#they’re working on hoodies now

[butchharts]

having a friend that crochets is the best thing ever I swear. they made me a garfield bag and I haven’t gone anywhere without it since!

[seriouslycalamitous]

Tubbo swearing he’s gonna do everything in his power to break Hideduo up…

All I’m hearing is that I should write a fic about Tubbo going through wacky hijinks to ruin their date and it just makes things more romantic.

Like setting off sprinklers to interrupt them on a walk together, but now they’re sharing an umbrella and blushing about it.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

[j-jared]

This is why you don't sleep with the Tyrant King - The consequence is children

Constantine avoids involvement with the Infinite Realms for two reasons.

Who wants to deal with all those Ancients in the first place?

He’s avoiding yet another unhinged ex of his.

Of course, hooking up with Pariah Dark wasn’t really an actual relationship, more like a one night stand via dream walking (Nocturn owed Pariah, but seeing as it would be insane to release the Tyrant King from his endless sleep, he’d give him a dream partner every couple centuries) - regardless, Constantine doesn’t want to deal with that.

So yeah - the fact that the Justice League is attempting to summon the High King into the Watchtower has him wanting to drink more than usual.

Of course he gave warnings, but they’re dead set on doing so. A green folder had appeared in the secure “cursed artifacts” vault with no trace of whoever left it there. How else were they gonna find out how it got there?

So Constantine’s stuck there to set up wards, and is trying to find his way out of this one.

When the summoning circle worked, no one expected the teenager to pop out of it. 

Instead of Pariah Dark, or even the sarcophagus showing up, there was a white haired ghost boy with glowing green eyes the same color as the flames of the Crown of Fire. Except he didn’t look exactly like the others ghosts. He had a human skin tone, his proportions were exactly like a human teenager’s, and he was wearing a black and white hoodie with black sweatpants, for God’s sake. 

… Were ghosts able to reproduce with humans?

Before any of the Justice League can get into questioning, Constantine speaks up:

“You’re not the Ghost King.”

Green eyes settle on him, lighting up with recognition - Danny knows exactly who this is, with the amount of complaints on his desk about the blonde. Clockwork also informed him (he didn’t want to know but now he does) of the man’s stint with Pariah. 

Daniel “Commit to the bit” Fenton chooses to do just that.

“Of course not,” The confusion crosses the face of the heroes present- “That’s just because I haven’t had my coronation yet! I’m the Crown Prince, it’s practically the same thing!”

Oh, and the dread and realization crossing Constantine’s face is almost enough to make his core purr in amusement. 

“Now I will gladly answer all your questions, but first!” His eyes swept over the heroes before raising his hand and pointing accusingly at the British warlock.

“John Constantine,” his voice boomed, the temperature of the meeting room dropping as his face stretched with a smile too big and too pointy, “You owe me fifteen years of child support.”

[flwrkid14]

Everyone Knows They’re Dating… Except Tim and Danny

To literally everyone, Tim and Danny are a couple. They’re so obvious about it, it’s almost annoying. Tim goes out of his way to prioritize Danny over anyone else—he’ll cancel plans, rearrange his schedule, and bend over backward to make sure Danny’s happy. Need coffee at 3 a.m.? Tim’s already out the door. A custom gadget? It’s in Danny’s hands before he even asks.

And Danny? Danny dotes on Tim in a way that’s almost overprotective. He ensures Tim eats, sleeps, and doesn’t completely drown himself in work. He’s always there, watching out for him, ready to step in if Tim ever needs help. And god help anyone who says a single bad word about Tim because Danny will defend him with a ferocity that borders on terrifying.

They live together. They cuddle to sleep. They share a bed. They have dinners together like it’s some weekly tradition. They wear each other’s clothes so often no one can tell whose hoodie is whose anymore. Sometimes they even plan matching outfits when they go out. Their “hangouts” are way too romantic and way too specific to not count as dates.

It’s obvious to everyone that Tim and Danny are dating. Everyone… except Tim and Danny.

The breaking point happens when Danny starts spending time with a new friend. Tim doesn’t even notice at first, but slowly, irritation starts bubbling under the surface. Why does Danny even need new friends? Doesn’t he already have Tim? And then the irritation morphs into a tight knot in his chest every time Danny talks about hanging out with this friend.

At first, Tim tells himself he’s just being logical—Danny is busy enough as it is, why stretch himself thinner? But when Danny cancels one of their movie nights to go out with this new friend, Tim spirals. He’s glued to his laptop but hasn’t typed anything in over an hour, too consumed with thoughts like: Is Danny replacing me? Am I not enough for him? Does he want someone else to be his best friend now?

He’s never been good at handling emotions, so naturally, he decides the best course of action is to bottle it all up and ignore it. That is until Steph shows up and immediately clocks that something’s wrong.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” she asks, slumping onto his couch.

“I’m not grumpy,” Tim lies, glaring at his laptop like it’s offended him personally.

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Right. So why are you moping like someone kicked your dog?”

“I’m not moping,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

Steph stares at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she pieces it together. She knows Danny’s out with some new friend, and now she’s looking at Tim, who’s pacing the apartment like a caged animal, glaring at his phone every few seconds. Her expression shifts—realization dawning, then sharp focus. “Oh my god, Tim. You’re jealous.”

Tim freezes. “What? No, I’m not. That’s ridiculous.”

Steph crosses her arms, her gaze locked on Tim as if he’s the most complicated puzzle she’s ever tried to solve. “Okay, let’s break this down,” she starts, her tone deliberate. “You’re upset that Danny’s out with someone else. You’re overthinking it, spiraling about whether or not you’re enough, and now you’re convinced you’ve somehow ruined everything… Does that sound like just ‘friend’ feelings to you?”

Tim freezes mid-pace, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “I—what?”

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Tim. You’re jealous.”

“I’m not—” Tim begins, but then stops, the denial catching in his throat. His brain scrambles to process her words, but the sinking feeling in his chest refuses to let him dismiss it. The pieces fall into place, one by one, each memory sharper than the last: the way his heart always lifts when Danny smiles, the quiet warmth of falling asleep next to him, the ache in his chest at the thought of Danny choosing someone else.

“Oh no,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Oh my god. I’m jealous because—because I’m—”

Steph sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re jealous because you’re in love with Danny.”

Tim’s knees almost give out as the realization settles in. “I’m the worst friend in the world,” he blurts, his voice breaking. Tears spring to his eyes as he starts pacing again, his hands flying up in a panicked gesture. “I have no right to feel this way! He’s my best friend—he deserves someone better, someone who won’t ruin his life with… with whatever this is!”

Steph groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Tim, for the love of—you're already dating.”

He stops dead in his tracks, blinking at her like she’s just spoken another language. “What?”

“Seriously? You’re basically married,” Steph says, throwing her hands up. “He practically lives here, you do everything together, and you’re constantly rearranging your life for him. What part of that screams just friends to you?”

Tim’s mouth opens, then closes, his mind spinning as he replays every moment with Danny through a new lens. The quiet mornings when they share coffee in companionable silence. The way Danny always notices when he’s stressed and pulls him into a hug without a word. How being with Danny feels like breathing—natural, essential, like coming home.

And it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. He’s in love with Danny.

The realization is overwhelming, a mix of panic and joy and sheer terror. But beneath all that, there’s something else—a quiet certainty. He doesn’t just love Danny; he’s in love with him, and he doesn’t want to waste another second pretending otherwise.

Tim decides, then and there, that he has to confess. Because if there’s even the slightest chance that Danny feels the same, he’s not going to let it slip through his fingers. And if he doesn’t… well, there’s always Antarctica.

When Tim finally confesses, he pours his heart out in a way that’s so painfully earnest it makes Danny laugh.

“Tim,” Danny says, tears of laughter in his eyes, “I thought we were already dating.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

Danny grins. “Yeah, I kind of assumed we were. I mean, we live together. We share a bed. We cuddle. We’ve been wearing matching outfits for months, dude.”

“Oh.” Tim feels his face heat up.

Danny laughs again, pulling Tim into a hug. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Tim buries his face in Danny’s shoulder, equal parts mortified and relieved. But hey, at least now they’re officially dating—or, well, aware of it.

Steph hears the whole story later and immediately texts them both: “Congrats on being the last ones to figure it out. True geniuses at work.”

