#so i made the decision to start stepping it back down

[nerdygirlramblings]

the omegaverse brain worms won't leave me alone

previous

A slightly stale smell wafts out when you open your room. It gives the space a neglected air. It doesn't feel like yours anymore, even though your absence was brief. The room you once occupied in your family home now has cribs for the new twins. You don't know where you belong. How could things have changed so much so quickly? You're adrift, unmoored in a sea of your emotions.

Your bag thunks against your bed when you drop it, the hollow sound echoing your inner turmoil. Things haven't felt right since you and your parents had The Talk. You want to get another perspective, so your next stop is the administration building. Adam's been talking up the pack since you joined the team, but you know he'll be brutally honest if you ask, and his experience with military packs is insight you crave.

Just as you're about to head out you spy the jumper you'd borrowed from the team weeks ago. You snag the hem, dragging it towards you. Enveloped in the warm, fresh scent, you feel a little better. A little more you. The jersey is armor of a different sort for your battered soul.

With your Omega whining constantly, you know a decision about joining the 141 pack has to be made soon. You either need to take a leap of faith or start seriously looking elsewhere.

Adam glances up from his computer as you come down the hall, smile plastered on his face. "You came quick! I just sent you the message."

Your steps falter and you glance across at him. "What do you mean?"

He raises a brow. "What do you mean what do I mean? Mission request from Laswell just came in. The guys are back and making their way over, and I just sent the message to you. Isn't that why you're here?"

With the team on their way, you can't ask Adam what you want, but he doesn't need to know that. Not yet. You resolve yourself to finding another time to corner him. For now, you paste a smile on and respond, "Just a happy coincidence. I actually came by ta thank ya."

His head tilts a bit to the left, and he raises a brow. He's smiling, but his scent belies his confusion. "Another thank you? What for this time?"

You merely beam at him and pull up the recent photos on your phone. You flip it around to show him the photo you took just this morning, holding Grant in one arm and Amelia in the other. "Turns out Dad was heading to the birth centre as I got in. If I'd stayed here, I would 'a missed it." You don't even try to hide the joy in your voice.

He squeals like you knew he would and pops up from his chair. He skirts the desk, arms open to embrace you. "Oh, honey! I'm so happy for you. I know how much this means for you." He squeezes you tightly to him when you hear a throat clearing behind you.

Yelping, you push back from Adam sheepishly, chuckling behind you. He glares peevishly over your shoulder at whomever is there. You're fairly certain you recognize the restrained laughter. Your suspicions are confirmed when you peer behind you to see your team in the entry.

"Ye look good, lass. Cozy," Johnny says. There's something running under his words, a subtext you don't have the vocabulary to make sense of. "Wha's got ye smilin'?" he teases, as if you don't know Price told the team the good news. Still, it's a chance to try and make this transition back into team dynamics normal. To ignore the reason you weren't with them is because Ghost, who is standing back behind everyone else but whose gaze damn near pins you in place with a look you can't decipher, just came off his rut. Which your omega reminds you you'd help him with next time if you joined the pack. A trickle of fear and wave of desire hit you at the same time. Thank god you put scent blockers on before you left home.

"It's the new pups," you tell them, voice surprisingly steady, taking your phone from Adam and holding it out.

You're smiling as they react appropriately. Johnny coos, "Lookit the bairns!" while Price grins at the picture. Ghost grunts, and Gaz hooks his arm around your shoulder, saying "Congrats, Ren! More siblings to dote on."

You have no idea what you've done to them with just the sight of you holding the babies. The smell in the small space shifts, deepens. There's a hint now of brine, clean clothes, forest greenery, but before you can figure out what it means, Adam quickly ushers you all into the conference room where it feels like the air conditioner is on blast. You shiver and hunch a little more into the borrowed jersey.

Laswell's already up on screen side-by-side with a series of photos. "Good, sit. We'll get started," she says as everyone files in. This is your first time joining a 141 mission, and you stand for a moment, unsure of your place here. Captain Price is at the head of the table with Ghost to his right (fittingly). Gaz is on a computer near the screen, and Soap takes the seat next to the leftenant.

Laswell must notice your hesitation and says, "Why don't you take a seat next to Gaz, Ren, so you can see some of the raw data." Once you're seated, she begins. "This is Albert Spinner," she says, highlighting an image of a man in his mid-forties or maybe early fifties. There's a little grey streaking the light brown hair at his temples, and its cut is professional. There are slightly visible laugh lines around his eyes. There's no context for his height, but he's of average build. He's not overly fit or heavy. This is a man who takes care of his appearance. It's clear in the crisp lines of the dove grey bespoke suit he's wearing. Nothing off-the-rack would fit so nicely.

He looks like the kind of man your parents would be friends with if they had a little more money.

"He's a known gun runner, but the man has shell companies for his shell companies," Laswell continues. "His front-facing persona is philanthropist entrepreneur. We've never been able to pin him down, but I got word he'll be in London next week at a charity auction. There's another know smuggler going to be in attendance." The screen flickers to another man, younger but in worse shape. The matching tracksuit looks expensive but doesn't sit as well on him as Spinner's suit does. He's not going grey, but his forehead looks large. Receding? He's a little heavy around the middle, the tracksuit pulling tight across his stomach. "Thomas Arella. Not as clean as Spinner. Not sure how he got an invitation as even his cover is dirty. Runs guns but covers it with shady loans. He's a big fish in a small pond, but Spinner runs with the big boys."

She pauses as all this information sinks in. Before she says anything, you're fairly certain this is going to take some improv skills. A charity auction isn't going to have an assets to recover; Laswell's going to want intel.

"What I need is to send in Ren, and one of the betas as her chaperone, to distract Arella." Through the screen, Laswell looks directly at you. "How are you at concealing your scent?"

You're stunned for a moment to be addressed directly and mutter, "Okay, I guess. My Dad taught me some things after I presented."

Laswell's nodding as you talk. "Good," she says, "because I need you off your scent blockers. He's a sucker for a pretty face, and if your omega can entice him, he'll be completely off his game and vulnerable. Then whoever's with you can clone his phone, and hopefully we'll get some hard intel on Spinner."

next

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed @honestlymassivetrash @thebumbqueen @maliamaiden @mordacioust @bina-passion-fruit @kittygonap @wanderingoperator

[marvelstoriesepic]

Home With You

Pairing: Rommate!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky and you visit the animal shelter to choose a kitten for adoption.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: lots of kittens; Bucky being a dork; pining

Author’s Note: Literally nobody asked for this but I needed it anyway. In my head this plays in the same universe as Soft spot, so we’ll get to find out what she feels for Bucky, but you can also read this as a stand alone. Hope you enjoy! ♡

Divider by @kodaswrld ♡

Masterlist

“Oh my god, Buck, look at this one,” you gush, for about the fifth time since stepping into the animal rescue shelter, voice pitched high with the delight you can’t contain.

Bucky, who’s been trailing beside you with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, watches with a smirk on his lips. “Y’know we’re only takin’ one, right?” His voice is that deep rumble, smooth but laced with enough teasing for you to shoot a look up at him over your shoulder from where you are crouched down to greet the next feline in the row.

The small tabby you’re pointing at lets out an exaggerated yawn before rolling onto its back, fluffy belly exposed like an invitation, making you forget all about Bucky’s remark by the cuteness of it all.

You press your fingers against the cage, wiggling them slightly, and the cat swipes playfully, its little paws batting at you.

“Don’t go gettin’ attached to every damn cat in here, doll. We ain’t got the space for a zoo,” Bucky speaks up again, an amused smirk still in his voice.

You huff, dramatically rolling your eyes as you reach into another cage, letting a fluffy gray cat sniff your fingers before it headbutts them affectionately. “I am not getting attached to all of them.”

Bucky snorts, but you ignore him, continuing to throw those sweet cats little heart eyes.

The shelter smells faintly of clean hay, warm fur, and just a hint of that industrial-strength cleaner they probably use to keep everything sanitized.

The air is filled with meows, distant yips, and you hear some dogs bark from the kennels further down.

But right now, all you care about is the row of metal enclosures filled with cats of every shape and size. Some are stretching their little paws through the bars, whiskers twitching as they observe you with differing levels of curiosity. Others lounge lazily on their beds, tails flicking idly.

Bucky steps closer, peering into a cage somewhere above you where a sleek black cat watches the two of you with eery intelligent green eyes. “This one’s got a whole attitude,” he mutters squinting as the cat swishes its tail, unimpressed.

You hum, looking up at it as well. “Seems to be a little broody. That means you’d definitely get along.”

Bucky throws you a look and you grin back at him before a tiny calico presses its body against the door of his cage, eager for attention.

You scratch behind the ears of the sweet fluffy baby who immediately starts purring like a motor. Bucky watches you for a moment, with something softened in his eyes as if he’s already resigned himself to the fact that whatever cat you fall in love with is the one you’re taking home.

And honestly, you think he’s just as excited as you are.

You have been living with him for nearly two years now and you talked about getting a cat for quite some time.

You work well together, found a great dynamic in sharing an apartment.

You go grocery shopping together a lot. You watch movies together, you cook together. It’s never a discussion, never an argument, except for when either of you is trying to get a rise out of the other.

It started as a practical decision. You were already friends before that and it was easier for you both to just go looking for an apartment to split rent, save money, without having someone who would leave passive-aggressive notes about unwashed dishes.

It was meant to be temporary, but things just clicked and worked out and you never talked about moving out. No awkward transition period, no frustrating quirks that made you want to strangle each other. It was easy. It still is.

You cook, he cleans. Or the other way around, depending on the day.

If you make a mess in the kitchen trying some new recipe, he’s there ten minutes later, exaggerating frustration by rolling his eyes but then gobbling down your food in a matter of minutes.

You do laundry together sometimes and you had to rescue a few of his shirts already since he doesn’t always bother with separating colors properly. Or perhaps that’s just his excuse to do it with you.

And when you catch him watching reruns of Friends - even though he swore he hated that show - you plop down next to him on the couch, steal a bite of whatever snack he’s got, and make fun of him.

Bucky used to be all grumbles in the morning before you moved in together, but now he grins at you with a sleepy smile when you come into the kitchen, two cups of coffee already done - one black for him, one with just a bit of cream for you. You even got him to start drinking tea.

So when you both decided to get a cat, it seemed to be another thing that just made sense. An agreement that you would take care of it together.

The apartment is already cat-proofed, the corner near the window cleared for a cat tree, food bowls sat up neatly in the kitchen. A small box of toys sits by the couch, next to a ridiculously soft bed that you both know the cat will ignore in favor of napping wherever it pleases.

You both know you should probably talk about the logistics. Who takes the cat if one of you moves out? But you don’t. Because neither of you plans to go anywhere.

When the cat starts to lose interest in you and moves further back into its cage, you turn back to Bucky.

He has his arms crossed, stance solid, with an expression of determination on his face. And directly in front of him is that black cat, staring back with an equal amount of intensity. Its emerald-green eyes are locked onto Bucky’s baby blues with an impressively unfaltering focus. A long tail flicks behind it as if it has all the time in the world to assert its dominance.

It takes you a second to process what exactly is happening here. But then Bucky is narrowing his eyes, leaning closer in.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, amusement bubbling up so quickly it nearly makes you laugh outright. “Are you having a staring contest with a cat?”

Bucky doesn’t move, he doesn’t blink. His jaw tenses just slightly, but otherwise, he stays frozen in place, eyes locked onto his opponent.

“This little guy thinks he’s got the upper hand,” Bucky mutters, tone flat, but the muscles in his cheek and jawline tick.

You step closer, tilting your head, hands on your hips. “Are you serious?”

“I ain’t about to let a cat punk me, alright?”

The cat narrows its eyes as well. Just slightly. Like it understands exactly what Bucky is saying and is challenging him even harder.

You bite your lip, trying and failing to contain your laughter. “You do realize this is literally what they do, right?” You gesture at the cat, who remains unmoved, tail swishing from one side to the other. Even that looks dangerously deliberate. “This is, like, their thing. Hate to break it to you, Buck, but you don’t stand a chance here.”

Bucky huffs. “Watch me.”

A full, delighted laugh spills out of you as you lean against the enclosure, shaking your head at your best friend.

And the second your laughter bursts out, Bucky’s head snaps toward you. As though he couldn’t help himself. As though it is just pure instinct.

His stare-off with the cat, which has been going strong for nearly a minute, is instantly abandoned. And his eyes are softer again when they fall on you, something fond hidden beneath the humor.

“Well, now you lost, Buck,” you exclaim, still giggling.

Bucky’s brows immediately knit together, looking back over to the black cat, who looks thoroughly unbothered. It’s already stretching itself into a position of absolute superiority, head resting on its paws like it never once doubted its victory.

“Shit,” Bucky mutters under his breath, only now realizing his mistake. Then, he straightens back, rolling his shoulders, as if shaking off the loss. He gestures vaguely at the enclosure and shakes his head almost petulantly. “Yeah, nah. We sure as hell are not gonna take this one. Too much attitude. He’s gonna hold this over me forever.”

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, peering into the cage at the cat who just effortlessly bested your six-foot-something, broad-shouldered, best friend in a silent battle of wills. “Oh, now you don’t want him?”

Bucky huffs, jabbing a thumb at the feline. “Look at him! He’s judging me. I can feel it.”

The cat blinks at him slowly, almost intentionally, before closing his eyes entirely like it has officially decided Bucky’s not worth any more of its energy.

You laugh again and Bucky groans.

You’re having the time of your life.

“Aww, Buck, don’t be like that,” you coo, nudging him playfully as you both start to walk away from the cage. “You guys had a moment. I think deep down he liked you.”

Bucky scoffs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah? That why he looked at me like he was calculating how long he’d need to take me out in my sleep?”

You grin smugly. “Or maybe he just saw himself in you.”

Bucky gives you the flattest look and stops in his tracks. “You serious?”

You shrug. “I’m just saying, two grumpy boys with trust issues? Sounds like fate to me.”

Sighing profoundly, Bucky runs a hand down his face, tilting it backward a little. But you catch the slight tug at the corner of his mouth. You know he is actually enjoying your little banter. He always does.

And just as you are about to push a little further, Bucky glances back at the enclosure and exhales a sharp breath, shaking his head with a kind of amused disbelief.

“Oh, well, would you look at that,” he drones out, walking back a few steps to tap a sign with two fingers. A sign that says this very cat is already been adopted and is to be picked up shortly. “Guess someone else already called dibs.”

You lean in to read it yourself, eyebrows raising slightly. “Huh. Guess so.” Then, with a slow and knowing grin, you turn back to him. “Aw, Buck. You disappointed?”

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing. “What? No. Not even a little.”

You purse your lips, nodding like you definitely believe him. “Mhm.”

“I’m not disappointed, doll,” he emphasizes, but despite his words, his gaze moves back to the black cat for a brief second. “Little guy was too full of himself, anyway.”

You don’t argue. Just bite back another laugh and link your arm through his as you keep walking.

The two of you move further into the shelter, eventually arriving at what might be the most magical place on earth.

A kitten playroom.

The volunteer leading you here smiles knowingly as she opens the door. “You guys are welcome to go in and sit with them,” she says. “See if any of them take a liking to you.”

Bucky leans in slightly toward you, murmuring in your ear, his breath on your skin. “See if they like us?”

“Shh,” you whisper, barely containing your excitement. “This is how it works.”

He huffs but doesn’t say more, only watches as the woman steps aside to gesture for you both to go in.

The second you do, it’s like stepping into another world - a tiny, chaotic world made up of soft meows, little squeaky chirps, and the soft thump-thump of tiny paws hitting the floor as kittens dart around like hyper little gremlins.

The space itself is cozy, set up like a playroom with various cat trees, beds, and soft blankets scattered across the floor. Toys are everywhere - feathery wands, crinkly balls, and those little springy things that cats lose under furniture within minutes. There’s even a small bridge leading to a cubby system mounted on the walls, where a few sleepy kittens are already curled up, watching the room like tiny overlords.

You are in heaven.

Practically squealing and bouncing on the balls of your feet you drop to your knees without hesitation as a little orange kitten stumbles toward you. “Look at them.”

Bucky lingers near the entrance, eying the herd of kittens with cautious skepticism. “Jesus. It’s like a damn army of ‘em.”

You reach out and gently scoop up the orange one, who immediately starts purring, so little paws kneading at your sweater. Your heart melts on the spot.

You don’t see the way Bucky is staring. Not at the kittens. Not at any of them. At you. At the way you light up, completely glowing, giggling softly as a brown-white little ball of fluff bats at your fingers. At the way you coo at them all, speaking in that soft voice people only use when they are utterly smitten.

He is in heaven too. Just for a slightly different reason.

“Oh, we are absolutely taking one home,” you declare, beaming as another one - a fluffy gray sweetheart - climbs onto your lap and starts attacking the drawstrings of your hoodie. “Maybe two.”

Bucky clears his throat, exhales, and steps closer, careful of the small balls hopping around between his feet. “We’re not gettin’ two,” he states, but then crouches down beside you, just as a small, round tabby kitten ambles over to investigate his boots.

You watch, biting back a grin as the little thing lifts one paw and bonks it against the toe of Bucky’s boot. Just a soft little tap, like it’s testing to see if he’ll react.

Bucky tilts his head. “What’s this guy doin’?”

You rest your chin lightly on top of the orange kitten’s head, amused. “I think he’s trying to fight you.”

Bucky continues watching the not-even-remotely intimidating little cat lift its paws and bonk him again.

“Yeah?” Bucky muses, raising a brow. “That so?”

Bonk.

Bucky shifts slightly, considering this challenge, then reaches down with his index finger extended. The small tabby immediately latches onto it with both paws, kicking at him with its little back feet.

You see the grin slowly forming on Bucky’s face.

The kitten lets out the tiniest, most ridiculous little mrrp, still clinging to Bucky’s finger like it’s the most important battle of his short life.

Bucky sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

You nudge him fondly. “Come on, you love him.”

Bucky chuckles softly and pries his finger gently from the round tabby’s grasp.

“So,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You makin’ any decisions here, or we just movin’ in?”

You beam up at him, cradling the sleepy grey kitten in your hands. “This isn’t just my decision, you know.”

“I know, doll,” Bucky replies easily. “But I’m sure whoever chooses you is the right one for us.”

Heat wanders up and down your back and you avert your attention back to the little fluff balls in your arms.

You are giggling at a white kitten pawing at your sleeves when you feel something tugging at your hair.

But before the sharp claws of the cat that ambushed you from behind can loosen any strands of your hair, Bucky’s hands are there to save them.

“Alright, alright, relax there, tough guy,” Bucky says, voice low and amused.

You go still when Bucky’s fingers brush the nape of your neck, untangling a mischievous ball of orange-white fluff from your hair. He makes quick work of it, grumbling under his breath as he carefully pries the kitten’s tiny claws from where they’ve latched on.

His touch is light, but enough to send a sharp little shiver down your spine.

You can smell the familiar scent of clean laundry and cedar and something that is just undeniably Bucky and you are not sure why your senses are so adamant about picking it up instead of the smell of the room and the little cats.

Your breath stays lingering in your throat a second too long before finally coming up. Long enough that when he finally leans back, you are suddenly well aware of just how intently you’d been focusing on the sensation of his fingers brushing through your hair, his voice close to your ear.

You swallow, blinking as he gently sets the kitten down in front of you, its tiny tail waggling like it’s still considering another attack.

Bucky just scoffs, shaking his head. “Gotta watch your back in here, doll. They got no mercy.”

You exhale a breathy little laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding like you just ran a mile.

The feline blinks up at you and you narrow your eyes.

“You did that on purpose,” you chastise it lightly.

It chirps in response, tail flicking.

Bucky chuckles warmly and you fight the urge to look at him, to turn and watch him like you always do.

Until you acknowledge a tiny, fluffy white kitten with bright blue eyes hop down from a nearby cat tree, landing in a little pounce before trotting straight over to you.

Your eyes go wide at the confident stride of the little one, lips parting just slightly in surprise as the kitten reaches you, then immediately climbs you and settles right in your lap as if finding a new home.

Bright blue eyes stare up at you for a second, then she lets out a little meow, head tilting slightly.

You freeze, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you.

And then, without hesitation, the kitten curls itself into the perfect little ball right in the center of your lap.

Your breath catches.

Bucky watches the shift in your expression, the way your body goes soft, the way your hands hover, hesitant, before finally pressing gently into the little thing’s fur. The way your entire face seems to melt, something delicate and awed settling into your features.

“Well. Guess that’s that, huh?” Bucky says softly, a fond smile on his face.

The kitten lets out a tiny meow and rubs her cheek against your palm, then promptly starts purring loudly.

Your heart is a puddle.

Looking up at Bucky, your eyes are bright, but careful. “Like I said, Buck. This isn’t just my decision.”

You don’t want to rush this.

This moment, this decision - it matters.

Because despite all the playful teasing and the cooing over the tiny kittens crawling over your legs, this isn’t just some random choice. It’s not like picking out cereal at the grocery store or deciding which movie to watch on a Friday night.

Bucky looks at you, seeing the way you already seem to have made up your mind, but needing him to want it too.

This isn’t just your home. It’s his too. It’s both of yours.

This choice - this little life curled up in your lap, soft and warm and trusting - has to be made together.

Bucky exhales, long and slow, seeming even a little nervous, before reaching out.

It’s careful at first, cautious, like he doesn’t want to startle her. But as soon as his fingers brush over the soft fur at the top of her tiny head, she leans into him, unafraid.

His fingers graze yours as you continue to scratch her belly.

And you feel it everywhere.

It’s a sharp heat that sizzles up your arm, fizzles through your chest, and crackles along your spine.

You will yourself not to react.

But the warmth of his hand is right there, just the shiest touch against yours, and it takes everything in you to stay perfectly still, to pretend like you don’t feel your pulse quicken, and don’t suddenly forget how to breathe normally.

Bucky’s hand stays, fingers brushing yours in a way so soft, so casual, that it feels anything but.

You almost pull back, but you don’t. Because he doesn’t either.

You force yourself to focus on the kitten instead.

She tilts her little head, her hot, pink tongue darting out and then she licks at the tip of Bucky’s finger, the tiniest little sandpaper kiss.

You laugh softly, and Bucky does too. So low and bright and genuine. It shines in his eyes when he looks at you.

“She likes you.” You don’t know why you are whispering, but this feels almost intimate.

Bucky scoffs, shaking his head, but his mouth is pulling into a wide grin. The softness of his smile lingers in the lines around his eyes.

“Yeah, well, she likes you too. So she’s gotta have taste.”

It’s so simple, the way he says it. And you are glad that his eyes are on the kitten in your lap because he surely would have seen what it did to you.

You two keep stroking her white fur while she relishes in the feeling, hands continuing to graze since her body is still so small. Something electric hovers in the air between you, something neither of you has ever really acknowledged but you - for your part - have always felt.

“Seems like we’ve been chosen,” Bucky states, voice quiet, thoughtful.

You giggle softly, feeling his eyes move up to your face, hand stilling momentarily against the fur. The purring continues and you feel the weight of the little baby press further into your lap, into your warmth as if she already feels at home.

You grin at him before moving your attention back to her. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Seems like we have.”

For a moment, there really seems to be nothing else. You don’t acknowledge another kitten bumping against your shoe or one attacking the sleeve at your elbow. It’s just you, and Bucky, and this little white sweetness cradled between you both.

“Well, isn’t that just the sweetest thing.”

The voice comes from the doorway, warm and delighted, and you glance up to see the same volunteer who led you in earlier - a woman seeming to be in her late forties, smiling so fondly you can feel it in your chest.

Bucky leans back slightly, shifting to rest his arms on his knees, but he doesn’t move his hand away from the kitten. He keeps his fingers right where they are, lightly against yours, grazing her fur, as if he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

“She’s a lucky little thing,” the woman says, stepping further into the room. “She’s going to be so loved with you two.”

Something about the way she says it makes something pull at your gut - pleasant but dangerous.

And then she beams, hands coming together in a light clap.

“Oh, you make such a lovely couple.”

Your insides feel like they’ve flipped. It’s so sudden. A weightless drop that leaves you momentarily breathless. Your lashes flutter and your brain scrambles for literally anything.

But before you can get words out, Bucky lets out a short, breathy chuckle, shaking his head. You didn’t notice the way his hand froze between white fur. Because yours did, too.

“Nah, we’re not-” he starts, seeming a little awkward. A little nervous. He lifts his free hand, and gestures between you. “-Y’know. Together.”

The woman’s brows lift. “Oh?”

You clear your throat, shifting slightly, suddenly hyper-aware of everything - the heat of Bucky beside you, the way his knee nearly brushes yours, the bashful way he looks down at the kitten.

“Yeah,” you manage, forcing a smile. “We’re just- We’re roommates.”

“Friends,” Bucky tacks on, nodding as if that settles it.

The woman hums, clearly amused. “Huh.”

She doesn’t say anything else for a second, just looks between the two of you, smiling like she knows something you don’t. Maybe you should try harder to suck in the rosy color on your cheeks.

Then she crouches down in front of you both and reaches out to run a gentle hand along the kitten’s tiny back.

“Well, couple of not, I can tell she is going to be really happy with you two,” she says, her voice softer now, sincere.

You smile at this small life in your lap who somehow fits perfectly into the world you and Bucky have built together. She definitely is going to be loved. She already is.

Bucky exhales and when you glance up at him he is wearing a fond smile as well.

He watches how the kitten seems completely at ease in your lap, her tiny body rising and falling with deep breaths.

“We’ll take good care of her,” he assures, voice quiet but certain. He swallows.

You lift your head and your eyes lock.

Something tender passes between you before you avert your eyes again and you nod at his words. They do something to you, you can’t even explain. Because there is no doubt, no hesitation. It’s not even a simple promise, it’s a commitment.

A vow that whatever happens, this little baby girl will never know loneliness, will never go without warmth, without love.

“We’ll try our best,” he adds, voice a little rougher now.

You know that as sure as you know the feeling of his presence in your life, the way he’s always there, something solid and good, something grounding and doting.

You find yourself smiling so wide, you have to bite your lip.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” the woman in front of you says, watching the two of you with sparkling eyes.

She seems so confident.

Bucky huffs out a laugh, and there is something sheepish in the sound.

You glance down at the kitten, who lets out a yawn, stretching her small claws before rolling herself further into you.

This is really happening.

And for some reason, it feels right in a way you weren’t fully prepared for.

“Sometimes, the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”

- A.A. Milne

[celuere]

Can I pretty please, and oh so kindly, and only if it's okay, request for soft smut scene with Arlecchino? I love your headcanons about her when her wife is pregnant and even after giving birth... So I can't help but fantasize about Arlecchino making sweet love to her wife a couple of weeks after she recovers from childbirth? Thank you so much, and I hope you keep creating and sharing your beautiful brainchildren. 🥹🥰

birds of a feather.

pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader

cw: fingering, arles fat dick, soft sex omg, pathetic lesbian arlecchino who cheered, so much fluff it‘ll make you throw up, body worship, breeding because one child with her ain‘t enough, uhmmm slight lactation kink- WHO SAID THAT.

anon you GOT me with that ask. like straight up grabbing me by the throat with it. bless you. 

word count: 2.2k

you breathed out a sigh laced with exhaustion as you pulled your dirty shirt over your head. turns out having a baby throw up over you right after getting off the breast isn‘t the most pleasant experience.

your eyes lingered on your body a bit too long. the stretch marks on your tummy along with the loose skin from your baby belly were enough evidence of the childbirth you put yourself through a little over six months. luckily it wasn‘t as bad as some stories made it out to be, but those 36 hours of labor were… something. ten fingers weren‘t enough to count how often you told your husband to shut up even tho she tried her best to relieve you. wiping your forehead with a cool cloth, helping you walk the stairs of your manor up and down which was… embarrassing with an entire team of midwives and doctors watching your every step. but overall you did amazing.

parenthood was… scary might be the wrong term but it was definitely new territory for the both of you. even arlecchino. she could handle toddlers, teenagers and young adults, that‘s what she has been doing for the last ten years after all, but a newborn? which she gets to call her own? the baby you nurtured in your belly for nine months? cut her some slack, she is doing the best she can. you aren‘t even allowed to get up during the night if she isn‘t hungry. it is always your husband changing her diapers and soothing her back to slumber so incredibly fast that you start wondering if she isn‘t feeding the baby benadryl.

you looked up to the door being opened by none other than arlecchino, bloody eyes immediately landing on your exposed upper body before they drove up to your face. she visibly swallowed.

„she… just fell back asleep.“, her mouth was slightly left open as she closed the door behind her. she couldn‘t quite tear her gaze off of you and that meant something. she wasn‘t being awkward when you breastfed, nor did she even mention the topic of intimacy for the last months but now… she did look quite caught off guard.

„you are staring, honey…“

the harbinger slightly shook her head, averting her eyes as she walked over to your shared bed.

„my apologies. i didn’t intend to cause any unease for you. but…“, with her back turned to you, you failed to see how she had to bite her lower lip. and how she was practically clawing into her pants.

„but you look ravishing.“

you stayed silent as you watched your husband get back into bed. heart pounding against your ribcage, threatening to set out a beat or two. it has been a while since those x‘s have been filled with anything else other than love and affection. the moment was short lived but you did catch that glimmer of lust flying over her face. 

„ravishing you say…?“, you let your sleepwear drop to the floor as you made your way over to her and god the way her eyes where quite literally fucking you already.

„what do you think you‘re doing?“, she didn’t quite know where to look. your swollen breasts? your tummy and the marks stretching over the skin? or your beautiful face? it‘s not often that the knave is having a hard time with making decisions.

„you… looked like you wanted to have a closer look…“

„ma cherié, please cover yourself up- i don’t want you to walk around with your bare chest for my sake.“, grabbing the cardigan that was resting on your side of the bed before she handed it over to you, trying to ignore just how hard she already was from merely looking at you.

„why, don’t you like what you are seeing…? i know i gained some weight during pregnancy a-and my stomach is also hanging a bit loose…“, you did feel your heart sink at the thought of being unattractive to her. especially after what you put your body through.

arlecchino only stared at you in disbelief of what you just said. as if you just slapped her right across the face. the disbelief in her eyes seemingly growing with each moment that passed.

„i strongly detest such accusations. infact, i have never found you more beautiful…“, her hand gently clasped your arm in her grip as she tugged you onto her lap, „yet i don‘t want you to feel obligated to show yourself off to me. you… gave birth. you bore my child. i want things to move at your pace and if i ever gave you a different impression then i deeply apologize for that. it wasn‘t my inten-“, she halted mid-sentence when you moved her hand over to your tits until she cupping you in her palm.

„we are very much moving at my pace, my dear husband… do you have any idea how difficult it is to watch you do literally anything lately…?“, you noticed her lips part as her hand gave you a soft squeeze, dragging a moan right out of you.

„is that so? elaborate…“, she gave your nipple a tender pinch, eyes never leaving your own.

„i-it‘s just the way you handle her- or how you‘ve been in home office for the last months now… a-always being there when i need you… s-simple things l-like that… hah…“, your face flushed more with a deep red after each syllable rolling over your lips. her intense gaze on you. the hand massaging your tit. you almost didn‘t notice in the midst of the heat how you began to lose some milk. her attention was immediately fixed on the creamy fluid running over her hand.

„look at you…“, you audibly gasped as you felt her mouth close around your nipple. not sucking. merely letting this fluid gold run right over tongue. she has been curious for quite some time about the taste but archons forbid the knave would ask her nursing wife to have a taste of her breastmilk. she needs to maintain at least some of her dignity.

pregnancy has made them so incredibly sensitive to the touch. seeing your husband knead and clinging to them is just… you‘ll have to change panties again. or maybe you don‘t. because a certain hand was already working on shoving them aside, coating her fingers immediately in your slick as she let go of your boob.

„you taste just as sweet as i expected… and as you look.“, something in her eyes turned so incredibly weak at the sight of your flushed face. while something else was straining against the prison of her boxers. 

„y-you are overdoing it, r-really- ah-!“, your hand found her neck as she sunk two clipped fingers into your warmth. and god it felt like coming back home to a home cooked meal after a long business trip. her movements were hesitant at first as she studied your face for any signs of pain or being uncomfortable.

