugs, “Just wasn’t expecting to see more of Jungkook-ah tonight. Chae really loves those Calvin Klein ads, huh?”

You buried your face in your hands, peeking through your fingers. “I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi shook his head, reaching for your wrists, gently pulling your hands away so he could see you. “Why are you apologizing?”

You stared at him meekly, voice tiny. “I dunno…”

“It’s not a crime. Besides…”

“Besides what?”

He grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “I got you to admit something, at least.”

You blinked, confused. “Admit what?”

His grin widened. “That you like me—I mean BTS, you like BTS,” he teased, repeating your earlier words. You were mortified all over again.

You groaned helplessly, turning your back to him.

His cute, throaty laugh somehow made you feel a little less embarrassed—but also made your heart race for an entirely different reason.

You heard the crinkle of ramen packets being opened, and when you turned back around, Yoongi was standing there, eyes glinting mischievously behind the steam of the boiling water.

“This ramen’s gonna be fuckin’ good. I can already tell.”

The evening takes on a different rhythm after that, the heat no longer crackling with the same intensity, but still simmering beneath the surface, like the hot broth you scooped into ceramics for you and Yoongi to enjoy. 

You both sit on the couch, soup bowls on hand, laughing about the absurdity of walking into Chae’s room, talking about anything that isn’t the weight you’ve both been carrying. Yoongi leans back, stretching one arm along the cushions behind you, the space between you narrowing with each quiet moment.

The conversation fades, and the silence that follows feels more like a prelude to another conversation that needs to be had. His fingers graze your shoulder before curling around it, pulling you gently toward him. You don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, letting his warmth seep into you, feeling the quiet shift between you. 

It’s not the same moment you’d have expected earlier, but it feels real, steady. And maybe that’s better. Maybe this is what you actually need. For now.

“There’s something here, isn’t there?” he asks softly, like he’s testing the waters.

“Yeah,” you reply, the truth rolling out without hesitation. You inhale sharply, the reality of the moment catching up to you. “There is.” You exhale, saying the next phrase almost regrettably. “But there’s also the NDA. If anyone finds out... I could lose my job.”

Yoongi’s grip tightens, his thumb brushing slow circles on your shoulder. “I know,” he says gently, almost apologetically. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I’d never risk that.”

You look up at him, really look, and it’s all there—the restraint, the careful way he’s holding himself back, waiting for you to lead. You can see the desire in his vision, the way his body leans just slightly into yours, the way his focus lingers on your lips and stays there. He wants you, but he’s not going to push.

“I can’t think straight when you look at me like that,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Why did you say that? It feels dangerous, like you’ve just given up a secret you weren’t ready to share.

“You think I can?” he chuckles softly, tipping his head back toward the ceiling, exhaling a frustrated “shit” like he’s trying to release the tension hanging between you.

“Is this a bad idea, Yoongi?” you ask, looking down on your lap, scraping the dry bits of skin on one finger, just something else to focus on apart from his face.

Yoongi shifts closer, his body coaxing yours until you melt against him. His arms circle you, wrapping you in comfort, and you let him. Of course, you do. 'Cause it feels so damn good. He feels so damn good. You didn’t realize how touch-starved you are til this moment. Your arms quickly find your way around his body, too, and you revel in the satisfaction it brings.

“How about this,” he murmurs after a beat, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Let’s take some time to think about it. We don’t have to decide anything right now.”

You nod, resting your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath you. He means it. He’s giving you the space, the choice—and that’s enough for now.

When Yoongi finally stands to leave, the atmosphere is a little lighter, still buoyant with potential. He pauses at the door, holding your hand just a little longer than necessary, his thumb brushing over your skin before he speaks.

“I won’t be in the office next week. I’ve got some things to take care of. But, can I invite you over to my place next Saturday?”

“Yeah,” you answer without hesitation. It feels like the easiest answer you’ve ever given.

Yoongi reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, passing it to you without a word. You take it, knowing exactly what he wants—what’s long overdue—and type your number into it before giving it back.

Riding on a surge of courage, you rise up onto your tiptoes, and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your hands find each other again, and the soft squeeze he does grounds you both in the moment. The kiss—it was more like a peck—is gentle, brief, but it feels like a promise. Unspoken, but understood. You’re not ready to explore it fully, not yet, but it’s gonna come. 

You pull away and catch the moment when his eyes slowly open. “Good night,” he whispers.