[kitkat13001]

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚘𝚑, 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚠…

⤷ mha x f!reader (use of she/her pronouns, fem. relationship labels)

⭑ number-one hero deku, sitting on the couch across from his girlfriend in his pajamas, applying matching green face masks and giggling at the mess they’re making

⭑ cold and formidable pro-hero shoto, cross-legged on the wood-paneled floor with his wife as they share a bottle of wine, despite the large vacant table and long vacant counter, laughing quietly about the most recent scandal at work

⭑ great explosion murder god dynamight, begging for mercy as his fiancée sits atop his chest grinning triumphantly and tickling him without remorse, his eyes watering and lungs burning because she knows exactly the spot that makes him unravel 

⭑ fashion icon pinky, known for her model-worthy looks, bundled up in blankets and stolen hoodies and mismatched socks and sweatpants with her girlfriend as the two of them binge-watch all five seasons of riverdale 

⭑ charming and dashing hero chargebolt, sitting in front of the tv at seven am, sharing a blanket with his fiancée and watching cartoons and eating cereal because neither of them wanted to cook and definitely not resembling two responsible adults whose wedding is in two months

⭑ the ever cool and composed ingenium absolutely losing his shit because his wife was unaware that the dominos pasta containers are aluminum and cannot go in the microwave, as they found out the hard way, the pair now staring at a crispy microwave and charred countertop

⭑ sweet and kind uravity who becomes an absolute menace when up against her girlfriend at mario kart because they agreed the loser would do the dishes and she refuses to even touch that mountain of plates after tamale night 

⭑ the manliest of all heroes, red riot, who swears there is no manlier thing than going for drive-thru at one in the morning with his fiancée in the passenger seat because they had a fry craving

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[darksturnz]

SNOWED IN

CONTENTS:・smut-heavy plot ・shypervy!matt ・pillow riding・unprotected p in v ・oral (m! & afab! receiving)・creampie ・fluff :3 + more WC: 5.1k

The blizzard outside was relentless, the kind that swallowed the streets of Boston in a suffocating white blanket and made the idea of stepping outdoors laughable. The windows of the apartment were fogged over, and every now and then the wind would whistle against the panes like it was testing the limits of the glass. You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that trailed onto the floor, flipping through the channels with little interest.

Behind you, Matt stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands. He had that slightly disheveled look about him, like he’d rolled out of bed without fully shaking off sleep—messy hair, hoodie wrinkled, socks mismatched. You didn’t mind. Matt was always a little like that: casual, a bit quiet, but solid and easy to be around.

“You know, I feel like we should be doing something,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Something like what?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

“I don’t know. It’s a snow day! Aren’t snow days supposed to be fun?”

He took a sip of his coffee, giving you a small, lopsided smile. “They’re also for staying inside and not freezing to death. I think we’ve got that part down.”

You sighed dramatically, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Come on, Matt. Live a little. We’ve been roommates for, what, three years? This is like our… fifth snowstorm together. We’ve gotta mix it up.”

“Mix it up how?”

You sat up, turning to face him with a spark of determination. “We could have a movie marathon. Or play a game. Or—wait, hear me out—we could build a pillow fort.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A pillow fort? Aren’t we a little old for that?”

“Never.” You grinned at him, sliding off the couch and padding over to where he stood. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to. You’re just scared you’ll get out-engineered by me.”

Matt scoffed lightly, but his ears turned pink, something you didn’t notice as you rummaged through the hallway closet for extra pillows.

“Okay,” he said finally, setting his mug down and rubbing the back of his neck. “But don’t blame me if this thing collapses.”

“It won’t collapse if you do what I say.” You shot him a playful wink, which only made the flush on his cheeks deepen.

The two of you got to work, pulling cushions off the couch and draping blankets over chairs to form the roof. Matt quietly followed your lead, handing you supplies and occasionally mumbling things like, “That’s not gonna hold,” or “You’re gonna need more support there.”

At one point, you stood on the coffee table to adjust a blanket, and Matt reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your back like he was afraid you might fall.

“Careful,” he said softly.

“I’m fine, Dad,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

His hand dropped, and he turned away, pretending to busy himself with straightening a pillow, though the faint redness creeping up his neck gave him away.

When the fort was finally done, it was a masterpiece—cozy and lopsided, with string lights you’d fished out of a storage box giving it a warm glow. You crawled inside first, sitting cross-legged on the floor and patting the space next to you.

“Come on, it’s not a real fort until you’re inside and it manages to stay up.”

He hesitated for a second, then ducked under the blanket and sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours in the cramped space.

“See? Isn’t this better than nothing?” you said, looking over at him with a smile.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “It is.”

You handed him a bag of popcorn, your fingers grazing his, and he froze for just a moment before quickly taking it, his eyes fixed firmly on the string lights above.

The two of you spent the evening talking and laughing, the snowstorm forgotten as you swapped stories and debated over which childhood cartoons were the best. Every so often, Matt would glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his heart thudding a little harder when you laughed or smiled at him like he was the only person in the room, which he was but that’s besides the point.

Eventually, though, exhaustion started to creep in. You yawned, stretching your arms overhead.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said, crawling out of the fort and standing up.

Matt followed you out, watching as you gathered the blanket you’d been using earlier. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Matt,” you replied, giving him a little wave as you disappeared down the hall.

He lingered in the living room for a moment, staring at the now-empty fort before heading towards the bathroom for a shower.

As you settled into bed, wrapping yourself in the familiar weight of your blankets, you heard it: the faint hum of the shower turning on down the hall. The steady rush of water filtered through the quiet apartment, a soothing yet distant sound that seemed to amplify the stillness of your room. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the sound wash over you like white noise.

But the second your head hit the pillow, the restlessness crept in.

You sighed softly, rolling onto your side, then your back again, punching the pillow as if fluffing it would trick your body into cooperating. But it was no use. Insomnia—your unwelcome, all-too-familiar companion—was already settling in. This was how it went most nights, the routine so predictable it almost felt like a cruel joke.

The weight of exhaustion was there, heavy in your limbs, but your mind refused to follow. Thoughts you couldn’t quite name flitted just out of reach, intangible but persistent, keeping you from slipping into the oblivion of sleep.

Another sigh escaped your lips, quieter this time, like you were trying not to disturb the silence. You could still hear the water running, muffled now, but constant. Matt was probably rinsing away the day, oblivious to the small storm brewing in your head. You wondered absently how he always seemed so calm, so unbothered by the little things that left you tangled up and wide awake.

You rolled onto your side again, clutching the blankets a little tighter, hoping the rhythmic hum of the shower might somehow lull you to sleep. But it wasn’t working. If anything, it was having the opposite effect. Your mind wandered, unbidden, to the thought of Matt in the shower—steam rising, water trailing down his skin—and suddenly, your cheeks burned with a heat that had nothing to do with the blankets wrapped around you.

It was no secret, at least not to yourself, that Matt was incredibly attractive. Add to that his quiet sweetness, his unshakable respectfulness, and it was a combination that left your head spinning more often than you’d care to admit. It wasn’t just you, either—your mutual friends seemed baffled that the two of you had managed to live together for years without any “accidents” during late nights out. But then again, Matt was Matt. Respectful to a fault, impossibly shy, and so unaware of the effect he had on people—especially you—that it almost made you laugh.

Almost. Because right now, the thought of him was doing anything but making you laugh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that might somehow chase away the thoughts swarming your mind. But it didn’t help. The image of Matt—droplets clinging to his collarbone—lingered stubbornly. You shifted restlessly, the blankets suddenly too warm, your heart beating just a little faster than it should.

This is ridiculous, you told yourself, burying your face into the pillow. He’s your roommate. He probably doesn’t even think about you like that.

And yet, some part of you couldn’t ignore the moments. The tiny, fleeting glances. The way he always seemed a little nervous when he stood too close. The way his ears turned red whenever you teased him, like he wasn’t used to being the center of someone’s attention.

You groaned softly, flipping onto your back and staring at the ceiling as if it held some sort of answer. The truth was, you’d been toeing the line with Matt for so long that even thinking about crossing it felt dangerous. But tonight, with the sound of the shower still running and your mind painting pictures you shouldn’t be entertaining, the line felt thinner than ever.

The water finally shut off, breaking through your thoughts. You held your breath, listening as the faint rustle of movement came from the bathroom—Matt grabbing a towel, maybe shaking out his hair. Your cheeks burned again at how vivid your imagination had become, and you pulled the blanket over your face like it might shield you from your own embarrassment.

Moments later, you heard his footsteps padding softly down the hallway. He paused outside your door, long enough that you wondered if he might knock. But instead, he moved on, his door creaking open before clicking softly shut.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the apartment quiet once more. But now, sleep felt even further away, your heart racing with the knowledge that Matt was just down the hall, freshly showered and unaware of the effect he had on you.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, rolling over for what felt like the hundredth time. But as you closed your eyes, his face was still there, vivid and unshakable, lingering in the quiet of the night.

Your body betrayed you completely, heat spreading across your skin as the thoughts grew harder to push away. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, the rhythm almost deafening in the stillness of your room. It wasn’t just your cheeks burning anymore—your entire body felt warmer, the blankets suddenly suffocating as you kicked them off in frustration.

Your breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as if even the thought of him—his damp hair, the curve of his jaw, the way he’d probably look utterly at ease in the privacy of the bathroom—was too much to process. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, trying to quell the restless energy pooling in your stomach, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Your hands clenched at the sheets, gripping them tightly as you stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself to think about anything else. But it was impossible. Every time you tried to distract yourself, your mind circled back to him, to the sound of the shower and the way you imagined droplets clinging to his skin, how he’d towel his hair dry in that effortless, boyish way of his.

Another frustrated sigh escaped your lips, and you turned onto your stomach, pressing your face into the pillow. Your body refused to settle, every nerve ending feeling far too aware, far too alive. You hated how easily he got to you, how the mere idea of him could make your body react like this, even when you knew it was pointless to dwell on it.

Still, the thoughts lingered, stubborn and insistent, leaving you flushed and restless in the dark. You lay there for a moment longer, the ache between your legs growing stronger with each passing minute. The image of Matt fresh from the shower was seared into your mind. His scent, cedar wood and vanilla, seemed to linger in the air, taunting you with its closeness.