„mhm… my sweet angel… already moving your hips against me?“, her smile was lethal when she managed to hit your weakest spot with just a simple curl of her fingers. on the first try.

the sudden hit caused your back to arch and your body to shiver. it almost felt like she was not a single day out of practice where it not for the hesitant movements.

she was testing how deep the waters are before she steps into them.

„h-how- how do you still know how to h-hit it-?“, a rhetorical question.

„my love.“, her digits now softly pressing and massaging this important spot inside of you as you were gripping onto her fingers for dear life, „i could never forget something as important as my wife‘s pleasure.“

you forgot how truly skilled she actually was with those fingers. how good she knew your body from the outside and inside. each curl felt calculated as if she wanted to push you near the cliff of your self restraint but not off of it. and it worked so well. 

arlecchino on the other side was absolutely besotted if not getting completely drunk off the sight of her wife riding her fingers as if it‘s day one. crimson gaze roaming over your body, how your tits bounced with each movement in front of her face and those stretchmarks… these things were awakening something in her that harbinger didn‘t even know existed. and she loved you for it. she loved how you led her to discovering new sides of herself everyday. a baby? something she could only ever imagine with you and nobody else.

„peru- p-peruere please-“

„please what, amour? you have such a pretty mouth… tell me exactly what you want me to do…“, her voice was reduced to nothing but a soft whisper. no sign of the usual deep, monotone sound.

„c-can- gulp can i have you inside- n-not your fingers- i-i mean your-“, she didn‘t let you finish that sentence as you felt her hand securing the back of your head as she carefully laid you back down on the mattress, fingers smoothly retreating from your aching pussy.

„i‘ll give you anything you want, dove. i‘d even pluck the moon out of the firmament if you asked me to.“, a much bigger hand engulfed yours before lifting it up to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss right on top of your wedding ring. archons above. you never felt more fertile to be honest.

and if eyes could fuck, you‘d be on your 4th orgasm already.

„wh-what… what are you looking at…?“, you suppressed the urge to hide your body by crossing your arms in front of your chest.

„i… am currently looking at my stunning wife. and how beautiful she still looks after bringing a baby into the world.“, your lungs grew suddenly too big for your ribcage as she lowered her head towards your abdomen before you felt her lips hitting one of the various marks stretching over the skin.

„mother of my child… music to my ears.“, and it didn‘t stop at peppering gentle kisses onto you. her hands had to give your hips a nice massage as she slowly worked her way up to breasts, cupping the soft mass in her cursed existence before you found the hardened bud back between her lips.

you didn‘t know how many minutes she spent with just kissing and licking every single inch of your body. whispering the occasional „i love you.“ in between those sensual moments while your heart hurt so bad. not in a bad way of course. her words just seemed too big for you to comprehend, it felt like it was ripping you apart from the inside. sex never felt dirty with her. no matter how rough or soft she was with you. it was always intimate, sensitive, special. like two puzzle pieces finally fitting each other.

she almost came right on the spot when she entered you. actually had to take a few moments to regulate her breathing in order to not come inside of you after ten seconds. since when did she have so little control over herself?

on the other side of the coin you weren‘t doing any better. hips urging her to go deeper as you gripped the sheets with all your might in an attempt to somehow anchor yourself. 

„may i-“

„god please- yes-“

you often pictured this particular moment. the first bit of intimacy after months of navigating parenthood. you imagined her to be starved. rough. hungry. yet she was none of it. her pace was slow, almost scared. as if she was handling a porcelain figure. her grip on you was tender. no nails digging into you since she is keeping them neatly filed down in order to not harm the baby. and she was moaning. something she barely did. your husband was vocal. vocal and vulnerable and you couldn‘t get enough of it. 

she looked so weak. so incredibly weak with how she had to keep the drool running out of her mouth by licking her lips every now and then, red eyes darting around, unsure where to look. your flushed face? your chest? your abdomen? or her dick pumping in and out of you and the creamy ring that already formed around her base?

if her place was inside her wife‘s pussy then so be it.

you choose to not comment on her state. she‘d deny it anyway.

what really did the trick for her was when you grabbed after her hand, fingers intertwining with each other as if not even time and space could separate you.

„tu seras ma fin…“

„you will be the end of me…“

you shared everything that night. memories. weaknesses and even orgasms.

when she painted thick ropes of her cum inside of you she couldn‘t fight the urge to press you all the way down on her. to make sure she was savoring every single bit of herself inside of you.

and right now you moaned her name like a prayer to the gods. not to be saved but to be blessed with maybe another addition to the family. securing the bloodlines or something like that.

your joined panting filled the room and the smell of raw sex probably hung in the air too.

„thank you.“

„f-for what…?“

it was then when you heard a cry coming from across the hallway. an all too familiar cry. a reminder of your love for each other.

„for this.“

[berfgrimm]

what’s your fantasy? | choi su-bong (thanos)

pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x f!reader

warnings: successful!thanos au, smut, unprotected sex, oral, cheating, spanking, biting, choking, fingering, manhandling, lots of vaping, pain kink, mask kink (ghostface), name calling, voyeurism-ish (kink?), cocky!thanos, sex tape, lots of dirty talk, some moments of fluff. if I missed any, i can only apologize.

note: halloween is here seven months early! i got carried away again — this is 11.4k words. i just really like thanos and ghostface. and maybe the boyfriend is very loosely based on a real person, maybe he isn’t. mind your business. also if there are any typos i’m sorry, but i read over it like 100 times before posting, please just enjoy.

———————

You’d known Su-bong before Thanos. You met through mutual friends and immediately hit it off due to your similar interests. You became inseparable until he started spending more time with his entourage, and the Thanos persona began to form. For a while, you thought that the two of you would have made a good couple until Su-bong’s ego grew worse.

You met your current boyfriend, Shota, on a business trip to Tokyo. He helped you find your hotel when you were lost, in exchange for your phone number. He was kind and funny, so you didn’t see the harm in giving him your number. Six months into the long-distance relationship, you’ve grown to care for him, even though your opposing schedules keep you apart most days.

When you started dating Shota, there was a distinct change in the way Su-bong acted towards you. He was even cockier than you thought possible, flaunting his wealth and good fortune at every opportunity. Shota didn’t like him, and suggested that you spend less time with him, but you assured your boyfriend that Su-bong was just growing into his fame and needed friends to keep him grounded.

After Su-bong’s album went platinum, he bought a secluded, oversized home on the Han River. He’d always fantasized about having a beautiful home with more space than he knew what to do with. Having grown up watching his favorite West Coast rappers throw lavish house parties in their million dollar mansions, the ink was barely dry on the house deed before he started planning his first celebration: a Halloween party.

He hired a party planner to decorate and invite influencers that he’s never met before, all in the interest of growing his brand. You struggled with the decision to attend the party or not, knowing that you likely wouldn’t know most of the people, but Halloween was your favorite holiday and you wanted to dress up with your boyfriend.

Standing near the fireplace of Su-bong’s living room, watching a group of a hundred strangers dancing, was not the way you expected the party to go. Shota had an event in Japan that ran late and had not yet arrived, which left you as a sexy Little Red Riding Hood without a Big Bad Wolf. You were cold and a little embarrassed, hoping that Shota would show up soon.

Su-bong stands with a friend at the top of the steps by his kitchen. His Ghostface mask is pulled back from his face, resting on top of his head so he can hit his vape. You watch him nod as his friend speaks, but his eyes are scanning the room. You assume he’s in search of a woman to annoy for the night, so you look away, glancing down at your phone to check the time. 9:30. It’s still early, but your boyfriend should be here by now.

You look back towards Su-bong to get a better view of his costume. Beyond the mask, he’s not the traditional Ghostface, but more relaxed. A hoodie, jeans, gloves, and boots — all black. He didn’t ordinarily dress in muted colors, but loved to be more vibrant, that way people would pay attention to him. With this costume, he almost blends in, if not for the strands of purple hair peeking from under the hood.

When Su-bong locks eyes with you suddenly, it’s as though he felt you staring. You try to give him a friendly smile, as you normally would, but you find it harder to do. Something about seeing him dressed this way stokes the fire within you that you thought had long been snuffed out.

Su-bong smirks slowly, taking another hit from his vape before he adjusts the mask over his face again. He pulls his hood up, tilting his head to the side as he still watches you from across the room. When he carefully takes the three steps down to the living room, you break your gaze from him. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind racing with the former attraction you had for him.

It wasn’t something you’d felt since you started dating Shota. Mostly, you had to force yourself to stop thinking of Su-bong in that way, but also you really cared for Shota. Tonight, however, with Su-bong dressed like Ghostface, you feel a sheen of sweat beginning to form.

Why the fuck do you like how he’s dressed?

You suddenly feel hot, and need some fresh air so you maneuver around the crowd to slip out the door to the garden. You cross to the railing, leaning against it to stare out at the river in the darkness. You’re able to take a few deep breaths and let the cool breeze blow across your heated skin, calming your nerves.

“Well, you look good enough to eat.” The voice is muffled by a mask, and briefly you’re confused as to who might be standing behind you, until they speak again. “Out here all alone in the night, you must be waiting for your Big Bad Wolf.”

“Fuck off, Su-bong.” You cock your arm back to elbow him in the stomach, causing him to let out a grunt that he quickly turns into a laugh. He steps past you so he can lean against the railing in front of you now, undoubtedly smirking behind his Ghostface mask.

“Did you leave your little boyfriend in Japan tonight?” he asks, looking around as if he really expects to locate him nearby.

“Little? He’s bigger than you.”

“Not where it counts.”

“Don’t you have someone else you can bother?”

“This is more fun,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders when he turns his head back to you. “It’s so easy to get under your skin.” You sigh and roll your eyes, leaning your elbow against the railing.

“I’m surprised you let everyone wear their shoes in your new house,” you say, attempting to change the subject to something more normal.

“I hired cleaners to come tomorrow,” he says, with a small laugh, and you drop your gaze to the ground. “You can’t even look at me right now. It’s the mask, isn’t it?” You turn back to him, staring straight at his masked face with a shrug.

“I’m looking at you, Su-bong,” you say, blandly, although he’s right — you find it difficult to look at him without your mind creeping into uncharted territory. Su-bong tugs the mask off of his face, settling it on top of his head, the smirk on his face almost too smug.

“I saw you staring before,” he says, hitting his vape. “Is the difference that I’m standing so close to you right now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” he quirks his eyebrows, amused. “So, this doesn’t bother you?” He takes a couple of steps towards you, slow and deliberate, until there’s only about a foot between your bodies.

“Su-bong,” you say, pressing your hand to his chest to push him away, but you find yourself not trying too hard to stop him.

“I’ve never seen you wear something this short before,” he continues, ignoring you as his fingers begin to play with the hem of your skirt. “Did Little Red Riding Hood wear fishnets and a corset in the story? I don’t remember anything about her being a slut.”

Your mouth feels dry, your breath hard to catch as Su-bong speaks. You always called him a mouthpiece because he was never stuck on what to say in any given situation, but you’d never experienced this. Your instinct as someone who has a boyfriend is to tell him you’re not interested, but the nagging urges that have for him seemingly resurfaced are complicating things. You wonder how he manages to be tuned in to what your turn-ons are.

Without your protests, Su-bong’s fingers start to toy with the tulle under your skirt, creeping closer and closer to touching your thighs. Even with gloves on, the sensation of Su-bong’s hands on you makes you tense with anticipation. Your phone suddenly vibrating in your hand snaps you out of your trance quickly, and you look down at the screen to see your boyfriend’s name.

“Uh-oh, Shooter’s calling,” Su-bong teases. You slap his hand away from your skirt, your face flushing in both arousal and embarrassment. You take a few steps away from Su-bong so he won’t be able to listen to your phone call.

“Hey, babe,” you answer the call, keeping your voice low. “Where are you? Did you get lost?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, his voice tired. “I’m still at Haneda. My…flight was delayed.”

“Oh,” you say, dropping your shoulders.

“I’m not sure how much longer it will be. I guess I should have taken the train, like you suggested.” You don’t reply, your disappointment getting the better of you. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you had the costumes ready, and you were really excited.”

“It’s okay,” you mutter.

You feel yourself getting annoyed at how his tone of voice sounds disinterested. You’d like to blame it on how tired he likely is from work, but you know he doesn’t care for Su-bong either, and would come up with anything to avoid seeing him. Sometimes, you’d like to agree that Su-bong can be a bit too much, but you were ready to put that aside for the sake of Halloween.

“I’m sure you’ll have more fun without me there,” Shota presses. “I’m tired, and wouldn’t be good company.”

“What am I without my Big Bad Wolf?”

It feels childish for you to guilt trip him like this, especially since it isn’t his fault that his flight is delayed. Still, you’re upset after you had been so excited for the weeks leading up to the party. And you hope that having Shota with you would calm the reawakened feelings for Su-bong.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Shota says, and his detached tone finally pushes you from disappointed to pissed off.

“Great,” you reply, flatly. “I’ll see later, I guess.”

You quickly hang up the call before he has the opportunity to say anything else. You clench your phone in your hand, willing it to break to get out your frustration, but you hear the crackling of Su-bong’s vape behind you, bringing you to your senses for a moment.

“He’s not coming?” You’d swear there was a brief flash of your old friend in the way he speaks, but it’s quickly overshadowed by Su-bong walking up behind you and leaning in towards your ear. “I know what will take your mind off of it,” he whispers. “Dancing. You used to love dancing…I bet Shooter doesn’t know the way you and I used to dance together.”

You picture the times you and Su-bong would hang out at clubs, drinking and dancing the night away. You were both fond of slow jams on nights where the drinks were plenty, and you would grind against Su-bong without a second thought. There were nights where you would feel him getting hard, and you were sure if he asked you to go home with him, you wouldn’t hesitate, but neither of you ever made the jump.

“C’mon, baby,” Su-bong smiles. “For old time’s sake.”

“Dancing sounds great,” you grit, turning abruptly to reenter the house, not waiting for Su-bong.

You shove through the crowd that fills the living room finding a spot where you can begin to sway on your own to the music. Su-bong slinks towards you, watching the way your body moves as if he’s fighting the urge to pounce on you. Your gaze finds him, inviting him closer towards you — he smirks and pulls the mask over his face. Su-bong creeps closer, catching you by your waist so he can keep your bodies close together as you both move to the music. You press your hands to his chest softly, trying to mostly avoid looking at Su-bong, though you‘re certain he’s locked onto you behind the eyes of the mask.

“I know you’re pissed at Shooter,” he says suddenly, his grip loose on your hips, but firm enough to keep you against him. “I know a way that we could really make him jealous. We could sneak up to my room and take a few pictures. I’ve got a king size bed.”

“It matches your king size attitude,” you retort, and you know it sounds stupid, but you have to say something so he doesn’t know the impact he’s beginning to have on you.

“A lot about me is king size, señorita,” Su-bong answers. “If you’d rather something more public, the sofa is right there and I’m sure the influencers would love a livestream opportunity. A little slut like you, ready to do anything to keep me happy, you’ll go viral in seconds.”

“You’re just full of ideas tonight,” you mutter, hoping he doesn’t notice the effect his words are having on you.

“You don’t remember that you told me all of this?” he smirks. “I’ve got a great memory.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been telling me for years about all the shit you’re into,” he says, pulling you by your hips so you’re snug against him. “How you love a man to be dominant, how you like being called names…how much you love Ghostface.” He laughs at the last part, lifting the mask from his face so you can see his eyes. “That’s only a few, but I remember everything you told me,” he smirks. “And I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to give you what you want.”

“Why?” you ask. “That’s uncharacteristically considerate of you.” Su-bong laughs, hitting his vape.

“I like a woman who isn’t afraid to get nasty for me.”

“Good to know it’s purely selfish.”

“Oh, do you need me to be more generous?” Su-bong asks, pulling his mask over his face again. “Do you need me to tell you how fucking hot you look tonight? And how I want to drag you up to my bedroom to fuck you until you’re screaming my name?”

“I have a boyfriend,” you say, maybe trying to convince yourself more than Su-bong.

“Shooter’s boring. I bet he doesn’t spank you. Remember when you told me how wet that gets you?”

The memories begin to flow into your mind again. You remember several nights with Su-bong where conversations drifted to sex. You always felt comfortable about the things you were into, and you didn’t mind sharing with your friend. Maybe there was a part of you that hoped one day he would take you in the ways you described, but he never did.

“You told me one time that you get turned on by being touched in public,” Su-bong interrupts your thoughts, his hand delving between your thighs.

“Su-bong,” you mutter, finding yourself trembling in anticipation, waiting to feel the material of his glove rubbing against you.

“Were you hoping to get fucked tonight? Is that why you wore this skirt and fucking thigh high stockings? And poor Shooter isn’t here to see it.” Su-bong slips two fingers past the side of your panties, touching your slick skin. “Or feel it,” he continues, dragging his gloved fingers through your folds, brushing over your clit. “Or…taste it.”

Su-bong begins to breathe a little harder, muffled against the mask. He bumps his head against yours, nuzzling so he can lean closer to your ear.

“I’ll bet you’d look really pretty in my bed…face down, ass up…dripping down your thighs and onto my designer sheets.”

“Jesus Christ,” you snap back to your senses and shove Su-bong away from you.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything else, knowing your voice won’t be strong enough to sound assertive. The first thing that comes to your mind is putting as much distance between yourself and Su-bong as you can before your self-restraint disappears entirely. Dropping your gaze to the ground, you shove through the crowd and make your way towards the bathroom.

Much to your annoyance, the small bathroom near the kitchen is occupied, so you quickly storm up the steps in hopes that one of the guest bathrooms is available. As you walk, you get the sense that you’re being watched, so you quicken your pace, slipping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut to engage the lock.

“Calm down,” you mutter quietly, stepping in front of the mirror to look at your reflection. “He’s just trying to fuck with your head. He’s an asshole.” You straighten out the tulle of your skirt and turn the taps on to splash some cool water on your face.

You should leave. That’s the best option at this point. Su-bong has worn down your resolve and you’re one dirty word away from falling into his bed. There’s no way you could do that to Shota because you care for him too much. Even with your current frustration towards him, he’s still your boyfriend and you’re not looking to cheat on him with one of your friends. That solves it: you’re going home.

When you open the door to exit the bathroom, your heart leaps into your throat at the sight of Ghostface bracing his hands on either side of the doorway. He tilts his head to the side, making it obvious that he’s sizing you up. You know that it’s Su-bong, but the sight excites you more than it rightfully should.

You shouldn’t play along; you should stick with your plan and just go home. But Shota never wants to play games like this. It took weeks of begging to get him to agree to the Big Bad Wolf costume, and he still managed to wiggle out of the obligation. Sometimes you wished he would like to have a little more fun. Sometimes you wish he was more like Su-bong.

You quickly try to close the bathroom door, but Su-bong shoves it open, forcing his way into the room with you. He locks the door, and spins back towards you, hoisting you up onto the counter. The way he cocks his head to the side, the empty black eyes of the mask hiding him from your view, it makes your stomach twist in an array of emotions — excitement and anticipation at the forefront, followed closely by embarrassment for how much this turns you on.

“Why’d you run away from me?” Su-bong’s voice, though muffled by the mask, is deep and dangerous. “Are you scared of me, baby?”

“No.” You try to sound firm and confident but even with one word, your voice falls short. You’re sure Su-bong smirks behind his mask.

“Then what is it? Is there something you’re hiding from me instead?”

You’re too caught up in the moment to notice that Su-bong removed his gloves until you feel his hands on your knees, spreading your thighs apart. As he slots between your legs, you look down at his hands, nails adorned with black polish, creeping under your skirt. When he touches your lacy panties, finding them soaked through, he shakes his head, tsking at you.

“Are you that fucking easy?” Su-bong asks, leaning closer towards you to press his masked face directly against your cheek. Your face heats up and tears sting at your eyes, finding yourself overwhelmed with arousal and a little bit of guilt. “You really do get off on this mask thing, don’t you? What is it? Does being afraid turn you on?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, truly unsure of what you enjoy about this. He keeps his head against yours as his fingers twist the fabric of your panties so he can rip them.

“These will just slow us down, baby,” he breathes, as the lace tears in his grasp. You whine, your thighs tightening around his waist in pure instinct — with him pressed against you, the bulge in his jeans is obvious, pressing to your wetness with enough friction to make your body ache.

“Su-bong,” you whine, your voice so needy, and you’re sure that Su-bong grins in delight behind his mask. He pries your thighs away from his hips and gets on his knees on the floor, pushing the tulle of your skirt away so he can finish ripping your panties from you.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, angling his head towards you, eyes still hidden behind his mask. You don’t realize how hard your breaths are coming out at first, but then you can hear them, echoing in the confined space of the bathroom.

You shake your head, so slight it could have looked like a twitch, but Su-bong accepts this as the confirmation he was waiting for. His head moves closer between your thighs until you feel the curved edge of the mask’s nose drag over your clit. Your body lurches in surprise, already so on edge from just talking, and Su-bong chuckles between your legs.

“Easy, baby. Don’t get too excited.”

Su-bong’s hands splay across your inner thighs so he can part your fold with his thumbs. You hear him hum softly, almost an appreciative sound, something that comes deep from his chest. He brushes his thumb over your clit, looking up at you to watch your reaction — your hips edge forward, silently begging for more.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes on the counter at your side. Against the marble countertops, the sound is much louder, echoing through the small room.

“I’ll bet that’s Shooter,” Su-bong mutters, his finger now circling around your entrance. “He feels bad for leaving you all by yourself, Little Red. Out here, where anybody could just…eat you up.”

Su-bong pulls the mask to the top of his head again, and trails the tip of his tongue over your clit, so softly that he’s barely there. At the same time, he pushes his finger into you, to the first knuckle. You let out a groan, knocking your head back against the mirror, and Su-bong chuckles, amused by how twisted up you are from so little touching.

Your phone buzzes. It feels like it’s louder this time, or maybe it’s the way your head is reeling, you can’t be sure. Su-bong teases your clit with his tongue again, applying the same amount of pressure, quick and ghostlike. You moan louder, spreading your legs.

“Goddamn,” you groan while Su-bong pushes his finger a little deeper into you.

There’s a knock at the door, and someone says your name. Your eyes go wide when you realize it’s Shota. Su-bong laughs quietly, not stopping himself from fingering you slowly. You clamp your hand over your mouth to silence the moan that threatens at your throat, hoping that maybe Shota will leave. The doorknob rattles, and you feel the panic set in.

“Hey, babe, are you okay? Namgyu said he saw you come up here, and he thought you weren’t feeling well.” You shoot a glare at Su-bong to curse his friend for sending your boyfriend after you, but Su-bong only smirks, eyes on you as he leans in to tongue you again. “Babe?” Shota’s voice comes again and now your phone buzzing for a third time against the countertop definitely gives you away.

“Fuck,” you breathe against your hand, finally shoving Su-bong away by his shoulders, so he quietly tumbles to sit on the floor. He covers his mouth to laugh silently, while you attempt to straighten out your skirt. “Yeah, Shooter, I’m here,” you call out, watching Su-bong hit his vape. ”Gimme just a second.”

You gesture to the shower, directing Su-bong to hide so you can open the door, but he doesn’t move. You give him a pleading look, hoping that he won’t do anything stupid. Finally, he rolls his eyes and pulls his mask down again as he stands and climbs into the shower, out of view. You spare one more glance at your reflection, making sure you look presentable before you open the door to face your boyfriend.

“I thought you were stuck in Tokyo,” you say, flatly.

“I was trying to surprise you,” Shota says, his tone unconvincing, like he practiced what he wanted to say.

“Yeah, great surprise.” You push past Shota, pulling the door shut as you make your way down the hall. You want to find somewhere out of view of the bathroom to allow Su-bong the opportunity to sneak out without being seen by Shota, so you descend the steps and head to the kitchen.

“Babe,” Shota calls out, trying to be heard over the noise of the party, but you pretend you don’t hear him, grabbing a water from the fridge. “I’m sorry,” Shota says, once he reaches you.

“If you didn’t want to come to the party, Shota, you could have just said it.”

“Okay, I didn’t want to come,” he says. “You’re right. But I did show up. I’m here now.” You take a sip of your water, staring at Shota as you wait for him to continue. “I don’t like Thanos,” he groans. “He’s an asshole. I don’t know why you’re friends with him. I didn’t feel like coming all the way out here for his party.”

“It wasn’t for his party; it was for me.”

“I didn’t think of it—”

“So, you lied to me instead,” you respond. “Were you at my apartment, pretending you were still at the airport?” Shota glances around for a moment, as if he doesn’t want to tell you the truth even if you already figured it out. “You showed up now…without the costume—”

“I don’t like costumes,” he interrupts, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’d be less pissed off if you would have told me the truth,” you say, looking towards the partygoers to find Su-bong talking to a girl you’ve never seen before

“You’re right,” Shota says. “I shouldn’t have lied about it.”

Shota continues to talk but you’re too focused on Su-bong and this random girl. Why would he be flirting with some stranger when his head was just between your thighs? No, of course you know why he’s doing this — his ego. He needs to be the one in control of every situation.

You watch the way Su-bong leans in towards the girl, whispering something in her ear. As he speaks, she giggles and Su-bong’s eyes immediately find yours, like he could feel you staring. His gaze is devious, and you feel enveloped by it, stuck and you can’t look away; it’s like he’s daring you to do something. The girl keeps talking to Su-bong, just like Shota still talks to you but you are locked in with Su-bong, neither of you really listening to your conversations.

Su-bong takes a hit off of his vape, finally breaking eye contact with you so he can talk to the girl again, making her laugh immediately. You clench your jaw, wondering what he could have said that was so funny.

“Are you even listening to me?” Shota’s voice catches your attention again, and you sigh, looking back at him.

“Yeah, I heard you, Shota,” you lie. “Look…maybe you should go back to my place and sleep. You’ve been busy this week…you need to get some rest.”

You give him the opportunity to tell you to come with him. Maybe that’s what you need to make you snap out of this stupid trance that Su-bong has you in. But when Shota nods his head, running his hand through his hair, you know he won’t.

“Okay,” he says. “You’re probably right. Some rest could help. And I have that event in Hyōgo this weekend…” His tone almost sounds relieved.

“Then go,” you shrug. “I’ll see you later.”

Shota nods, leaning in to give you a kiss on the cheek before he turns away, taking his leave. On any other occasions, the simple kiss would be sweet, a tender sign of affection that he would frequently show you. But today, it stokes the flames already flickering inside of you.

“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise.” Su-bong managed to sneak up on you as you were watching Shota leave, and he now leans against the counter beside you. “I guess he wasn’t in Tokyo, huh?” You turn towards him, watching him take a long hit off of his vape, his expression more pleased than you think you’ve ever seen him. You find your gaze wandering to his mouth, watching the vapor billow from his lips. “What, do you want to kiss me or something?” He says it almost cruelly, like he’s mocking you for having the urge, but it’s all part of the game.

“No, but I’d like to slap you,” you retort.

“Mmm, I’d like that,” Su-bong chuckles, slipping behind you again. “What would it take to get you to choke me?” He reaches one hand past you to press against the edge of the countertop so he can block you against him. “What about you, baby?” he mumbles, his voice now muffled, as he likely pulled his mask over his face again. “Do you like to be choked, too?”

Before you can reply, you feel Su-bong’s hand pushing past the tulle of your skirt from behind, so you press your hands to the counter and widen your stance to give him access to you. He chuckles under the mask, pleased with how you’re reacting to him. As his middle finger pushes into your wetness, you sigh, your eyelids feeling heavy already from something so simple.

“Is this what you want?” Su-bong asks, teasing the pad of his finger over your clit, his body pressing against you. “For me to finger you in my kitchen while people watch?” Your eyes flutter open long enough to see some of the partygoers have caught on to your antics, whispering back and forth in amusement. Su-bong slips his finger inside of you, as deep as he can at this angle.

It does excite you: people watching you while you get touched by Su-bong in a Ghostface costume. You let your mind race with the thoughts of him bending you over the counter and fucking you in front of them, people pulling out their phones to record you. It overwhelms you — Shota would never touch you like this because he didn’t enjoy any public affection beyond a kiss.

“I can tell you like it,” Su-bong whispers. “You’re clenching around my finger like no one has ever touched you before. You’re so tight right now, I don’t know if you’re going to be able to handle what I’m going to do to you.”

“Fuck, Su-bong, please,” you gasp, dropping your gaze to the counter, unable to take the stares any longer. He pumps his finger into you a few times, agonizingly slow, deliberately teasing you.

“Please what? Tell me what you’re begging me for.”

“I fucking…” you gasp. “I need you to fuck me.”

“You need it, hm?” His tone is mocking, and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t aching for him. “Jesus, I barely even touched you and you’re already this desperate. Go wait in my bedroom. I’ll be up there eventually.”

‘Eventually’ should have pissed you off. It should have reminded you that you have a boyfriend who wouldn’t talk to you like that. You should have shoved him away from you and slapped him like any respectable woman would. But this was part of the game — and you like it.

Walking proves to be more of a challenge than you anticipated. You’re unsteady on your feet, your platform heels complicating things further as you very carefully ascend the stairs towards Su-bong’s bedroom. You don’t dare look over your shoulder to see who is still watching — by now, the whole party knows Su-bong has you exactly where he wants you.

When you finally reach Su-bong's bedroom, you note the flooring is carpet, so you slip your heels off to set them in the hallway before you enter. You make your way towards his bed, and sit on the edge, unsure of what to do with yourself while you wait. To keep your hands occupied, even for a moment, you untie the ribbon of the sheer hood you wore over your hair, dropping it to the bed beside you.

The music from the party below is muffled, only the bass thumping through the floor, making the silence of the room feel much louder. The room smells like his cologne and laundry soap, with a small hint of the watermelon flavored vape he’d grown fond of lately. Your hands fiddle with the duvet beneath you, fingers stroking the fabric as your mind races.

You haven’t had any alcohol but you feel drunk from the way Su-bong spoke to you, the way he touched you. It boggles your mind that he paid so much attention to all of your kinks during the course of your friendship, a far more thoughtful decision than you thought he was capable of. You think of the times when you would tell Shota the things you wanted to do, and how uncomfortable he would appear. He is a more reserved person who never seems to do anything he feels is too kinky — asking him to pull your hair was too much for him. You would never pressure him, but you also always had a nagging desire in the back of your mind to have someone to give you everything you’re looking for. Though you never expected that person to be Su-bong.

“Dreaming about me?” Your attention falls to Su-bong who leans against the doorway of his bedroom, puffing on his vape with your heels clutched in his other hand. “I found these,” he says, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. “I don’t remember telling you to take them off.”

Su-bong still stands several feet away from you, so you cross to him to take your shoes and slip them back onto your feet. He nods towards his bed and you take the hint, listening to him take the steps to follow directly behind you. Just as you reach the bed, his hands grasp your hips from behind to stop you, and urge you to bend at the waist. You set your hands against the mattress to keep your balance, feeling your ass press against Su-bong.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” Su-bong mutters. “Getting you exactly where I want you. Having you ready to do whatever I tell you to do. Thanos’ little slut.” You clench involuntarily, and you’re happy that he can’t feel it yet — it would be too embarrassing for him to know how much you liked what he said.

You feel a loss of contact as Su-bong takes a step back, lowering to his knees behind you. He removes his gloves and mask entirely, tossing them onto the bed beside you so he can bunch the tulle of your skirt around your waist. His hands rub over your ass, thumbs briefly spreading you open to see your hole; of course your body reacts, clenching in anticipation.

“Is that where you want me?” Su-bong laughs, teasing his thumb over you. “I don’t think you’re prepared for that, not tonight. Maybe if you’re good enough, I’ll get you some toys so we can get you ready to take me. How does that sound?” His voice is almost too calm, like he’s unaffected by what he’s promising you. When his hand comes down hard on your ass, you yelp, your fingers clenching the duvet and your knees buckling. “Answer me,” he commands. “Does that sound good?”

“Yes, it sounds really fucking good,” you breathe, nodding your head quickly.

“Good,” he responds, one hand slipping between your thighs so he can rub along your slit. “I can’t believe your stupid fucking boyfriend saw you dressed like this and left you here. If you were mine, strutting around in a dress this short…” He spanks you again, this time harder than before, and he strokes your clit at the same time. Your body trembles and you let out a needy whine, feeling yourself growing wetter at the contact. “…dripping like this,” he continues, teasing his finger around your entrance. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Does your boyfriend know how to get you this wet? I bet he doesn’t; he seems boring.”