“Good night,” you reply, your hand lingering in his until it naturally falls away as he steps back, walking backward into the hallway.

The door clicks shut, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, feeling both lighter and heavier all at once. Whatever just happened between you—it’s real. And now, you decide where it leads.

Not a minute after he leaves, your phone pings.

Unknown: 📍[Address] Unknown: Can’t wait for Saturday. Good night, beautiful. 

“RISE AND SHINE, SLUT!!!”

Chae bursts into your apartment like a tornado, her voice echoing through the space as she strides in, bags of coffee and donuts in tow. It’s barely 9 a.m., and she’s already charged with energy. You glance up from the kitchen where you're unloading the dishwasher, the clatter of dishes nearly drowned out by her entrance.

She marches straight toward you, tossing the bags onto the counter. “Alright, spill. What happened? On a scale of one to ten: how good was the tongue technology?” She’s practically vibrating, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the grin that stretches on your lips. “The tongue technology was…” You pause dramatically, just to watch her lean in. “Nothing happened.”

Chae’s face drops, as she flops onto your couch. “What?! That’s impossible. Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you confirm, continuing to clear the dishes, the clang of silverware punctuating your words. “You kinda had something to do with it, actually.”

She bolts upright, brows raised. “Wait, what did I do?”

You shake your head, trying to hold back laughter. “Well, he needed to use the bathroom, but…”

The way she looks horror-stricken is hilarious as she pieces it together. “No!!! Shut the fuck up.”

“Yep,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing as you lean against the counter. “He went into your Magic Shop.”

“NOOOOOOO!!!” Chae wails, dramatically falling off the couch and onto the floor, writhing like she’s physically in pain. You can’t hold it in anymore and burst into laughter as she flails on your living room floor, her face scrunched in pure mortification.

You finish your story, shaking your head. “Yup. So, there he was, just trying to take a piss, and instead, he was greeted by all of his own face staring back at him. Honestly, the fact that he didn’t run screaming is a miracle. I for sure thought he would think we’re some psycho duo who lured him in our den to murder him and sell his body parts in the black market.”

Chae sits up, groaning. “Oh my god, I am so sorry. I can’t believe—fuck.”

You wave her off, still grinning. “It’s fine. We ended up eating ramen and just… hanging out.”

“Being the world’s worst cockblock was not in my 2024 bingo card. Did I fuck it all up?”

You wince, wiping your hands on a dish towel and tossing it onto the counter. “It was awkward for, like, five minutes. But no, not really.”

“But…” Chae tilts her head, zeroing in on the shift in your tone. “You’re low-key panicking, aren’t you?”

You sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “God, I know it sounds ridiculous! I’ve been losing it, thinking I’m just, like, this weird work wife and he’s just stringing me along for shits. And now that I actually know he’s into me too, I thought I’d feel better, but I’m not–I’m still freaking out.”

Chae watches you, letting you get it all out.

“What are people going to say if they find out? That I seduced him—just like they thought I would? It’s insulting and mortifying! I don't want to be that girl. And more than just office gossip, there’s that NDA hanging over my head. I could actually get sued…”

“First of all, that whore Danbi can suck it,” Chae says bluntly, shrugging as she hops up from the floor and grabs a donut. “And honestly, babe, let Yoongi pay the fines even before shit hits the fan. He’s got enough money.”

“Be for real, Chae.”

“Girl, if he’s serious about you, he needs to handle it. Make it known to his company that you’re not some random hookup. He’s gotta deal with that shit.”

“It’s too early for ultimatums,” you argue. “We’re not even officially anything yet.”

Chae raises an eyebrow. “You’re something. I saw the way he was looking at you, all heart eyes. And don’t think I didn’t see you guys playing handsies under the table. You make me sick.”

Your lips form a straight line, trying to hold back a smile, but you can’t help it. “He’s so… ugh. I like him.”

Chae grins, sitting beside you. “I get it. You want it to be real, but you’re scared of the shitstorm that comes with it.”

Chae gets it. This is why she’s your bestfriend. “Exactly,” you sigh. “It’s just… complicated now.”

Chae reaches over, squeezing your hand gently. “Look, you’ll figure it out. Don’t let fear stop you from seeing where this goes. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, nodding slightly. “Yeah… I guess.”

Chae stands, stretching dramatically before heading for her room. “And next time? I’ll make sure my room is locked.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, it’s a real boner killer.”