Unable to bear the torment any longer, you quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound. Your heart raced as you tiptoed towards your closet, retrieving your old pillow - one you'd secretly come to associate with these forbidden fantasies.

Returning to your bed, you positioned the pillow just so, imagining it was Matt beneath you. Slowly, you straddled it, biting your lip to stifle a moan as you began to grind against the soft surface.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you rode the pillow with increasing fervor, lost in the fantasy of Matt's strong hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. In your mind's eye, his piercing blue gaze locked with yours, filled with equal parts desire and restraint.

"Fuck," you whispered, the word escaping through clenched teeth as the pressure built within you. The fabric of your thin cotton panties grew damp, adding to the delicious friction against your most sensitive places.

Meanwhile, just outside your bedroom door, Matt stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been about to knock on your door, to check if you needed anything before he seriously drifted off to sleep, your insomnia was always something he tried to find little tips and tricks on google to help you with it. But then he heard it - a soft, needy whimper that sent shivers down his spine.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he leaned closer to the door, straining to hear more. And then he heard it again, unmistakable this time: "Matt." Your voice, breathy and laden with desire, calling out his name.

Unable to resist, he slowly turned the knob, cracking open the door just enough to peer inside. The sight that greeted him nearly brought him to his knees. There you were, riding a pillow with wild abandon, your face contorted in pleasure as you chased your release.

Matt's mouth went dry as he watched you, transfixed by the erotic display before him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants, already half-hard from the tantalizing sounds spilling from your lips. He knew he should look away, give you privacy, but he couldn't tear his gaze from the mesmerizing sight of your hips undulating against the pillow.

Unconsciously, one hand drifted to his crotch, palming himself through the thin fabric. A low groan escaped him as he imagined it was his body you were grinding against, his name you were moaning so sweetly. Lost in the fantasy, he began to stroke himself in earnest, his breathing growing heavier with each pass of his hand.

As you continued to ride the pillow, lost in your own world of pleasure, Matt watched with bated breath. His hand moved faster over his now fully erect cock, the wet sounds of your arousal mingling obscenely with his own harsh pants. Sweat beaded on his brow as he struggled to maintain his silence, desperate not to alert you to his presence.

As your climax approached, your movements became more frantic, more urgent. Your fingers dug into the pillow, anchoring yourself as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. "Matt!" you cried out, his name a prayer on your lips as you shattered completely.

At the same moment, Matt felt his own orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in his gut. With a final, strangled groan, he spilled into his hand, his vision going white as intense pleasure consumed him. For a long moment, he remained rooted to the spot, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Then reality came crashing back in. What the hell had he done? Guilt and shame washed over him as he realized the depths of his betrayal. You trusted him, and here he was, spying on you in such an intimate moment, using you for his own twisted gratification.

As the last tremors of your climax faded, you slowly opened your eyes, feeling deliciously spent and satisfied. It was only then that you noticed the faint crack of light seeping in from the slightly ajar bedroom door, illuminating the shadowy figure standing just beyond the threshold.

Your gaze snapped up, locking with Matt's wide, guilty eyes. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he had just run a marathon. And there, plain as day, was the unmistakable wet patch darkening the front of his sweatpants, the outline of his still-prominent erection clearly visible.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both stunned into silence by the weight of the revelation. Then, as if in slow motion, Matt's hands emerged from his waistband, his face twisting with a mixture of shame and residual lust. "I..."

"I'm sorry," Matt managed to choke out, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, unable to find the words to express the depth of his regret and self-loathing.

He took a step back, ready to flee, to escape the condemning judgment he expected to see in your eyes. But something stopped him - perhaps it was the way you looked at him, not with anger or disgust, but with a hunger that mirrored his own.

"I saw you," he whispered, his gaze dropping to the pillow still clutched between your thighs. "I heard you saying my name, and I... I couldn't stop myself." His hand drifted back to his crotch, cupping himself almost involuntarily. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Your breath caught in your throat at Matt's raw confession, desire warring with trepidation in your chest. This was dangerous territory, crossing lines that could never be uncrossed. Yet the aching need pulsing between your legs urged you forward, drowning out the voice of reason.

Slowly, deliberately, you sat up, letting the pillow fall away as you met Matt's heated gaze. "Show me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Show me what I do to you."

Matt swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. Without breaking eye contact, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just enough to free his straining erection. It sprang forth, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Your pulse raced as you drank in the sight of Matt's impressive length, your cunt clenching around nothing with renewed desire. Part of you wanted to reach out, to touch, to taste, but you held yourself back, waiting to see how far he would take this forbidden game.

Matt's hand wrapped around his shaft, giving it a slow pump from base to tip. A shudder ran through him at the contact, his head falling back as he let out a low moan. "Fuck, y/n," he panted, his voice strained with need. "The things I want to do to you..."

His hand moved faster, stroking himself with purposeful intent. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with his harsh breaths and bitten-off curses.

Emboldened by Matt's brazen display, you rose from the bed on trembling legs, closing the distance between you with deliberate slowness. His eyes widened as you drew near, his hand faltering in its rhythm as he took in your small frame, your old band t-shirt brushing against your bare thighs and your face flushed and glistening with sweat.

"Touch me," you demanded softly, guiding his free hand under your shirt and to your breast. "I want to feel you."

Matt obliged eagerly, his calloused palm molding to the supple flesh, thumb grazing over the pebbled peak. Electricity zipped through your veins at the contact, stoking the fire burning low in your belly.

Unable to resist any longer, you reached out, wrapping slender fingers around his throbbing cock. Matt groaned gutturally, his hips bucking into your grip as you began to stroke him in tandem with his own movements.

Lost in a haze of lust, Matt surrendered to the exquisite sensations assaulting his senses. Your soft hand on his aching cock, the press of your pert breast against his palm, the intoxicating scent of your arousal filling his nostrils - it was almost too much to bear.

With a growl, he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hungry gaze raked over your naked form, drinking in every dip and curve like a man starved. "So fucking beautiful," he rasped, reverent and awestruck.

Lowering his head, he captured one perky nipple between his lips, suckling greedily as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. Your answering moan spurred him on, his free hand sliding down to cup your ass, kneading the firm globe possessively.

Matt's demeanor shifted abruptly, his usual shyness melting away like snow under the summer sun. In its place was a raw, primal dominance that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"On your knees," he commanded, his voice a deep, authoritative rumble. There was no room for argument, no trace of the hesitant boy you knew. This was a man who took what he wanted, and right now, he wanted you.

Obediently, you sank to the floor, your heart pounding in your ears as you gazed up at him through lowered lashes. Matt towered over you, his cock jutting proudly.

"Open your mouth," he growled, fisting a hand in your hair and guiding you closer.

Your lips parted automatically, a thrill of submission coursing through you at Matt's commanding tone. He wasted no time, feeding his thick length past your lips and onto your tongue, groaning at the slick heat enveloping him.

"Fuck, yes," he grunted, setting a punishing pace as he fucked your face with abandon. One hand remained tangled in your hair, holding you steady while the other braced against the wall behind you, his muscles flexing with each powerful thrust.

Saliva dripped down your chin as you struggled to accommodate his girth, your jaw aching with the strain. But the depravity of it all, the sheer wrongness of being used so roughly by your roommate and best friend, only heightened your arousal.

Your muffled moans vibrated around Matt's cock as he continued to use your mouth for his pleasure, his balls slapping against your chin with each brutal snap of his hips. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes from the intensity, but you didn't dare pull away, submitting wholly to his dominance.

"That's it, take it all," Matt snarled, his voice guttural and rough with lust. "Bein’ such a good girl f’me, aren't you?"

His filthy words sent liquid heat straight to your core, your neglected cunt clenching around emptiness for the umpteenth time tonight. You needed more, craved the feel of him stretching you open, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

As if sensing your desperation, Matt suddenly withdrew, leaving you gasping and bereft.

"Need you so fuckin' bad, been waitin' years for this shit, kid," Matt rasped, his voice dripping with pent-up hunger. Before you could even process his words, he had you lifted off your feet, strong hands gripping your thighs as he tossed you onto the bed like a ragdoll.

You bounced slightly on the mattress, the springs creaking under your combined weight. Matt was on you in an instant, pinning you beneath his larger frame as he forced your legs apart, exposing your dripping sex to his ravenous gaze.

"Christ," he panted, his eyes dark with lust. "fuckin’ dripping baby, look at that, already making such a mess on your bed and i’ve yet to touch you."

Matt wasted no time burying his face between your thighs, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds without preamble. “Matt! oh-“ You cried out sharply at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as he lapped at your essence like a man possessed.

"Mmmph, so sweet," he mumbled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward. His nose nudged your swollen clit, inhaling deeply as if savoring your unique musk. "Could eat this pretty pussy all day long."

Two thick fingers plunged knuckle-deep into your fluttering hole, pumping in and out at a relentless pace. They curled just so, rubbing mercilessly against that sweet spot inside you, coaxing you towards the edge with ruthless efficiency.