Su-bong doesn’t wait for an answer before he slips two fingers inside you, pumping slowly and shallowly. You groan in your throat, your head dropping and your eyes closing, his slender fingers stretching your walls that have been aching for him all night.

Su-bong surprises you by leaving a bite on the back of your thigh, making you drop down to your elbows with a moan. You rest your knee on the edge of the bed now, hoping it will support you as your arms grow tired, but this also gives Su-bong more access to you, which he greedily accepts with a growl.

“Fuck, you taste like candy,” he mutters, pressing open mouth kisses against you, licking up what he can. “Perfect for Halloween.”

When Su-bong angles his head so he’s able to press his mouth to your clit, he begins sucking on it, sloppy and wet, practically moaning against you while still thrusting his fingers into you. You whine, much needier than you expect, rocking your hips against his face, desperately needing more friction. Su-bong’s free hand strokes up the back of your calf, tracing the fishnet material, until he reaches the back of your thigh. He squeezes hard and then gives another sharp slap to your ass, causing you to buck against his face.

“Su-bong,” you whine, listening to him laugh against you. “Please.”

“Mmm,” he hums, pulling back so he can leave another bite, this time on your inner thigh. “Are you begging me?”

“Yes, please.”

With another spank to your ass, making you feel how tender it’s become, Su-bong stands, checking to see that your gaze is on him from over your shoulder. He raises the front of his hoodie enough to access his belt, slowly pulling the leather from the buckle until it’s open. His fingers press to the button, flicking it open and then dragging down the zipper, agonizingly slow.

“Is this what you’re begging me for?” Su-bong asks, nodding his head downwards.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Come over here and get it.”

You move from the bed to the floor, resting your knees in front of him. You keep your eyes on him, giving as innocent a look as you can muster, while you slide your hand into his boxers to wrap your fingers around him.

“Fuck,” you mumble, when you slip him from his clothes.

You clench thinking about what he’ll feel like inside of you, his size much larger than what you’re used to. Of course, he smirks at your reaction, so self-satisfied that it almost makes you roll your eyes. You notice Su-bong slips his phone from his pocket, prepared to toss it onto the bed beside his mask and gloves, but he pauses, as if he’s thinking of something. A devious smirk begins to spread across his lips as he lifts his gaze to meet yours.

“Can I?”

It takes you a moment to understand what he’s suggesting, but your stomach twists into knots when you realize; he wants to record you. All you can do is nod, beginning to slowly stroke your hand over him — you don’t know if you could even form a clear sentence with how turned on you are. In response to your approval, Su-bong grins, snatching up his mask and slipping it over his face again.

When you chance a look at him, you watch him pull the hood over his head as well, his breaths heavy. Giving him an innocent look from underneath your eyelashes, you find him peering down at you from behind his mask, aiming the camera towards you. You can hear his breath muffled against the mask, steady but every so often a little shaky.

You take him into your mouth slowly, bobbing your head over him so that he’s halfway into your mouth with your hand stroking the rest of him. You feel a little shy on camera, like you forgot how to properly give head, but Su-bong softly presses his hand to the back of your head to urge you on.

“Can you take it deeper for me?” he asks, and you relax your jaw preparing to take more of him into your mouth. “I love how eager you are to please me, baby.”

The sentence would have been sweet if it wasn’t in the tone that Su-bong liked to use — that Thanos voice. It’s smug and egotistical, like he needs his inflated sense of self to be the first thing people notice about him; he’s proud of his ego and the way people feed into it. Right now, you’re more than happy to give him what he wants.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you gag but fight through it, keeping him still. Su-bong groans when he feels you struggling around him, the way you try to keep him even though he’s too big, it makes his cock twitch against your tongue. You pull back quicker than you would have liked, letting out a gasp but still taking care to stroke over him.

“It’s okay,” Su-bong says, wiping the tear from your eye with his thumb. “You’ve never had to suck a dick this big, have you, señorita?” You shake your head slowly, licking the head of his cock and swirling your tongue around to catch some of the precum that leaked out.

“I like how you taste,” you admit, your free hand slipping between your thighs to rub your clit. You take him back into your mouth bobbing your head over him faster, stroking to the base of his shaft.

“Are you touching yourself?” Su-bong asks, trying to angle the camera to get your whole body in the frame. “Did I tell you that you could do that?”

You whimper around him, your eyebrows furrowing because fuck, the deep, raspy tone of his voice shoots straight between your thighs. You’re sure if you could see his face, he would be smirking at you, knowing that he has you exactly where he wants you. After a few more bobs of your head, you take him deeper again, working over him faster and moaning quietly around him.

“Fuck, that feel so good” he grits, letting out a shuddered breath. “I’ll have to train you how to deepthroat and you’ll—Jesus, you’ll be perfect.” He sets his hand on the back of your head and guides you backwards so he drops from your mouth. “Take everything off except your stockings and heels,” he commands, stepping back with his camera still aimed towards you.

Standing to your feet, you decide to put on a show for him and his camera; you unfasten the button of your skirt and let it drop to pool around your feet. When you begin to unfasten the hooks at the front of your corset, Su-bong takes a step closer to you to get a better view with his camera. His free hand slowly strokes over himself, his breath heavy in the mask. When you drop the rest of your clothing to the floor, he gets one last look at you through the phone’s camera before he stops recording and tosses it to the bed.

“Lay on your back,” he directs. “Spread your legs. Let me see how wet your pussy is now that you got a taste of Thanos.” You hurry towards the bed, far more eager than you would normally like to be and you swear you can hear Su-bong laugh behind you. “Hungry little slut,” he mutters, entirely too amused.

You settle into the bed, dropping back onto your elbows so you can still watch him, spreading your legs like you were told to do. Su-bong slowly strokes over his erection for a moment before he tucks himself back into his boxers, to your disappointment.

“Now, don’t look so sad,” Su-bong mumbles, moving closer to the bed. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.” He slides the mask off of his face and drops it to the bed, taking a hit of his vape again. “On your back,” he says, more firmly. “Keep your eyes up.”

You find it an odd request but when you rest onto your back, you notice the oversized mirror on the ceiling above his bed. At any other time, you would roll your eyes and mock him for how ridiculous it seems. But you’re entranced, as through the reflection, you see Su-bong crawling onto the bed, pushing your legs even further apart to give him space.

“Have you always gotten wet for me?” Su-bong asks, kissing up your inner thigh.

“Mhm,” you hum, still watching him through the mirror, your hands fisting the duvet beneath you as he gets closer to where you need him most. “When we’d dance, I’d feel you getting hard…” You say it in hopes that you could bring him down to your level a bit, however, Su-bong has no shame, and he chuckles against your thigh, leaving a bite much harder than you expect.

“Yeah, because I knew you would have fucked me at the club if I asked you,” he mutters, his tongue teasing over your clit. You moan softly, pressing one hand to the back of his head and urging him to continue — of course he lets out an amused breath of a laugh, but obliges.

Su-bong doesn’t waste time going slow; he begins to suck on your clit immediately, his fingers joining his mouth between your legs but circling your slick entrance. You nudge your hips against his face, begging him to get on with it, because you’re desperate to get off. Su-bong eases two fingers inside of you, thrusting at a steady pace but now beginning to tongue your clit, panting against you.

“Fuck, Thanos.”

You don’t mean to say it. Truth be told, you don’t even realize that you said it until Su-bong growls against you and hooks his free arm under your thigh to pin you against his face. He sucks on your clit again, his fingers thrusting faster, pushing you faster to your orgasm. You thread your fingers through his hair to give you some leverage to work your hips against.

“I’m gonna come, Thanos,” you moan, testing his nickname again in hopes that he can go even faster.

“Mhm,” he hums against you, giving you what you need.

The sloppy sound of his fingers pumping and his mouth sucking becomes the only thing you can focus on, chasing your orgasm. You claw at the back of his hoodie with your free hand, watching through the mirror so you can see yourself losing control. When his fingers curl inside of you, pumping harder, hitting that spot that’s been neglected for so long, you let out a broken moan, needy and cheap enough that you’d blush if you heard it from outside. Su-bong’s grip on your thigh begins to hurt, and you know he’ll leave bruises but the pain only gives you the push you need to reach your climax.

Your thighs tighten around his head, and you feel him moan hard against you in response, still working you through your climax. You arch from the bed, pressing yourself against him more firmly to feel every bit of your orgasm. The way Su-bong’s fingers thrust into you still, fast and hard, make your legs quake along with the motions. Each time you make contact, you become more aware of how sore you’re going to be already.

You feel him in every inch of your body, shockwaves rolling all the way through to your limbs. With Su-bong working you at the same pace, you feel yourself hurtling towards another climax that you’re not ready for. Everything begins to feel like it’s blurring and you’re worried you could pass out from overstimulation, the intensity of your first orgasm much greater than you expected. Your hands press to his shoulders, the bottoms of your heels dig into his sides, trying to push him away as you find your words.

“F-fuck, wait,” you stutter out, tears beginning to form in your eyes. Su-bong slows to a stop and lifts his gaze to meet yours, a brief flash of concern in his eyes. “I’m okay,” you pant, covering your face with your hands. “Just gimme a second.”

“That wasn’t even my best work. You must have really needed that.”

You’d laugh if you could because he’s not wrong. Shota rarely takes care of your needs; you blame it on a number of factors, like his busy schedule, your distance from one another, and how exhausted he gets from work. You don’t think he does it on purpose, but no, you can’t keep thinking about Shota when Su-bong rolls onto his back and rests his head on your thigh, watching you through the mirror as he takes another hit from his vape.

Something hits you at this moment: you haven’t kissed him yet. You wonder if it’s intentional, and maybe it’s too intimate for what you’re doing, too tender. But you watch his mouth on his vape, the way he licks his lips after he exhales the vapor…and you want to know what it feels like to be kissed by him.

“What is it?” Su-bong asks, staring at you through the mirror. “Had enough?”

“Just thinking.”

“Ah, you think too much,” he waves his hand dismissively. “You could afford to spend some time feeling instead. Get out of your head every once and a while.”

You stare at him for another moment before shoving him off of you and crawling on top of him, straddling his waist. His expression is overjoyed and diabolical at the same time, so you knock his vape from his hand so it clatters to the floor. When his eyebrows crease and his lips part, presumably to complain, you grab handfuls of his hoodie and plant a hard kiss on his lips. He groans, his hands setting on your hips so he can dig his fingers into your skin.

“I could tell you wanted to kiss me,” he mutters against your lips. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You break from the kiss completely, pressing your hands flat against his chest and grinding yourself against his cock through his jeans. He pulls in a sharp breath, then lands a quick slap on your ass while his other hand is still holding your hip.

Your hand slips between your bodies, working his cock free from his boxers again. You guide it along your slit, making sure he’s covered with your juices before finally you ease him inside of you. The moan you let out was pathetic, but he stretches you more than you expect, a distinct pain radiating through your walls.

Su-bong doesn’t say anything apart from a muttered swear once you’ve settled onto him completely, but when his eyes meet yours, you can tell he’s checking in to make sure you’re okay. You give him a small nod, and start to rock yourself on his lap, slow enough to get used to the pain. Su-bong nods, biting his lip as he lets out a satisfied groan.

Desperate to get your hands on him, you drag the zipper of his hoodie down, and he takes the hint, sitting up to remove it the rest of the way. Once his hoodie is on the floor, one of your hands gently grasps his throat, watching for his reaction. His tongue slips from his mouth, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth with a nod of his head. Your grip tightens on him,watching the way his eyes slip closed while you still ride him slowly.

“Fuck,” he grinds out, holding your thighs firmly, adding to the litany of marks he’s left on you already. “Harder.”

“Of course you like getting choked,” you tease, tightening your grip on his throat. You lean over him, planting a quick kiss on his lips, before whispering in his ear, “Are you going to choke me, too?”

Su-bong lets out a strangled grunt, and you release your grip on him, letting him pull in a few breaths. He thrusts up, plowing himself deeper inside of you so that you let out a yelp against his neck. You claim his neck with your mouth, sucking and kissing to leave your mark on him, Su-bong murmurs your name in a tone that makes your walls clench around his cock, riding him faster now.

“Why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me?” he asks, nudging your head softly with his to get your attention.

“No, I want to be on top.”

You’re testing the waters. You want to see if he likes a brat — well, maybe not completely bratty, but a little defiant. Both of Su-bong’s arms wrap around your waist, holding your body flush against his so you can’t move. You lift your head from his neck, and peer into his eyes to find them darkened, albeit a little amused.

“Who’s in charge?” he asks, quietly. You don’t answer immediately, so he spanks you hard enough to make you whine and clench around him again. “Answer me,” he asks, his voice raspier now, more insistent.

“You are,” you reply, licking your lips, unable to hide your excitement at the way he speaks to you. A smirk spreads across his lips and he kisses you, hard and rough, like he wants to claim his property. When he breaks from the kiss, you risk giving an extra bite to his bottom lip, a move that earns a growl from Su-bong.

“Get on your knees.”

You finally do as you're told, hurrying off of him so you can rest on your hands and knees facing the head of the bed. He settles onto his knees behind you, hand rubbing soothingly over your backside for a moment. You rest onto your forearms, arching your back to press yourself against him, trying to entice him to continue.

Su-bong chuckles at your eagerness, pressing his hand against your lower back as he guides himself back into you. He lets out a raspy groan, burying inside of you to the hilt and remaining still for a moment. You can hear that he’s fumbling with something so you glance over your shoulder to see him slipping his mask back onto his face.

“I’m so glad Shooter left you here for me,” he laughs, gently rocking his hips against you. “I’m going to make you mine now.”

Su-bong reaches past you to prop his phone against the pillows, pressing record when he’s sure that you’re both in the frame. He sits upright again, grabbing your hip with one hand while the other holds the hem of his shirt out of the way so he’s able to watch between your bodies as he fucks into you. You watch him through the screen of the phone, and you can’t fight the climax that starts to build inside of you at the sight of him in his Ghostface mask.

“That boyfriend of yours…he can’t do it like this, can he?”

“No,” you whine, your eyes slipping closed.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” Su-bong says, spanking you hard enough to make you moan. Your eyes flutter open so you can see him on the phone screen again. “Does your little boyfriend fuck you this good?”

“He can’t fuck me like you can,” you whimper, shaking your head. “Fuck, you’re so big.” You let out a staggered groan, your eyes slipping closed so you can focus on pushing yourself back against his thrusts.

“Yeah? You’re not used to something this big, are you?”

“No, no one has ever fucked me this deep, or stretched me like this. You’re gonna make me come, baby; please, don’t stop.”

“C’mere,” Su-bong mumbles, grabbing your shoulder so he can pull you towards him, pressing his chest against your back. “Are you going to come for me?” he whispers, his voice muffled, but the heat of his breath resonating from behind the mask’s rubber edges. “Is your pussy leaking down your thighs because this is the best you’ve ever had?”

“Mhm,” you whine, grabbing one of his hands to drag it towards your throat.

“Dirty little slut,” he chuckles, wrapping his slender fingers around your throat and squeezing just enough to make it difficult for you to pull in a breath.

“Choke me,” you beg, as Su-bong continues to thrust against you.

Su-bong grips you more firmly, cutting off your oxygen and you instinctively try to take a breath, but find yourself unable to. He fucks you harder, hitting you at a different angle with your bodies pressed together like this. You reach over your shoulder, pushing his mask off of his face, letting it fall to the floor. You scrape your nails over his scalp before threading your fingers through his hair, listening to him let out a growl.

“You should see how sexy you look,” he whispers. “You’ve got a boyfriend but you’re riding my dick like you fucking own it. What would people think if they saw how fucking nasty you’re acting for me?” You dig your nails into his forearm, and he takes the hint, loosening his grip so you can pull in a breath. “Good girl,” he soothes, wrapping his arms around your body to hold you still while he trusts.

“Fuck, choke me again.”

“You want to come with my hand on your throat?”

“Mhm, please,” you beg, nodding furiously.

Su-bong places his hand on your throat again, squeezing immediately so you’re unable to breathe. Your jaw is slack, eyes closed, your hips trying to circle against Su-bong’s hard thrusts. He presses a kiss to your shoulder before he bites down to muffle his moan.

“Your pussy is so fucking tight, baby,” he mutters against your skin. “I’ve never had pussy this good in my life.”

You would moan if you had the air, but Su-bong’s fingers dig into your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off entirely. The sensations become overwhelming: Su-bong panting and moaning against your shoulder, the bed creaking softly beneath you, the bass rumbling from the floor below, your inability to breathe — it pushes you headfirst into your second climax of the night.

Su-bong releases his grip on your throat, allowing you to pull in a shuddered breath that quickly turns into a ragged moan. Your moans are strangled and desperate, your body quivering against Su-bong’s, fingernails dragging along the length of his arm and digging in.

“Fuck,” he hisses, still thrusting as you struggle to pull away from him, far too overstimulated. Su-bong laughs breathlessly, letting you go so that you drop back onto your stomach, with him pressed against your back. “Jesus,” he mutters, kissing along your shoulder. “You almost made me come.”

“Wouldn’t make us even,” you rasp.

“Oh, yeah?” Su-bong chuckles, grabbing his phone to stop the recording.

“Mhm,” you hum, nudging him off of you. He rolls onto his back with a grunt, his hand giving a lazy stroke over his length. “What’s wrong?” you ask, rolling onto your side and watching him carefully. “Are you too tired now?”

“You need Thanos to give you another one, señorita?” he grins, licking your slick from his fingers. You roll closer to him, taking hold of his wrist and pulling his hand towards you so you can finish cleaning his hand.

“I want you to ruin me for anyone else,” you mutter. “I want you to make it where I can’t think of you without my pussy getting wet.” Su-bong stares at you for a moment, mesmerized. You wonder if you’ve gone too far but he leans towards you and kisses you deeply, his hand resting underneath your chin to keep you in place.

“On your back,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll give you what you want, my girl.”

You roll onto your back, spreading your legs, inviting him over. The grin on Su-bong’s face is clear as he kneels between your thighs, tugging his shirt over his head and throwing it to the ground before pushing himself back inside of you. He presses his hands to your inner thighs, pinning your legs down to the spread wide open for him. Su-bong presses his weight against your thighs to brace himself as he fucks into you, a steady pace, but hitting deep inside of you with each thrust. Your moans become needier, cheap, decorum long thrown out the window — it’s only you and Su-bong, and his thrusts grow faster.

“You were made to have me inside you,” he mumbles, rolling his head back as his thrusts get sloppier. “I can’t wait…to see you covered in me.”

“You’re gonna come all over me?” you whine, clenching at the thought and Su-bong’s hips stutter in response. “Fuck, I’m gonna come again,” you groan, exhausted feeling the tightening in your worn out muscles. “Oh, my God, Su-bong, don’t stop!”

Your words start to jumble, your mind going blank as another climax hits your drained body. This time, it makes you tremble down to your feet, your knees pulling in around his waist of their own accord. You moan out his name, your hands clawing at his back in desperation, operating entirely on instinct.

It only takes a few more strokes of his hips before Su-bong pulls out of you as he jerks his hand quickly over his length, groaning your name over and over mixed with mutters of praise for you. As he comes, he drops his head back and lets out a loud moan into the air, echoing off the walls of his room. He finishes on your stomach and chest, panting and growling as he does.

“Fuck,” he breathes, feeling blindly at his side for his phone.

Su-bong aims the camera at you, trailing his fingers through his cum, gathering just enough to coat his fingers. He brings his hand between your thighs, pushing his fingers inside of your tender entrance. You whimper, needy and almost pleading with him because you won’t be able to handle another orgasm. Su-bong laughs breathlessly, recording as he gives two shallow pumps of his fingers before removing them altogether.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, and you do as you’re told. You stick your tongue out to allow him to slip his fingers into your mouth, aiming the camera at your face to film your response. You suck his fingers clean, looking beyond the phone this time, and instead into Su-bong’s face.

When he retracts his hand, he stops filming you, tossing the phone onto the bed beside you. He struggles for a moment to maneuver off of the side of the bed, nearly stumbling to the floor on his shaky legs.

“Jesus,” Su-bong breathes out, rubbing his hand over his face as he finally climbs from the bed and heads towards his bathroom. You lay splayed out on the bed, eyes closed, trying to catch your breath, completely fucked out.

You’re sure it was the best sex you’ve ever had. It was everything you’ve never gotten from partners in the past, especially Shota.

Oh, fuck — what are you going to tell Shota?

“You okay?” Su-bong’s voice pulls you back to reality, and you open your eyes to see him standing in the doorway of his bathroom, fastening his belt. He smiles, softer than he had all night, and you see shades of your friend again.

“Yeah,” you rasp, returning the smile.

“I turned the shower on,” Su-bong says, gesturing behind him into the bathroom then pointing across the room to a door. “There are shirts and boxers in the closet — you can wear whatever you want.”

“Where are you going?” You embarrass yourself with the way it sounds: needy and soft. After what the two of you just did, it feels out of place. Su-bong laughs, picking his vape from the floor and taking a hit as he walks closer to the bed.

“Why, you gonna miss me?”

“Not at all,” you quip, as Su-bong gently lifts your legs one at a time to slip your shoes from your feet, letting them clatter to the floor.

“Well,” Su-bong hums, his eyes scanning over your body. “I think Shooter is going to suspect something when he sees what I did to you.”

You don’t bother to look, knowing that you’re likely littered with bruises, bites all over your inner thighs, and your ass red with Su-bong’s hand print. You instead keep your eyes on Su-bong, noticing the mark you left on his neck; it makes you grin knowing that he let the Thanos facade slip just a bit for you.

“You can stay in here tonight,” he says, picking his shirt off of the floor and tugging it over his head. “I’ll clear the party out and come back in a little while.”

“What, are you going to come back to cuddle or something?” You say it to mock him gently in the way that he does to you, keeping in line with how most of your conversations go. But there’s a part of you that wants him to be soft to you — needs to feel him holding you. Su-bong smirks, pulling a lollipop from his pocket and slowly peeling the wrapper off.

“Is that what you want me to do?” he asks, still managing to make his voice sound cocky even while talking about something gentle. “Hold you and kiss you like I’m your boyfriend or something?”

“I guess it would be okay,” you reply, a faint smile on your lips. Su-bong slips the lollipop in his mouth, nodding his head.

“Then don’t worry about putting any clothes on when you get out of the shower,” he says, walking towards the bed. “I’d rather you sleep naked.”

He places one knee on the bed so he can lean over you, pressing his hands to the mattress on either side of your body. For a moment, he doesn’t do anything, simply stares into your eyes — his gaze is softer than you expect but he still hides some mischief behind the gentleness.

Su-bong pulls the lollipop from his mouth and licks his lips, dripping his head down to kiss you. It’s not soft like you’d expect after the way he was looking at you, but it isn’t rough either. He kisses you like he may not have another chance, deep and passionate so you can taste yourself on his tongue, mixing with the sweet raspberry flavor of the lollipop.

You feel like you could stay there forever, like this is where you belong: kissing Su-bong after he fulfilled almost every single desire you’ve ever had. Your body still trembles softly from the intensity of your interaction with him, goosebumps breaking out over your body. But your mind flashes to Shota, at your apartment wondering where you are. You feel shame start to wash over you, your thoughts beginning to push away the aftershocks of your multiple orgasms.

“Mmm,” he hums, breaking from the kiss to lock eyes with you again. “I can feel that you’re thinking too much.”

“What am I supposed to tell Shooter?”

“Whatever you want,” Su-bong replies, with a shrug. “Here, this will give you something to play with while I’m gone.”

Su-bong holds the sucker between his teeth by the stick, bracing himself above you with his hands against the mattress. He leans down enough for the candy to be just an inch from your lips so you lock eyes with him as you stick your tongue out and lick the sweet. The expression in his eyes is elated, like it won’t take much for him to be ready for round two. Though the thought of fucking Su-bong for the rest of the night makes your heart leap into your throat, your body is far too exhausted to do anything else tonight. You take the sucker into your mouth and Su-bong releases the stick from between his teeth.

“Just break up with him,” Su-bong says, standing from the bed and picking up his hoodie to pull it on again. “It’s never going to get better than where it is right now.” He spares one more glance towards you, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his lips. “But us?” he says, gesturing between himself and you. “We haven’t even scratched the surface, my girl.”

[mysticbby2009]

Friends Without Boundaries (part 8)

Rafe Cameron smau texting based series rafe being a manwhore cause he doesn't want to realize his feelings for his best friend anything dark mode is Rafes pov

masterlist and series masterlist

part 7??

Your phone won’t stop buzzing.

Sarah. JJ. Even Topper, who usually stays out of it. They’re all blowing up your messages, and you already know what they’re saying.

Talk to him. Fix it. Stop being an idiot.

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and flopping down beside it. You feel drained—mentally, emotionally, even physically. You should’ve seen this coming. You should’ve known you weren’t strong enough to just “stay friends” with Rafe Cameron.

You’d been so sure of your decision, so sure that walking away was the right move. That was, until you saw Sarah's text about how hurt he is.

There’s a knock at your door.

You freeze. No one comes over unannounced except—

Another knock. This one firmer. “Y/n/n, open the damn door.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. He sounds mad.

For a second, you consider ignoring it. But Rafe Cameron has never been the type to leave when told, and you’re too exhausted to deal with him picking your lock like he has way too many times in the past.

So, with a deep breath, you push yourself up and swing the door open.

Rafe doesn’t wait. He steps inside like he owns the place, closing the door behind him before turning to face you. His jaw is clenched, his blue eyes sharp and unreadable.

You cross your arms. “You could’ve texted.”

His lips curl into a humorless smirk. “Yeah, well, you could’ve not ended things like that.”

You flinch at his tone, but you stand your ground. “I didn’t end anything. I just—”

“—Pushed me away? Pretended like we don’t both know what’s going on here?”

You exhale sharply, pressing your fingers to your temples. “Rafe, don’t do this right now.”

“Oh, so you get to say whatever you want and leave me standing there like an idiot, but I don’t get to talk about it?”

Your jaw tightens. “I thought you’d be relieved.”

His eyes darken. “Relieved?”

“You were always saying we were better off as friends.” You force yourself to meet his gaze, even though it’s like staring into a storm. “So I made it easier for you.”

His nostrils flare. “Easier for me? Are you insane?”

“Yeah, actually,” you snap, throwing your hands up. “Completely, fucking delusional for thinking I could be around you every day and pretend like I don’t—”

Your voice catches, and you clamp your lips shut before the words slip out.

Rafe exhales slowly, as if forcing himself to be calm. “Like you don’t what? Say it.”

You shake your head, backing up. “You already know.”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking away for a moment. When he looks back, his expression is softer. “Yeah,” he says. “I do. But I still need to hear you say it.”

You swallow. Your throat feels tight. “I love you.”

Something shifts in his face. Like all the fight drains out of him at once.

“Yeah?” His voice is quieter now.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He lets out a breath, stepping closer. “Good. Because I love you, too.”

Your heart nearly stops.

You’ve imagined hearing those words before—hell, you’ve dreamed about it. But now that they’re real, you don’t know what to do with them.

Rafe watches you carefully, then sighs. “Jesus, Y/n/n, you really thought I didn’t want you?”

You glance down, suddenly embarrassed. “You weren’t exactly clear about it.”

He scoffs. “I literally get into fights over you on a weekly basis. What more do you want?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe, I don’t know, a direct confession instead of threatening every guy who breathes in my direction?”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “That was my confession.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, shoving at his chest. “That’s not how normal people work!”

“We’re not normal people,” he reminds you, smirking.

You groan, but the tension in your chest starts to ease. “God, you’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he muses, wrapping his arms around your waist, “you love me.”

You sigh dramatically, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Unfortunately.”

He grins. “That’s rough. Wanna make out about it?”

You roll your eyes but don’t stop him when he leans in.

His lips meet yours, and—holy shit.

It’s not soft, not at first. It’s all the frustration, all the tension, all the wanting that’s been brewing for months. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, and you fist the fabric of his hoodie, like you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both breathless.

“Damn,” Rafe mutters, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “We should’ve done that sooner.”

You huff out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Yeah, no shit.”

He grins, his usual cockiness slipping back in. “Wanna do it again?”

You narrow your eyes. “Did you ever think about anything other than kissing me?”

He pretends to think. “Nope.”

You smack his arm, and he laughs, grabbing your wrist before you can do it again. “Come on, that’s not fair.”

“You deserve it.”

“I do not.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your lips as you lean into his chest. His arms tighten around you, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

Eventually, he murmurs, “You okay now?”

You nod against his hoodie. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “I mean, you’re still an idiot, but yeah.”

He smirks. “Good.” Then, with zero warning, he scoops you up and throws you onto the couch.

You yelp. “Rafe! What the fuck?!”

He just grins, flopping down beside you. “Some things don’t change, babe.”

You shove at him, but he just laughs, pulling you into his side. And as you curl up against him, fingers loosely intertwined, you realize—

You wouldn’t want it any other way.

You love him and he loves you you're finally not just friends anymore.

@my-name-is-baby, @lili-swagalicious , @drewsswifeyy , @yktayy9669 , @yktayy9669 , @kissylec, @giouvarlakia, @bsenpai, @imtalkinnonsense, @wtfisastiles, @furiouscopshepherduniversity, @artbymin, @urbimom , @crvcified-kinx , @vanessa-rafesgirl @popou61 @emmaaas-posts @bridgersph @soulsearchinginkauai

im sorryy if i missed anyonee

[luvoooenha]

Fake skating

Summary- Y/N and Sunghoon have been ice skating rivals for as long as she can remember—or so she thinks. To Y/N, Sunghoon is the enemy: the boy who always outshines her on the ice, snatches her titles, her hard-earned moments, and, worst of all, her parents' approval. Their relentless comparisons and favoritism sting more than she'd ever admit. She tells herself she doesn’t care... but she does. She cares too much.

Worse still, ice skating—once something she loved—has become a prison. The pressure, the spotlight, and the constant race to beat Sunghoon have drained her. One day, something snaps. A small moment—maybe a stumble, a comment, or just a realization—hits her like a blade to the back of her head: She doesn’t have to do this anymore. Five months before the skating season begins, Y/N shocks everyone by quitting ice skating to pursue something unexpected—cheerleading.

The decision rocks their world. Her parents are furious. The skating world is stunned. And Sunghoon? He’s pissed. Not because he hates her like she thinks—but because he secretly loves skating with her. Ever since they were kids, she’s been his fire, his rival, his everything. Now, with her gone, the ice feels colder, emptier.

As Y/N flourishes in cheer, Sunghoon is forced to confront the truth: rivalry was never what he felt for her. And maybe… just maybe, Y/N is about to realize that too.

Paring- Ice skater! Sunghoon x Cheerleader! Y/N

warnings! angst, kissing, bad relationship with parents, peer pressure, contact with ex (ik yall need this one...), imposter syndrome (kinda), PDA, crying, pls lmk if I missed some!

wc: 18k

a/n- finished this in 9 hours (we all cheer!) im writing this bc I loved high school cheer 💞

Y/N had always hated Park Sunghoon. Not the kind of petty dislike you develop for someone in passing, but a deep, seething loathing that came from years of rivalry, of stolen victories, and spotlight-snatching. Sunghoon was everywhere. On the ice, in her coaches' praises, on her parents' lips.

 "Why can’t you be more like Sunghoon? Look how clean his footwork is. Look at that triple axel! He’s so dedicated."

Dedicated. Talented. Perfect.

And Y/N was always a step behind.

They had started skating together as kids, back when things were simpler. Back when ice skating was fun and not a competition. But everything changed the moment Sunghoon started winning, and Y/N didn’t. Not that she lost often, but even one second place behind him felt like failure in her parents' eyes.

Her hatred simmered with every medal he took home, every cheer from the crowd meant for her but redirected to him. He didn’t even try to be nice about it. Always calm, composed, with that smug little smirk when he bowed for applause.

She hated him. She hated him so much.

But Sunghoon? He didn’t hate her the way she thought he did. Sure, they argued, exchanged icy glares, and their banter could cut through titanium. But behind it all, his feelings weren’t made of hate. They were made of something else, something he didn’t dare speak aloud.