“Funny, I’ve never had any issues in there.”

“Get the fuck outta here.”

“Love you!” she sings, grinning as she enters her room.

“Love you too!”

You’ve been on edge for days, but now, standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment, that nervous energy shifts into something else—anticipation. The building’s lobby feels imposing, the security guard's request for two forms of ID more than enough to stir your nerves. Once they verify your information, you're ushered to the elevator and as you ascend there’s a buzz beneath your skin. 

The moment the doors slide open, Yoongi is already there, leaning casually against the doorway, waiting just for you. His smile is welcoming, but the hug he wraps you in says everything he doesn’t—soft, steady, and a little too tight, like he's been needing this as much as you have.

“Hi,” you say when he releases you, suddenly feeling all shades of shy.

“Hi,” he replies, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you inside. The door behind you slides shut with a quiet whirr, the lock clicking into place as if on cue.

Yoongi’s apartment in Hannam feels sleek and modern, but with a lived-in vibe. The couch is slightly disheveled, pillows piled at one end, and a throw blanket is casually tossed across the cushions, like he’d been napping before you arrived. The soft glow of a three-wick candle flickers from the console, its scent filling the space with something comforting, like freshly laundered sheets—a blend of clean cotton and subtle sweetness that wraps around you as you step inside.

He looks so hot, it should be a crime. He’s dressed comfortably, but he still looks effortlessly sexy. It’s kind of unfair, actually. The oversized black hoodie hangs loosely, and the faded jeans cling to his frame, the rips at the knees offering a glimpse of skin. Scandalous! 

What really catches your eye, though, are the silver hoops glinting in his ears—one thicker, hanging low, and the other daintier, nestled in his second lobe. You’ve never seen him wear jewelry before, and the sight of him in it now sends a thrill through you, a quiet gesture that he put thought into today.

You made an effort too, choosing a lacy purple top that peaks from under your white zip-up hoodie, paired with those jeans—the ones that always make you feel a little extra confident. Standing here, you hope it shows.

He ushers you to the kitchen where the comforting smell of suyuk simmering on the stove greets you.

“You can stay here, or chill at the couch,” he says, casually slinging a kitchen towel over his shoulder. “Might need a few more minutes with this.”

“I don’t mind. I think I want to stay here,” you do a tiny hop to sit on the counter, giving you a great view of the yummy meal prepared by this equally delicious man. Honestly, you’re still wondering how this became your life.

The pot of suyuk is covered to stew for minutes more. Yoongi pulls the sleeves of his black hoodie to his elbows and grins. “Wine?”

You nod.

“Rosé, ok?”

You nod again, watching the way his hand moves with practiced ease, filling a glass in one smooth motion. He passes you your glass and picks up his.

Yoongi leans against the counter opposite you. “You know,” he starts, a playful glint in his gaze, “you’re really annoying.”

The heck?! You quirk an eyebrow, bringing the glass to your lips. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, seriously,” he continues, stepping just a little closer, “you’ve been stuck in my head all week, and it’s kind of a problem.”

A nervous laugh escapes you, but you try to keep it light. “Oh, I’m the annoying one? You’re the one who brought that loud-ass mechanical keyboard to work.”

He pouts, the playful edge you’re used to shining through. “Hey, you never said anything about that.” He moves again, this time standing directly in front of you. “But I’m serious.”

Your pulse quickens as he lowers his voice, glancing down to his wine glass, before he looks back up at you. “I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.”

The words hit you, sending a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. You set your glass down on the counter, beside where he sets his, feeling the energy shift between you. “You’re just saying that because I’m here, in your fancy apartment, drinking your fancy wine.”

Yoongi goes to step into the space between your legs, and they instinctively part to let him closer. “Nah, you know it’s more than that.”

Goddamn. Your knees brush against his hips as he inches closer, his hands coming to rest lightly by your thighs, squeezing it lightly.

“We… we probably shouldn’t,” you whisper, though your fingers are already resting on his arms, curling lightly around the sleeves of his hoodie, keeping him close. “Not until we’ve talked.”

“I know.” He pauses, searching your face, but instead of withdrawing, his hands slide up to cradle your waist fully. “But we both know we want to.”

You bite your lip, looking at him. “Yeah, and that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it? Why does this have to be complicated?”