"Oh god, Matt!" you keened, your voice high and breathy with need. Your fingers scrabbled desperately at the sheets beneath you, seeking stability as the intense pleasure threatened to consume you whole. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Your hips bucked wildly, grinding shamelessly against his talented mouth as he worked you over with single-minded focus. The obscene wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt filled the room, mingling with your wanton moans and his guttural groans of satisfaction.

It was filthy, debauched, everything you'd ever fantasized about late at night when you were alone with nothing but your imagination and your trusty vibrator for company.

Matt's tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves until you saw stars. His fingers never ceased their relentless assault, curling and twisting inside you, stroking along your inner walls with practiced precision.

"M’gonna...gonna come!" you sobbed, teetering on the razor's edge of ecstasy. Every muscle in your body pulled taut, quivering with the force of your impending release. "oh my god"

With a triumphant growl, he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his fingers pistoning furiously. That was all it took to send you hurtling over the precipice, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave of pure bliss.

As the aftershocks of your climax rippled through you, Matt shifted his position, moving to hover over your trembling form. You could feel the blunt head of his cock nudging insistently at your entrance, smearing the copious juices seeping from your tight hole.

A small puddle of your combined fluids had formed beneath you, staining the sheets with irrefutable evidence of your mutual desire. The musky scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

Matt groaned low in his throat as he rubbed the swollen tip of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself liberally in your essence. The drag of his thick shaft against your sensitive flesh drew another desperate whimper from your lips, your hips canting upwards in silent invitation.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he rasped, his voice rough with barely restrained lust. "Bet this tight little cunt is just dyin' to be stretched wide on my cock, isn't she?"

"Yes, please," you breathed, your voice hoarse from screaming his name mere moments ago. " need you inside me, been wanting this for so long..."

Your hands roamed restlessly over his broad shoulders and back, mapping the planes of his muscular body. You could feel the tension thrumming through him, the barely leashed control he was exerting over himself.

"Please, Matt," you whimpered again, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles at the small of his back. "Don't make me beg."

“As much as I’d love to hear that shit,” he huffs out and with a guttural moan, Matt surged forward, bottoming out in one powerful thrust. Your velvety walls clenched greedily around him, drawing him deeper into your welcoming heat.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he panted, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he fought to maintain some semblance of restraint. "So tight, so perfect. Like you were made just for me."

He began to move then, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in with bruising force. Each snap of his hips drove you further up the bed, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall in a lewd counterpoint to the obscene squelch of his cock plundering your sopping wet cunt.

The pressure built steadily within you, coiling tighter and tighter with each punishing thrust. Your nails raked down his back, leaving angry red welts in their wake as you clung to him desperately, urging him deeper still.

"Harder-please," you demanded breathlessly, tilting your hips to meet his increasingly erratic strokes. "wanna feel you for days."

Your plea seemed to shatter the last vestiges of his control. With a feral snarl, Matt flipped you over onto your stomach, hauling your ass up into the air. He kicked your legs apart with his knee, opening you up completely to his hungry gaze.

"Gonna ruin this sweet little cunt," he promised darkly, delivering a sharp smack to your upturned rear. "Fill you up 'til you're leakin' with my cum."

"Yes, yes, fuck!" you chanted deliriously, pushing back against him with wild abandon. Each brutal thrust sent sparks of pleasure-pain racing up your spine, stoking the inferno building in your core.

The wet slap of skin on skin echoed obscenely throughout the room, punctuated by your loud cries and his grunts. Sweat dripped down his brow, plastering stray locks of hair to his forehead as he rutted into you like a madman.

"M’close," he bit out through clenched teeth, his movements growing increasingly erratic. "Come with me, baby. Wanna feel this tight pussy milking me dry."

With a strangled cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you like a tsunami. Your walls clamped down vice-like around his pistoning length, rippling along every inch as you rode out the waves of ecstasy.

The sensation proved too much for Matt. With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your cunt. Thick ropes of cum painted your insides, marking you irrevocably as his.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, simply basking in the afterglow as you struggled to catch your breath. Finally, Matt rolled to the side, gathering you close and tucking your head beneath his chin.

"That was...fuck," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your sweat-damp temple. "Best damn snow day of my life."

The two of you lay tangled together, limbs intertwined as you slowly drifted back to reality. The world outside continued to rage, wind howling and snow piling up, but here in the cocoon of Matt's arms, all was warm and peaceful.

As your breathing evened out, you felt a strange sense of contentment wash over you. This was more than just a casual hookup born of opportunity and circumstance - there was a connection here, something real and profound.

Matt seemed to sense it too. He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorize your scent. "Let me stay tonight," he whispered, his voice soft and vulnerable but this time in a way you'd never heard before. "wanna hold you 'til morning."

A sleepy smile curved your lips as you nodded against his chest. "Stay," you mumbled, already feeling yourself slipping towards slumber. "Wanna wake up with you."

Matt pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his strong arms tightening around you possessively. "Sleep, sweetheart. I got you."

As consciousness faded away, you couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so safe, so cherished. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new uncertainties - but for now, wrapped up in the warmth of Matt's embrace, everything was exactly as it should be.

And you could finally sleep.

AUTHORS NOTE: i’ve said it before but thank you guys again so so much for 200+ followers :,) i hope you enjoyed.

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams

[afterglowsainz]

don’t smile | franco colapinto

pairing: engineer!reader x franco colapinto

summary: after franco signs with williams to finish the 2024 season, your relationship takes a punch

fc: different girls from pinterest

a/n: as you can tell, i just love a good star-cross lovers trope

—

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[2hightocare]

COFFEE!

“I think I'm past obsessed at this point, there has to be another word in the dictionary that tops obsessed.”

Synopsis: in which a hopeless romantic falls in love with the man of her dreams…

Pairings: boyfriend!jeongguk x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship.. non idol au

Warnings: literally the most sappy thing I could have possibly written, was listening to ‘coffee’ by miguel while writing, they’re such a gentle love, reader is a book worm, Jungkook likes drawing (doodling) plus points when his drawings are about oc, mentions of their first time having sex, usage of book quotes (read nltm, had to use the mia and sebastian line for my own sanity) <3333333

authors note: this is so simple but my book worm hopeless romantic needed this.. wrote this while high so nothing new 🤍

They say falling in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world.

You couldn’t explain the immediate sensation, the feeling that spreads throughout your chest as if you were a black-and-white picture that suddenly starts to fill with vibrant colors anytime his eyes lock with yours.

It was astonishing how the universe works—the idea that you are destined for someone ever since you are born, and that all the hardships along the way shape you into the person you need to be to meet them.

Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears as you watched him laugh from across the room, an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans covering his lean, muscular figure—one you’d memorized to the tiniest detail. You knew every freckle and scar. His head was thrown back, arms crossed, as he paid attention to whatever the guy in front of him was saying.

You scrunched your nose, using your index finger to push your glasses up as you studied your boyfriend from afar. You weren’t sure whether to call it pathetic or endearing, the way you noticed every little crease on his forehead and the way he toyed with his bottom lip absentmindedly. You even took note of his long eyelashes, and nearly died of jealousy every time you counted them when he slept beside you.

It was gut-wrenching to imagine anyone else feeling about him the way you did. The thought alone made you want to puke in the nearest trash can.

You were lovesick for this man, and you could already feel the heat rising to your cheeks whenever you looked at him or heard his laugh. Not only did you want to scream and freak out over every little thing he did, but he also had you daydreaming constantly. You found yourself thinking of silly song lyrics that resonated with how you felt about him. Staring at his side profile, you finally understood the meaning behind Suki Waterhouse’s lyrics: “Oh, my good looking boy,” echoed in your mind.

Before you could form another lyric or recall a favorite book quote to describe your feelings, his eyes found yours. A small smile tugged at his lips as his gaze scanned your expressions, reading you as if you were an open book. You smiled, tilting your head to the side, trying to hide the makeshift fireworks going off in your tummy.

His gaze softened, and it made your breath waver. You had never understood the meaning of “his gaze softened” in books, but now, you understood every syllable of those words after experiencing it firsthand.

You honestly couldn’t think of a single thing you didn’t love about him. You loved everything about him, even the parts he claimed were too “broken” or “damaged” to be loved.

A few seconds passed before he finally said his goodbyes and began making his way back to you. Your eyes followed every step, catching the grin he wore.

“I don’t know, I pretty much think you’re obsessed with me,” your boyfriend teased, his straight teeth on full display as he stopped in front of you, looking down at you on the couch.

“In your dreams.” You laughed, craning your neck to look up at him.

Instead of getting mad, he let out a low chuckle, leaning down with both arms on either side of the couch, caging you in.

“Every night, baby.” He whispered softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips before moving to your cheek, delivering another soft kiss. You sighed in contentment as his lips ghosted over your skin, the pet name making your head feel dizzy.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before standing up straight again, looking down at you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you looked up at him through your lashes. He was already smiling, and you didn’t even need to ask “what?”—you already knew. Anyone in their right mind could tell how obsessed you were with him, and it was no surprise to him either.

As you both walked out of the bookstore, carrying a bag full of psychological and romance books (and, of course, the box of transparent sticky notes Jungkook got for you to annotate your books without writing on the actual pages), it was clear this was one of his favorite things to do. In his free time, when he wasn’t working or with you, he loved opening one of your books and reading your thoughts scribbled in the margins. Half of his camera roll was pictures of you, but the other half was just pictures of your annotations, scribbles, and drawings.