Because to him, Y/N wasn’t just a rival. She was the rival. The reason he pushed harder, trained longer, aimed higher. Skating with her, against her, was the thrill he lived for. He couldn't imagine a rink without her.

Then one day, everything changed.

Y/N stood in the center of the rink, her skates on for what would be the last time. She had made up her mind. The resentment, the pressure, the suffocating expectations—it was too much. She had started skating for herself, but now, it wasn’t even hers anymore. It belonged to her parents, to the judges, to Sunghoon.

As she landed her final jump, her coach's whistle cut through the rink like a blade.

"Stop! What was that? Are you even trying, Y/N? That performance was lifeless. Flat. Again! From the top."

Y/N blinked, sweat dripping down her face, lungs burning.

"Coach, I—"

"No excuses! You're sloppy. You think this half-hearted effort is going to win you anything? You want to keep embarrassing yourself next to Sunghoon? Because that’s all you’re doing lately. If you can’t keep up, maybe it’s time to rethink your priorities."

Something in Y/N cracked. The words slammed into her chest like a freight train, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her hands curled into fists as tears stung her eyes.

"You know what? You're right," she said, voice trembling. "I am rethinking my priorities. I'm done. I quit."

Silence fell over the rink. Her coach gaped, stunned. Sunghoon turned sharply, eyes wide.

There was a beat of silence before her coach let out a short laugh. "Very funny, Y/N. Now stop playing around and take your position again. From the top."

Y/N yanked off her skates, throwing them down with a thud. "I'm not joking! I can't do this anymore. I try my best, every single day, and it's never enough. I feel like I have to be perfect, like I have to be like Sunghoon or else I'm nothing! Do you know how exhausting that is? To give everything you have and still feel like you're falling short—like you're invisible?"

Her voice rose, cracking under the weight of years of bottled-up frustration. "I hate it! I hate how this feels! I used to love skating, but now it's just pressure and pain and—"

Her words choked off, and tears streamed down her face as she sank to her knees on the ice, sobbing for the first time since she was a little girl. Her shoulders shook with each breath, and the weight of years of pressure finally broke her.

Her coach froze, the laughter gone, replaced by awkward silence. "Y/N... come on now, don't be like this. You're just tired. Think about all the work you've put in, all the competitions ahead. You don't want to throw that away, do you? Think about your parents. They’ve sacrificed so much for you."

The guilt-tripping only made her cry harder. No one moved. No one spoke. For once, it wasn’t about winning or losing. It was just about her.

She had broken free, and it hurt like hell.

Grabbing her bag with trembling hands, Y/N stormed out of the rink, skates clenched tightly, boots clacking against the floor with every determined step. Her breaths came in sharp bursts, vision blurred by tears she couldn’t stop.

Behind her, Sunghoon watched, frozen for a moment, then took off after her. "Y/N! Wait!"

She didn’t stop. The door slammed open and she stepped into the cold air, needing space, distance—anything but him.

"Y/N!" Sunghoon called again, catching up to her in the parking lot. "Talk to me! You can’t just walk away like that."

She spun around, eyes blazing. "Why not? Why can’t I, Sunghoon? What do you want me to say? That I’m fine? That this doesn’t matter? It meant nothing to you, but it meant everything to me. And I can’t anymore. I just can’t."

He stared at her, stunned. "It didn’t mean anything. It never did."

But to Y/N, at that moment, his words were just noise.

She turned away, shoulders shaking, and kept walking.

When Y/N got home, her parents were waiting.

"What were you thinking?" her mother snapped. "You made a scene! Quitting? Is that your idea of a joke?"

"You embarrassed us," her father added, eyes cold. "After everything we’ve done for you, and this is how you repay us? Throwing it all away like it’s nothing? Do you know how much money we've spent on your training, the sacrifices we've made? Do you think this is some game?"

"I'm not a puppet!" Y/N screamed, her voice cracking from all the held-in anger. "You talk about sacrifices? I sacrificed myself for this stupid dream that wasn’t even mine! You never asked what I wanted. You just shoved me into skates and expected perfection. I’m done! I’m done killing myself to make you proud. I'm tired of being compared to Sunghoon like I'm nothing more than a failure."

Her mother stepped forward, face flushed with fury. "You ungrateful child! You think this is about what you want? We’ve given you everything—"

"No! You gave me pressure, and guilt, and a life that doesn’t belong to me! I don’t want it! I want to live for myself! I want to breathe, and choose my own future!"

Her father’s voice was low, dangerous. "You’re a junior in high school. You’ve got a future ahead of you—college recruiters are watching, scouts have shown interest. You’re going to throw away your shot at scholarships, your entire career—because of what? A tantrum?"Y/N’s hands trembled, but her voice was steel. "It’s not a tantrum. It’s me choosing my future. Maybe I don’t want to go to college for skating. Maybe I want to try something new, something that actually makes me happy. Maybe I want to cheer, or theater, or anything else. And if that means losing everything you planned for me, then so be it."

Her mother’s face twisted in disbelief. "You want to cheer? That’s what you’re throwing your life away for? After all our sacrifices, all our time, all our money—"

"It’s not your life!" Y/N shouted, eyes blazing with unshed tears. "It’s mine! And I’m taking it back."

Her father’s voice dropped to a growl. "If you walk away from this, from everything we’ve done for you—don’t expect our help. Not with college, not with anything. You’re on your own."

Y/N took a shaky breath, heart pounding. "I’m not asking for your support anymore. I don’t need it. I just need to be me."

Her parents stood in stunned silence, and for the first time, Y/N wasn’t afraid of their disappointment.

She was just Y/N, finally standing on her own.

Y/N dropped her bag onto the bedroom floor, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. She stood still for a moment, staring at the door like it might somehow close off the noise in her mind. The argument with her parents, the look on Sunghoon’s face, the stinging words she’d thrown in the heat of frustration—it all circled around her like a storm she couldn’t escape.

Her hand trembled as she picked up her phone. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath until she saw the missed messages.

One from Sunghoon. A few from Yunjin. One from Coach Minji.

Her throat tightened again, this time with a feeling she couldn’t quite place. The fear of what Sunghoon might have said. They worry that Yunjin will be angry. And Minji… Well, Coach Minji’s messages were always a direct reflection of her expectations—something she was no longer sure she could meet.

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, phone still in her hands, staring at the screen. The world felt muffled, like she was floating just out of reach of everything she used to know. She had made her decision. It had been impulsive, almost reckless—but now, in the silence of her room, she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to face what came next.

Her thumb hovered over Sunghoon’s message. She could almost hear his voice through the screen, the sharpness of his anger, the disappointment, or maybe something else she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Yunjin’s messages were no better, her best friend undoubtedly full of concern, maybe even a little confusion. But it was Coach Minji’s message that lingered in her thoughts.

She opened it.

"Y/N, we need to talk. This decision is not something I take lightly, and neither should you. I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning. I hope you’ve thought this through."

The words hit her harder than she expected. She had thought she was done, that walking away was the only way to free herself, but Minji’s message reminded her just how many people she was leaving behind—people who had invested in her. People who had believed in her when she couldn’t.

Her breath caught in her chest, and for a moment, the room felt impossibly small. What had she done?

Y/N stared at Coach Minji’s message for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the screen as if the words might change if she gave them enough time. But they didn’t. They were there, cold and final, a reminder of the world she had just walked away from. A world she thought she could never escape from.

She had always been good at pushing through—at burying the doubts and pushing down the guilt until it became a dull hum in the background. But now, it felt like the noise was deafening, every echo of her old life ringing in her ears.

The truth was, Y/N wasn’t sure when it had all started to feel like a cage, but she knew it had been a long time coming. For years, she had lived for the approval of her coaches, her parents, and the skating world. They’d made her believe that winning was everything. That titles and awards were all that mattered. But in the end, it was nothing but pressure. A pressure that had consumed her.

She had thought quitting would feel like freedom, like stepping into a space where she could breathe again. But now that the choice was made, the weight of it was heavy, like a stone in her chest. The fear of the unknown gnawed at her insides, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating feeling of being trapped in a life that wasn’t hers.

Her fingers hovered over the phone again, and she could almost hear Coach Minji’s disappointed tone in her mind, and could almost picture the stern look she would get in the rink tomorrow. But Y/N didn’t care anymore. She wasn’t going back. Not to skate. Not to that world.

She deleted the message from Minji without a second thought, her pulse racing as if the simple action was somehow going to release her from the grip of her past.

As for Sunghoon... Well, his message could wait.

Y/N didn’t know if she was ready to confront him yet. She didn’t know if she was ready to face the fact that everything she had believed about their rivalry—about him—might have been wrong. Maybe he wasn’t the enemy after all. Maybe he had been the only person who truly understood what it was like to be stuck in that world. But even the thought of confronting him, of having to talk through everything, felt too much. Too soon.

She wouldn’t respond to him. Not today. Maybe not ever.

Instead, she focused on the new path she was carving for herself. Cheerleading was different. It was wild, chaotic, loud—and most importantly, it was hers. No comparisons. No judgments. No constant fight to prove she was enough.

The pressure was gone. For the first time in years, Y/N could breathe. And that, she realized, was worth more than any title, any medal, or any coach’s approval.

She placed her phone face down on the nightstand and curled up under the covers, her mind still racing but with a sense of quiet resolve settling in. Tomorrow, she would step into a new world—one where she wasn’t defined by her past. One where, for the first time in forever, she could simply be herself.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of hope.

The next morning, Y/N walked into school with her head held high, but the familiar buzz of the hallway felt different today. Normally, she would have felt energized, ready to push through another day of balancing practice, schoolwork, and everything in between. But today, everything felt off. Like the weight of her decision was following her, hanging over every step she took.

Yunjin caught up with her by the lockers, her usual bright energy replaced by something more cautious.

"Y/N, we need to talk," she said, her voice low but steady, like she knew Y/N had already made up her mind.

Y/N paused, biting her lip. She didn't want to face this yet, but Yunjin was her best friend. The one person who knew her better than anyone else, the one who always had her back. The thought of disappointing her hurt more than she cared to admit.

"What’s up?" Y/N said, trying to sound casual, though she could feel the tension in her own voice.

Yunjin glanced around before pulling Y/N aside into a quieter corner of the hallway. "You’ve been avoiding me all morning," she started, her eyes full of concern. "And… I get it. I know this decision was big, but you’ve barely said a word since yesterday. Are you okay?"

Y/N forced a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, I’m fine."

But Yunjin wasn’t buying it. "No, you’re not," she pressed. "I get that you’re going through a lot right now, but running away from it isn’t the answer. You can’t just ignore everything. Especially not Sunghoon." Her eyes softened as she said his name, like she knew how difficult it would be for Y/N to hear.

"Sunghoon?" Y/N laughed, but it was hollow. "Why do you even care about him? He’s the one who’s always made everything harder for me. He doesn’t care about me, Yunjin. He just wants to win."

But Yunjin shook her head, crossing her arms. "That’s not true. You know that’s not true." Her voice was firm, and for a moment, Y/N could hear the underlying hurt in her words. "He’s been texting you nonstop, hasn’t he? He’s been worried about you. And you haven’t even responded."

Y/N’s throat tightened. She hadn’t realized it, but she had been ignoring all of Sunghoon’s messages since yesterday. She hadn’t even opened his texts. It was easier that way—easier to keep the world she had left behind at arm's length.

"I don’t need him to worry about me," Y/N muttered, feeling the sting of her own words. "I’m done with all of it. Done with skating. Done with him."

Yunjin’s eyes softened, but she didn’t push. Instead, she gave Y/N a small, knowing look. "You’re not just done with him, are you?" she asked quietly. "You’re running from something. From everything. But Y/N, you can’t just keep shutting everyone out."

Y/N bit her lip, feeling the lump form in her throat. She hadn’t realized it before, but the more Yunjin spoke, the more it hurt. Maybe it wasn’t just skating she was running from. Maybe it was Sunghoon. And maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t understood how much he had meant to her. How much he had been there all along, even in ways she hadn’t recognized.

As if on cue, Yunjin’s phone buzzed, breaking the silence. She glanced down at it and her expression shifted. "It’s Sunghoon," she said, her voice softer now. "He’s asking to meet up. He wants to talk."

Y/N’s stomach dropped. "I don’t want to talk to him," she said quickly, but it was too late. The words were already out there, and she couldn’t take them back.

But Yunjin wasn’t letting up. "Y/N, you have to talk to him. You don’t get it, do you? He’s not just your rival. He’s been your closest person for so long. You’ve both been pushing each other to the limit, but... that’s not just rivalry. It never was."

Y/N stared at her friend, the truth slowly sinking in. The realization hit her like a punch in the gut. Sunghoon had always been there, always been the person who pushed her, challenged her, made her feel something other than emptiness. But she had always seen him as the enemy, the one who took everything she wanted, the one who made her feel like she wasn’t good enough.

But now… now she saw it. He had been struggling too, just in a different way. And worse, she hadn’t even given him the chance to explain. She hadn’t even realized that he cared.

"I didn’t know," Y/N whispered, the weight of the realization pressing down on her chest. "I didn’t know he felt like that."

Yunjin gave her a sad smile, the kind that said everything without needing words. "He does, Y/N. But you’re shutting him out. And if you keep doing that… you’re going to lose him. You’re not just quitting skating. You’re walking away from everything that made you who you are."

Y/N’s heart ached, but for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t just because of the pressure. It was because she had made a decision that had hurt the people she cared about most, without even realizing it.

She needed to face him. She needed to understand the things she had ignored for so long. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to make things right. But for now, she just had to take the first step.

Y/N found herself standing at the corner of the school’s courtyard, her palms sweaty despite the cool breeze. She hadn’t agreed to meet Sunghoon, not really, but somehow she ended up here, the weight of his unspoken words hanging over her. Her thoughts were scattered, but there was a part of her that knew she couldn’t keep avoiding him forever.

A figure appeared from the shadows—Sunghoon, walking toward her with that familiar, determined stride. He stopped a few feet away, his face unreadable but his eyes sharp, like he was waiting for her to speak. For her to say something, anything, that would break the tension between them.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Y/N could feel the space between them crackling, filled with unspoken questions, unsaid words.

Finally, Sunghoon spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "You really think you can just walk away from everything, Y/N?"

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She wanted to deny it, to tell him that she was fine, that everything was fine, but the truth was too much to hold in. She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but they were lost somewhere deep inside her.

"I… I don’t know what else to do," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "Skating was everything, and now it’s nothing. It feels like I’m suffocating in it, Sunghoon. I don’t even remember why I started anymore. I’m just so tired of fighting for something that… that I don’t even want."

Sunghoon’s gaze softened, but there was no anger in his eyes—only concern, a deep, unspoken hurt. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, his presence solid and unwavering.

"You think quitting will fix it?" he asked, his voice low, almost gentle. "Do you really think running away from skating will solve everything?"

Y/N’s chest tightened, and she finally let the walls around her heart crack. She blinked hard, trying to stop the tears from spilling, but they came anyway. The vulnerability she had been hiding for so long was too much to hold back.

"I don’t know," she choked out. "I just… I just wanted to feel like I was more than just a title. More than just what everyone else expected of me. I wanted to be… free. But now, I feel even worse. I thought quitting would help, but I don’t even know who I am anymore."

Sunghoon didn’t speak right away. Instead, he stepped forward, his hand reaching out, gently brushing her arm. It wasn’t the touch she expected, but it was the one she needed. For once, he wasn’t the rival who pushed her to be better—he was the person who was simply there.

He took another step closer, his voice soft but insistent. "Y/N, I know you’ve been carrying this for a long time. I know it’s not easy, but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here. Always have been."

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, and before she could stop herself, she felt the flood of emotion hit her all at once. Her chest heaved as she fought to keep the tears at bay, but they spilled over anyway. "I’m scared, Sunghoon," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Scared of failing. Scared of being nothing."

His hand moved to her shoulder, steady and comforting. "You’re not nothing," he said, his voice steady, like he was trying to anchor her in a storm. "You never were. And you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to be the perfect skater, the perfect daughter, the perfect anything. You’re enough as you are."

Y/N looked up at him, eyes full of disbelief. For so long, she had seen him as the one who always had everything figured out—the one who never faltered, never showed weakness. And now, here he was, offering her something she hadn’t even known she needed: understanding, acceptance, and a kindness that was impossible to ignore.

"I didn’t realize how much I hurt you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I didn’t even think about how it was affecting you."

Sunghoon’s expression softened, but there was no anger in his eyes. Just… a quiet sadness. "You didn’t know," he said simply. "And I didn’t know how to tell you. But I’m not mad, Y/N. I just… I want you to be happy. I want you to feel like you’re not doing this just for everyone else. For once, do it for yourself."

Y/N felt a shudder pass through her, her heart pounding in her chest as his words sank in. For the first time in ages, she felt like maybe she wasn’t alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward—without the weight of expectations, without the pressure of being perfect.

She took a shaky breath, her hands still trembling. "I don’t know if I can go back to skating," she admitted, her voice fragile. "But I want to figure out who I am without it. I don’t want to keep pretending to be something I’m not."

Sunghoon nodded, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You don’t have to go back to skating if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. But whatever you decide, I’ll be here. I’ve always been here."

Y/N felt the weight on her shoulders lighten just a little, the pressure of the decision she had made beginning to ease. Maybe she didn’t have all the answers yet. Maybe she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. But for the first time, she wasn’t scared to figure it out. And she wasn’t alone.

As Sunghoon stood beside her, the tension between them began to dissolve. Maybe the rivalry wasn’t over, but it didn’t have to define them anymore. Not when they both finally understood what really mattered.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Y/N. Her conversation with Sunghoon had given her a lot to think about, and as she walked home, the weight in her chest had lessened, replaced by a strange sense of resolve. She hadn’t realized how much she had been holding in until now. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to figure things out.

When she walked into her room, she tossed her bag onto the bed and let out a deep breath. The house was quiet—too quiet—and the silence made her feel even more unsure about everything she had left behind. But then, as she sat down at her desk, something caught her eye.

A small flyer was pinned to the corkboard by her window, one she hadn’t noticed before. It was brightly colored, with bold, attention-grabbing text: Cheerleading Tryouts - Two Weeks Away!

Her pulse quickened as she stepped closer, reading the details. Two cheer clinics next week, tryouts on Monday. The more she read, the more the excitement bubbled up inside her. This was it. The step she needed to take.

For the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of something—something other than doubt or fear. Maybe this is what I’ve been looking for, she thought.

Y/N had always loved the energy of cheerleading. It was different than skating—it was fast, loud, and full of adrenaline. The thought of performing stunts, the idea of being part of a team again, made her heart race. And the best part? She wasn’t starting from scratch. She had the skills.

She wasn’t just someone who could do a toe touch or a right hurdler. She could do a front handspring. She’d stunted with her cousins countless times just for fun, laughing as they lifted each other in the air. The balance, the flexibility, the coordination—it was all there. She had the basics, the physical foundation. It was just a matter of diving in and trusting herself.

Y/N placed her hand on the flyer, the weight of the decision settling into her mind. She wasn’t going to let fear stop her anymore. This was the next step in her life, the next chapter. She could feel the pull of it, the way it called to her in a way that skating hadn’t for a long time.

"I’m doing this," she whispered to herself, the words firm in the quiet room. "I’m taking the step. No looking back."

She grabbed her phone and texted Yunjin: Hey, I'm going to the cheer clinic next week. You should come with me.

The excitement of the idea hit her all over again, and this time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing. She was ready. Ready to let go of the past and embrace something new. Something that was hers, something that felt right.

It wasn’t just about trying something different—it was about reclaiming herself. She wasn’t defined by her past, by the titles and expectations. She was ready to redefine who she was.

And no matter what came next, she knew she would face it head-on, with a strength she didn’t know she had until now.

The cheer clinic was held in the gymnasium of the high school, a place Y/N had walked past countless times but never truly noticed. Now, as she stepped inside, the sound of sneakers slapping against the polished floor and the sharp, rhythmic claps of hands echoed in the space, and she felt the excitement buzzing in the air.

The clinic was packed with girls—some familiar faces from school, others she’d never seen before, all stretching and warming up in groups. The atmosphere was electric, and for the first time in ages, Y/N felt a spark of joy. This wasn’t about competition. This wasn’t about perfection. It was about fun, energy, and being part of something bigger than herself.

Yunjin walked beside her, equally excited but also nervous. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, her eyes wide. “This is... a whole different world from skating.”

Y/N smiled, her stomach fluttering with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. “Yeah, but I think it’s exactly what I need. I’m ready for something new. And I’m not starting from scratch. I’ve got some moves.”

Yunjin laughed. “I know you do. I’ve seen you do stunts with your cousins. You’ve got this.”

They joined the group at the center of the gym, where Coach Minjae, the cheerleading coach, was already giving instructions. Coach Minjae was all smiles, exuding energy and enthusiasm that made Y/N’s nerves ease just a little. "Alright, ladies!" he called, clapping his hands. "We’re here to get a feel for cheerleading. Stretch, warm up, and let’s get ready to move."

Y/N joined in with the group, stretching her muscles and feeling her body loosen up. It felt good—she was flexible, had the strength, and the muscle memory from skating was already kicking in. She could do a toe touch, a right hurdler—nothing too complicated, but it was a start.

Coach Minjae moved among the girls, offering pointers and encouragement. After a few minutes, they began practicing some basic stunts—nothing too advanced, just a simple toss and catch. Y/N’s heart raced as they paired up. She didn’t know anyone here, but it didn’t matter. She just needed to prove to herself that she could do this.

When it was her turn, Y/N partnered with a girl named Mira, a senior who was tall and strong, a perfect base for stunting. Mira looked at her with a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry, we got this."

Y/N nodded, holding her breath as she stepped into position. Mira helped lift her up into a basic cradle, lifting her smoothly into the air. The feeling was exhilarating—there was no ice beneath her, no cold, just the rush of adrenaline and the sound of the gym all around her. It felt freeing.

“Great job, Y/N! You’ve got the technique down!” Coach Minjae called from the sidelines, and Y/N couldn’t help but beam. The approval felt different than it had when skating. It felt genuine. She wasn’t just being praised for her ability to win—it was about the effort, the teamwork, the energy. It was refreshing.

As the clinic progressed, they moved on to more complex stunts. Y/N’s confidence grew with each one, the group getting into sync as they learned to work together. She stunted with a few different girls, her heart racing each time she was lifted into the air or tossed up for a handspring. Her muscles were sore from the new movements, but it was the good kind of soreness—the kind that reminded her she was challenging herself, pushing her boundaries in a way she hadn’t for a long time.

After about two hours of practice, Coach Minjae gathered everyone into a circle for the final part of the clinic: the tumbling session. Y/N felt a familiar thrill run through her—this was her element. She had done front handsprings countless times as a kid, and now was her chance to show off. She stretched again and got into position, pushing herself into a fluid back handspring and landing solidly on her feet.

"That’s what I’m talking about!" Coach Minjae said, grinning as he clapped. "Nice work, Y/N! You’ve got natural talent."

Y/N’s heart swelled with pride. She hadn’t expected to feel so at home so quickly, but it was like the movements were second nature. It wasn’t the same as skating, but in some ways, it felt even better. Here, she wasn’t just pushing herself to be perfect. She was learning, growing, and enjoying the process.

When the clinic wrapped up, Y/N was sweaty and exhausted, but there was a grin on her face that didn’t fade. She looked at Yunjin, who was standing nearby, her eyes wide with awe.

“That was amazing,” Yunjin said. “You were incredible out there. You’re a natural.”

Y/N laughed, her breath still heavy. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed being in a team. It’s different from skating, but... it feels right.”

As they made their way to the exit, Coach Minjae called out to Y/N, motioning for her to come over. “Hey, I saw you out there today,” he said with a friendly smile. “You’ve got a lot of potential. I’m excited to see how you do at tryouts on Monday. Keep practicing what you’ve learned. And don’t forget, the clinic next week is a great opportunity to refine your skills before tryouts. We’re looking for someone with your drive.”

Y/N’s heart raced again. “Thanks, Coach. I’ll be ready.”

As she walked out of the gym with Yunjin, the energy still buzzing in her veins, she knew this was just the beginning. She hadn’t just stepped into the world of cheerleading; she had stepped into a new chapter of her life.

It wasn’t about quitting skating—it was about finding herself again, finding joy in something new, and realizing she was more than just a skater. She was a person with strength, flexibility, and passion—and she wasn’t going to let anything or anyone take that away.

Y/N walked through the door, her heart still racing from the excitement of the clinic. The buzz of adrenaline hadn't quite worn off, and for the first time in days, she felt at peace with her decision. She was doing something for herself, something she was good at and enjoyed. But that sense of peace quickly evaporated when she stepped into the living room.

Her parents were sitting together on the couch, the atmosphere tense. Her mom's arms were crossed, her eyes narrow, and her dad's jaw was clenched. It was immediately clear that something was off.

"Y/N," her mom began, her voice calm but filled with an edge, "We need to talk."

Y/N froze in the doorway, her stomach dropping. She'd been dreading this moment, but she hadn't expected it to come so soon. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. "What’s going on?"

Her dad's voice broke the silence. "We got a call today. About the cheerleading clinic. You didn't think we’d find out?"

Y/N’s chest tightened, and the weight of their disapproval pressed down on her. “I—I didn’t think it mattered,” she said quietly, trying to keep her emotions in check. “I’m not skating anymore. I want to try something different.”

Her mom's eyes flashed with frustration. "Different? You’re throwing away everything we’ve worked for all these years. All the time, all the money we’ve put into your ice skating career—this is how you repay us?"

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. "I'm not throwing it away. I just—" She paused, taking a shaky breath. "I need a break. I need to do something that makes me happy. Something that’s not about competition or living up to expectations. I want to try cheerleading."

Her dad stood up, his voice rising in frustration. "You don't understand. You’re wasting your talent! You’re so close to everything we've been working for. You could be a champion, Y/N. And now you're just going to quit? After all the years we've invested? You can’t be serious."

Y/N's chest tightened even more, the pressure building as her parents' voices rang in her ears. She tried to stay calm, but the words her dad had just said stung, reminding her of the years she’d spent chasing something that had never really been hers to begin with.

"I can’t do this anymore," Y/N said, her voice shaking slightly but growing firmer with each word. "It’s not about being a champion. It’s about feeling like I’m actually living my life, not just living up to your dreams for me. I want something for myself, and that’s cheerleading. I know it might not make sense to you, but I can’t keep pretending skating is everything when it doesn’t make me happy anymore."

Her mom stood up, shaking her head in disbelief. "You don’t know what you’re doing. You’ll regret this. You’re just being emotional. You’ve always been so impulsive with your decisions."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “I’ve been thinking about this for months, and it’s not impulsive. I’m doing what’s best for me.”

The silence between them stretched out, thick with disappointment and anger. Y/N knew they wouldn’t understand. They had always pushed her to be the best, to win, to shine on the ice. But she had grown tired of being defined by other people’s expectations.

"You're being selfish, Y/N," her dad said, his voice softening, but the disappointment was still there. "All we've done for you... and now you're just walking away from it."

Y/N’s heart wavered for a moment, but she held her ground. "I’m not walking away from you. I’m just walking toward something that makes me feel alive. You can’t make me skate anymore. I’m not doing it for you or for anyone else. It’s my life, and I’m choosing to live it on my terms."

Her mom and dad exchanged a look, the silence in the room growing heavier. Finally, her mom sighed and dropped her arms. "You’ve always been stubborn. You won’t listen, will you?"

Y/N shook her head. “No. I won’t.”

Her dad let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the conversation had drained him. "Fine. But don’t expect us to support this. You’re on your own with this decision."

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, but she didn’t flinch. "I know. I’m ready to be on my own. I’ll make it work."

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and left the room, the heavy air following her every step. She needed space. She needed to breathe.

As she shut the door to her bedroom behind her, Y/N leaned against it, her chest tight and her mind racing. It hurt, it really did, to hear her parents' words. But the decision was hers, and she wasn’t going to let anyone make her doubt it.

She looked over at the cheer flyer on her desk, the bright colors calling to her again. This was where she needed to be. This was the step she had chosen, and no matter how hard it was, she was going to take it.

The next few days felt like a blur. Y/N’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—relief mixed with guilt, excitement mixed with uncertainty. Her parents’ words haunted her, despite the resolve she’d felt when she walked away from that conversation.

It was strange, living in the same house but feeling worlds apart from her parents. They barely spoke to her, their disappointment so palpable it weighed heavily in the air, even when they were in the same room. Every time she caught their gaze, they looked at her like she was a stranger.

But Y/N didn’t let it break her. She couldn’t. She couldn’t go back to the life they wanted for her, not when she had just found something that made her feel like herself again.

The cheerleading tryouts were just around the corner, and though she hadn’t fully shaken the tension at home, she threw herself into preparing for it. The clinic had given her a taste of what was to come, and she wanted more.

The following week, she attended the second cheer clinic with the same eagerness, determined to refine her skills. This time, she had a better grasp of the moves, and she pushed herself even harder. She felt her body growing stronger with every tumble, every flip, every lift. She wasn’t perfect, but she was getting there, and that was enough for her. The coaches seemed impressed with her progress, but Y/N was focused on the feeling she had every time she stepped onto that mat. It wasn’t about impressing anyone. It was about freedom.

“Y/N, you’re doing great!” Coach Minjae called out during a routine, his voice full of encouragement. “Keep that energy up. You’ve got what it takes.”

Those words from Coach Minjae gave her a renewed sense of purpose. It felt good to hear someone believe in her. It felt good to be seen for more than just her ability to perform on the ice.

As the days to tryouts dwindled down, Y/N knew her parents were still upset, but she had made her peace with it. They were stubborn, and so was she. She didn’t need their approval to do what made her happy. In fact, the more she thought about it, the clearer it became: if she stayed on the ice, she’d always be living under their expectations, under the weight of years of pressure. But if she took this leap—this leap into cheerleading—she would be doing it for herself. No one else.

The morning of the tryouts, Y/N woke up early, her heart pounding with nerves, but also with excitement. She stretched in her bedroom, mentally going through the moves she had practiced, running through the routine she’d put together in the past few days. She wasn’t sure if she’d make the team, but she knew she would give it everything she had.

Yunjin knocked on her door, her face bright with enthusiasm despite the early hour. "You ready for this?" she asked, grinning. "You’ve got this, I know it."

Y/N smiled back, taking a deep breath. "I think so. I’m ready."

As they arrived at the gym, the air was thick with anticipation. There were more girls than she expected, all of them looking as nervous and excited as she felt. Y/N tried to block out the thoughts of her parents’ disappointment and just focused on the task ahead. The pressure to succeed wasn’t coming from them anymore—it was coming from her. She wanted to prove to herself that she could do this.

The tryouts went by in a blur. She did everything she’d practiced—the toe touch, the hurdler, the front handspring, and the stunts. Her muscles burned from the effort, but she kept pushing herself, one move at a time, until she felt she had given her best.

When the tryouts ended, Coach Minjae gathered the girls together. "You all did a great job today," he said, his tone warm but firm. "We’ll be posting the results soon. But no matter what happens, I want you to know that each of you gave your best. That’s what matters."

Y/N waited with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She was so nervous, so unsure of what the outcome would be, but at that moment, she felt a strange sense of calm. Even if she didn’t make the team, she knew she had taken the first step toward finding herself.

A few hours later, the list was posted on the bulletin board in the school’s hallway. Y/N walked toward it, her heart in her throat. She scanned the names, her fingers trembling as they traced each one until they landed on hers.

Her name was on the list. Not on JV, not on Frosh, but she was on VARSITY? 

She blinked, her eyes filling with tears before she could even process it. She had made the team. She had done it. It wasn’t just about cheerleading—it was about proving to herself that she could take control of her life. That she could make decisions for herself, regardless of what others thought.

Yunjin found her a few moments later, her arms wide open. "You did it!" she squealed, pulling Y/N into a hug. "I knew you would! You were amazing out there!"

Y/N hugged her back, overwhelmed by the sense of accomplishment. "I can’t believe it. I really did it."

And for the first time in so long, she allowed herself to believe in it too.

That night, when she returned home, Y/N wasn’t sure how to face her parents. They were still distant, still upset, but now that she had the victory of making the team, she felt stronger than ever.