Yoongi’s hands tighten slightly, firm but still careful, as if he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop. “Things are always complicated,” he says quietly, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying.”

You exhale slowly, feeling his words settle over you. His forehead drops forward slightly, almost brushing yours. All you can focus on is him—how close he is, the feeling of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” you murmur, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

“Why?” His face is dangerously close to yours now, the question hanging in the air between you.

“Because I can’t get you out of my head either.”

Yoongi’s breath catches, a soft chuckle slipping out, but it’s not mocking—it’s almost relieved, like he’s been waiting for you to admit it. “Well, at least we’re on the same page.”

He leans in, his nose brushing lightly against yours, and for a moment, you think this is it—he’s going to kiss you. In fact, you could close the distance right now, but instead, you reach up, flicking his forehead with your fingers.

“Ow!” He jerks back, rubbing his forehead with a mock-offended expression. “What the hell was that for?”

“For making this complicated,” you smirk, the moment breaking just enough for you to breathe again.

“Right, blame me.”

“Well you’re the idol.” You laugh. The air feels less heavy now—more like a promise than a problem.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says after a moment, his voice low, serious again, palms going back on your legs, moving them like he is smoothing out the fabric.

“Yeah?” You thread the strings of his hoodie on your fingers.

He looks at you again, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah. But for now, I’m perfectly fine with being annoying if it means you’ll stick around.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile. “You know I will.”

His grin widens, playful again, but there’s something softer underneath. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning in just a little with a lopsided grin. “Me too.”

Dinner was amazing. The suyuk was cooked to perfection–soft, juicy, and subtly seasoned. Each slice melted in your mouth. Yoongi served it with four kinds of banchan, all prepared by his eomma and sent from Daegu that very morning. You don’t ask if it was specially because you were coming over, but you let yourself believe that for a while, even though it was presumptuous.

As he clears the table (refusing to let you help in any way), you wander to the window in his living room. Your mind wonders how Yoongi can be this perfect, really. First, he is handsome. Second, he is kind. Third, he smells wonderful. Fourth, he can cook. As you catalog all his wonderful traits in your brain to rival the Dewey Decimal system, his voice cuts through your thoughts.

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” you smile, though still a bit dazed. “Thank you for cooking.”

“My pleasure.”

Yoongi proffers you a glass of wine, and your fingers brush against his for just a moment—long enough to feel the spark that’s been igniting between you all night. 

The apartment feels spacious now, the soft, jazzy tune from the record player filling the room with a smoky, lazy rhythm.

You take a sip, admiring the view through the enormous window, the Han River stretching out beneath you like a sea of shimmering lights. The city skyline flickers, alive and distant, and for a moment, it’s as if the two of you are in your own world, above everything else.

Yoongi steps up beside you, the closeness between your bodies almost unbearable. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stands next to you as you both look out at the city. 

For a while, neither of you speaks, letting the silence stretch out. It’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it feels like the calm before something inevitable, something you both know is coming but aren’t quite ready to face.

“Beautiful view,” you murmur, more to fill the quiet than anything.

“Yeah,” Yoongi replies softly. “Gorgeous.”

“But you’ve seen it a hundred times.”

And then, you realize his gaze has been on you all along. “Not talking about the Han.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the subtle curve of his lips. Your heart skips, and you look back out at the lights, trying to focus on something else.

“You know,” you start, your voice quieter now, “it’s dangerous spending this much time together.”

Yoongi shrugs, face indifferent. “I’m not worried about it.”

He sets his glass down on the windowsill, taking yours, too as he steps closer. “Are you?”

You hesitate for just a second, your pulse quickening. “Maybe.”

The city lights shimmer beneath you, but all you can focus on is him—on the way his eyes linger on your face, the force between you growing with every second. You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly his hands are on your waist, guiding you gently closer.

You freeze for just a moment, your breath catching as his fingers move underneath your hoodie to brush against the fabric of your top. It’s soft, barely there, but the electricity it sends through you is anything but subtle.

He leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

You feel your resolve waver, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel yourself melting onto him, your back now flush against his chest. The soft melody from the record player wraps around you, and before you know it, you’re swaying, the two of you moving in a slow, lazy rhythm.

You rest your head against his shoulder. His arms tighten around you just slightly, his fingers splayed across your stomach in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the music.

He hums, his breath hot against your ear, and doesn’t let go. Neither of you does, and the two of you continue to move to the slow rhythm of the music.