It was as if he was inside your mind, reading every thought, and he loved it.

He could still recall the first book he opened that sent his heart racing, like a teenage boy with a crush.

“I couldn’t see him, but his laugh was unmistakable. I could close my eyes and be in so many places with that laugh. That laugh was the cohesive thread, the little recurring melody that showed up in so many scenes of my life, like Mia and Sebastian’s theme in La La Land. Always there, playing in the background.”

Those words were highlighted in the prettiest shade of pink, with two small hearts drawn beside them. But it was your handwriting at the bottom that got him: “The feeling I’ve been trying to put into words about how I feel every time I look at him has just been done for me, oh my.” He remembered feeling his heart stop for a second. And when it started again, it was for you—his heart was for you and only you.

That wasn’t all. It had become one of your shared love languages. Jungkook started buying books he thought you’d like. He even asked your little sister what your favorite highlighters were so he could buy them for both of you.

Your heart did somersaults when you opened a book on his bedside table and saw a drawing—a pair of eyes in black ink, long lashes making them look bigger and more innocent. Your breath hitched as you noticed the small freckle just below the eyebrow, realizing it was you.

It didn’t help the overwhelming sensation of adoration when you saw his handwriting in the margins.

“You remembered?” she said softly.

“I remember every second of us.”

The text was underlined, and in small letters, he had written, “Gosh, she made me fall so hard that I’m reading sappy words and thinking ‘us’ out loud. #sendhelp,” with a frowning emoji next to the hashtag. Before you knew it, you were on page one, reading every single line and note he had left.

Also, the multiple drawings on the pages where there was extra space had your heart thumping hard in your chest. There were so many drawings— each one tied to you or him. It was impossible to describe every feeling surging through your chest, every emotion racing in your bloodstream, as your fingertips traced the drawing of you.

This time, it was an image of you on your back, lying on a bed. Only part of your side profile was visible, with your hair spilling across the bed, covering most of your back. At first, you didn't want to assume it was you he'd drawn-being self-centered wasn't your style. But it was impossible to deny it when he'd sketched every freckle, even the small half-moon tattoo on your shoulder blade, matching the real one inked on your skin.

You smiled at the memory but snapped back to the present as your boyfriend instinctively switched you to the other side of the sidewalk when you two turned toward Target. You held tight to his index finger as he squeezed between people, leading you behind him with a soft "excuse me" to anyone in the way.

Automatically, you found yourself smiling as you picked up your pace to match his longer strides. He pulled you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist, his hand resting over your belly—a little lower than usual, sending butterflies flitting wildly in your stomach. You suppressed a shiver as he gently guided you to the side, allowing an older couple to pass by.

"Us when we're eighty, baby," Jungkook leaned down and whispered into your ear, making you playfully roll your eyes at him. His smile only widened at your reaction.

"Won't be us if you keep watching Young Sheldon without me," you pouted, giving him a playful glare, which only made him smile more.

"Why are you smiling?" you asked, maybe even whining a little as you walked into the store and heard the employee greet you both.

"Because you're so beautiful, and my brain goes in circles when I stare at you," he shrugged casually, giving your waist a small squeeze before untangling his arm to grab a cart.

You tried so hard not to melt, holding onto his bicep as he leaned forward on the cart, making him closer to your height.

"Don't know it you're down, but l've been wanting to learn how to crochet," you said as you glanced around the aisles. Your boyfriend immediately started nodding excitedly.

"Baby, oh my god. I'm so down. We need to make those big-ass blankets," he rambled, looking at your face for a reaction, like a puppy with its ears perked up and tail wagging.

"I think that's knitting, baby," you corrected him, smiling as his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

"Wait, are those two not the same thing?" His dimple deepened as he bit his lower lip, stopping in front of the craft aisle.

"I actually have no clue," you admitted with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "But I know you can crochet a blanket because you once told me about those pattern blocks you saw on your explore page.”

Jungkook's gaze softened as he made eye contact with you, his pupils dilated with so much adoration that it made your heart swell.

"And I remember because I searched them on TikTok to see what you were talking about. I saw people connecting them into blankets. Also, I remember you pretending to sleep so you didn't have to scratch my back anymore-before my one minute was up. You swear you're slick, but I know when you're really asleep," he said with a grin, teasingly biting your cheek as you tried not to smile.

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" you teased, and he chuckled, ghosting his lips over yours.

"Because every time you fall asleep, you make this little sound, and then slowly, you start snoring," he laughed, watching your cheeks turn a shade of red before burying his laughing face in the crook of your neck.

To be loved is to be seen.

That phrase had never felt more accurate. No one else had ever seen you the way Jungkook did. He knew you so well, down to the tiniest details that sometimes even surprised you.

Your eyes practically turned into hearts as Jungkook kissed your neck innocently before turning his attention to the yarns.

This was the kind of love you had always dreamed of

-better than the movies or books. Nothing could top the overwhelming feelings of gratitude, love, and appreciation that coursed through your body whenever you looked at him. Your brain practically played the instrumental of "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey whenever you spent time with him.

It was as if even a natural disaster couldn't faze you

-so long as you could experience it with him.

The connection between you two was beyond what you ever imagined existed in real life. It felt like something out of a fairy tale. From the moment you locked eyes with him across the room, you both knew there was no turning back.

After checking out and getting to Jungkook's car, he opened the door for you, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before putting the bags in the back.

Once he climbed into the driver's seat, his hand instinctively found its place on your thigh after starting the car. His thumb rubbed your bare skin, sending sparks flying through your body. It was such a natural gesture for him, but the butterflies never ceased. You bit your lip, trying not to whine when his hand moved closer to your inner thigh.

As he softly sang along to "Creep" by Radiohead, it was just another thing you'd become morally obsessed with-his voice. You had always known he could sing, but everything changed the night you were first intimate.

It was as if your entire perspective on love and sex shifted. Simply calling it "sex" seemed absurd now, because it was so much more. Everything felt heightened, more intense, making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

"F-fuck, baby..." he whimpered into your ear, his hips moving slowly into yours, leaving your mouth hanging open.

His little groans and moans made you dizzy, like notes of a lullaby. The feeling of skin against skin was the most addicting sensation, made even more special by the way he always checked in on you.

"Shhh, I'm sorry. Am I being too rough, baby?" His voice was strained as his hips halted, his breath heavy as he moved your hair to kiss your neck.

He resumed slowly, making your legs shake and grip the sheets, and you couldn't help but moan, asking for more. His chuckle against your skin was the same one you’d hear when he rested his head on your stomach, expecting you to scratch his back or read to him.

"You're sweaty," you pouted at him, both of you basking in the afterglow.

"I know. Do you still want me?" He smiled, mimicking your expression before pulling the covers over both your naked bodies and pulling you in as close as possible.

"Yes, I'll forever want you," you replied, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, savoring the warmth he radiated.

As sleepiness began to overtake you, you felt his fingertips tracing letters and shapes on your hip.

Just before drifting off, he began singing again. It was like entering another universe where only you and he existed

"I want you to notice," he sang softly, "when I'm not around."

"So fucking special... I wish I was special." He pressed a kiss to your temple, the sound of his voice and your matching heartbeats lulling you both to sleep.

You snapped back to reality when the car stopped at a red light.

"Is it bad that I always hope to get red lights so I can kiss you?" he asked, flashing a grin that had you laughing.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his as his eyes fluttered shut, his finger lifting your chin gently.

"Not bad, but a little weird. You want to spend so much time with me," you teased, pulling back to your seat. "Some might even think you're pretty obsessed."

"I'm past obsessed at this point. There's got to be another word that tops it," he admitted, stealing another kiss just before the light turned green.

As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but wish there was another word, stronger than "love," to describe how you felt about him.

[silverbrain]

Keep Quiet...

NSFW, Minors Do Not Interact

Tropes- smut, semi-public sex, fingering, hand job, drunk sex, sex in the closet, balcony sex.

Pairing- Reader x Xavier, Reader x Rafayel, Reader x Zayne, Reader x Sylus.

Summary- Xavier getting freaky at the movie theatre. Rafayel getting freaky at a party in a closet. Zayne getting it in an airplane. Balcony freak activities with Sylus.

First time writing smut, gimme all your feedbacks!!

Xavier

You had finally convinced Xavier to watch the new movie with you. After a few stressful weeks at work, you finally had a few days off, and Xavier didn’t have any missions either, so you had put forth the idea, hoping to slowly get him out of his eat-sleep-lounge schedule.

You wear a knee length maroon skirt and a black top and you’re quite pleased with yourself as you turn left and right in the mirror, watching the skirt swish. You hear a knock on the door and open it to see Xavier, dressed in something you definitely haven’t seen him in earlier. He wears a dark blue hoodie and black jeans, that are tight in all the right places. You try not to stare as you envelope him in a hug, when your nose catches a whiff of… is that perfume? “You smell nice”, you comment. “Ah, yes, thanks”, he says, awkwardly, one arm coming up to brush his neck.

It was a strangely empty theatre. You took your seats in the back, mind still reeling from the whiff you caught earlier. Xavier sits beside you, seemingly relaxed. “Why this movie?”, he asks.