When she walked into the living room, her dad barely looked up from his newspaper. Her mom was on her phone, but Y/N didn’t shy away. She stood there for a moment, gathering the courage she needed before speaking.

“I made the cheerleading team. I made the school’s Varsity team,” she said, her voice steady.

Her mom glanced up, her face unreadable. "I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Y/N."

Y/N stood tall, her shoulders back, and met her mom’s gaze. "Because I needed to do something for myself. I needed to find my own happiness. I know you don’t agree, but I’m not going to apologize for that."

Her dad finally set down his paper, looking at her with a mix of frustration and resignation. "I don’t get it, but I guess there’s nothing we can do to change your mind."

Y/N shook her head, but instead of feeling the weight of their disapproval, she felt a strange sense of peace. "No, you can’t. I’m going to make this work. You’ll see."

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like she was finally walking her own path.

Y/N walked through the school’s front doors with her heart still thumping from the rush of excitement after making the cheerleading team. She had expected her parents’ disappointment, but she hadn’t expected the tight knot in her chest to linger this long. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for as she walked through the hallways—maybe just a little space to breathe, away from the weight of everything that had happened.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw him.

Sunghoon.

Of course, he was here, standing by his locker, surrounded by his friends who were laughing loudly, no doubt about something ridiculous he had said. But the moment his eyes landed on her, it was like the world narrowed to just the two of them.

There was that stupid grin.

“There’s my favorite cheerleader!” Sunghoon called out, loud enough for a few people to turn their heads in curiosity. His tone was teasing, laced with something else—something almost mocking.

Y/N’s stomach twisted. The words hit her in a way they hadn’t before. She hated how his teasing had always gotten under her skin, how it made her feel both irritated and strangely... seen. She didn’t need his approval, and yet, there was a small part of her that had always been desperate for it.

"Stop it," Y/N snapped, her eyes narrowing as she tried to keep her annoyance in check. She wasn’t going to let him win today. Not when she had finally taken control of her life, done something for herself. "You don’t even know what you’re talking about."

Sunghoon pushed off the lockers and started walking toward her, a slow, deliberate stride that made her stomach tighten even more. He wasn’t trying to provoke her in the usual way; there was something more behind this. He seemed... different today.

He stopped right in front of her, his grin softening, but only slightly. “I know exactly what I’m talking about, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now, teasing but with an undertone of something far too sincere for her liking. “You’re going to make an amazing cheerleader. I’m proud of you.”

Y/N blinked, the words hitting her harder than she expected. Proud? Sunghoon, of all people, proud of her? She couldn’t help but scoff, but the frustration that usually bubbled up between them felt different today—fainter, almost like it was being drowned out by something she couldn’t name.

“You’re seriously not going to stop, are you?” she shot back, her voice sharp, but even she could hear the crack in it.

“Why would I?” he teased, crossing his arms. “This is huge for you, Y/N. You’ve been skating for so long, always trying to beat me, and now you’re doing something for yourself. I’m impressed.”

Her jaw tightened. Sunghoon had always been the one to make everything a competition—always comparing them, always fighting for the spotlight, whether it was on the ice or in their lives. His constant need to be the best had always rubbed her the wrong way, and yet... when he said things like that, things that sounded so genuine, it felt like a reminder of everything they had once been. Rivals. Equals. The tension between them had always been thick, and yet here he was, proud of her, as if the rivalry meant nothing to him.

“Stop pretending like you care,” she spat, her voice rising despite herself. “You’ve always had your way, Sunghoon. Don’t act like you care about what I do now.”

Sunghoon’s face didn’t flicker with the usual defensive arrogance. Instead, there was a quiet understanding in his eyes, one that Y/N didn’t quite know how to process. He took a small step closer, dropping his arms. “I care more than you think, Y/N.”

She froze. It wasn’t the words themselves that caught her off guard—it was the way he said them, the softness in his voice that was so unlike the usual banter. He had always pushed her to the limit, always seemed to relish in their rivalry, but now he was saying something completely different. His words felt like they were cutting through the walls she’d built between them.

“Why does it always have to be this way with you?” Y/N muttered, frustration creeping into her voice. "You act like you’re so proud of me, but you’ve been my biggest obstacle from the start. All you’ve ever done is make me feel like I wasn’t good enough.”

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, his grin fading. “Is that what you think? That I’ve been trying to make you feel bad? You really don’t get it, do you?”

Y/N’s chest tightened as she looked up at him, struggling to keep her emotions from spilling over. She hated this. Hated how he had always been the person who pushed her the hardest, who seemed to always stand in her way. But in some twisted way, she had always needed him there, because his presence kept her grounded in a rivalry that was so familiar, it felt like home.

“You don’t get it either,” she muttered, her voice thick with something she didn’t want to admit. “You’ve always been everything I wasn’t—better on the ice, more focused, more... everything. And I’ve spent my whole life trying to beat you, to prove something to you and everyone else. But now I’m trying to do something for me, and you’re just messing with me.”

Sunghoon reached out, his hand coming to rest lightly on her arm, a rare tenderness in his touch. "I’m not messing with you, Y/N. I just... I just want you to know that you don’t have to prove anything to me anymore. I’ve always been proud of you. I was just too stupid to admit it."

Y/N blinked, feeling like the floor had just shifted beneath her feet. She didn’t know how to respond. Sunghoon had always been the one to push her buttons, to make her feel like she was in a constant battle to get his attention, but this... this was different.

“I don’t need your pity,” she finally said, her voice quieter now, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface.

“I’m not pitying you,” he said gently, looking down at her, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen it. "I’ve always respected you, Y/N. Maybe I’ve shown it in the wrong ways, but I do. And for what it’s worth... I’m proud of you. I know this is a big step. You don’t have to be afraid of it.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, trying to collect herself. It was impossible to ignore how much his words were sinking in, how they made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t ready for. She didn’t want to acknowledge how much she needed this from him, how much she secretly longed for him to say these things, even if it meant admitting that maybe the rivalry had always been more complicated than she wanted to believe.

“Whatever,” she muttered, stepping back from him, trying to reclaim her space, her walls. “I’m doing this for me. Not for you, not for anyone else.”

Sunghoon’s grin returned, though it was softer, almost like he understood the complexity of the situation better than she did. “I know. And that’s exactly why I’m proud of you.”

Y/N shook her head and turned to walk away, but she couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips, a smile that somehow only Sunghoon could coax out of her, no matter how much she hated to admit it.

It had been a whirlwind of a year, and now, standing in front of the school, Y/N couldn’t help but take it all in. Senior year had arrived, and with it, a wave of emotions—nervousness, excitement, anticipation. Not just about graduation or the impending college decisions, but the start of the cheerleading season. After months of dedication, practice, and pushing herself beyond limits, it was finally here. The rush of being part of something she loved, something she was proud of.

Cheerleading was a new chapter in her life, one that had brought her unexpected joy. She had always been good at skating, but this... this was her own thing. No pressure from her parents, no constant rivalry with Sunghoon. Just her, her team, and the excitement of starting something fresh. It felt freeing.

And then there was Sunghoon.

Their relationship had shifted in ways she hadn’t fully realized until now. They’d gone from rivals to friends to something more—a slow burn of understanding, shared glances, and late-night talks. The tension between them was still there, but it was different now. More comfortable. More affectionate. They spent weekends hanging out with their group of friends, but there were also moments where it was just the two of them. Conversations that didn’t have to be about cheer or skating, just about life. They laughed, they teased, and sometimes, they just sat in comfortable silence, a closeness that had built over time.

Y/N had always sworn she wouldn’t get involved with Sunghoon, but as the months went by, she found herself unable to ignore the undeniable pull between them. The way his eyes lingered a little longer than necessary. The way he supported her, not just as a teammate but as someone who genuinely cared. There were times when he would drop her off after practice, and their hands would brush, sending a spark of electricity through her veins. The touch would always linger just a second longer than normal, making her wonder if maybe—just maybe—he felt the same way.

Today was no different. She had just finished getting ready for practice, pulling on her uniform with a small, satisfied smile. She felt confident. Cheer had become her escape, her place of belonging, and she loved every minute of it. With her college applications in, the future was uncertain, but she was ready for whatever came next.

As she walked out of the locker room, she saw Sunghoon leaning against the bleachers, a casual smirk on his face as he checked his phone. His presence, once a source of frustration, now felt like something familiar, something she looked forward to.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, glancing up at her with that trademark grin of his. But there was something different in his eyes—something warmer.

Y/N shot him a playful look. “Do you even have to ask? I’ve been ready since last year.”

“True,” he said, pushing off the bleachers and walking toward her. “I’m still amazed you chose cheer over skating. You’ve got the spirit, but... can you keep up with us?”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got this. I’m flexible, I can stunt, I can do flips—you name it.”

His smile softened, and for a second, Y/N saw the familiar teasing glint in his eyes, but it was paired with something else—pride, maybe? “I’m still amazed,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time. “You’ve come a long way, Y/N.”

There was something in the way he said her name. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was just... her. And it made her heart do a funny little flip.

“You sound like you actually care,” she teased back, nudging him playfully.

“I do,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I’ve always cared.”

Y/N met his gaze, trying to keep her composure, but it was getting harder to ignore the way he made her feel. She wasn’t sure when things had changed between them, but now, with the closeness they shared, it was hard to separate her feelings from what they had. They were more than just teammates, more than just the awkward tension of rivals. They had become something else, something new. And maybe it wasn’t love yet, but it was something that felt just as powerful.

“You’ve been acting all proud of me lately,” Y/N teased, a slight blush creeping up her neck. “What’s up with that?”

Sunghoon’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, his playful smirk returning, though there was something more vulnerable behind it. “I guess I’m just proud of how far you’ve come. You’ve worked your ass off, Y/N. And not just for this, but for everything.”

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”

Sunghoon shrugged, his grin widening as he tried to hide the faint color in his cheeks. “I don’t always say the right things, but... yeah. I’m proud. And I’m glad you’re here with us.”

Her heart fluttered, and for a second, the noise around them—the rest of the team gathering, the chatter, the clapping—faded. It was just the two of them, standing on the edge of something new. The rivalry was still there, but now it felt like it was slowly being replaced with something else. Something better.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat, trying to break the tension, “I’m not here to be your favorite cheerleader, Sunghoon. I’m here to kick ass.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and something more. “I’m not worried. You always kick ass.”

And there it was again—the way he looked at her, like there was something unspoken between them. Something that had been building ever since she made the decision to walk away from skating and take this leap into cheer. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to their relationship than she had ever allowed herself to believe.

“Alright, enough talking. Let’s go show them what we’ve got,” Y/N said, smiling brightly, trying to mask the fluttering in her chest.

Sunghoon gave her one last look, a soft smile curving on his lips, before nodding. “You’ve got this, Y/N.”

As they walked to the sidelines together, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that this year was going to be different. Not just because of cheerleading, but because of everything she had started to realize about herself—and about him.

The game was over, and the victory still hung in the air. The stands were filled with excitement, the sound of cheers and clapping echoing around the field. Y/N stood off to the side, quietly packing her cheer bag. She had given it her all tonight, and it felt amazing to be so connected with her team, the crowd, and the energy of the game. It was the first time in a long while she felt truly like herself—not weighed down by the pressures of ice skating, not caught in the web of family expectations. Tonight, cheerleading had been her release, her passion.

As she zipped up her bag, her thoughts drifted to Sunghoon. He’d been different lately. He’d been there for her in ways that went beyond their usual playful rivalry. She couldn’t help but feel a spark between them—a connection that she hadn’t been able to ignore, even if she’d tried. Maybe it was just her imagination, or maybe it was the thrill of the game, but she’d been hoping tonight would be different. After the game, they always hung out—grab food, catch up, talk about everything. Maybe tonight he’d say something. Something more than just the usual teasing.

Her heart fluttered at the thought.

She didn’t know why she was so desperate for something to change between them. Sunghoon had always been her rival, the person who had gotten under her skin since childhood. But now, as they had spent more time together, it was becoming clear to her that there was something more—something she wasn’t ready to admit but couldn’t quite deny.

She had always brushed it off as nothing. She had convinced herself that their connection was nothing but friendly competition. But tonight, after seeing him look at her differently, she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same.

With her gear packed away, she glanced around, looking for Sunghoon. She smiled to herself, knowing he’d be around here somewhere. Maybe he’d find her first, maybe not. But she couldn’t shake the thought that something was different tonight, something that might finally bring them closer together.

As she walked toward the edge of the field, searching for him, a movement caught her eye. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Sunghoon standing near the edge of the bleachers, but it wasn’t just Sunghoon. There was a girl with him. At first, Y/N didn’t recognize her, but something about the way they were standing together made her stomach drop.

Sunghoon had his arms wrapped around her, and they were standing so close. The girl had her arms around his neck, and their lips were locked in a kiss. A passionate, deep kiss.

Y/N’s heart stopped in her chest. She could feel the blood drain from her face, her entire body freezing in place as her mind scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her hands trembled as she stood there, the world around her seeming to tilt and shift. The moment stretched on forever, each second torturing her more than the last.

As the girl pulled back from the kiss, Y/N saw her face clearly for the first time. Her heart dropped even further.

It was Chaewon.

Sunghoon’s ex-girlfriend.

Y/N had heard about Chaewon before—about how they had broken up a few months ago. Chaewon had always been a part of Sunghoon’s life, and despite their breakup, she had kept a lingering presence in his world. Y/N had always felt the tension whenever Chaewon was mentioned, but she never expected it to hit this close to home. She had always thought that once Sunghoon had moved on, things would be different. But now, seeing them together like this, it was clear that whatever was left between them wasn’t over.

Her throat tightened, her vision blurring with tears she tried to blink away. She wasn’t sure why it hurt so much—why seeing them together hit her like a wrecking ball. It wasn’t like she had any claim over Sunghoon, and yet, watching them made her feel like everything she had been working toward was meaningless. All her attempts to build a connection with him, to push past their rivalry and make something more, felt like they had been a waste.

The way they kissed—how natural, how familiar it looked—told Y/N everything she needed to know. There was no space between them. They were so comfortable with each other. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a moment of intimacy, something they had shared before and likely would again.

Y/N couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t make sense of the whirlwind of emotions crashing through her. Betrayal. Hurt. Regret. And something else... Something far more painful. She had been naive to think that things could be different. She had been foolish to believe that Sunghoon would see her as more than just a rival.

Without thinking, her feet moved on their own, carrying her away from the scene. Her body was moving mechanically, too stunned to process the pain in her chest. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She just had to get out of here.

She couldn’t stay and watch it any longer.

She needed to leave before the tears started falling, before the ache in her heart consumed her completely. As she rushed to the parking lot, she didn’t look back. She didn’t want to see them again. She didn’t want to confront the truth—that Sunghoon had never been hers to claim, and maybe, he never would be.

By the time she reached her car, her tears were already spilling over. She slammed the car door shut with more force than she intended, the sound of it echoing in the quiet parking lot. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything.

As she drove home, the streets blurred in front of her, the steady rhythm of her car tires on the pavement the only thing grounding her in reality. Her thoughts were a mess, a jumble of hurt, confusion, and disbelief.

When she reached her house, she didn’t even bother to turn off the engine. She just sat there for a moment, staring ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel. The tears flowed freely now, the pain too raw to hide.

She had been so stupid. So stupid for hoping. For thinking she could ever be something more to him than just a rival.

With a broken heart and no more strength to pretend, Y/N stumbled out of the car, heading straight to her room. She locked the door behind her, flopping onto her bed. The tears kept coming, but she didn’t try to stop them. Tonight had been a wake-up call, and as much as it hurt, she knew it was time to let go.

The days following the game felt like an endless blur. The victory was overshadowed by the weight of what Y/N had witnessed. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Sunghoon with Chaewon, their lips locked in a kiss so full of passion it tore through her. She tried to distract herself, to immerse herself in her cheerleading practices, but it was impossible to shake the image from her mind.

At school, she avoided Sunghoon. She wasn’t ready to face him—not after what had happened. She didn’t even want to acknowledge him in the halls. The thought of seeing him made her stomach churn. It wasn’t just the betrayal, but the fact that she had been so blind to it all. She had let herself believe that the rivalry, the teasing, even the moments where their gazes lingered just a bit longer than necessary, meant something more than what they were.

Her thoughts were consumed by what she had seen. She was devastated, angry at herself for letting her guard down, angry at him for leading her on. And then, there was the bitterness that had begun to seep into her heart. How could he just move on so easily? How could he kiss Chaewon, the girl he had supposedly broken up with months ago, and make it look so natural?

It felt like betrayal on every level. He hadn’t even said anything to her about it. No explanation. No warning. She had spent so much time focused on their growing closeness, convinced that something real was blooming between them, and it had all been for nothing.

Monday came, and with it, another school day. Y/N walked into the hallways with her head down, trying her best to ignore the whispers. She had heard people talk. Her teammates, classmates, even teachers. Everyone was buzzing about the cheer game, her flawless performance. But for her, it felt like the cheers and claps were just empty sounds. No matter how many times people told her she had been amazing, the words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The hallway felt suffocating as Y/N stormed off after her heated exchange with Sunghoon. Her footsteps echoed against the lockers as she kept walking, refusing to look back. She could still feel the sting of what she’d seen—the kiss between Sunghoon and Chaewon—burning in her chest. It felt like the world was closing in on her, and she was desperate to escape the suffocating reality of it all.

But just as she thought she could distance herself, she heard his voice again.

"Y/N, wait!"

She froze mid-step, her heart racing as she turned slowly. He was standing a few feet away, his expression desperate, his eyes wide with a mixture of concern and frustration. His usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced with something more vulnerable—something that made Y/N’s heart ache even more than it already did.

"I—" Sunghoon started, running a hand through his hair, his voice faltering. "I know you’re upset, but please, just let me explain. I never wanted you to see that. I never wanted you to think—"

"To think what, Sunghoon?" Y/N interrupted, her voice shaking with both anger and hurt. "That you were still in love with Chaewon? That you were going to just pick up where you left off with her? Is that it? Is that what I saw?"

He winced at her words, the pain in her voice hitting him harder than he expected. But he didn’t give up. He took a step forward, his gaze filled with sincerity, almost pleading.

"No, that’s not it at all," he said quickly. "It’s just... Y/N, please listen. What you saw was a mistake. A huge mistake. It wasn’t—"

"A mistake?" she repeated bitterly, her eyes flashing with disbelief. "You think that kiss was a mistake?"

He winced, the words clearly hurting him as much as they hurt her. He had never imagined that something like this would drive a wedge between them. "Yes," he said quietly, the weight of the word settling between them. "It was a mistake. A moment of weakness, a moment where I didn’t know what I was doing. But it doesn’t mean what you think it means. Chaewon and I... we had our history, but it was over. And I—"

"You kissed her," Y/N spat, her voice trembling. "How is that 'over'? How can you tell me that now, after everything, after all the time we’ve spent together, that it doesn’t mean anything?"

Sunghoon took another step toward her, his frustration building, but he kept his voice soft, trying to remain calm. He wasn’t ready to lose her—not after everything. Not when he was just beginning to realize how deeply he had felt for her all along.

"Y/N, listen to me," he said, voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know how to explain this, but you’ve got to know that I wasn’t thinking when I kissed her. It wasn’t because I want her back or because I still care about her in that way. It was... I don’t know, maybe it was just familiarity. But I don’t want her. I want you."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering against her chest. She stared at him, disbelieving, as the words she had always wanted to hear from him finally fell from his lips. But there was still a part of her that couldn’t trust it. She wasn’t sure she could ever fully trust him again after what she’d seen.

"Why now?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Why are you saying this now, after everything? After the way you've treated me, after all those months of us pretending we were just rivals? Why does it matter now?"

Sunghoon's face softened, and he closed the distance between them, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "Because I was an idiot," he said, his voice rough. "I didn’t realize how much you meant to me until it was almost too late. I’ve been pushing you away, and I didn’t even know why. But I’ve been stupid, Y/N. You were always more than just a rival to me, more than just someone I wanted to beat. But I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought I had to stay in that stupid competition with you, that I had to keep up this stupid rivalry, and it kept me from seeing what was right in front of me."

Y/N’s heart twisted at his words. Part of her wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that all the moments they’d shared had meant something more. But the part of her that had been burned by his actions was reluctant to let go of the hurt.

"You’re telling me this now?" she asked, her voice cracking. "You’re telling me that after everything, after all the times you made me feel like I was nothing more than a challenge for you, that you actually care? That you’ve always cared?"

Sunghoon’s face fell, guilt and regret clouding his features. "I know I screwed up. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry. But it’s the truth. I care about you, Y/N. I always have. I just... I was too proud, too scared, to admit it. I was so caught up in the competition with you, in trying to win everything, that I didn’t realize that winning you, winning your heart, was the one thing I actually wanted."

Y/N felt her heart ache at his words. She wanted to say something, anything to make the pain stop, but her emotions were all over the place. She had wanted this. She had wanted him to confess, to tell her that she wasn’t just the girl he fought against, but someone he actually cared for. But hearing it now—after everything, after the kiss with Chaewon—it didn’t feel like enough.

"You can’t just erase what you did," she said quietly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You can’t just tell me it was a mistake and expect me to forget the way it made me feel."

"I know," Sunghoon said softly, his voice full of regret. "And I wouldn’t ask you to. But I’m asking you to let me make it right. Please. You mean so much more to me than anything else. I’ve been an idiot, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that you’re the one I want. Please, Y/N, don’t shut me out. Let me show you how much you really mean to me."

Y/N stood there, her chest tight with conflicting emotions. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to forgive him, to take a leap of faith and trust that he wasn’t lying. But a part of her still held onto the hurt, the pain of seeing him with someone else, so easily slipping back into his past. It wasn’t something she could just erase.

"I need time, Sunghoon," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I need time to figure this out. I don’t know if I can just forget everything, even if I want to."

He nodded, his eyes filled with pain and understanding. "I’ll wait, Y/N. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But please know that I’m not giving up on you. I care about you more than you know."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart a mix of emotions she couldn’t fully process. The words were there, but the pain lingered, and she didn’t know if she could ever truly forgive him. But she also knew that something between them had shifted—that maybe, just maybe, Sunghoon was ready to be the person she needed him to be.

But for now, all she could do was walk away and try to figure out what she really wanted from this complicated mess they’d created.

It had been a week since the confrontation. A week since Y/N had given Sunghoon the space he had begged for. The days had passed in a haze, with her emotions swirling between confusion, bitterness, and—if she was being honest with herself—hope. She had spent the first few days in silence, avoiding Sunghoon, keeping herself busy with cheerleading practice and her schoolwork.

But deep down, she couldn’t ignore the pull. Sunghoon had always been a part of her life, a constant. Even during their rivalry, there had been a connection—something more than just competition. And now that the veil had been pulled back, she saw it all more clearly. But she wasn’t sure if she was ready to forgive him, not completely.

It was another practice session at school, the sun beginning to set outside as Y/N and her cheer squad went through their routines. The atmosphere was full of energy as they prepared for the next game, but for Y/N, her focus was elsewhere. Every flip, every jump, felt like she was doing it to distract herself from the thoughts of Sunghoon.

She landed a perfect high kick, but the applause of her teammates felt distant. Her mind wandered back to him—his words, his confession. "I care about you more than you know." He’d said that, and yet she hadn’t heard from him since their last talk. There had been no texts, no attempts to check in. It was as though he was giving her the space she needed… but was it enough?

Just as the session was winding down, Y/N gathered her things and headed toward the locker room. She was just about to step inside when she heard someone call her name.

"Y/N."

Her breath caught, and she froze. She turned slowly, heart thudding in her chest.

There, standing by the gym doors, was Sunghoon. His usual cocky grin was replaced by a serious, almost vulnerable expression. The sight of him pulled something deep inside her—anger, hope, frustration—all at once.

"I… I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me," he said quietly, his hands in his pockets. "I know you need time, but I can’t just pretend like everything’s fine. I’ve been thinking about what I said—about what happened—and I know I messed up. I know I hurt you."

Y/N took a deep breath. She had been avoiding him, afraid of what seeing him would bring up. But now, faced with him again, it was harder than she’d imagined.

"I don’t know if you can fix this," Y/N said, her voice steady but tinged with pain. "I don’t know if I can just forgive you, Sunghoon. It’s not that simple. You hurt me. And you made me believe that what we had… that it was real. Only to see you with Chaewon. It felt like everything we had was a lie."

Sunghoon’s face tightened with guilt. "I never meant for you to feel that way. You’re not a lie. None of this was a lie. I’ve been a fool for a long time, letting this rivalry between us get in the way of what really matters. I didn’t want to admit it, but what we have—it’s different. And I’ve been trying so hard to make sense of everything, and I think I’ve finally realized that I’m not just fighting with you. I’m fighting for you. I always have been."

Y/N swallowed, her heart aching with the raw honesty in his voice. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to believe it, but she couldn’t ignore the sincerity in his eyes. The same eyes that had watched her with a mix of admiration and rivalry for so long.

"You’re not just a competition to me anymore, Y/N," Sunghoon continued, his voice softer now. "I’m not asking you to forgive me right away. But I need you to know that I’ve been thinking about you, about what I want, and I want to be with you. Not as rivals. Not as something fleeting. I want this to be real."

It took time. More time than either of them expected, but slowly, Sunghoon and Y/N started to rebuild what they had. It wasn’t easy. There were moments when Y/N would catch herself pulling away, moments when she would doubt if she could truly trust him again. But Sunghoon was patient. He didn’t push her for more than she was ready to give, and he showed up for her—at every game, at every practice, supporting her like he always should have. He was there, proving his commitment through his actions, not just his words.

One afternoon, after a long cheer practice, Y/N sat down on the bleachers, exhausted but satisfied with the day’s progress. She was still thinking about the conversation they’d had earlier in the week, when Sunghoon had told her he was trying to be better, trying to show her that he wasn’t the guy who had kissed Chaewon.

"Hey."

She looked up to see him walking toward her, his smile warm but his expression serious.

"Hey," she replied softly, her heart fluttering just a little.

"I know this is a lot to ask, but…" He hesitated, his usual confidence wavering for a moment. "Do you want to hang out? I’ve been meaning to take you somewhere—something special. I want to make it up to you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Something special, huh?"

Sunghoon smiled, a little sheepish but genuine. "Yeah. We don’t have to talk about everything, and we don’t have to rush into anything, but… I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and a part of her—the part that had always cared about him—softened. Maybe this could work. Maybe they didn’t have to rush into a perfect relationship, but they could take the time to rebuild something real. Maybe she was ready to let go of the past and trust him again.

"Alright," she said, standing up slowly. "Show me what you’ve got, Sunghoon."

He grinned, relieved, and extended his hand to her. She took it, feeling a strange sense of peace settle in her chest. This wasn’t going to be easy. But maybe they could make it work, one step at a time.

As they walked together, Y/N realized something. There was no perfect ending. There was no clear answer to what they would be in the future. But there was the chance for a new beginning. A chance to rewrite the story, to make their own path, without the rivalry, without the games.

Just the two of them.

And that was all she needed for now.

The following weekend, Sunghoon picked Y/N up in his car, the nervous energy between them palpable. She had agreed to go with him, though there was still a cautiousness in her heart—an echo of the pain she felt from everything that had happened between them. But as soon as she slid into the passenger seat, the familiar scent of his cologne and the soft hum of the car made something stir within her. It was like the past few weeks hadn’t happened, like they were just two friends hanging out again.

"Where are we going?" Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued as she buckled her seatbelt.

"It’s a surprise," Sunghoon said, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he glanced at her, then quickly returned his attention to the road. "But trust me, you’ll like it."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "You’re full of surprises lately."

He laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time in a while, Y/N felt something akin to ease in his presence. It was nice to be in a space where there was no tension, no expectations. Just them, figuring it out as they went.

They drove for a while, the city passing by in a blur. Eventually, Sunghoon pulled into a parking lot near the edge of town, next to a small, cozy café with string lights twinkling outside. The atmosphere was quiet and relaxed, completely different from the usual hustle and bustle of their lives. It was almost like he’d chosen this place for its peaceful energy—a place where they could both just breathe.

Sunghoon turned off the engine and glanced over at Y/N, his expression more vulnerable than she was used to seeing.

"Here we are," he said softly, smiling nervously. "I thought we could have some time to just… talk, away from everything."

Y/N didn’t say anything right away. She just looked at him, studying the sincerity in his eyes. There was something so different about him now—a rawness, an openness that made her want to give him this chance, despite everything that had happened.

"Okay," she finally said, giving him a small smile. "I’m in."

The café was a small, intimate place, with walls lined with bookshelves and an earthy, rustic feel. The faint smell of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air, and the soft music playing in the background created a warm, inviting atmosphere. They sat by a window, the light of the late afternoon spilling across the wooden table, casting soft shadows around them.

As they ordered their drinks—Y/N opting for a chai latte and Sunghoon going for his usual black coffee—they sat in silence for a moment, both unsure of where to start. Y/N fiddled with the edge of her cup, her fingers nervously tracing the rim. She wasn’t sure what to say, what to feel. This was the first time they’d been alone together like this since everything had happened.

"I guess we should start by... apologizing," Sunghoon said, breaking the silence. He sounded hesitant, unsure of what would make things right. "I really messed up, Y/N. I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but I’m sorry. I hurt you, and I shouldn’t have."

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes focused on her drink as she took a sip. The warmth of the chai settled in her chest, but it didn’t ease the ache she still carried. "You did," she said softly, her voice steady but still tinged with the lingering hurt. "But… I know it wasn’t easy for you either. I get that you were confused. I just… I don’t know if I can just forgive and forget that quickly."

Sunghoon leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense but gentle. "I don’t expect you to. I just need you to know that I’m trying, Y/N. I really want to make this right. I’m not asking you to rush into anything. I just want a chance to show you that I’m not the same guy I was before."

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, reading the honesty in his eyes, feeling the weight of his words. It wasn’t the confession she had imagined in her head—there were no grand gestures or promises. But it felt real. And for the first time in a long while, she thought maybe—just maybe—they could rebuild something.

After a long pause, Y/N exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. "I think… I think I can start trusting you again. But it’s going to take time. I need you to show me that you really mean it."

Sunghoon’s face lit up with a quiet, relieved smile. "I can do that. I’ll show you. I’ll prove it to you, Y/N."

After finishing their drinks, they decided to take a walk through the nearby park. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue across the trees and paths. The air was crisp, and the autumn leaves crunched beneath their feet as they walked side by side, not talking much, but simply enjoying each other's presence.

It felt easy, in a way. Natural, almost. Like they were falling back into a rhythm they’d once had, before everything had gotten complicated.

"You know," Sunghoon said after a while, breaking the silence, "I’ve missed this. Just hanging out, without all the stress."

Y/N glanced at him, surprised. "Missed what?"

"This," he said, gesturing between them with a small smile. "Just talking. Having fun. It didn’t always have to be about competition, did it?"

Y/N smiled slightly, a soft laugh escaping her. "No, I guess not."

They stopped walking by a bench, where Sunghoon motioned for them to sit. They sat down, a comfortable silence falling between them once again.

"Y/N, I’ve been thinking a lot about everything we’ve been through," Sunghoon continued, his voice more serious now. "And I just… I want you to know that I’m done with pretending. I’m done with the games. I don’t care about the titles, the trophies, or the rivalry anymore. All I care about is you."

Y/N felt a flutter in her chest at his words. She couldn’t deny it any longer—the pull toward him, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the world that mattered. It was confusing, but in this quiet moment, with the sun setting around them, it felt right. She wanted to let go of the past, wanted to take a leap of faith.

"Maybe we can take it slow," Y/N said, her voice soft but sure. "No rushing, no expectations. Just… us."

Sunghoon smiled, a real smile this time, full of warmth and hope. "Slow sounds perfect."

They sat there, side by side, in the fading light, not needing words to fill the space. Everything felt different now—more real, more honest. The future wasn’t perfect, but for the first time, Y/N felt like they were headed in the right direction. Together.

As the weeks passed, Y/N and Sunghoon found themselves slipping into a new rhythm. The tension that had once lingered between them seemed to dissipate, replaced by something more comfortable, more genuine. Their interactions, once laced with rivalry and unspoken feelings, were now filled with easy laughter, quiet moments, and a growing sense of partnership. They had started to spend more time together outside of school and practice, and every little interaction—whether it was a shared lunch or a quiet walk through the park—seemed to stitch the torn fabric of their relationship back together.