After a beat, your slow dance stops, and Yoongi coaxes you to face him. You meet his stare, and the look in them is unmistakable—he’s holding back, the same way you are. The longing between you is palpable, every second stretching out like it could break at any moment.

Your fingers grip the fabric of his hoodie, your voice a whisper as you say, “This could be a bad idea.”

He nods, his forehead resting against yours now. “I know. But it could also be good.”

You swallow hard, mulling it over. He says it like it’s simple, like he already believes it. 

“We don’t have to do anything, ok?” he assures you. “But I want to hear what you’re afraid of. I want to ease your mind.” He plants a soft peck on your forehead, as if he can magically erase all your fears.

You hesitate but even the doubts are starting to fall away. Maybe you shouldn’t. The NDA, the complications, the fine line you’ve been walking—there’s every reason to step back. To keep this where it’s been. But your heart’s hammering too fast, his presence too overwhelming. You take a deep breath.

You glance at him, the dim light casting shadows across his face, softening his features but sharpening the attraction between you. Your thoughts are spinning. You’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Not this kind of heat—this slow, dangerous burn that’s been growing between you for months. And it’s not just about how he looks, or the chemistry—though, that’s undeniable—it’s him. 

Yoongi is solid. Kind. Real in a way that cuts through your usual hesitations, making you feel like you want to dive into whatever this is, no matter the risk.

“Speak to me…” he encourages, pushing a piece of hair back behind your ear. But the words don’t come. Because even though you're filled with dread on what could happen if you take this step with him, you’re also filled with want. So, so much of it. You want him so bad. And you don’t think you can wait any longer.

“What if…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes are on you now, sharp and focused. “What if… just this once? I don’t want to think about anything else.”

Yoongi doesn’t move. For a second, you think maybe you’ve phrased it so abrasively. But then his gaze shifts—something raw, something unguarded flashes across his face.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low, almost a rumble in the quiet.

Your pulse races, the words caught in your throat, but there’s no going back now. You nod, the answer clear in your head before you can stop yourself. “Just one kiss.” 

And before you can second-guess yourself more, his lips are on yours—firm, demanding, and everything you’ve been waiting for.

Yoongi’s hand cups the back of your neck, his fingers sliding through your hair as he pulls you to him, fast and deliberate. The kiss isn’t soft. It’s immediate, intense. His lips crash against yours, rougher than you expected, but it feels so fuckin’ right.

Your back hits the glass window behind you with a thud, the cold surface making you gasp into the kiss, but Yoongi doesn’t stop. He’s all heat and urgency, his body pressing into yours like he’s trying to make up for every moment you’ve spent pretending you didn’t want each other this desperately. His hands move to your waist, gripping it like he’s afraid to let go.

You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, letting yourself melt into him. His lips are firm, skilled, moving with a kind of intensity that has you dizzy, every thought slipping away except for him. He breaks the kiss only to drag his lips down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as his mouth finds the sensitive spot beneath your ear. 

You let out a soft moan, your hands finding a place at the back of his neck, guiding him back to your lips. It’s not graceful—none of this is. Raw and messy and honestly, it’s everything you’ve been holding back for far too long.

Yoongi’s hands slide up your arms, pushing them over your head, pinning your wrists against the glass. His body pushes harder against yours, breath coming fast and ragged as he looks down at you, his lips swollen from the kiss. There’s a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, like he’s holding himself back but barely. 

“One more, please?” he asks, voice pained, like it’s taking everything in him not to go further, as his nose nudges yours.

You can’t think. Your brain is empty. It’s all Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. The only answer you have is the way your body arches into his, silently begging for more. “Ok,” you nod, “more.” And that’s all he needs.

He leans in again, kissing you deeper this time, more controlled but no less intense. His hands tighten around your wrists, holding you there, completely under his control, and you can’t help but surrender to it. The glass behind you is cold, but his body is so warm against yours. 

You don’t know how long you stay like that—lost in the fire of his kiss, the feel of his hands on your skin. It feels like time doesn’t exist, like the world outside these four walls has disappeared, leaving just the two of you.

Slowly, he releases your wrist and only then do you start to feel the pinpricks shooting along your arms as they descend limply along your sides. Gasping for breath, you tilt your head to the side, and Yoongi instantly claims the crook of your neck, murmuring your name in a raspy voice against your skin.