“Well, I’ve heard great reviews, so why not give it a try?”, you reply.

“Hmm…”, he says, thoughtfully, “I hope it’s good”

The movie begins. You find your thoughts occasionally drifting to the tall man beside you. How good he looks in blue, how good he smells…Beside you, Xavier puts his hand in yours, rubbing slow circles on your knuckles. You raise an eyebrow questioningly, but think nothing of it, happy to hold his hand.

That is until he lets go of your hand and places the palm of his hand flat on your thigh instead, lightly stroking the maroon velvet of your skirt. You turn to look at him. He keeps his eyes on the screen, low lights glinting across his pretty eyes.

He brings his hand to your knee, now drawing light, ticklish patterns in the skin. He draws a few squiggly figure 8s before you catch on. Oh. They’re letters. S. You look at Xavier. O. He continues to spell out letters on your knee. P, he spells next.

And then R. He continues the trail of letters inwards, up your thigh.

You internally sigh as you feel the beginnings of a familiar feeling tingle through you.

“Xavier…”, you ask questioningly.

“Shh baby…”, he leans in to whisper, the warmth touching your ear and sending a tingle down your spine. “Let me”

You shudder at his words as his hands slip upwards, toying with the skin of your thighs. E-T-T-Y. He ends the last letter dangerously close to your core, fingers almost brushing your underwear.

You almost shift forward, and instead bump your foot into the seat in front of you. The person grumbles a little and almost turns around as your freeze. Xavier, on the other hand, simply stills his hand and continues watching the screen. “I’m so sorry”, you apologize, and the man sits down once more, attention trained on the movie.

You breathe a sigh of relief, not daring to look at Xavier. You could almost imagine the smirk he’s got on his face. He leans in again. “So eager, huh?”, he whispers and you bite down on your lip to keep in the noise that is about to escape your throat.

You look at him, unbothered if sees the absolute need coursing through me. Xavier doesn’t look at you. Instead, he continues to look at the screen, the dim lights illuminating his features as he brings his knuckles to rub at your core. You can’t help but squeeze your legs together and bite down on your lips.

Xavier huffs a small laugh in the back of his throat, and you feel the juices soaking through your panties as he continues to rub lazy circles at your core. He knows. How does he know?

“Please…”, you whisper, as quietly as you can. “Hmm?” You know he heard you, and he’s only teasing. He turns an inquisitive eye towards you, and you can’t help but feel a little annoyed at the teasing. “Please…Xavier…”

He appears nonchalant enough and you wonder when this movie is going to get over, when he suddenly takes his hand away. You shift uncomfortably in the seat as you feel the wetness soaking your panties, dripping down your folds. There’s no way you could do anything right now, not with so many people around. It’s a relatively empty theatre, yes, but the few people in there still seem like too many for the things you need right now.

From the corner of your eye, you watch Xavier bring his hand up to his mouth and suck on his fingers, as if he were washing away the salt from a bag of popcorn. “Mhm…”, he sighs, as his eyes shift to meet yours, “it’s delicious”.

Your mouth falls open as you look away, feeling a desperate new wave of need course through you. You cross your legs, trying to create some pressure against your wet insides. “Uh huh”, he hums, quietly., bringing his hand to your knee, forcing his hand inside, making you uncross your knees. He rests his hand there, for a moment, making you lean forward in anticipation.

“What do you want?”, he asks quietly, “is it this?”, he asks, suddenly dipping into your skirt and shifting your panties to the side as he touches you. A very inappropriate noise almost escapes you as you feel your muscles clench and struggle at the sensation.

“Could’ve just told me”, he says, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

You don’t dare close your eyes, and the danger of the situation hits you all at once, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. Instead, you open your mouth and try to keep breathing evenly.

Xavier’s fingers rub slow circles on your sopping wet folds as you struggle to stay still in your seat, fingers gripping the handles. You can’t help but whine a little.

“Need more?”, he whispers, fingers toying at your entrance till you’re sucking his fingers in, desperate need and desire coursing through you. You nod, not trusting yourself with any words.

The screen plays in front of you, but you’ve lost the plot long ago.

He dips his finger inside a little and you feel yourself clench in anticipation. He stops, though, instead bringing his fingers to spread the wetness around. You nearly whine at the teasing. “What?”, he asks casually, or at least he pretends to, the hoarseness in his voice giving away how it’s affecting him as well.

“More”, you mouth the words.

“As you say”, he says, suddenly thrusting two of his fingers deep inside you. You inhale sharply as something on-screen explodes. You try to hold it in, biting your lip and struggling as he begins to pump his slender fingers in and out, rubbing his palm on your nub rhythmically.

You grip the handles roughly, knuckles white, muscles clenching and throbbing. You turn your head to look at Xavier. You feel a heat course through you as you find his gaze already on you, watching you hungrily. He leans forward to grab your hand, taking it off the chair handle and instead placing it on his arm, still under your skirt.

You look down to look at the way his hand disappears under your skirt and you feel the familiar coil in your stomach squeeze impossibly tight. You look back up at him, as he simply brings up a finger to his lips. Quiet. The message is clear.

Waves of pleasure rush through you as Xavier’s hands slow down, stroking the pulsating high out of you. You try to control your breaths as they come out ragged and shaky, Xavier’s eyes still on you, not budging.

“Great movie, isn’t it?”, he asks innocently.

Rafayel

You were accompanying Rafayel to his friend’s birthday party. You pull up to the address in a deep blue gown and text him.

Rafayel had been running late since Thomas had forced him to attend another of his exhibitions. After none of the excuses had worked, he had ended up having to attend, and was now on his way to the party.

You: r u here yet?

Raf: omw, will reach in like 5 min.

You read the text and wait for him. The party is at a villa complete with a swimming pool, an open bar and a barbeque that you see as you gaze over the massive lawn. A few people mill about, and you can’t help but feel a slight bit intimidated. You see a car pull up and Rafayel gets out, wearing a dark navy suit. He scans the place looking for you, as you exit the car and wave to him.

Rafayel’s eyes widen a little as they fall on you as he steps forward to give you a slight hug. “There you are”, he says, “you look great.”

“Thanks”, you say, “it isn’t too much, is it?”

“You’re never too much”, he says, as you take his arm and enter the party.

The party continues into the wee hours of the night, with drunk people loitering around the pool outside and a few others in random corners of the villa. You stare at the random drink you picked off a tray as your eyes search for Rafayel. He excused himself to visit the restroom and then he had disappeared. You hang around with another hunter that you kind of knew, before deciding to go look for him yourself.

You pass the bar and the kitchen and the vast living room, smiling politely at the ones you made eye contact with. You check a few of the rooms on the first floor, and then climb the stairs to the second.

You pass a room and are about to enter the next when you see a man approaching your direction as you freeze. Blanche was another one of Rafayel’s friends, but he was the type to rattle off story after story when drunk and you really didn’t have the patience for that right now. You look around for an escape before your eyes land on a closet in the corridor. You turn around and quicky shut yourself in the cupboard, hoping it doesn’t have any strange bugs or spiders.

Your phone pings.

Raf: whereee r uuu

You silence your phone hurriedly as you type back.

You: hiding lmao

Raf: ???

You: was looking for u

Raf: where r u now?

You: in the dark brown cupboard in the corridor of the second floor…

You stare at the screen as he begins typing back, but never replies. Outside, Blanche seems to have found his next victim as you hear the faint sound of conversation. You hear a set of footsteps approaching, and you hold your breath, hoping it’s Rafayel. You didn’t want to be caught hiding in a damn cupboard, after all.

The door of the closet swings open as Rafayel stands there, his eyes a bit sleepy. He opens the door and gives you a long look, his eyes travelling up and down, before climbing in and shutting the door behind him.

“What are you doing?”, you whisper hurriedly.

“Joining you...”, he replies.

In the close proximity of the dark cupboard, you’re acutely aware of the faint scent of his perfume. You lean forward and rest your forehead on his chest. He brings his hand up to gently stroke your hair. “Tired?”, he asks.

“A bit...”

He tucks a piece behind your ear as you look up at him. You’re looking at darkness, but you can feel his hot breath against your face.

“You know…”, he starts, “you look exceptionally ravishing today…. Did I tell you that?”

“Uh, yeah…thank you…”, you reply, unsure of the sudden compliment.

“Love showing you off…”, he mumbles next to your ear.

“Is that so?”, you ask teasingly.

“Mmm...” he hums as he leans forward to capture your lips in an urgent kiss, the faint trace of alcohol lingering in the background.

You return the kiss, sensations heightened by the pitch blackness around you. His hand moves to lock around your neck as he holds you in place, licking and kissing into your mouth.

You pull back a little. He pulls back and pants heavily, his breath hitting your face in little puffs.

“Are you drunk?”

“Why? You gonna deny me a kiss if I am?”, he asks.

You take in his state, unsure of what to say. He attacks your lips again, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. He kisses and kisses and kisses, one hand clutching at your throat, the other at your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You feel the undeniable bulge in his pants rub against you, a little gasp of pleasure escaping your throat. “Rafayel…”, you start.