Y/N found herself thinking about him more often. She thought about his grin, the way he made her feel like she was capable of anything, even when her doubts crept in. She thought about how he had apologized, how he had tried to show her that he was truly sorry. Slowly, but surely, her walls started to come down. She was letting him back in. She wanted to.

As cheer season continued, Y/N’s confidence began to grow. Her skills on the mat were improving, and with every cheer routine she perfected, her pride in herself swelled. Sunghoon, always the ever-supportive figure, attended every game, sitting in the stands with his friends, cheering louder for her than anyone else. His presence in the crowd always gave her a sense of calm, like she wasn’t performing for the crowd but for him, the person who saw her as more than just a rival, more than just a cheerleader.

One evening, after a particularly intense practice, Y/N was on her way to the locker room when she spotted Sunghoon waiting by the gym doors. His face broke into a grin when he saw her, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

"Another perfect routine," he said with admiration, falling into step beside her as they walked down the hallway together. "You’re amazing, Y/N."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shook her head. "I still have so much to work on, but… thank you. You’ve been such a huge support. I don’t know if I could’ve made it this far without you."

Sunghoon smiled, nudging her shoulder playfully. "Well, you know I’m always here to push you to be your best." Then, he turned serious for a moment, his expression softening. "And I’m really proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you, Y/N."

The sincerity in his voice made her heart flutter, and she found herself gazing at him a little longer than usual. It wasn’t just admiration anymore. There was something deeper in his words, something that made her chest tighten with affection.

"Thanks, Sunghoon," she whispered, before looking away to hide the flush creeping up her neck. "I’m proud of you too."

One of the more unexpected parts of their developing relationship was how easy it was to just be with Sunghoon. They didn’t always need to do something exciting or extravagant. Sometimes, just being in each other’s presence was enough.

One night, after a long week of school and practice, Sunghoon invited Y/N over to his place. He promised it would be low-key, just a quiet night in—no expectations, no pressure. Y/N had agreed, and when she arrived at his house, she found him in his living room, lounging on the couch, holding two mugs of hot chocolate.

"I hope you’re not expecting a fancy dinner," he said, offering her one of the mugs with a teasing smile. "I’m not that good at cooking."

Y/N laughed as she took the mug, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers. "This is perfect," she said, sinking into the couch beside him. "It’s been a crazy week."

They spent the next few hours talking, sharing stories, and watching a random movie on TV. There was something effortlessly comfortable about the way they interacted now—no forced conversation, no awkward silences. They just existed together in a way that felt natural, like this was always meant to be.

At one point, they both found themselves leaning against each other, the weight of the day melting away. Sunghoon’s arm casually draped over the back of the couch, his hand just inches from hers. The proximity made her heart flutter, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let herself enjoy the moment, letting the warmth between them settle.

When the movie ended, Sunghoon turned to her, his eyes soft but searching. "I know we’re not rushing into anything, but I just… I really want you to know that I care about you. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone."

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to say something so open, so vulnerable. Her heart raced, but this time it wasn’t from uncertainty. It was from something much more comforting—certainty.

"I care about you too, Sunghoon," she said, her voice steady but full of feeling. "More than I thought I would. And I’m… I’m glad we’re doing this. I think we’re finally getting it right."

Sunghoon smiled softly, his hand finally reaching for hers. Their fingers brushed, then intertwined, and for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt a sense of peace. This wasn’t perfect, and they still had a lot to work through, but they were doing it together. And that made all the difference.

It was a few weeks later, during a late-night practice for an upcoming cheer event. The team was exhausted, but their spirits were high. The season had been going well, and everyone was looking forward to the next big game. After practice, Y/N and Sunghoon found themselves alone in the gym, tying up loose ends and catching up.

"You’re really good at this," Sunghoon said, leaning against the wall as he watched her pack her bag. "I mean, I knew you were talented, but seeing you in action, it’s… it’s impressive."

Y/N smiled, zipping up her bag. "Thanks, Sunghoon. I’ve been practicing a lot."

There was a pause as she turned to him, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before she looked away, her cheeks flushing. The chemistry between them had been undeniable for weeks now, but neither of them had made the first move. They had danced around it, unsure of how to bridge the gap between friends and something more.

Sunghoon, sensing the tension, stepped closer to her, his heart racing. "Y/N," he said, his voice low, "I’ve been wanting to do this for a while."

She looked up at him, their faces inches apart now. The world outside the gym seemed to fade away as he leaned in slowly, his breath mingling with hers. "What if we just… don’t wait anymore?"

Before she could respond, Sunghoon kissed her—a gentle, tentative kiss at first, but one that deepened quickly as they both leaned into it. It was everything she had hoped for, and more. A slow-burning kiss that spoke of all the feelings they’d kept hidden for so long.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together, and Sunghoon’s voice was soft as he whispered, "I’m so glad we’re doing this."

Y/N smiled, a sense of contentment filling her chest. "Me too."

And for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. With him.

The air was crisp, and the stadium lights illuminated the field as the last football game of the season kicked off. It was Senior Night, and Y/N could hardly believe how quickly the time had passed. Her heart swelled with pride as she stood on the sidelines in her cheer uniform, the crowd roaring with excitement behind her. This was it—the culmination of everything she had worked for in the cheerleading world. Her last game as a cheerleader. Her final performance under the bright lights.

She had spent years perfecting every routine, every move, and now, as she stood on the field, surrounded by her teammates, she could finally take it all in. The cheers, the adrenaline, the feeling of unity—it was everything she had dreamed of when she first joined the squad.

Y/N glanced over at the football team, watching the players huddling together as they prepared for the next play. Her eyes searched for Sunghoon, who was among them, focused and ready to take the field. Their eyes met for a brief moment across the distance, and he gave her a subtle but loving wink. A smile immediately tugged at her lips.

He’s always been there for me, she thought, her heart swelling with affection. After everything they’d been through, this moment felt perfect. He had become so much more than just the guy she once competed against. He was her teammate in a different way now, someone who stood by her side in the quiet moments and the loud ones.

As the game continued, Y/N’s cheer squad took their places, moving into position for the halftime performance. Her body was on autopilot now, moving through the routine with the precision she’d honed over the years. But even in the midst of the complicated stunts and routines, her mind couldn’t help but wander back to Sunghoon. Every time she locked eyes with him from across the field, there was a flicker of something between them—a spark of connection that made her heart race in the best way.

The cheerleaders executed their routines flawlessly, the crowd roaring with excitement. Y/N’s smile was bright, her energy contagious, as she nailed each move. There was no mistaking it—this was her night. She was living her dream, and she was doing it with a sense of ease she had never known before. And it felt like Sunghoon was right there beside her, not just physically, but emotionally, too. He had always been her competitor, but now, he was her support system, her person.

During the brief breaks in between routines, when the cheerleaders rushed to hydrate or fix their hair, Y/N couldn’t resist sneaking glances at Sunghoon. He was always nearby, his attention never straying far from her. And each time their eyes met, it was like a silent agreement passed between them. No words, just understanding.

In the chaos of the halftime festivities, when everyone was distracted by the excitement of the game, Sunghoon took his chance. He caught up with Y/N near the locker rooms, his face lighting up as he saw her standing alone, her breath quick from the performance.

"Hey angel," he said softly, his hand brushing against hers as he stepped closer. "You were amazing out there."

"Thanks," Y/N replied, her heart fluttering at his proximity. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the comfort of his presence in the midst of the chaotic night.

Before she could say anything else, Sunghoon leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a quick, sweet kiss. It was brief, but full of meaning—an unspoken acknowledgment of how far they’d come, how much they had shared. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she pulled away slightly, her lips curling into a grin.

"You’re distracting me," she teased, her voice soft but playful.

Sunghoon chuckled, his gaze never leaving hers. "I’ll be more distracting later. I promise." He winked, then gave her hand a gentle squeeze before stepping back to give her space.

It was moments like this that made Y/N feel like everything was finally falling into place. The chaos of the game, the lights, the pressure—it all melted away when she was with him.

As the game neared its end, Y/N could feel the excitement building. It was a tight game, but her team was winning. The energy in the stadium was electric, and Y/N’s heart raced with each cheer she led, each chant she screamed. The crowd’s energy was contagious, but nothing compared to the feeling of having Sunghoon watching from the sidelines, cheering her on like he always had.

And then, as the final seconds ticked down and the whistle blew to signify the victory, the cheerleaders took their last position of the night. Y/N’s eyes immediately found Sunghoon’s, his smile wide and proud as he stood with his teammates, their arms around each other in celebration.

The cheerleaders had finished their routine, and they were all celebrating, laughing and hugging. But before Y/N could join her teammates, Sunghoon was already by her side, pulling her into a tight hug.

"You did it," he whispered into her ear, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m so proud of you, Y/N."

Y/N closed her eyes, her heart swelling with a mix of happiness and relief. "We did it," she said softly, pulling back slightly to look at him. "I couldn’t have done it without you."

Sunghoon smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "We make a pretty good team, huh?"

Y/N laughed, her fingers grazing his cheek as she nodded. "The best team."

As the crowd cheered and her teammates surrounded her, Y/N felt like she was standing at the pinnacle of something important. The night was perfect, the game was won, and for the first time, she wasn’t just proud of her accomplishments. She was proud of how far she had come, and of the person she was becoming—with Sunghoon by her side.

And in that moment, she realized: it wasn’t just the victory that made this night unforgettable. It was the journey that had led her here—the friendships, the growth, and the love she had finally allowed herself to feel. 

As she started packing her things on the sideline, a warm, content smile spread across her face. Her team was still buzzing with excitement, and she felt a deep sense of belonging. She was where she was supposed to be.

But then, she noticed something odd.

She looked around to find that the crowd—well, the few people still lingering—had their phones out, pointed at her. She raised an eyebrow, confused knitting her brows. What was going on?

Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes swept across the field, trying to make sense of the situation. And that’s when she saw it.

There, in the middle of the field, stood Sunghoon. He wasn’t just standing there, though—he was holding a large, hand-painted sign that made Y/N’s breath catch in her throat. The sign read:

“I’d love to skate into your heart. Will you be my girlfriend?”

She gasped, her hand faltering as she held her bag. The words were like a punch to the gut—one full of excitement, surprise, and something that felt too big to fully comprehend in that moment. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, the realization slowly sinking in. The sign, the words, the fact that Sunghoon—her rival, her friend, the person who had always pushed her buttons in all the wrong ways—was standing there, asking her to be his girlfriend.

Her mouth went dry, her eyes darting to the faces around her, all waiting for her reaction. The noise of the crowd around her seemed to fade away, and all she could focus on was Sunghoon, standing there, his usual teasing grin replaced with something a little more serious, a little more vulnerable.

She had known him for years, and she had seen him be cocky, confident, and sometimes even a little arrogant, but this... this was different. There was no smirk, no playful edge to his eyes. This was Sunghoon, laying his heart on the line, exposing himself in a way she hadn’t expected.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Y/N blinked and then, before she even realized it, she was moving. Her legs felt like they were moving on their own, carrying her toward him without any real thought. As she got closer, she could see the faint pink tint on Sunghoon’s cheeks, and it made her smile—a smile that she couldn’t control. The walls she’d built between them, the rivalry, the hurt, it all seemed to disappear with each step.

He was waiting for her, and when their eyes met, his smile widened just a fraction, though he still seemed to be holding his breath, unsure of her response.

The moment stretched on, the world slowing down around them. Y/N didn’t know what to say at first. She wanted to laugh, to shout, to tell him this was all insane... but all that came out was a breathless, “Sunghoon… what the hell?”

His smile faltered for a moment, and he quickly tried to recover. “I know it’s a little... dramatic, but I figured it was time to stop pretending,” he said, his voice teasing, but there was a nervousness in it too. He shifted his weight, as though unsure of what to do with his hands, before letting the sign dangle a little lower. “I’ve been holding this in for too long. Just... I don’t know. I had to ask.”

Y/N’s heart raced. She couldn’t deny how the words made her feel—like a wave of warmth and excitement washing over her. She had spent so long fighting her feelings for Sunghoon, pushing him away, telling herself she didn’t need this, didn’t need him. But now, standing here in front of him, with that sign, with everything that had led up to this moment, she realized it wasn’t something she could run from anymore.

She wasn’t even sure what she was supposed to say, how she could even begin to process this. Her mind was a blur of thoughts—of their history, of the rivalry that had always been there, of the way they’d grown closer in ways she hadn’t expected. But more than anything, she knew she couldn’t ignore the way she felt about him.

“Sunghoon…” she began, her voice soft. The crowd was still watching, waiting, but she didn’t care. This was just between them, no one else. “You’re serious?”

He nodded, the smile returning to his face, though now it was more hopeful, a little vulnerable. “More serious than I’ve ever been.”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of everything crash down on her. This was it—the moment she had spent so long avoiding. She didn’t know where it would lead, or how things would turn out. But as she looked at him, standing there, waiting for her answer, she realized she couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Yes,” she whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Sunghoon’s face lit up, his eyes sparkling with joy, and he took a step closer, lowering the sign in his hands and pulling her into a hug. Y/N laughed as she was enveloped in his arms, feeling a rush of emotions she couldn’t quite describe. He squeezed her tight, and for a moment, it felt like everything had finally fallen into place.

As the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of something new. Something unexpected. But for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

AND THATS A WRAP!!

© luvoooenha on tumblr 2025. please don’t copy, repost, or translate my works! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :)

[ang3lmoans]

Angel could see the conflict brewing in Garam’s eyes, a storm of emotions he tried so hard to suppress. The initial reassurance he offered had seemed to lift some weight, but it quickly transformed into something more complicated. The tightness in Garam’s expression and the way he shut himself down made Angel’s heartache. He couldn’t keep up with the shifting emotions. As Garam stepped back, trying to assert a sense of control, Angel felt that distance—both physically and emotionally. He wanted to reach out, to dispel the worry creeping in, but he could see the walls closing in around Garam. “What am I doing wrong?” Angel murmured softly, his voice laced with concern. “Why can’t I do anything right?” Angel knew this wasn’t the time for this conversation. The words spilled out as the mood between them seemed to falter. Since they arrived there seemed to be tensions building. He was starting to think maybe they jumped into things too fast. There seemed to be many unresolved issues that were making their way to the surface. Garam’s defenses were up, and the laugh that escaped him felt hollow. I’m not going to make you change; I'm not that controlling.There was an edge to his voice, an urgency that spoke of someone struggling against the tide. Angel's heart sank at the admission “Garam…” Angel started, but the moment was interrupted as Garam placed his hand against Angel’s stomach, an action that made the air between them crackle with tension. The physical barrier was a futile attempt to diminish the pull they shared, yet it only heightened Angel’s awareness of how much he craved closeness. Angel couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. He didn't want Garam to regret his decisions; he wanted them to communicate openly, without fear of judgment. But there seemed to be too much wanting to bubble to the surface. The offer of the blow job only made the man feel worse. As if the man were compromising only to make him happy. He was only trying to lighten the mood and was rejected. Not the best feeling in that moment. Angel shook his head taking his own step back. Maybe he should have stayed home. He let out a breath and forced a smile, “Let’s focus on what you need. Are we starting with clothes?” The blue stripe of Garam’s vest drew Angel’s attention, a small attempt to break the tension with humor. “Yeah, I guess we do,” Angel admitted, the smile creeping back into his expression. He knew he did it on purpose, wanting to build more of a connection between them.

though he was sure from the start, it was still reassuring to hear angel confirm that it wasn't a choice made specifically to hide his neck and the marks garam left. however, that reassurance was quickly tossed aside with angel's next remark. he didn't mind them until garam pointed them out. was leaving hickeys wrong, then? did angel not like them? he shouldn't have made the decision to mark the man so brazenly, he didn't consider how angel might have felt about them. it was a choice rooted in jealousy, he was trying to mark his territory even though it wasn't exactly the time to do so. garam wanted to laugh. how was he expected to believe that angel only had eyes for him if he was kissing another man right in front of him not too long ago? but he feared bringing up darius or the kiss the two of them shared would spark another argument and he didn't want that to happen, especially when they were in public. he knew if he reacted in the moment, he'd end up regretting it in the long run. so he did what he normally did when, not with angel but with axel; garam shut himself down emotionally to become agreeable. he wasn't going to let his jealousy show, he was going to lie and pretend like everything was okay to savor the day. as angel began closing the space between them, garam just stood there, expressionless, and stared up to the other. as cool as he was trying to play, angel's words still seeped through his facade. at least it wasn't a negative reaction this time as he felt a chill run up his spine, goosebumps rising on his arms, his cheeks even going red. he was quiet through a moment of hesitation, silently debating on whether or not he should play along or chicken out and turn angel away. ultimately, he ended up lifting his hand and placing it against the middle of angel's stomach, taking a step away from the man. "i'm not going to make you change, i'm not that controlling." he shook his head, almost laughing through the words to appear as if he were fine but the look in his eye pleaded to be believed and not viewed as controlling. "you're not property to claim, i shouldn't have done that to you... i won't do it again." garam wanted to admit that he marked angel specifically for darius to see but if he did explain, he feared it'd only discourage or anger angel. he had no idea when angel would even see darius next, the marks might not even be there. he didn't want the other to think he was trying to control who he spent time with or the relationships he kept. it was definitely a choice made irrationally, a choice he knew he wouldn't have made given the chance to do that moment over. "you shouldn't reward me for bad behavior. besides, we match like this." he poked at the blue stripe along the neckline of his vest before pointing at angel's turtleneck as if he needed to prove the fact. "a-and besides that, we've only just got here and we might get into trouble or they'll make us leave if we get caught. then i'll have to find somewhere else to get the things i need... so if you really wanna mess around, let's just shop first and then i'll blow you in the parking lot." he tried to bargain.

[onlyangel4]

booking of the century. drew mcintrye. final part.

drew mcintyre x returning!reader

part one // part two// part three // part four

synopsis: triple h books you four years since your last match and a lot has changed but the man you fell in love with all those years ago still has your heart.

author's note: thank you so much for all the love on this series, love y'all

series taglist: @leo4242564 @sweezthi

y/ninsta posted a story

written: got the biggest match of my return, coming for you chelsea green.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

“are you really not going to tell me whether you are winning tonight or not?”

“that’s not my decision, boss man wants to get your genuine reaction to the match, i contractually can not tell you anything”, you spoke looking up at drew.

the two of you stood backstage drew’s arms wrapped securely around your middle, chin rested on your head just holding you close waiting for your cue to go out and start your match with chelsea green.

it had been six months since your return and you had been dating drew for three of those months. most of those on smackdown knew about your relationship because the two of you could not keep your hands off one another. storyline wise you had remained loyal to drew, especially during his matches against damian, you were always there as a distraction as the storyline was that damian had feelings for you but as drew was what you had known before your hiatus you had stayed loyal to him. your characters were not dating but backstage interviews always showed the two of you standing just a little too close, leaving plenty to the imagination.  

“i love this gear”, drew spoke as he tucked a strand of loosely curled hair behind your ear. you had designed your gear, wanting something special for your first major match since returning to the company, you were dressed in a striking set inspired by the legend of the phoenix. the vibrant ensemble featured a blood red base with shimmering gold flames licking up the sides of your fitted shorts and sports bra top. the fabric was sleek yet sturdy, designed to hug your figure while allowing full movement in the ring.

embroidered feathers, detailed in shades of fiery orange and deep burgundy, adorned your shoulders and wrists, adding a dramatic, winged effect with every motion. a matching gold belt with a phoenix emblem sat proudly at your waist. to complete the look, knee-high black boots featured flame patterns curling up the sides, and your elbow pads bore delicate phoenix feather motifs.

“you look like you’re ready to set the whole arena on fire,” drew added with a proud smile, his fingers tracing the embroidered flames on your arm making you smile up at him.

 “oh i am”, you smirked giving him a wink before a producer came up to the two of you alerting you that it was time.

the sweeping camera shot began with you and drew backstage.

 “chelsea has talked about this match like it is going to be easy.”, you began  “she keeps on bringing up my ring rust or that i have not held a title in 5 years, but the thing is i’m not the same person i was back the. Iiam so much stronger now. because i have been reborn”

with that you stepped out into the arena beside drew. your intro played through the arena but it was different. you were debuting a brand new intro song, back from the dead. you thought it was the perfect song for your entrance especially since the song from before your hiatus felt too soft for this new elevated in ring persona of yours.

the walk down to the ring was perfect despite not being practiced, drew looked like your silent guard dog as he walked beside you, glaring at anyone who shouted anything negative at you, despite not many people doing so there were still a few fans that did not like you. they saw you as abandoning the company and only returning when it suited you and not the company.

as you made your way to the ring your eyes spotted a little girl with a sign that read “y/n is my hero”, without hesitating you stopped at the girl slipping your entrance jacket off your shoulders, “it might be a little big for you but keep it for when you are older”, you smiled at the girl giving her your jacket standing there long enough for the girl’s mother to take a picture of you with her daughter and you grinned ruffling the girl’s hair, "keep being brilliant"

drew hopped onto the apron, pulling the rope down allowing you to climb into the ring with ease, you blew him a kiss before he stepped down to his ringside position.  

the music then changed to chelsea’s track and she made her way towards the ring flanked by both piper and elba. that was the one problem with your in-ring persona not having any friends on the blue brand. drew could not get involved with any of the matches, so you had to be more creative about things. and for this match you did have a secret weapon up your sleeve to help counter this disadvantage.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the match was gruelling, it had gone on for twenty five minutes with Chelsea giving her all while you left it all out on the mat. elba and piper had helped chelsea several times, with piper even giving chelsea a steel chair at one point and distracting the ref so she could crack you over the back with it. and drew was there yelling at the ref for allowing that to happen you just smirked winking at drew before hitting chelsea with a nasty right hook, getting the message across that you weren’t going to go down without a fight.

there was a turning point in the match, you were run down struggling to stay upright and chelsea had cornered you in the ring, she gave elba a nod signalling that she was to help her pull you out of the ring and onto the hard floor. But instead elba just smirked and hooked her arm around chelsea pulling her out of the ring and tossing her hashly on the ground. piper was distracting the ref and chelsea was left laid out on the floor giving you enough time to catch your breath.

“did you really think i just happened to join your side the same week y/n appeared, this had been my plan all these months”, elba taunted chelsea, “you underestimated me just like you underestimated her”

you laughed breathlessly at your friend picking chelsea up and tossing her into the ring again. you performed your finisher and despite piper trying to get involved elba neutralised her.

“1. 2. 3.”, each counted seemed to take forever but the crowd erupted as the ref grabbed your hand pulling you to your feet.

“introducing your new u.s. champion y/n y/ln”, the announcer roared and your mind was racing. of course you knew were going to win but it had just hit you that this was really happening. that you had returned to the company you loved and you were finally healed enough from the loss of your mother to run back into the arms of the man that you had fallen in love with all those years ago and return to a career that you loved. you had completed your dreams. the camera zoomed in on your face as actual tears formed in your eyes. yes it was a mid card title, but it meant the world to you.

you were brought back down to earth by a strong arm wrapping around your middle. Drew had joined you in the ring, pulling you close to him. now this part was not planned but drew could not help himself, his large hand came to your cheek wiping away your salty tears. and then he leant in and captured your lips in a soft kiss, the crowd going wild as you just melted against him. he slowly pulled away from your lips, “i am so proud of you”, he spoke.

“that must be why triple h didn’t want me to tell you”, you laughed.

just so fucking glad that you had picked up his call all those months ago.

you were home.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

y/ninsta

liked by drewmcintyrewwe, rhearipleywwe, trinity_fatu and 789,728 others

tagged: drewmcintyrewwe

y/ninsta: spoiler alert, it has all been real x

view all 12,982 comments

drewmcintyrewwe: my champion

y/ninsta: i love you so much

trinity_fatu: so happy to have you back

y/ninsta: so happy to be back

user4: couple goals

user5: haha fuck you damian priest

comment liked by drewmcintyrewwe

user6: i am so happy for you y/n

user7: you gave my daughter your jacket last night, thank you so much she hasn't let go of it since we got back

[littelovelunette]

Red Lipstick

Vi x Fem!Reader

Contains slightly suggestive themes

The second you stepped into the piercing shop, you started questioning every decision that’s led you here.

The walls were covered in tattoo designs, the air smelled like disinfectant and metal, and the faint buzzing of a tattoo gun in the back made your stomach flip.

Vi, of course, was having the time of her life watching you squirm.

She leant against the counter, arms crossed, a smug grin on her lips. “You look like you’re about to pass out, babe.”

You shot her a glare. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” she drawled, pushing off the counter to walk beside you. “You keep telling yourself that.”

The piercer, a heavily tattooed woman with an eyebrow piercing and an “I’ve seen it all” expression, waved you over.

“Alright, sweetheart, which ear?”

You cleared your throat, trying not to sound like you're rethinking everything. “Left.”

Vi slid onto a stool next to you, legs spread wide, looking like she owns the place.

“You sure you don’t wanna do both while you’re here? Y’know, go full badass mode?”

You glared at her again. “One at a time, Vi.”

The piercer smirked, cleaning your ear. Vi leaned in, resting her elbow on her knee, watching you like a hawk. “Just so you know, if you cry, I won’t judge.”

You scoffed, “I’m not gonna cry.”

“Right, right.” Vi nodded, way too entertained. “That’s what everyone says before the needle goes in.”

Before you could tell her to shut up, the piercer lined up the needle. Your fingers instinctively gripped the chair, and Vi noticed immediately.

She bit her lip, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

And then—stab.

Your entire body tensed.

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips, and your fingers clutched the chair like you’re holding on for dear life.

Vi, the absolute menace that she is, burst out laughing. “Babe, you just flinched so hard I thought you got electrocuted.”

You exhaled through gritted teeth, trying to play it cool. “I barely moved.”

“Oh, really?” Vi smirked, “So if I check the security footage later, it’s not gonna show you nearly launching yourself out of the chair?”

The piercer, clearly used to this kind of thing, just chuckled as she secured the jewelry. “Alright, you’re done.”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

Vi’s grin widened. “Yeah, babe, you survived.”

She patted your knee dramatically. “Proud of you.”

You rolled your eyes, but when you glanced at her, she’s actually looking at your new piercing with genuine admiration.

“Looks good on you,” she murmured, brushing a finger gently over your cheek.

Your face warmed, and before you could respond, she grinned. “But you totally almost cried.”

You groaned, shoving her lightly. “Let’s just go before you start asking them to pierce my other ear for fun.”

Vi perked up. “Wait, that’s an option?”

You shot the piercer with a panicked look. “Don’t encourage her.”

You and Vi walked down the streets, looking at the other shops. You ran the moment you saw a cosmetics store, grabbing all the cute lip shades the moment you saw them. You grabbed Vi's hand, swatching each shade on her skin to look for your shade. You always did it and Vi never told you off for it. She loved the way you involved her in the girliest shits ever one way or another. Like swatching lipstick colours.

Vi sighed, running her other hand through her hair. “And what exactly do I get out of this?”

“Well, you could choose the store we go into, next,” you said with a little grin, not really thinking as you busied yourself with the varieties of lipsticks.

“Oh, in that case,” Vi let her eyes travel the plaza, “Lingerie store, next stop.”

“Oh, Vi, you horny bastard,” you giggled but didn't stop to even think about it further, grabbing the next red lipstick and putting it carelessly on Vi’s skin.

“I like this one,” you said, placing it on the counter for the cashier to package. The cashier nodded, grabbing the lipstick up to put it in a bag.

You paid, with Vi’s money of course. The cashier gave you the bag with a little smile.

You smiled back and then gasped when Vi grabbed your wrist, dragging you to the lingerie store with unmatched excitement.

“Slow down,” you giggled.

“Come, hurry!”

Vi opened the shop’s door, dragging you across the aisles before she reached a specific area. She went through the several lingerie sets before handing you a red silk one.

You turned it over in your hand, examining it, "It's pretty."

"Yeah, go try," Vi said, looking around as if to make sure none of the workers were listening in. The aisle was comparatively deserted so Vi was lucky.

"Right now?" You asked.

"Yeah, I'll be watching, let's gooooo!" Vi dragged you by the wrist yet again, pulling you to the dressing room.

She sat down on the little stool in there, manspreading and making herself look oh-so sexy. You rolled your eyes.

You took off your dress, and started putting the lingerie on. Vi smirked, watching and drinking in your body.

"Fuck, doll," she leaned back, "You look so hot in red."

Vi got up, hands caressing your waist as she squeezed the flesh in her rough, calloused hands. "Fuck," she breathed as if this was the hottest thing she's ever seen.

"Stop it, it's not even that good," you said shyly looking at the mirror to see yourself standing there in the dressing room in a red lingerie while Vi palmed and groped your body with hungry eyes.

"Vi," you moaned feeling Vi slowly rubbing your nipple, getting it hard so she could pull it over the fabric of the lingerie.

"Mhm?" Vi smirked.

"Don't do that, you're gonna make me stain the panties with my wetness," you complained.

"Good," Vi said and the next thing you knew, she was hard. Her bulge against your ass.

Well, you were fucked.

Literally.

[plagues-and-pansies]

Crafting Madness: I Love This Rat Man & I Made Jewelry About It

Hello!

Do you like Arcane? What about crafts?

Do you have a deeply unsettling fascination with the Rat Man himself?

Are you unfamiliar with the definition of restraint?

Then welcome!

I’m horribly obsessed with Silco and I make more code jewelry and I decided to combine these two things in a complete bout of maddness! The first time I saw the ChemBaron meeting scene in 1x7, I Learned Things about myself I was previously unaware of, so in dedication to its magnificence, I translated the entire scene into morse code and made the batshit decision to string it as a necklace!

I’ve made 2 failed attempts as documented by DM with @xiaq and they suggested I put it all in a post so the other nerds can at least delight in my insanity!

Here's a sneak peak of the in-progress project:

Supplies thus far:

Slant nose tweezers

Wire cutting pliers

Round nose pliers

Memory wire cutter

Needle nose pliers

1-step looper pliers

Bead board

6/0 black beads (scrapped)

6/0 silver beads (scrapped)

6/0 yellow beads (scrapped)

6/0 purple beads (repurposed for later)

5 slot necklace layering hardware (scrapped)

11/0 black beads

11/0 silver beads

11/0 bronze beads

11/0 dark red beads

11/0 acid green beads

11/0 silver lined yellow beads

11/0 light purple miyuki beads

24 gauge jewelry wire in gold

10 slot necklace layering hardware

I’m going to breeze over the first 2 attempts, and then detail the successful (so far) one. 

1st Failed Attempt:

I started out using supplies I already had, which were 6/0 seed beads. Seed beads are round glass beads, and the number indicates how many beads fit to an inch, so 6/0 = 6 beads to an inch. 6/0 is the largest seed bead you can get, and I’ve seen them go all the way down to 20/0. 

This was the first attempt:

I don’t remember where this ended, but it’s about Finn’s first three sentences in the 1x7 scene. Obviously this was gonna be way too unwieldy so I scrapped that, gave it a think, and bought some other beads.

2nd Failed Attempt:

For this round, I bought new beads and downsized. I considered 8/0, but I didn’t think that would be enough. 9/0 and 10/0 are very rare and nearly impossible to find, so 11/0 was my next step. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but I Did Not. Here’s the size difference:

I have to use tweezers to handle even 6/0 beads because they’re small and I’ve got arthritis, and the 11/0s are twice as bad. 

Originally, I was going to use memory wire, which is a really firm wire that already comes sized for necklaces, bracelets, or rings. It’s very sturdy, but incredibly difficult to find in anything less than .75mm, and that’s still far too thick for 11/0 beads, so I swapped to 22 gauge jewelry wire. It’s thinner and more pliable so it’s easily bent out of shape, but it’s also easy to correct. 

I measured out each length of wire the same (Don’t ask for actual measurements. I eyeballed it, went “yeah that looks right”, and then cut the rest of the wire the same. Yes, this caused Problems.), looped one end to keep the beads from sliding off, and strung the beginning of the translation. 

I bought this 5 slot necklace layering hardware, and tried to give it a go, but it ended up being far too small to work with. 