But even then, he’s still waiting, waiting for a sign that you want this to go further. After all, you only said one kiss. Knowing Yoongi he will not go beyond what you tell him to. If he only knew that you are so far gone at this point. Game fuckin’ over.

When he finally retreats, both of you breathing hard, he doesn’t say anything immediately, but the way his eyes search yours says everything.

“Tell me what you want,” he pleads, his ragged breath dancing along the moist parts of your skin. “Anything, jagi, it’s yours.”

“You,” you say, inhibitions long gone, the sweet name he uses ushering all the nagging thoughts away. “I want you.”

Nodding, he closes the gap between you and mumbles his assurance against your mouth, “You have me.”

So tonight, you’ll let yourself have him. 

And it’s gonna be so fuckin’ good you can already tell.

A/N: Alright, how about that first kiss??? 🥴 Honestly, it got me blushing while editing that whole sequence.

And before y’all burn me at the stake for blue-balling you yet again–I promise you the next chapter will pick up where we left off and it won’t be some weird time-skip. Promise! ✋ Hehe. You need to wait for it a little bit though because the next chapter is only at 10% right now and work is gonna be pretty hectic for the next three weeks.

For now, let your imagination go buck wild, and don’t forget to leave me an ask or shout at me in the comments if you want to see anything specifically in the next chapters.

Also y’all have to thank this one lovely anon who requested for more time before scootergate, because initially it was gonna happen the Monday after this night. The horror!!

Thank you again for reading this, you lovely human! 😘 See you in the comments. ⬇️

Chapter Five >

Taglist: @glossdebut @kam9404 @mar-lo-pap @nnybtitts08 @granataepfelchen

@perfectiondazesworld @wobblewobble822 @yoongznme @caressesurloceanlove @rinkud

@kayleefriedchicken @jajabro @tinytan-gerine @xxbibin1208 @forevercarpediem227

@yoongicatagenda @someshinesomedont @marnz1990 @iheartshopping @confidentjus

@queenbloody @whydoeyecare @sadroses98 @curlyquennn

@sexytholland @kiki-zb @hiddlestandom @babyarmybabbles

[miley1442111]

needing you- r.cameron

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a/n: saw an edit of him today and decided i had to write something for him. the buzzcut is just too good, i might do a part two if I'm bothered....

summary: rafe makes some awful choices, stemming from his need for you during a hard day.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: hurt/ angst, breaking up, fighting, shouting, mentions of rafe's addictions, mentions of al-anon, mentions of break downs and bad mental health in general, kissing, no happy ending :(

---------------------

Rafe was pissed, rightfully so. He was so angry, and he knew he shouldn’t talk to you, not even be near to you, but he had nowhere else to go. Surely his girlfriend would welcome him with open arms, right?

Wrong.

---------------------

He knocked on the front door of your house, only to be met with the confused face of your father.

“She went out on the water with some friends, she left her phone at home, sorry.”

It’s fine. He would just have to wait to see you. He thanked your father and set on his way to John B’s place, waiting out by the dock for you to come back. He would just have to wait the 4 long hours it took for you to get back to land. See, you were a mix of a kook and a pogue, but most of the time, leaned towards full-pogue. This was something Rafe usually admired, considering you took no shit from him, or anyone else, and you didn’t let anyone put you down for your friends and how you presented yourself. What he hated right now though, was the fact that Jj Maybank’s arm was resting firmly on your shoulder, as you 5 came back from your strenuous day of swimming and leisurely fun. Strike one before Rafe lost his shit. 

“Rafe,” Kiera scoffed. “Y/n, your man-child boyfriend is here!” She shouted back to you. Strike two, before Rafe lost his shit.  You nodded, but made no attempt to come up to him, still entirely engrossed in Jj’s story. You two were best friends, you knew everything about each other- don’t be a jealous asshole Rafe. He reminded himself as he bit his nails, waiting for you to come over. He watched as your face lit up with a beautiful smile as Jj’s story concluded, in a very ridiculous manner. Rafe didn’t make you laugh like that. He couldn’t, he wasn’t funny. He knew he wasn’t funny. Should he try to be more funny? 

Jj pressed a kiss to your cheek and waved you off as you walked over to Rafe. Strike motherfucking three. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. His skin was hot and tanned, more than usual. 

“Were you waiting long?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“4 hours,” he punctuated every syllable. Your face fell, he was pissed, and he was trying to hide it. 