“Need you…”, he replies, kissing down your throat, moving his hand down your chest. “Really do…”

“We’re”, a gasp escapes your lips as his hands find your chest, massaging a nipple, “in a fucking cupboard, Raf!”

“Does it matter?”, he whispers into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe.

You feel your brain stop in its tracks a little as you chase the feeling of his mouth on your neck. He moves his hand further down your waist, resting at the deep slit of the evening gown. He drags his fingers across the expanse of your thigh while pressing kisses to your collarbones. You find yourself leaning into his touch, wanting more.

He places his fingers below your thigh and brings it up to hook around his sturdy legs. You feel a wave of desire course through you at his actions, pooling between your legs. You bring a hand up to his fluffy hair.

“Please?”, he questions, leaning up, giving your collarbones a respite. You nearly shudder at the way his voice quivers a little, need and desire evident. You allow his hands to slip under your dress and toy at your panties.

A shaky breath leaves you as he slips his fingers inside, groaning at the wetness slipping out of you. “So, you like it huh?”, he asks. You can only gasp silently in response. You pull him forward and kiss at his jaw, earning a growl.

Outside, you hear a set of voices getting closer. Rafayel seems to hear them at the same time. He pauses his movements to listen. The faint sound of two people talking drifts in. He listens for a bit before moving his fingers with increased fervour. You nearly moan at the contact.

He roughly places a hand over your mouth as he speeds up his movements. You throw your head back in pleasure, hands haphazardly reaching out to touch him everywhere.

“Shh…”, he hushes you, before pressing a wet kiss against your mouth. “Do you want them to hear?”

Your hands shakily find their way to his belt, and you tug, which results in him drawing a shaky breath. “So eager…”, he muses, moving quickly to undo his belt.

You shakily reach for his cock, already leaking with desire. You can almost see it even though it is pitch black all around you. Rafayel lets out a quiet gasp as your hand touches him, eyes fluttering shut.

He presses into you, brushing his cock against your slick folds, teasing.

Outside, you hear a man call out to his friend amidst the friendly hum of chatter. You freeze. Rafayel leans forward. You can feel the energy change around him for a second as he pushes into you suddenly.

Sheer pleasure and pain envelopes you as you try to control your sounds. Before you, Rafayel stills for a moment before he starts to move, slowly. Agonizingly. Deliciously.

The steady hum of chatter hums in the air, however you can only focus on the humming of your blood in your ears, as it runs hot with desire and pleasure.

Rafayel leans down to press a kiss to your lips before thrusting in. He does it again. Kiss. Thrust. Kiss. Thrust. You can feel the pleasure radiate off of him. You nearly reach down to touch yourself before he grabs your hand and brings it up to rest of his chest. “Nuh uh”, he says, bringing his hand down to touch you. You almost feel your knees buckle at the pure wave of pleasure that shoots through you.

“Why…”, you start, but it comes out whiny, “why are you like this…”

“You…”, he gasps, “in this, it’s…been driving me crazy…all night”

You gasp as you feel the pleasure build suddenly, the risk making everything more pleasurable. You come suddenly, ripples of pleasure pulsing through you. He fixes his mouth to yours, swallowing a deep moan as he lets go himself.

You feel your knees buckle as the pleasure washes over you, but Rafayel holds you up with his strong arms, resting his head against yours as he comes down from his own high.

Outside, someone looks for him. “Where’s Rafayel?”

“Right here”, he smirks as he whispers into your ear.

You can’t help but chuckle at the situation. Drunk Rafayel certainly is something.

Zayne

You sit beside Zayne in the cramped airplane, body feeling uncomfortable with the buzzing as you flew over various cities. You had been assigned to accompany him for a medical drive yet again, not that you were complaining.

Zayne was especially warm to you today, not bothering to hide his affection for you at all. Not only did he buy you coffee, as he always did, he also suggested watching a movie together and reached out to entwine your fingers together in the cramped space between you. You felt a gush of warmth and affection surge through you at the gesture as you leaned into him, pulling the airline provided blanket closer around you both.

You soon find yourself dozing off, resting your head on his shoulder. Zayne quirks an eyebrow as he notices your eyes closing every so often, till they finally shut as you drift off. He quietly switches off the movie and closes his own eyes, heart warming at the closeness between you two.

That is until you shift in your sleep and place your hand directly on his crotch.

Zayne’s eyes fly open at the sudden contact. He glances down at you, hoping you’d shift and move your hand away, but it doesn’t happen. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

A few moments pass, during which Zayne tries waking you up by tapping your shoulder. You shift a little, only making things worse for him. He gulps a little and decides it’s too much before grabbing your arm by the wrist.

This wakes you up and you jerk violently as you wake. “Just…”, he struggles, moving your hand to your lap, as he settles down in his own seat. You look at him, mouth open, sleep still lingering in your face. “I was dreaming of you”, you admit.

This catches his attention. “Really? What was I doing?”

Your face colors at the question. Why had you even brought it up? “You…”, you try to come up with something that’s less embarrassing than the truth.

Truth is, your mind had conjured up images of Zayne saying your name, over and over, eyes shut, face contorted, in need, but not in pain.

Beside you Zayne quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were imagining naughty things?”, he teases.

You can’t hide the effect his words have, as you turn away to look at the now black screen in front of you.

“You really did imagine naughty things, huh?”, he says, surprise evident in his voice as he refuses to break his gaze away from your flustered face.

“Stop…”, you try to protest weakly. “Tell me” There’s something in his voice, it’s definitely something and your eyes snap back to his face, holding his gaze for a moment.

You see the way his pupils dilate and his breath comes out a bit shallow as he stares at you. “You and me were…doing things”

“What kind of things?”, he asks, voice low, barely able to keep the sudden lust that’s flooding his body.

“You’re...a mouthful”, you say. Zayne opens and closes his mouth, trying to keep his calm, but failing and failing badly. He shuts his eyes and takes a shaky breath.

You take in his state and a wave of cheekiness comes over you as you shift your hand back down over his crotch. Zayne’s eyes fly open at the contact as his body jerks.

You look up to smile at him slyly. “What?”

“Don’t…”, he shudders, “don’t what me”

You continue rubbing over his pants, feeling his bulge grow. “Do you like it?” He shuts his eyes and ignores your comment, not trusting his voice at the moment. “Me…dreaming of you…like that?”

He opens his eyes only to see your eyes already on his as he opens his mouth and lets out a heavy breath. It comes out shaky and the effect you’re having in him is enough to turn you on.

You feel the wetness stick to your panties, already pooling.

You move your hands deftly to his track pants and slip your hand inside, moving your hands up and down his already leaking length. Zayne can barely hold it together. He pants quickly, before balling up his hands into fists. “N-no, no, no…stop!”, he whispers urgently.

You stop as you look up at him curiously. There’s an urgency in his movements, as he looks over his seat to survey the airplane before grabbing your wrist. You look at him curiously.

“Get up”, he says urgently and your curiosity gets the better of you as you follow him.

In a few steps of his long legs, he gets to the bathroom and shoves you in before getting inside himself and locking it behind him.

Your eyes widen impossibly as you stare at him. “Zayne…we’re gonna get caught!”

“No, we aren’t”, he says with a finality in his voice as he reaches down to lower your sweatpants and panties in one go.

You gasp as the cold air hits you suddenly, but hardly have time to think as he frees himself and grabs your leg to hoist it against the wall. He kisses you, once, desperately, before plunging into you.

A long squelch is heard followed by the sound of your gasp as you struggle with the intense sensation of being filled by him. Zayne breathes heavily in front of you, breath fanning your face.

“This is what you get…”, he says, struggling to hold himself back, “for teasing me, in an airplane, of all places”

He begins to move his hips, pistoning in and out of you as you take it, the situation making you feel hot and wet all over again. Your face contorts in pleasure as he hits that delicious spot inside you over and over again. You grab at his hair and his arms, trying to steady yourself against him.

You can feel you’ve reached your breaking point when he reaches a hand down to roll your nub between his thumb and forefinger. You arch into him, pure pleasure taking over your senses.

He looks at your face intently, your pleasure bringing him closer to the edge. “So…close, sweet-heart”, he pants, “You’re so…”

You nearly whine at his words as you feel the pleasure build inside you. “So hot like this”

“Zayne!”, you say his name as your orgasm hits you, waves of pleasure bursting forth from your core down to your muscles as they clench around him.

He comes soon after, burying his head in your shoulder, as he empties himself inside you.

A minute passes. He unwraps himself from you as he takes in your flushed face and wipes the sweat off his own eyebrow. You look away, suddenly feeling shy about the whole thing. “Don’t get all shy now”, he says, huffing a slight laugh.

Three loud knocks are heard on the door as he says it. You instantly pull up your pants and almost panic when Zayne puts an arm on your shoulder. “Get ready…”, he says, raking a hand through his messy hair. “For…?”

“Bend over”, he instructs. You look at him questioningly, before he jerks your head towards the toilet. “Too bad the plane is giving you nausea, sweetheart”, he says, patting your back before he flushes the toilet and opens the door.

Zayne meets eyes with a disgruntled passenger waiting. “I’m sorry”, you hear him speak, “she’s not doing well in there”

You can’t help but smirk at his quick thinking.