Additionally, I cut the wire too long and it overlapped in the back, which also made attaching each line unwieldy. I got 2 layers attached and tried it on, and it didn’t sit well, and thus brought our 2nd attempt to an end.

3rd (and so far successful) Attempt:

Supplies still in use:

Slant nose tweezers

Wire cutting pliers

Round nose pliers

Memory wire cutter

Needle nose pliers

1-step looper pliers

Bead board

6/0 purple beads

11/0 black beads

11/0 silver beads

11/0 bronze beads

11/0 dark red beads

11/0 acid green beads

11/0 silver lined yellow beads

11/0 light purple miyuki beads

24 gauge jewelry wire in gold

10 slot necklace layering hardware

(Unfortunately, I don’t have pics of every step because I’ve never documented anything like this before, and if I hadn’t been live blogging my frustrations directly into @xiaq’s DMs, I wouldn’t have any idea of what steps I’ve taken.)

I do endeavor to learn from my mistakes, so the first thing I did was cut the wire to a more desirable length. Instead of overlapping in the back, I left about an inch between the ends to account for the new 10 slot necklace layering hardware I bought. 

After I figured that out, I measured out the length of 9 beads from each end and marked that on each wire. I did this for multiple reasons: 

Obviously each layer is going to be different, so I didn’t want to pack the morse code beads in from end to end because if I needed to adjust anything, I’d have to take part of the beads off and recalculate and I didn’t want to do that

If I did need to adjust anything - say I miscalculated on the size of an end loop and needed more wire than was available - I could use my needle nose pliers to crunch off a spacer bead without having to unstring the beads 

It just makes the ends a little more uniform and nice looking

After that I used a string to measure the length of the space between the marks, and marked it down on my bead board. Beads take up much less room on the wire than they do on the bead board because on the bead board they lay flat, not snuggly up against each other on their sides, so I mostly used the measurement as a guide, ie I needed at least this many beads plus a little more. 

I laid out the first bit of beads and that’s when the Biggest problem came about. 

I’m right handed, so the easiest way for me to string the beads is to use my right hand to pick up the beads, and my left to hold the wire, but if you do that, then the words will be in the correct order, but when you flip it around so the first word is on the left as we would read it, then all of your letters would be backwards. And I dunno if you guys know this, but that’s not how morse code works.

Morse code is a combination of dots and dashes and some, like H (....), will be the same no matter how you flip them, but if you write down an A (.-) and flip it over, that’s now an N (-.). That’s no bueno. 

This resulted in a 45 minute conversation/argument with my sister as we tried to figure out what to do and the solution, honestly, fucking sucks. 

In order for the letters to read correctly when flipped over, each word had to be written from left to right, as in the order of the letters was correct, but each letter itself has to be strung backwards.

Example( X to separate the letters):

Left = .-..X.X..-.X-

Would have to be strung as:

..-.X.X.-..X- = Felt

The E and T didn’t change, but those are two different words. 

Honestly, this has been incredibly frustrating and has resulted in several false starts, but I am nothing if not stubborn so I’ve persevered. 

After figuring all that out, I was able to string the first layer!

Here’s the breakdown so it makes more sense:

Bronze is used to cap the end of each line

Black is used as dots and dashes - 1 bead is a dot, 2 beads is a dash

Silver(Finn and Renni) or bronze (Silco) is used to separate the dots and dashes in a single letter

The colored beads separate the end of letters and words and denote which character is speaking

1 colored bead separates the letters in a word, 3 colored beads separate each word

Yellow/silver beads = Finn

Green/silver beads = Renni

Red/bronze beads = Silco

3 light purple miyuki beads end a sentence

1 6mm purple bead indicates a change in character

It reads “FIRST THIS WILD ATTACK IN THE HEART OF PILT-”.

Originally, I wasn't going to cut a word in half, but that just wasn’t a realistic wish when some of these words are so long. Instead, I can cut a word in half, but not a letter, lest I confuse myself even more. 

Note: I’m using the original punctuation in this post, but there is no punctuation on the necklace. A period is .-.-.- and it only gets worse from there and that’s too much when I’m already doing so much.

Here are the following layers:

“OVER. NOW THE BORDER’S CLOSING. WERE BLEEDI-”

“NG MONEY. AND FOR WHAT? HIS DREAMS OF REBELL”

[I don't think I took a pic of this one, and if I did, I have no idea which on it is]

“ION? HE’S LOSING CONTROL. IF WE STAND TOG”

“ETHER…(SWAP TO SILCO, RED) WE AREN’T DUE FOR AN ASSEMBLY. (SWAP TO FINN, YELLOW) WE SHOUL”

And here’s what the first 5 layers look like strung on the layering hardware. Yes, it’s an incredible pain in the ass to connect them.

And that’s what I have so far. I’m going to include the entire translation at the end of this post just for funsies. I know there are a couple of mistranslations - I keep mixing up Ls and Ys for some reason - but I catch them as I go. 

Now if you’ve made it through this post and are thinking “wow, this looks like so much fun, I think I might try this”, I beg of you, Don’t.

I mean, do what you want, but there has been much frustration and yelling, and some rage-related blood pressure issues, and there are SO MANY beads on my floor. You will drop them. You will find them in places you could never imagine. You will bump the table and undo 30 minutes worth of work. You will realize you strung the beads incorrectly and have to start over. You will cry. You will have to put yourself in time out and calm down with a juice box. Ask me how I know.

You will also find a new fascination with buying beads so take this as the warning it is. 

I’ll update this post as I go (and as I remember to), so stay tuned if this is the kind of freak you’re into!

Here’s the translation of the entire scene (X separates the letters in each word as that’s easier for me to read):

FINN: 

FIRST, ..-.X..X.-.X…X-

THIS -X….X..X…

WILD .--X..X.-..X-..

ATTACK .-X-X-X.-X-.-.X-.-

IN ..X-N

THE -X….X.

HEART ….X.X.-X.-.X-

OF ---X..-.

PILTOVER. .--.X..X.-..X-X---X…-X.X.-.

NOW, -.X---X.--

THE -X….X.

BORDER’S -...X---X.-.X-..X.X.-.X…

CLOSING. -.-.X.-..X---X…X..X-.X--.

WE’RE .--X.X.-.X.

BLEEDING -...X.-..X.X.X-..X..X-.X--.

MONEY --X---X-.X.X-.--

AND .-X-.X-..

FOR ..-.X---X.-.

WHAT? .--X….X.-X-

HIS ….X..X…

DREAMS -..X.-.X.X.-X--X…

OF ---X..-.

REBELLION? .-.X.X-...X.-..X.-..X..X---X-.

HE’S ….X.X…

LOSING .-..X---X…X..X-.X--.

CONTROL. -.-.X---X-.X-X.-.X---X.-..

IF .X..-.

WE .--X.

STAND …X-X.-X-.X-..

TOGETHER… -X---X--.X.X-X….X.X.-.

COLOR SWAP

SILCO: 

WE .--X.

AREN’T .-X.-.X.X-.X-

DUE -..X..-X.

FOR ..-.X---X.-.

AN .-X-.

ASSEMBLY. .-X…X…X.X--X-...X.-..X.-..

COLOR SWAP

FINN: 

WE .--X.

SHOULD …X….X---X..-X.-..X-..

BE. -...X.

EVER .X…-X.X.-.

SINCE …X..X-.X-.-.X.

YOUR -.--X---X..-X.-.

STUNT …X-X..-X-.X-

TOPSIDE, -X---X.--.X…X..X-..X.

PROFITS .-..X.-.X---X..-.X..X-X…

HAVE ….X.-X…-X.

BEEN -...X.X.X-.

PLUMMETING. .--.X.-..X..-X--X--X.X-X..X-.X--.

COLOR CHANGE

RENNI: 

HE’S ….X.X…

RIGHT. .-.X.X--.X….X-

MERCHANDISE --X.X.-.X-.-.X.-X-.X-..X..X…X.

HAS ….X.-X…

BEEN -...X.X.X-.

FROZEN ..-.X.-.X---X--..X.X-.

AT .-X-

THE -X…X.

BORDER. -...X---X.-.X-..X.X.-.

TOPSIDERS -X---X.--.X…X..X-..X.X.-.X…

ARE .-X.-.X.

TOO -X---X---

AFRAID .-X..-.X.-.X.-X..X-..

TO -X---

CROSS. -.-.X.-.X---X…X…

COLOR CHANGE

FINN: 

WE’RE .--X.X.-.X.

ALL .-X.-..X.-..

WONDERING, .--X---X-.X-..X.X.-.X..X-.X--.

WHAT’S .--X….X.-X-X…

YOUR -.--X---X..-X.-.

PLAN .--.X.-..X.-X-.

TO -X---

FIX ..-.X..X-..-

THIS? -X….X..X…

COLOR CHANGE

SILCO: 

YOU’RE -.--X---X..-X.-.X.

ALL .-X.-..X.-..

WONDERING, .--X---X-.X-..X.X.-.X..X-.X--.

ARE .-X.-.X.

YOU? -.--X---X..-

COLOR CHANGE

FINN: 

WAY .--X.-X-.--

I ..

SEE …X.X.

IT, ..X-

WE .--X.

SHOULD …X….X---X..-X.-..X-..

CUT -.-.X..-X-

A .-

DEAL -..X.X.-X.-..

AND .-X-.X-..

GIVE --.X..X…-X.

BACK -...X.-X-.-.X-.-

THE -X…X.

GEMSTONE. --.X.X--X…X-X---X-.X.

BETTER -...X.X-X-X.X.-.

TO -X---

HAVE ….X.-X…-X.

SOME …X---X--X.

TRADE -X.-.X.-X-..X.

THAN -X…X.-X-.

NONE -.X---X-.X.

AT .-X-

ALL. .-X.-..X.-..

CHANGE COLOR 

SILCO: 

THE -X…X.

BORDER -...X---X.-.X-..X.X.-.

ISSUE ..X…X…X..-X.

IS ..X…

TEMPORARY. -X.X--X.--.X---X.-.X.-X.-.X-.--

JINX .---X..X-.X-..-

WILL .--X..X.-..X.-..

DEAL -..X.X.-X.-..

WITH .--X..X-X….

IT. ..X-

COLOR CHANGE

FINN: 

HA. ….X.-

RUMOR .-.X..-X.-.X--X---X.-.

IS, ..X…

YOUR -.--X---X..-X.-.

DOG’S -..X---X--.X…

OFF ---X..-.X..-.

HER ….X.X.-.

LEASH. .-..X.X.-X…X….

HOW ….X---X.--

YOU -.--X---X..-

MEANT --X.X.-X-.X-

TO -X---

BRING -...X.-.X..X-.X--.

PILTOVER .--.X..X.-..X-X---X…-X.X.-.

TO -X---

HEEL ….X.X.X.-..

IF ..X..-.

YOU -.--X---X..-

CAN’T -.-.X.-X-.X-

HANDLE ….X.-X-.X-..X.-..X.

YOUR -.--X---X..-X.-.

OWN ---X.--X-.

PEOPLE, .--.X.X---X.--.X.-..X.

HUH? ….X..-X….

CHANGE COLOR

RENNI: 

WHAT’S .--X….X.-X-X…

THAT? -X….X.-X-

CHANGE COLOR

SILCO: 

OH, ---X….

YOU -.--X---X..-

DON’T -..X---X-.X-

RECOGNIZE .-.X.X-.-.X---X--.X-.X..X--..X.

IT? ..X-

HAVE ….X.-X…-X.

YOU -.--X---X..-

FORGOTTEN ..-.X---X.-.X--.X---X-X-X.X-.

WHERE .--X…X.X.-.X.

WE .--X.

CAME -.-.X.-X--X.

FROM? ..-.X.-.X---X--

THE -X…X.

MINES --X..X-.X.X…

THEY -X….X.X-.--

HAD ….X.-X-..

US ..-X…

IN? ..X-.

AIR .-X..X.-.

SO …X---

THICK -X….X..X-.-.X-.-

IT ..X-

CLOGGED -.-.X.-..X---X--.X--.X.X-..

YOUR -.--X---X..-X.-.

THROAT. -X….X.-.X---X.-X-

STUCK …X-X..-X-.-.X-.-

IN ..X-.

YOUR -.--X---X..-X.-.

EYES. .X-.--X.X…

BUT -...X..-X-

I ..

PULLED .--.X..-X.-..X.-..X.X-..

YOU -.--X---X..-

ALL .-X.-..X.-..

UP ..-X.--.

FROM ..-.X.-.X---X--

THE -X….X.

DEPTHS. -..X.X.--.X-X….X…

OFFERED ---X..-.X..-.X.X.-.X.X-..

YOU -.--X---X..-

A .-

TASTE -X.-X…X-X.

OF ---X..-.

TOPSIDE. -X---X.--.X…X..X-..X.

AND .-X-.X-..

FRESH ..-.X.-.X.X…X….

AIR. .-X..X.-.

I ..

GAVE --.X.-X…-X.

YOU -.--X---X..-

LIFE. .-..X..X..-.X.

PURPOSE. .--.X..-X.-.X.--.X---X…X.

BUT -...X..-X-

YOU’VE -.--X---X..-X…-X.

GROWN --.X.-.X---X.--X-.

FAT ..-.X.-X-

AND .-X-.X-..

COMPLACENT. -.-.X---X--X.--.X.-..X.-X-.-.X.X-.X-

TOO -X---X---

MUCH --X..-X-.-.X….

TIME -X..X--X.

IN ..X-.

THE -X…X.

SUN. …X..-X-.

WE .--X.

CAME -.-.X.-X--X.

FROM ..-.X.-.X---X--X.

A .-

WORLD .--X.-.X---X.-..X-..

WHERE .--X….X.X.-.X.

THERE -X….X.X.-.X.

WAS .--X.-X…

NEVER -.X.X…-X.X.-.

ENOUGH .X-.X---X..-X--.X….

TO -X---

GO --.X---

AROUND, .-X.-.X---X..-X-.X-..

FINN. ..-.X..X-.X-.

THAT -X….X.-X-

IS ..X…

WHY .--X….X-.--

WE .--X.

FIGHT. ..-.X..X--.X….X-

DO -..X---

YOU -.--X---X..-

REMEMBER? .-.X.X--X.X--X-...X.X.-.

CHANGE COLOR

FINN: 

SORRY. …X---X.-.X.-.X-.--

PLEASE. .--.X.-..X.X.-X…X.

PLEASE. .--.X.-..X.X.-X…X.

CHANGE COLOR

SILCO: 

DON’T -..X---X-.X-

FORGET ..-.X---X.-.X--.X-

AGAIN. .-X--.X.-X..X-.

GOOD --.X---X---X-..

MEETING. --X.X.X-X..X-.X--.

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: [MH Wilds Erik x GN Hunter/Reader]

Erik ropes you into assisting him with his research, but there's more to this little project than meets the eye ...

Genres: Romance, fluff, humour.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

The hefty tome slammed down on the surface of the table in front of you, raising a small cloud of dust. Waving it away with one hand, you glanced up at the eager face of Erik, dedicated handler of the Astrum Unit, and offered a nervous smile.

He was wearing that look. A reason to be wary indeed.

"Erik?"

"Listen."

He stepped over the bench you were seated on, straddling it as he flipped through the book. Pale hair fell forward across his brow and he brushed it back impatiently.

"I've been thinking. We've got this handy guidebook that you hunters compile with the research commission, right?"

"Yes?"

"But we can hardly call this a complete guide when it's so lacking."

You shuffled around to face him.

"Lacking in what way?"

"Arthropods. The insect life, specifically. Think about how many hunters may be carted away in the field because they didn't think to collect bitterbug broth, or snatch up a handy vigormantle bug?"

"And what's your solution?"

He waved a hand, cutting decisively through the air.

"We make our own guide."

"We?"

He leaned forward, peering wide-eyed into your face. Long lashes grazed his cheeks, his expression expectant. 

"Of course. Who else would I ask?"

You cleared your throat and nodded.

"Me. Naturally. So ... what kind of information are you after?"

"The kind that lurks close to the earth, or on the trunks of trees. Whenever you see a new form of insect life on your hunts, I'll trouble you to make a small sketch of the creature, along with noting some of its properties. Not that I expect you to gather all of this at once."

He raised his hands in cheerful surrender.

"Only where you're able to. And make sure to note down the location of where you found it."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Is that a good idea?"

"What do you mean?"

"Providing you with the location of ... anything."

Across from you, Alma buried her nose in her own notebook, mouth twitching suspiciously.

Erik seemed confused for a moment before realisation struck home.

"Oh ... oh. You think I'll go running off to find them, with no protection or preparation of any kind?"

He slapped at your shoulder, laughing, and you narrowed your eyes. You tapped a finger on the table.

"At least you're self-aware."

"Oh, come on. Right ... here."

He took your hand between both of his, grasp always surprisingly strong.

"I promise I will not get myself in unnecessary trouble."

"Define 'unnecessary'."

"You don't trust me at all?"

"In the pursuit of arthropods? No. No, Erik, I don't."

And so began the great insect compendium, the fruit borne of both your labour, and Erik's. Through the months that followed, you did your best to follow through on your promise to him, taking time out of each hunt to carefully jot down the insect life you found. 

Granted, you had never been the kind to appreciate such things before. Bugs, as useful as they were, were all too often shunted to the side in a hunter's mind to make way for faster and more effective means to use the environment.

They were useful, no doubt about it, but they were certainly one of the myriad things you took for granted on your many forays into the wilderness in search of much larger (and more dangerous) game.

You started to find ways to make your insect studies more interesting.

Along with the notes, diagrams (and suspicious stains that came with the territory of hunting), your weekly reports to Erik contained little doodles of your palico and amusing anecdotes of how you'd found particular species. They also contained some of your terrible puns, the ones that made Alma look at you with long-suffering pity and Gemma offer to place your head on her anvil to 'knock some proper humour into you.'

You never knew whether he actually read them. The moment you showed up with the report, he'd snatch it from your hands with a hurried 'thanks' and scuttle off to his den to pore over them. The little footnotes to your many-legged adventures may have to remain in your own memory for posterity.

At least your palico laughed at your jokes. Most of the time.

A sad state of affairs, but you'd survived worse.

It was some time before you saw any actual progress on the insect compilation. Erik impressed on you the importance of proper research and hypothesis testing, of statistical analysis and prediction of potential pathways, of peer-reviewed critique on his scientific writings by learned scholars of the research commission, before anything could be ratified as fact.

Sounded like a great deal of work, but you understood the necessity of it.

One wrong point of information, and a hunter could very well find themselves the prey, under certain circumstances. If this work was to be a hunter's resource, it had to be a reliable one.

So it was with a certain degree of anticipation that you entered Erik's research base one afternoon, having been called over by a message through your palico.

Was there finally some kind of solid outcome?

Erik was standing at the table, hands placed flat on its surface, back hunched, eyes trained on the bound collection of pages before him. He glanced up briefly before his face broke into a sunny smile of genuine pleasure.

"Ah, there you are. Come and have a look. We're finally making some headway."

Approaching the table, you saw that the bound pages were covered in his sloping hand-writing, with diagrams obviously fashioned directly from those you'd drawn, smudges of colour added here and there.

"Is it finally ready?"

"I do think so, yes! Of course, a scholar's work is never truly done. We keep etching away at the frontier,  discovering new ideas that may put our previous ones to shame."

He spread his arms wide, as if to encompass the room, your joint research on the table, you.

"But this is a start. And a great one too! Just look at all the data we've managed to compile."

You glanced at the thick sheaf of paper and gave a rueful smile. Now that the majority of the work was in, you doubted that Erik would have much further use for your time or services. You supposed you should be thankful, but you had to admit, on some level, that you liked being useful to him.

You'd long since given up scant hope that Erik would take notice of your charms. You were just so ... different.

He was compelling to you, yes. With the soft fall of his hair, the gleam in his eye when new knowledge was to be gained, the deft fingers with which he pried open the secrets of the world and the rare occasions when he displayed the part of himself that showed exactly why he had been chosen for Astrum unit, the gall, determination and sterling professionalism, it was no wonder that he'd anchored himself so firmly in your admiration.

And you, well, you were a hunter.

In spite of your many accolades, you'd never considered yourself above average when it came to personal charms. You gave yourself to your work, and it defined who you were.

Signing, you placed an elbow on the table, chin cupped in one palm.

"I suppose you never included all of those funny stories I put so much time into."

Erik's reaction was not one you were expecting. His demeanour was suddenly evasive, eyes darting to the old steel cabinet that stood in a corner.

"Ah, well. Hm. Those were entertaining, of course! But in research terms they - "

You mouth curved down at the edges, rather exaggeratedly.

"Ah. And after all that effort."

There was something definitely off about him.

"Erik, what's in that cabinet?"

"Which cabinet?"

"The one you're eyeing like a Gypceros with a shiny trinket."

"What? Nothing at all. Just an experiment I'm running. Needs to be kept closed."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Is there something you - "

"No."

He waved your concerns aside, already bustling about the table where his research notes lay scattered like chaff. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing that you were still unconvinced.

"Oh? You really want to see my Congalala dung anaerobic fermentation experiment? I could open it up for you, but the smell - "

You raised your hands in swift surrender.

"No need. Only the fresh stuff gets a ride in my slinger."

He nodded, looking rather relieved.

"Oh, good. Because it's anaerobic, you know. If I did have to open it up, the whole thing would be ruined and - "

At that moment, Olivia strode into the tent, brisk and confident as always. She gave you a cordial nod of greeting before making her way to the steel cabinet, past Erik, who was suddenly looking a trifle panicked.

"Oh! Olivia, wait, you can't just - "

She shot him a slightly puzzled look.

"I'm just getting my cup. Athos is brewing us some coffee."

"Not now! Just hold on, you - "

Supremely unconcerned, she stared right at him while casually slinging open the door of the cupboard.

"No, I can't wait. My coffee's getting cold."

The door knocked against a nearby shelf, swinging slightly on its hinges. On the inside you could see, pasted in painstakingly careful chronological order, every single humorous note you'd left for Erik since the start of the compilation, complete with palico doodles and scratched out puns.

Squinting, you could even make out the discarded ration wrapper on which you'd once sketched a stick figure illustration of Werner forgetting your name again.

Following the line of Erik's mortified gaze, Olivia raised an eyebrow and grabbed her cup before turning to you, jerking her thumb at the evidence.

"You should probably get him more insect stories. I swear, the way he hordes these things, you'd think they were actually funny."

Having delivered this crushing judgment, she strode back out of the tent, humming slightly.

Her departure left a highly awkward silence in its wake.

You fiddled with the scabbard of your dagger.

"So ... "

"It's not - "

" ..., you really think I'm ... "

" ...at all what it looks like, I - "

" ... funny?"

You both spoke at the same time, but he heard you clearly, coming to an abrupt stop. A faint flush chased over the bridge of his nose. He brushed his hair back and straightened his posture a little.

"Uh ... yes. Yes, I think you're funny."

"Even though nobody else does?"

"Um, well, humour is sort of ... subjective, isn't it?"

"And mine is ... to your taste?"

He scratched his cheek.

"You could say that, yes."

A grin spread across your face and his mouth twitched in response, curving into an irrepressible response.

"Shall we test that hypothesis further, do you think?"

He tapped at the thick stack of papers before taking a bracing breath and meeting your gaze.

"If you're willing, hunter, then I guess ... that science demands more answers."

Tagging a few who might be interested, based on previous notes: @mrs-potatocat @maxdotmp4

[dylansilverdreamer]

Beware the Ides of March

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Ashes to Ashes ending, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Body Horror(ish), Codependent Tendencies, AdBell, fem!Bell

Inspired by this post!

A/N: My first fic on tumblr!! aaaaaaa!!!! Of course, I had to write something for my blorbos. I haven't sat down to write anything in years, and uploaded any of said writing in even more years so I may be a little rusty. Don't hesitate to leave a comment if you notice something wonky, please enjoy!!

@fastleopard1521

— — — — — — — — — — —

“The cat becomes the mouse.”  The man commented with the slightest hint of a smile behind both his Russian accent and gas mask. He nodded toward the door, signaling for Bell to take the lead. She pushed open the red door to find the sun beaming through a grimy old window, perfectly framing her target. 

Adler.

Bell felt her blood boil as soon as she lay eyes on him. A disgusting, pitiful, awful man. Her rage licked up her spinal cord, hands tightening over the assault rifle in her arms. 

The man lay in his own ichor, smudged all over the tile and his clothes, hands drenched in the stuff from pitiful attempts to stop the bleeding. She ought to put him out of his misery right here. Pump his guts full of lead and watch as rigor mortis made him twitch. She ought to bash his skull in with the butt of her gun. Smash those stupid aviators and leave scars in his eyes to match hers. 

The American wheezed out a raspy chuckle, letting his head loll to look at Bell. “Glad to see you still care... Mind giving me a light?” Adler gestured with his chin to the lighter that lay just out of his reach. 

Bell stopped a moment, standing in the middle of the room. She smirked underneath her mask. Sure. Why not. Humor the dying man. She stepped closer, kneeling to give Adler his last wish. The thought of whether or not he deserved such an escape from his bad decisions crossed her mind only to be interrupted by a metallic shing! and a defiant grunt. 

The blade of the dagger glinted in the sun as she easily caught his wrist. Adler struggled. Audibly. It made a twinge of joy twist Bell’s gut. Adler, the man who she’d though untouchable, who shined in her “memories” as a savior. A man who her entire life had seemed to revolve around. What an egotistical piece of shit. Bell pushed back against him, slowly but surely forcing her captor back down to the blood smeared floor. She marveled at just how easy it was, now that all the strength was leaving his body. Did it feel like his limbs were filling with lead? Was his head starting to get fuzzy? Could he still feel the tips of his fingers? A small part of Bell died at the fact she would never know. 

There was a wild sort of spark in her eyes, ones that were usually so far away. Somehow, in this moment, they were both. As she slowly won the battle of strength against Adler, forcing him further and further into submission, she wondered if he felt like the prey he’d become. The sounds of his struggle only served to fuel that wild excitement in her stomach, watching the horror slowly slide into his expression. Bell stretched her neck out just a little, to peer beyond his sunglasses to see if there was that glint of fear in his eyes. Even just a flicker and she’d be satisfied for the rest of her days. 

Bell shifted herself on her knees, over Adler’s body. She could feel the pressure of the sharpened tip up against his shirt, his skin, his lungs. It was thrilling, to finally have some kind of power over him. Her breaths came in gasping lungfuls, that untamed, wild look in her eyes grew like an uncontrolled fire, pupils dilating from adrenaline and the pure euphoria of the moment. All it would take was the slightest bit of pressure. Just a push and it would all be over. 

She felt Adler’s hand clap over her shoulder, a last plea for mercy. Her mind flashed to all the times he had done the same in the past. In the safehouse, in Berlin, Vietnam. Usually only when he needed her attention, but occasionally, it would be accompanied by praise. Crumbs of affection to keep her obediently kneeling at his side, waiting for him to spare another. Like a fucking dog. His blood smeared down the shoulder pad beneath her coat as he used the fumes of adrenaline to tighten his grip and push her away from him, and it was all for naught. In the next instant, she lodged the blade into his chest. Making sure to hit deep. 

The way he gargled and choked on his own blood made Bell’s stomach clench, nausea and adrenaline tearing through her like flames. Watching his face go slack made her blood run cold, hearing his arm hit the ground with a heavy, dull thunk made her head spin. Blood roared in her ears like thunder, she couldn’t focus. Oh, god, she killed him. 

Bell was reeling, panting for air through the sturdy cloth of her balaclava. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, the world around her was fuzzy and crumbling away until it was just her and the body. 

Adler, no, no, no, no- 

Carefully, Bell reached up to set a hand on the side of the American’s face, barely missing the way his blood began pooling on the tile. What had she done? Tears bubbled up in her eyes and she couldn’t stop them from falling. Adler couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t! The knife she had put in his gut had to have been fake, it had to! Sure, he deserved it after everything he’d done, but… 

He deserved this. Oh, the wrongs he had made. With her, with Perseus, with the world. Bell drew her hand back from his face and let it hang at her side. Today the west would fall, and his body would mark the start. Today the world had been rid of a cancer, of a thorn in its heel. No one would have to go through what she had ever again, she’d personally make sure of it. Her palms suddenly itched for the handle of his knife. Maybe she would keep it as a souvenir, or a good luck charm. Bury it somewhere deep in her closet, never to find but to know it’s there. Yeah, that sounded good. 

Bell used both hands to slip the blade from the new gash in Adler’s body, carefully, like something about this was ceremonial. She held it at her own chest level for a moment, letting silent tears spill. Russell Adler was gone. For real. His heart would never beat again. His lungs would never fill with the acidic tang of cigarette smoke again. His hands would never rest on the back of Bell’s neck again. His lips would never mutter another “We’ve got a job to do…” 

The phrase so easily crossed Bell’s mind. Too easily. Somewhere, faintly, she heard her namesake. Ringing in the back of her head, the resonance rising to a crescendo until her brain was full of buzzing. It made her angry. Her face had hardened, and brow furrowed as she raised her arms higher. The arrogance. We’ve got a job to do, as if there was ever a “we” in the first place. She’d been kidnapped, experimented on, brainwashed, lied to at every turn, and somehow those missions were her responsibility. She’d show him responsibility. Are you watching, Adler? From your throne in hell? I’ll fucking show you responsibility! 

With a sob, more akin to a grieving howl, Bell plunged the dagger downwards, straight back into Adler’s lifeless corpse. What little blood was left in his body spattered upwards and onto her clothing and mask. There was a strange sort of satisfaction that came with the hollow beating her fists made against his ribs, the ease in which the metal slid into him. It fulfilled a sickening corner of her mind; one she wasn’t even sure was hers. She only knew she wanted to do it again. And again. And again. And again. 

Bell couldn’t stop crying, heaving sobs and angry growls took turns escaping from her chest. Adler was gone. He was gone and it was all her fault. It was over. 

Again and again, she drove the knife deep into his ribs, chipping away at bone and hacking off hunks of flesh. This one was for pushing her to the border of death strapped to a chair in that lab, that one was for dragging her out to the Lubyanka building, those two were for sticking a needle into her eye. Bell couldn’t tell if the sound of screaming was coming from her or somewhere outside. All she could focus on was the feeling of Adler’s corpse coming apart under her hands. Stab after stab after stab, it was all the girl could bring herself to do. Adler was dead and it was all Bell’s fault. She raised her arms for another blow and wailed, coming down without the same force that she had before. The dagger slipped form her hands and clattered to the floor, joining the blood of its previous owner. 

Bell didn’t sit back up this time, leaning forward over the mushy cavity she had carved from him, bloodied hands splayed out on his shoulders and putting her forehead just between his collarbones. Adler was gone. There was a gaping hole in her chest now, like she was the one being gutted rather than him. Even after everything he did, he was still a part of her. In his own, artificial way. He’d poured himself into her memories, cemented himself as a staple in her life. Without a hand to hold its leash, what was a dog to do? Even just a few hours ago, when he had interrogated her after injecting her brain with whatever was in those orange vials, the way he had held her head so still. As if he were cradling it gently. Bell already craved that warmth again. Her soul screamed for the steadying hands on the sides of her head, and Adler’s voice telling her to think, Bell, try to remember. 

She couldn’t do it anymore, her head was full of static and memories she wasn’t sure were hers. A jungle, a helicopter crash, a jeep on an airstrip, a door, a red door, a red door. Bell’s head was on backwards and it hurt to open her eyes. She wanted to drown herself in the lingering scent of his expensive cigarettes and let him sink his disgusting, calloused fingers back into her brain and make sense of things. Her collar had been taken off and she’d been shooed out the back door to be a stray. His name slipped from her lips between breathless sobs, Adler, Adler, no, Adler, please- 

 Once she was sure his heart had stopped beating, again, Bell sat up to stare down at the carnage, the mess she had made. Her emotions had warred with each other so much that she no longer felt anything. Today had been exhausting and all she wanted was to curl up in her cot. Hell, maybe even a real bed. 