“Did we have a hangout scheduled? I’m so sorry baby,” you apologised immediately, and Rafe almost felt like pretending it wasn’t true, but he just nodded. 

“No, we didn’t,” he swallowed harshly, taking your hand and leading you to his truck.

Your face turned to confusion. “So what’s this about then? Why did you wait for 4 hours?”

“Because I needed to see you,” he explained as tears welled up in his eyes. Rafe Cameron was not a man for emotions in public, even around his most trusted confidants. But he trusted you implicitly and knew you’d never tell a single soul about his emotions, so he showed them around you.

Today, in all honesty, had been awful for him. The second he woke up, rose was screaming at him for something he didn’t do, something about his dirtbike making a mess on the lawn (he hadn’t used his dirtbike in months, not since you said you’d rather walk home than go on it, since it makes you slightly nervous), then he got in a fight with Ward over him ‘not spending enough time working for the company’, which sent him into a spiral, and resisting his urges to just go get high and drunk and forget all about it were even more difficult to manage than usual. 

It was shit. And he needed you. 

You stopped walking and pulled him into you, noticing the wobble in his voice as he spoke. “What’s wrong baby?”

“Nothing is fucking wrong,” he groaned, wiping his face. “Well, apart from the fact that my girlfriend was too busy with her fucking pogue 'boyfriend' to be around today! Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re never there for me?! Or maybe I just fucking hate you!” 

You stood and stared at him in shock. “If you hate me so much, just break up with me,” you sighed, your own tears welling up as you crossed your arms over your chest, staring at the ground as the moonlight lit this awful moment. 

Every night when you’d sneak out just because Rafe needed you there to talk to and hold him, to be there for him, it all meant nothing. Every time you left your friends, or family, just so you could calm him down because he was having a panic attack, or bad cravings. Every time you pushed him to go to the Al-Anon meeting and picked him up after, then held him as he cried in your arms in the car, whispering about how he ‘didn’t deserve you’. 

Where was that boy now?

He was in front of you, screaming in your face. 

“Maybe I am!” He shouted. “Yeah, we’re done!” 

You wiped a tear away and sighed. “Alright,” walking back to John B’s to be with your friends. 

---------------------

It all hit Rafe the next morning. He had broken up with you. You were out of his life. You weren’t his girlfriend anymore. 

What the fuck had he done?

He dialled your number, only to get no response. He checked your house, John B’s house, your work, your school (even though it was a Saturday), and even decided to check Jj’s house, just in case. 

---------------------

Knock, knock, knock.

Jj opened the door to see a very flustered and surprisingly distraught Rafe. 

“Hello?-” 

“Is she here?” he asked. “Y/n, is she here?”

“Yeah,” Jj shrugged. “But she doesn’t really want any visitors right now, y’know. The girl needs her beauty sleep.”

---------------------

“I need my beauty sleep Rafe,” you chuckled as his hands roamed your body. God, you were so perfect right here. Here, in his bed, his bed sheet draped over you, the sunset spilling in from the window. You were so perfect, so beautiful in that moment. He’d wanted to make it a memory he’d never forget. 

“You’re beautiful all the time,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone, just to feel the goosebumps start to form.

“When I get the proper amount of sleep,” you corrected him, humour lacing your words. 

“Nah,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “You look beautiful all the time, trust me, I’m an expert.”

“In beauty?”

“In you.”

---------------------

“Please just let me talk to her-”

“No can-do bucko,” Jj smirked. “She’s busy sleeping, don’t want to wake the beast.”

“Jj, I swear to fucking god-��

“Don’t talk to him like that,” you sighed from behind the door. “Jj doesn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you sweetheart,” Jj smiled. Sweetheart. Rafe had always hated that Jj called you sweetheart. 

“Can we talk?” Rafe cleared his throat. 

“Sure.”

And there you were, looking as gorgeous as ever, still in pyjamas, but still flipping his entire world on its head. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Jj sighed and pottered off back into the house. 

There was silence for a few minutes. 

“What do you want?” you huffed. 

Rafe didn’t exactly have an answer for that.

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obx masterlist :) <- part two :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 

You pretended to be dead. 

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 

Missions were rarely a failure. 

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 

“None. Just us.” 

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight. 

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 

This couldn’t continue. 

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 

On the second week, it got easier. 

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos. 

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

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