As she stared down at the remnants of her mentor, splayed out on the floor and soaked in blood, a hand slid onto her shoulder. Warm and strong, ungloved. It squeezed just enough to ease some of the tension in her bowstring tight muscle. Bell couldn’t help but lean into it, just slightly. A new sort of silence blanketed the room, one that accompanied change. The kind that made rocks form in your gut at the prospect of just how different everything would be after you took your next breath. Bell hardly felt it through the thick clothing and just how far she’d disappeared into her head, but there was a thumb gently rubbing back and forth against her shoulder blade. Though her comrades voice was muffled by the gas mask, his words couldn’t have cut clearer. 

“That street dog should have been put down long ago.” 

[blxxmingrose]

hans was taken aback by the revelation. of all the possible people from the palace to make their presence known, he had least expected one of his brothers. royal princes don’t venture out into these parts of the realm—hardly, if at all. it’s why hans had felt safe here, at the last stop of the train station, why they had survived almost unknown to everyone in town all these years. 

and now, standing before the family hans had built with june was an echo of his past. “henry?” here was the second youngest son in their family, the one closest to hans in age, and the last one to leave the palace for his own marriage—for a life that hans had refused for himself. 

with june’s back to him in that protective stance, hans couldn’t see the reaction on his face as he asked those questions, but he could tell from june’s posture that he did not relax even as the intruder announced himself. he wouldn’t be june if he thought only strangers caused harm. 

especially when it’s the closest to hans who had caused them the biggest harm so far. 

julia stirred in hans’ arms, turning her face to look at the newcomer, knowing the word ‘brother’ but not able to grasp why they were not with her papa’s brother all this time. if he was to hans like arthur was to julia, then he should be there for bedtime stories and afternoon playtime. 

arthur was quiet, perhaps having the same questions but, like june, not relaxing despite knowing who this person supposedly was. the situation might feel less tense for hans now, but he was in no way letting his own guard down. “my husband asked you questions,” he said, his words clipped and devoid of warmth. 

until his motives were clear, henry was still an intruder. an intruder with a name, but still an intruder. 

he seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation as he moved forward a tentative step, with no one in the family greeting him with open arms. “i’ve been keeping tabs,” henry started, shifting his weight between his feet as he spoke, “of you. of your family. i sent one of my men to look for you when i heard you’ve left the palace—i was going to convince you to return and talk it out with them.“

there was a pause, broken only by scooter who had at last taken the first step toward henry, letting the newcomer scratch him behind the ears. hans couldn’t help but feel betrayed. 

“the pawnshop. i found you from the items you sold. but…  but when i saw you were happy, i thought maybe you made the right decision—” 

“i did make the right decision,” hans quipped, letting his truth be known before someone else could put words in his mouth. “did you bring them here?” he turned his head to the house behind him, where smoke was still lingering in the air. hans was seething. “did you do this?”

“no!” henry seemed to struggle with himself, his arms reaching forward as if wanting to hold his brother in his arms, but hesitated against it. princes knew when to retreat—especially in the face of danger. and he had lived in the palace enough to know hans' knight wasn't someone he wanted to mess with. even more so now that they were married. the bond between them went deeper, and henry was not here to test its depths. “i never told anyone, hans. june—“ he turned his face from hans to june, then to arthur’s pair of eyes peeking behind june, and finally to julia. “i would never put you and your family in danger.”

something inside hans twisted uncomfortably, like there was a war raging within him. there was the longing for his brothers that he did not know he still felt, but there was still the betrayal—he did not know where it was directed, but it was there. he reached out for june, wrapping his fingers around june's wrist, the one holding the dagger, for comfort. he did not say anything. he didn't need to.

"i’ve been listening, keeping track just to make sure you’re all safe.“if i found you that easily, the palace could have too. when i visited, i heard them talking about something in this town, and that's when i knew they had. ” he looked around, beyond the line of trees where he had come from, beyond things hans couldn’t see. there was urgency in his voice when he spoke, “we really should get inside.” 

june had already placed himself between the children and the approaching figure before hans could even speak his name. his hand moved instinctively to the hilt of his dagger, fingers curling around its worn grip. his pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the rustling of the trees and the distant waves crashing against the shore.

he didn’t recognize the man — not at first. the cloak, the hesitation in his steps, the way he lingered in the shadows like someone who wasn’t sure if he was welcome. it all set june on edge. he had spent too many years preparing for an attack from faceless enemies, for ghosts from their past to come clawing their way back into their lives. but this wasn’t any ghost. it was hans’ brother.

the revelation hit june like a blade to the ribs, slow and deep, the pain sinking in before he could even process the damage. he hadn’t expected this. hadn’t even considered this. after all these years, after everything they had done to disappear, to build a life free from the weight of hans’ past, one of his family members had found him and he had found them here.

june didn’t relax. he didn’t let go of the dagger at his side, didn’t lower the shield of his own body between this man and their children. because even if he was hans’ brother, it didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat. blood meant nothing in a world where power dictated loyalty. and hans’ family had proven before that their love had conditions.

“your brother,” june repeated, voice like stone. he saw the flicker of something in hans’ eyes — uncertainty, disbelief — but they didn’t have the luxury of standing here in stunned silence. the man held up his hands as if to show he meant no harm, but june wasn’t so easily convinced. he had seen men smile while they slipped a blade between someone’s ribs. had watched deception play out in soft words and familiar faces.

scooter barked again, less aggressive this time, tail wagging slightly as if he recognized the man, too. it made june’s stomach twist.

the fire was still smoldering in the hearth. their home had been breached. now someone from hans’ past was here, standing in the trees, revealing himself just when june had convinced himself they were safe. it was too much. “how did you find us?” june asked, his voice cold. he could feel hans shift beside him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the intruder. “why are you here?”

there was no warmth in the questions, no flicker of hospitality. june wasn’t sure what hans was feeling right now, whether this was a reunion he had once longed for or a nightmare come to life. but june knew how he felt. and he wasn’t ready to lower his guard. not for a single second.

[ourceliumnetwork]

because i'm feeling chatty today but i know my sentences won't make lots of sense i don't know that the medicine i'm taking for the fibromyalgia is the best fit for me actually. i'm kind of thinking maybe the mental side effects aren't worth the pain relief lol.

[unintentionalseductress]

Telling The LADS Men to Ditch The Condom

Them reacting to you saying you want them to fuck you raw. Warnings : MDNI, sex, oral, handjob, and general smut These banners are mine, please do not reuse them.

Zayne, as a doctor, preached safe sex. He appreciates the responsibility and nothing is more attractive to him than a woman who is aware of her birth control options and doesn’t mind communicating openly with him about these decisions. After all, having sex was such an intimate act for him that he wouldn’t even think about it until you’d been dating for at least a month. He likes the exclusivity and the closeness of sex, and that includes being held accountable for the choices both of you made in the bedroom. So when you tell him to lose the condom, he blinks, making sure he hasn’t misheard you.

“You…want to do it without a condom?”

His head is between your thighs, kissing and nibbling the soft flesh as he edges his way towards the moist and sensitive folds, and he raises up on his elbows to ensure his ears aren’t being obstructed by your legs.

You nod slowly, blushing as his dark eyes fixated on yours, the flecks of amber in them lightening at the idea. His pupils dilate at your affirmation, and he hoists himself up a little higher, resting on your belly, gently stroking your flanks. “You’re sure about this? There’s no pressure you know.”

“I know. But I feel like we’ve been together long enough to allow ourselves to go one step further. And I’m on the pill. We can monitor the situation later if you want to but honestly Zayne, I think any step I take with you isn’t going to be something I regret.” You say the words candidly, reaching down to stroke his black, silky, locks of hair, heart skipping a beat as he plays with the squish of your belly, nuzzling his face into the softness. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

His eyes flutter closed for a second, the ebony eyelashes resting like fans on his cheekbones before he sighs, the little puff of air sending a shiver across your middle. He crawls up towards your face, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss, tongue sliding across the slit of your lips before entering inside. You cup his face and deepen the kiss, heat gathering in your body. Zayne pulls away only to come to your ear, hot breath tickling you as he speaks.

“I don’t think I’ll regret this either.” He licks the shell of your ear, making you twitch. “But remember, if you change your mind, I’ll stop. No questions asked.”

His words are so sincere and spoken with love, adding fuel to the fire. Zayne, patient and considerate, is looking at you with those sharp eyes as if you’re his last meal on earth. He kisses his way down, pausing briefly to shower some attention over your perked nipples, giving them soft licks and kisses that make you mewl and whine with need. Once he’s back at his original spot between your legs, your arousal has increased a hundredfold, your sex soft and swollen, leaking fluid as he parts your folds.

His tongue darts out, tasting you, licking slow lines from cunt to clit, before slurping the swollen pearl into his mouth, suctioning it with his lips. His middle finger flirts with your entrance, teasing it until it starts sucking in his fingertip, drawing a moan from you as he strokes it along your upper wall.

Zayne knew his anatomy and he never wasted a second in touching you exactly in the spot that made you feel like you were turning into a pile of goo. Never in a hurry, always taking his time, coaxing orgasms from you like a hobby, the breath tearing from your throat, your core spasming from the pleasurable waves that radiate throughout your body. Zayne nudges you through the final vestiges of your orgasm before stroking himself, readying his hardened cock.

He’s done this before but what gets to him as he aligns his tip with your hot entrance is how heightened the sensation is, the absence of latex allowing him to profoundly feel every muscle contract and fully experience how wet and welcoming your body truly was. He grits his teeth, his balls throbbing, desire surging through his veins, almost snapping his self-control.

He inches in slowly, splitting you apart, marveling at how you stretch to fit him, the little noises that leave your throat music to his ears. Once fully sheathed, he looks at you, hair tousled and splayed across the pillow, a flush across your face. He thrusts with care, drawing a moan of longing from you and softly rolls his hips, adjusting himself at an angle he knew you liked.

Every movement brushed his mushroomhead against your gspot, soft sighs filling the air, his lips descending onto yours, his thumb working your clit, gradually bringing up your pleasure to another peak.

“You feel so good darling,” he pants, his thrusts becoming steadily faster, his willpower fading away to primal need. “Taking me so well,” he whispers, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.

Your body is reeling from the stimulation and with Zayne’s gentle ministrations on your clit you cum with a cry, his hips stuttering as he feels the orgasmic spasms of your core around his cock. He tries to hold on, but it’s too much, his head growing sensitive as your second orgasm sucks him in deeper into your warmth, his balls tightening up and the coil in his belly compressed to a limit until it snaps, and with a grunt, he spills himself into your body.

Afterwards, he holds you tenderly, gently easing out, and cleaning up your messy slit with a warm washcloth, playing with your hair until the both of you fall asleep.

This is a man who’s been taught condoms are the best way to avoid complications. It’s a golden rule that he will not have unprotected sex for both health reasons and to avoid making the person he’s with uncomfortable. You don’t have condoms? He’s running to the pharmacy to get some. He takes these things seriously and understands that it’s simply gentlemanly to be the one to buy condoms. Xavier wants to feel like he can be relied on in situations like this and that you should never feel awkward asking him to make a condom run or any kind of run.

He’s reaching for the box to roll one onto himself when you hold his wrist. Curiously, he looks at you, a sight to behold, a heavenly sight laying on his bed, lips plump and swollen from his kisses, body glistening with sweat from your recent orgasm.

“Ditch the condom Xav,” you murmur, tracing his arm with your fingers, causing goosebumps to bloom on his skin, his usually slow heartbeat picking up a few paces.

“Are you sure angel?” He lays down gathering you in his arms, his erection tickling your belly as he breathes in the perfume of your hair.

“Positive.” You stroke his cheek reassuringly, feeling like you could drown in the depths of his blue eyes, unable to control the little giggle that leaves your throat as he blushes at your confirmation.

“Xavier.” You grasp his chin, forcing him to look at you. “I’ve never been more sure. I know I can trust you, rely on you. And right now, I can’t think of anything I want more than to feel you inside me, no barriers.”

He’s shy, his smile so awkward and his face so pink. This was new to him, and the fact that you’re asking so sweetly is pulling at his heartstrings. After hesitating for another moment he places the condom back on the nightstand.

“All right angel. Since you're sure. But tell me if you feel uncomfortable at all ok?” Xavier rubs his thumbs over your cheekbones in circles, a sweet and tender gesture, carefully laying over you, his chest coming into contact with yours as he tips your face up for a kiss, his hands slipping under you and clasping your shoulder blades to bring your body as close to his as he could.

While his tongue explored your mouth, he raises slightly on his knees and effortlessly finds your moist entrance with his tip savoring each tiny inch that envelopes his cock with aching warmth. He's unable to control the sigh that escapes his lips, lost in your mouth as he feels the wet muscles contract around him, pulling him in. The feeling is inexplicable, the intimacy of skin on skin making him feel heady and light, heart racing in his chest.

His brilliant blue eyes begin to darken at the edges, turning into a darker shade of midnight as he bottoms out, little noises of contentment resounding in your throat as you feel the hot velvet column of his cock fill you, feel the way it pulses as he occupies your pussy.

“Xav… You feel amazing,” you gasp as you pull away from his mouth, his hips coming to lay flush against yours as he thrusts into you, stroking your inner walls and teasing all the right spots inside you. He's hot and flushed, watching your face as it contorts in pleasure, his blush settling across his cheeks and nose like adorable pink freckles. You smile hazily as him and his head dips down to suckle as nipple, his tongue caressing the little bud, turning your moans into sighs of longing.

When his thumb starts to circle your clit you almost cry out from the pleasure of it all, every sensitive spot being hit at the same time with aching perfection. His breath mingles with yours, sweat forming on both your bodies as you rock against each other, creating delicious friction, matching the other rhythm for rhythm, strike against long stroke.

The edges of your vision blur as your climax grows nearer and Xavier’s jaw grows tight, a moan escaping his lips as he tries to hang on, determined not to climaxes before you. His thumb picks up its pace and with a shaky gasp, your orgasm hits, the sweetness of it making you sob as it grips you, feeling your core spasm, and with a final push of triumph, he allows himself to succumb to his own desires, cock twitching and spasming along with your pussy as he cums, coating your walls with his seed.

Tired, he collapses on top of you as gracefully as he can, your hands and soothingly rubbing over his back, kissing his hair, murmuring praise to him as he floats down from his high.

“Angel…you're so wonderful. The best.” his head is on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as he tries to grasp into reality. You can't help but laugh lightly. Xavier always gets pussy drunk and now without the condom it appeared to accelerate to an entirely fucked out state.

His eyes gleam like sapphires as his breathing returns to normal. “Well how am I supposed to be the guy making the condom run now after knowing what it feels like without one?”

You roll your eyes affectionately at him and flick his forehead.

Rafayel isn't unfamiliar with sex and intimate relationships but he doesn't often engage in them. He's quite shy and doesn't tell you what he's thinking. With patience and a little experimentation, Rafayel slowly came out of his shell and learned to feel comfortable enough with you to express his desires and wants. However, he's nervous about how you'll react to him admitting he's been wondering how it would be without a condom so he clams up.

His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are half lidded, whining as he rests between your legs, his back against your chest as you pump his erection with aching perfection.

“Feeling good baby?” You coo at him as he writhes under yourself ministrations at your mercy.

“Yeah… So close… Don't stop… “ he pants, hips desperately thrusting up to meet your strokes, feeling his thigh muscles quiver and his abs growing tighter with each passing second.

“Talk to me Raffy… how good am I making you feel?”

“So good…” His eyes, a lovely shade of lavender gray are starting to turn into smoke as his impending climax builds and rises. His cheeks are flushed and there's sweat on his forehead and chest from the exertion, the gentle crescendo of pleasure building to a steady peak.

He gazes up at you in a haze, those adorably plump lips parted as he gasps for air.

“You're so pretty when you pout you know?” you ask teasingly and as predicted his brow furrows, displeased at your amusement.

“Don't… say things like… that!” the color in his cheeks rises and your own control slips slightly as you lean down to give an admonishing nibble on his lower lip. The extra stimulation is enough to push him over the edge and with a groan he pulses, his cock warm and needy in your palm, spilling his cum into your hand.

Your clean hand plays with his pretty hair as you continue to pump him with care ensuring he rides out every drop of his orgasm, a few more more spurts of viscous fluid leaking from his tip before stopping.

Rafayel relaxes on your lap as you reach over to grab a tissue and wipe off your hand. His eyes linger on your messy hand, sticky with his arousal and he feels his cock twitch despite having just cum.

“I wonder what it would look like slipping out of your pussy instead of your hand,” he says in a quiet pondering voice that has you pausing, a wicked grin forming on your face.

“Raffy… Did you just say you wanted to fuck me without a condom?” You emphasize the word ‘fuck’ on purpose because of how flustered he gets when he hears it and sure enough, he pouts, a noise of embarrassment escaping his lips, rolling onto his side to hide his face.

You quickly discard the used tissue and lay down to face him, pulling his struggling hands away from his face which looks like a setting sun now, adorably flushed, eyes bright and averted.

“Raffy tell me what you want.” You reassuringly pull closer to him, nuzzling his warm neck.

His cheek rests on the top of your head and with a sigh he admits with a hint of bashfulness, “I fantasize about it sometimes. But we don't have to,” he adds quickly.

Your laughter is muffled by his neck as you lean back to look at him. “I think we've been together long enough to discuss doing it raw.” You look at him imploringly.

“Cmon baby. We can ditch the condom today. I kinda want to know what it feels like too.”

His smokey lavender roam over your face, still carrying hints of hesitation in them. “You're sure? You're not just doing this because I want to right?”

“Oh Raffy. There's never been a day where you've made me feel forced to do anything. I'm very sure.” You cup his face between both your hands and gaze at him lovingly.

He laughs awkwardly, smiling shyly and you feel his erection press against your thigh as the both of you draw in for a kiss, Rafayel pulls your knee over his hip, stroking your moist folds with his cock. You whine in pleasure as he holds his cockhead up to your clit and you slide along his length, both of you sighing passionately at the intimate touch. His engorged tip cups the base of your clit so perfectly and you feel your core clench in anticipation.

Rafayel drags his length between your folds one more time before sliding down to your needy hole, groaning as your wet heat circles his tip. You push down on him, feeling the heat of his member, enjoying the way he fills you so wonderfully, his head sitting snug against your gspot.

The thrusts were shallow in this position but it allows you to snuggle into his chest, look deeply into his eyes and kiss him at leisure, each stroke hitting that sweet spot inside you with aching precision. He toys with your clit , pinching and rolling it for your pleasure.

He's amazed at how good you feel, how tight you are around his length, how wet you really are. The condom almost dulled this sensation and it feels like he's woken from a dream and experiencing reality for the first time.

Your orgasm hits sharply, making you cry out and cling to him the combined fondling of your clit and gspot too much for handle. As it starts to settle down you moan in his ear.

“Baby… Give it to me. I want to know what your cum slipping out of my pussy feels like too. Please… Cum for me… Like how I came for you…”

Your voice is whiny and pleading and Rafayel's hips stutter as he reaches his peak, letting out noises of his pleasure into your ear as he cums, and you feel his hot seed fill your eager pussy. As the both of you catch your breath, kissing each other in the afterglow, everything feels right.

Rafayel's erection softens and as it happens you feel the unmistakable feeling of your combined cum sliding out of your pussy, pooling at the crevice of your thigh.

“That's so hot,” you murmur and from Rafayel's expression he's thinking the same thing. He gathers a little bit of your mixed fluids on his finger, fascinatedly tasting it, his eyes intoxicated at the flavor.

“See what happens when you tell me what you want?” you strokes his arm. He nods then gets close to your ear.

“I don't think I want to use a condom ever again.”

Sylus is that guy who loves going in raw but only if he's sure you're into him. And despite the talk of him being the ruthless leader of Onychinus, he's a true gentleman and would never bring the topic of having unprotected sex unless you initiate it. He prides himself on being someone you look to for security amidst the chaos in the N109 zone.

His fingers are knuckle deep into your pussy, wet squelching noises filling the air as his long fingers expertly tease that bundle of nerves inside you while his thumb rubs circles on your clit drawing out a moan of longing from you, your walls clenching around his thick fingers.

“That's it good girl… Give it to me,” his deep voice rumbles in approval as you writhe desperately on his fingers feeling your body tense in anticipation at what was to come.

His lips hover over your collarbone nibbling leisurely and you roll your hips, moaning as your climax washes over you, pussy spasming from the gratification.

He licks his fingers clean, savoring the tang of your arousal before pulling you in for a deep kiss, pulling you snugly against his chest, and pressing kisses to your hair. You taste the musky flavor of your orgasm, transferred from his tongue to yours.

Your hands are already busy with his cock, tickling his thighs and cupping his balls drawing a chuckle from him.

“Easy kitten. We have all night.” His tongue slips between your lips again and gives you a sloppy kiss, a noise of delight leaving you as you stroke the hot velvet of his cock.

“Sylus?” you stroke him in a steady rhythm that has him humming, the noise sounding like a cat purring, his abs contracting in response to your touch.

“Yes doll?” he licks and nibbles down the side of your neck making you shiver. His crimson eyes fixate on you as you hesitate to speak.

“What is it? You know I'll do anything for you right?” He grasps your chin firmly and makes eye contact, feeling flattered when you blush, your nipples perked from your recent orgasm, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, looking divine.

“I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

“Um… How would you feel if… we didn't… Useprotection?” the last few words are said in a rush, and your cheeks grow hot as you make your request. It's not normal for you to feel so shy, after all Sylus was incredibly open to experimentation and exploring kinks with you. But there was something so personal about asking this of him, letting a part of him sit within you so intimately and the vulnerability made you feel exposed.

Sylus rises a contemplative eyebrow, his lips curling into an indulgent smile as he sees how flustered you're getting.

“The kitten has gotten bold,” he says approvingly. “You wish to have all of me? Feel my cock in all it's exposed glory inside your wet little cunt?”

The crudeness of his words sends a rush of arousal straight into your already dripping core. Heat fills your cheeks and you slap his shoulder.

“Don't say it like that!”

“isn't it the truth though?” Sylus rolls you on top of him as he lays back against the pillows, enjoying the view of your soft body. “Don't you want to feel every inch of my veiny cock fill you, rub your sensitive walls and fuck you senseless? All the while your tight little pussy keeps getting wetter for me and you can't do anything except helplessly moan and let me stuff you with my seed?”

His ruby eyes glitter sinfully as he watches you squirm under his gaze. How cute. His fingers idly stroke your sides, your hands full of his cock but momentarily frozen from his teasing.

“Don't feel like you have to stop on account of me sweetie,” he prompts, then can't stop himself from laughing as you hasten to continue with your strokes. “You fluster so easily.”

“Anyone would if spoken to that way!”

“Oh no sweetie. I doubt anyone else would have such an adorable reaction. Why can't you just admit that you want me in you, no barriers, just raw and primal like animals?”

Your nails scratch over his abs, feeling them quiver. “If you don't want to just say so.”

“Don't be that way.” His red eyes narrow, hands tightening around your waist. “You know I want to.” His large hands cup your breasts and squeeze.

“Then why do you keep laughing like it's funny?” you whine as he twists your nipples, and grind his upper thigh.

Sylus's eyes soften slightly before he leans up to kiss a nipple and pull it softly with his lips. “Mhm… Sy…” your nails scratch his scalp as you cradle his head.

He lets go and blows a puff of air over the hardened peak, causing it to perk up more before circling it with his thumb. “I adore you doll. It’s not that I find it funny. I'm very flattered that you want me that way. But if I let my desire for you consume me, you may find yourself pushed to a limit.”

He traces a finger from between your breasts down to your navel. “You may find me… being rough. More than you're used to. Because kitten…” he leans up with you balanced on his body and with a soft tickle of hot breath on your ear that has you jerking slightly in surprise, he says in a feral whisper, “the thought of burying myself in your cunt with no condom on, feeling how you clench and get turned on for me makes me want to eat you alive.”

Blood rushes to your face and Sylus watches with satisfaction. He caresses your cheek. “Ride me kitten.”

His eyes darken as you glance at him under lowered lashes. You crawl over his body on your hands and knees hovering your slick core over his hard length. He sucks in a breath as you lower your hips, teasingly brushing his tip against your wet hole, the sensation of so inviting it takes all his willpower not to slam into you mercilessly. He knew he wouldn't be able to control himself if he was on top, wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking. Putting you in control was the wise choice here.

“Fuck kitten,” he growls, his fingers digging into your hips. “You feel so good. So wet for me.”

Sylus's cock stretches you deliciously as you take him in, feeling his veins and heat pulsate achingly inside you. You whine as you fit him in, you whine each time because he's just so big, and it takes a while to adjust and take him. It never fails to make him smirk but today he's watching intently wondering how he's supposed to last with your pussy gripping him like a glove and enveloping him with your needy heat.

When you finally bottom out, both of you take a collective breath and feeling so full, feeling how he fits inside you. Resting your palms on his chest you start to move, lifting your body up feeling him stroke your inner walls and start to ride him.

You start slow, setting a pace that has him groaning, holding your hips so tightly it hurt but you continue, angling your body until you feel his engorged head brush your gspot. His teeth are gritted as he slips a finger between your legs and finds your hardened clit, stroking it to match your movements.

The texture of his cock has you moaning, his gentle movements on your clit pushing you closer to him edge. Sylus lets out a hiss of air, trying not to disturb your pace but his will is being ripped to shreds.

You were so warm. So tight and wet. And claiming you without a condom in his opinion only solidified further that you were his. Marked, claimed, and rightfully his in the most biblical sense.

Your pace picks up as you ride him, needing more friction pathetic noises leaving your throat as you chase your orgasm. Your thighs quiver and burn from the effort but you're so close that you push through the pain, gasping as Sylus firmly presses into the little bud.

“You're so cute like this, struggling on my cock. Let go for me sweetie… Make a mess all over me.”

His words are a sinful request mingling with the sounds of slapping skin and lewd noises of need. With a loud breath of desire, you cum all over him, eyes squeezing shut at the pleasurable spasms that rock your body.

It's too much for Sylus to handle, and taking advantage of your momentary lack of movements, he thrusts upwards into you, fucking you through your orgasm desperate to cum with you.

The absence of the condom aids him and with a loud bark he feels his balls tightening and his orgasm hits him like a train, holding you tightly as pleasure flows through him, his seed filling into your needy pussy.

Fuck he was addicted. He rolls you onto the bed and holds you close to him.

“You're going to be the death of me kitten.”

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

i know nanami’s only 27, but i can’t help but think that he’s probably got a lot of “old man” traits that he’s acquired one way or another. maybe life made him that way, maybe he chose to act like he is in his 40s and not late 20s, but either way, having him around would be a very interesting experience to say the least because i’m pretty sure he…

he complains like a seasoned retiree. he’s got that heavy sigh, rubs his temple routine down to an art. the kind of man who mutters, “i’m too old for this,” when he’s only been awake for ten minutes. if you suggest staying out late, he just looks at you like you suggested committing a crime.

he has a very specific way of doing things. nanami doesn’t just go grocery shopping—he has a route. he knows which brands he likes, which cashier is the fastest, and he refuses to go on weekends because “that’s when the amateurs show up.” he folds his laundry a certain way, and god help you if you disrupt his system.

his idea of “treating himself” is so dad-coded. nanami doesn’t do impulse buys—when he does spend money on himself, it’s always something practical. “i finally got those orthopedic insoles” or “this is a quality briefcase; it’ll last a lifetime.” and he probably has one (1) expensive pen that he never lets anyone borrow.

he dresses like he’s ready to scold someone for stepping on his lawn. pressed slacks, polished shoes, dress shirts with the sleeves neatly rolled up. casual wear? good luck catching him in it. even his loungewear is suspiciously put-together—like, who wears an actual button-up pajama set in 2025? nanami kento, that’s who.

he drives like a dad. he never speeds, always uses his turn signal, and complains about “reckless drivers” while driving exactly the speed limit. the kind of man who refuses to start the car until everyone has their seatbelt on.

oh, and dating nanami as someone younger than him would be an experience. he already acts like he’s in his 40s, so the age gap (however small) feels so much bigger because he refuses to let loose. but deep down, he wants to—he just doesn’t know how. so to be in a relationship with him is to get used to stuff like this;

he sighs like he’s raising a teenager. if you stay up too late? heavy sigh. if you forget to bring a jacket? exasperated sigh while taking off his coat to drape over your shoulders. if you tell him about a reckless decision you made? pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs like you just told him you totaled his car. but beneath all that dramatic suffering, there’s genuine care. you might get an “honestly, do you have no sense of self-preservation?” but it’s followed by him adjusting your scarf, making sure your shoelaces are tied, and keeping a steady hand on your back when crossing the street.

he pretends to be annoyed by your energy, but secretly loves it. he acts like your enthusiasm exhausts him, but if you ever stopped being excited around him? he’d miss it desperately. when you drag him to try something new, he’ll complain the whole time (“this is a waste of money”), but afterward, he’ll admit—very quietly—that it wasn’t that bad. he likes how you remind him to enjoy life in ways he never lets himself. he’ll never jump in recklessly, but if you say, “just trust me,” he’ll hesitate… then sigh… then go along with whatever nonsense you’re up to, even if he acts like he’s suffering the entire time.

he acts like a responsible adult, but enables your habits in secret. “you shouldn’t be drinking so much caffeine.” and yet, the next morning, there’s an extra coffee waiting for you. “wasting money on little things adds up.” but somehow, that limited-edition item you wanted just magically appears on your desk. he talks a big game about being responsible, but when it comes to you? he has no self-control.

he takes care of you like an old-fashioned gentleman. he opens doors, walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, and insists on carrying heavy things for you. not because he thinks you can’t—just because he wants to. he likes taking care of you, even if he pretends it’s just out of obligation. if you try to carry something heavy, he just looks at you. doesn’t even say anything. just crosses his arms and waits for you to give up and hand it to him. if you call him a gentleman, he’ll scoff, “that’s just basic decency.” but if you really gush about it, you might catch the tips of his ears turning pink.

he thinks trendy slang is ridiculous. you use modern slang just to see his reaction, and it never fails to make him sigh like he just aged ten years on the spot.

“nanami, be so for real.”

“…so for real what?”

“you should just trust the process.”

“i’d rather not.”

if you ever jokingly call him “king” or “bestie” he’ll give you the look. he pretends he doesn’t care, but if you say something really out of pocket, you might actually get him to break character and let out a very exhausted, “what does that even mean?” (you’re keeping track of all the slang that makes him react the most so you can use it strategically. it’s your favorite game.)

he secretly likes when you cling to him. nanami acts like he’s too mature for overly affectionate behavior, but the first time you loop your arm through his or rest your head against his shoulder in public, he freezes. clears his throat. tries to pretend he doesn’t care—but his hand naturally comes to rest over yours, holding you there like it’s second nature. if you ever hug him from behind or whine “but i missed you,” he won’t admit how fast his heart is beating, but he will sigh and say, “i was gone for twenty minutes.” doesn’t matter. he still lets you cling to him as long as you want.

he plans the most responsible dates, but lets you drag him into chaos. nanami’s idea of a date? a nice dinner, a quiet café, maybe a bookstore. nothing loud, nothing unpredictable. your idea of a date? “let’s go to an arcade.” “let’s take a random train and see where we end up.” “let’s sneak into a rooftop at night.” he knows he should say no. but when you look at him like that? sigh. fine. “but if you get into trouble, i had no part in this.” (he’s definitely bailing you out of trouble five minutes later.)

he absolutely dads you when you get hurt. if you get a tiny scrape? nanami reacts like an overprotective father. “what happened?” “let me see.” “you need to be more careful.” and you’re like, “it’s a paper cut.” but he’s already pulling out a bandaid (which he definitely carries with him, because of course he does). if you ever get seriously hurt? he’s scolding you while carefully patching you up. “you’re too reckless.” “next time, call me.” but his hands are so gentle, and he won’t leave your side until he’s sure you’re okay.

he adores when you fall asleep on him. you knock out on his shoulder? he won’t move. his arm is numb, but he doesn’t dare wake you. if you fall asleep on his lap? his hand naturally comes up to run through your hair. if you curl up in bed and mumble “stay with me,” he’ll sigh, say something about how he has work in the morning… and then stay anyway. and if you ever catch him staring when you wake up? he’ll immediately look away. “you were drooling,” he lies. (he was watching you like you hung the stars.)

he acts like he’s too old for all this, but deep down? nanami loves you more than anything. and if loving you takes years off his life? so be it.

nsfw part <33