Sylus

You and Sylus stand on the balcony, wine glasses in hand. You both have been drinking as a form of unwinding after another stressful auction. Sylus may pretend to be all cool and unbothered, but you could tell when he was focused on doing the things he did- the stress got to him too.

You take another sip of the cool liquid as a breeze blows suddenly, the cool autumn hair blowing through your hair. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Sylus’ eyes on you, but you say nothing. His eyes continue to blaze into you, all focus, no reprieve.

Below, on the street, a car honks, breaking his reverie, as his eyes dart back to the liquid in his cup. You turn to look at him, he seems a bit…open and kind of…vulnerable? ‘Maybe he’s drunk?’, you think to yourself. 

Sylus looks up from his cup to meet your eyes. He freezes for a moment, before letting out a smile. He looks happy, and unguarded and…young, you think, so much younger, when he doesn’t seem as stressed.

“What is it?”, he drawls. “Something on my face?”

“Yeah”, you chuckle to yourself. He frowns a little as he brings a hand up to his face, rubbing absent-mindedly. “Handsomeness”

His eyes widen a little before it clicks and he laughs shortly. “Well, I can’t rub it off my face then”, he says.

You watch him, wondering if you should ask him the question or no. He’d deny it, obviously. Sylus wasn’t the type to admit he was drunk. Even if he was lying face down on the couch. Mumbling. Legs hanging off the side. You chuckle a little to yourself at the memory.

"What are you laughing at, darling?", he purrs.

You shake your head. "Who said I'm laughing?"

He puts his glass to his lips and chugs the remaining liquid before placing it on the floor with a soft clink. He straightens again as he walks over to you, slowly.

You feel the hair on your arm rise as he gets closer. You turn away took look at the cars on the street below. There weren't many.

He stands right behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head in your shoulder. You nearly shiver at the sudden burst of warmth of his chest against your back.

"Are you saying my eyes are deceiving me?", he asks, voice rumbling right next to your ear.

You look at him. It was a mistake. Because he's impossibly close and you lean back in shock. "Maybe", you joke, trying to quell the heavy thumping of your heart.

Sylus just hums as he buries his nose in your neck. "Are you lying to me?", he whispers. You can't help the way your breath stutters as you bring your hand up to touch his hair.

"I wouldn't do that...", you say absentmindedly, as you realize how true it is. Something about Sylus when he's like this, so soft and... open makes you feel feelings for him.

Your fingers brush his scalp and he groans softly, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck. You hum appreciatively and his arms tighten around you further. He peppers kisses across your neck, moving to the shell of your ear and you nearly drop your glass right out of your hand when he nips at the earlobe.

"Sylus...", you whisper, voice laced with need. He hums and you feel it thrum through your body.

"What, darling?", he asks. His voice is rough. You meet his eyes and you know he's feeling it too.

You cup his face as you crash your lips with his, desire a free-flowing wave back and forth between the two of you.

Sylus kisses your wine-stained mouth with passion, tongue dancing with yours.

"So pretty...baby you're so pretty...", he pants and you feel yourself physically need him. His hands move from wrapping around your middle to ghost over your body, lower and lower.

You moan at his touch as you press back into him, needing his touch, needing him. You gasp as you feel him press into you, almost grinding himself against you.

"Look...", he gasps, pressing his face against yours, "look what you...do to me"

Your knees almost buckle at his voice. You feel your wetness soak your panties at the way he struggles against you.

"Sy..."

He gasps at the nickname, and bites down on your neck. You let out a squeak at the sharp twang of pain and it soon turns to whimpers as he drifts his hands close to where you need them, pressing in.

He stops for a second before slipping his hand under your dress, running his palms against your cold thighs.

"Touch me...", you nearly wonder how you got so bold, but all you can think of is how much you need his touch.

"Really?", he says, toying with your underwear, "but I'm already doing that..."

"Please", you gasp.

Sylus groans at the sound of your plea, his hips press into your back harder, seeking friction. He slips his fingers into your underwear and you can hear his breath stutter. "You're so...turned on...for me"

"Yes", you gasp.

"Fuck", he growls, "I need you...Now, baby. Right now." The cool air hits your face as you think of his implication. The idea of taking him like this, on the balcony, sends a sharp wave of arousal through you. It's too risky, you think, but the way he's got his fingers against your wetness, touching but not moving, makes your head spin.

"Sylus...out...out here?", you manage to ask

"Yes, baby", he replies, slightly beginning to move his fingers in little circles. He kisses your shoulder. "Please", the sound of his voice, so needy, combined with the delicious pressure of his fingers, makes you crumble. You nod.

You hear the clink of a belt as Sylus makes quick work of his pants. Before you can miss his warmth, he lifts your dress to press up against you.

His hand slightly pushes your upper back, so that you're leaning over, just a little, as he positions himself.

Shifting your panties to the side, he presses in slowly and you can barely contain your moans as he fills you up. You clutch the cold metal railing and your glass of wine, which is still, somehow in your hand.

Behind you, Sylus grips your hips as he resists the urge to go feral. He begins rocking his hips, fucking into you slowly. You clench your fingers onto the cold railing as your hot pussy clenches around him.

"So good baby...", Sylus says, kissing your neck, setting a slow rhythm. He brings a hand around you to touch you and you nearly collapse at the pleasure surrounding you.

A few moments pass: Sylus is fucking into you slowly, rubbing your nub in slow, languid strokes. You feel the coil of pleasure in your stomach compress and curl till it almost hurts.

"Pl-please", you shudder and beg, "more"

"Too much?", he asks, his voice slightly concerned.

"Need to..."

He hums as he understands, pressing his chest against you as he speeds up his movements. You watch the red wine splash against the glass violently, a few drops escaping and disappearing down into the air as he fucks into you.

His fingertips hurry along your slick folds, and you feel yourself letting go. "That's right", he stutters, "come for me"

You feel the coil explode as your muscles clench repeatedly. Sylus fucks you through it, chasing his own pleasure before he stills, violently shuddering as he cums.

He buries his head in your neck as he catches his breath. The moment suddenly hits you as you watch the figure of a passerby on the street below.

"Sylus...", you speak, "what if...someone saw us?"

"Then I'll scoop their eyeballs out and you can have them", he replies.

You chuckle at his response.

This is the first time i've written smut, tell me how it was

[kawoala]

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES . . . !? suna rintarou.

regular pinned

╰ ⨳ synopsis ; after surviving a year of less-than-ideal dorm life, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands. this year, you're determined to live off-campus— freedom, privacy, and no more mystery meat in the cafeteria. the only problem? rent is way more expensive than you imagined, especially when you’re only working a part-time job at a run-down antique store. but you're not one to give up easily. you ask your friends if they know anyone in need of a roommate and, lucky for you, runa knows just the person: a girl named rin, her cousin that she, supposedly, trusts with her life.

╰ ⨳ vague forewarning ; university au ( second years, making them 19/20 ) 、 underage alcohol ( and probably drug ) consumption 、 miscommunication 、 smau 、 profanity 、 violence 、 blackmail 、 toxic past relationships.

╰ ⨳ denotes written parts ; ★

╰ ⨳ taglist ; open !

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES . . . !? masterlist.

⟶ chapter one ; spilled silverware ★ content warning ; miscommunication 、 smau 、 profanity 、 kind of short 、 just like an introduction type thing.

⟶ chapter two ; we live TOGETHER 💜 content warning ; smau 、 profanity 、 explanation of missed moments 、 introduction of ‘EJP playboys’ groupchat 、 awkwardness 、 anxiety 、 akaashi for some reason?

⟶ chapter three ; the party ; part one / part two ★ content warning ; party scene 、 drinking 、 anxious! reader 、 blacking out 、 mention of vomit 、 profanity 、 underage drinking 、 violence 、 writing in 3rd person ( kindof ) for the first time in forever 、 really rushed / bad writing 、 PUNCHING!! 、 assault 、 possibility of career going down the drain.

⟶ chapter four ; the morning after ★ content warning ; hungover 、 bruises 、 half-naked reader 、 accidental injuries 、 throwing up 、 lyyyinnngg.

⟶ chapter five ; y/n, mafia boss content warning ; smau 、 hungover 、 profanity 、 lies uncovered 、 blackmailing 、 mention of drugs and underage alcohol consumption.

⟶ chapter six ; holy shit content warning ; content warning ; smau 、 profanity 、 admission of feelings (but not to each other. SIGH) 、 komori x runa!! yayy 、 runa being suggestive LOL.

⟶ chapter seven ; ice skating! ★ content warning ; profanity 、 ice skating almost DATE!! 、 komori x runa!! yayy 、 rin helping you skate.

⟶ chapter eight ; jealousy, jealousy ★ content warning ; smau 、profanity 、jealousy 、not too many cw’s for this one 、mentions of ex girlfriends 、runa getting upset 、runa telling komori everything bc they’re actually like a thing now idk.

⟶ chapter nine ; insane maybe content warning ; smau 、profanity 、lowkey reader ghosting suna 、suna FINALLY realizes that he has feelings 、mentions of ex girlfriends 、runa being mean kindof.

⟶ chapter ten ; the end content warning ; THE END 、profanity 、admission of feelings FINALLY 、apologies.

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES . . . !? character intros.

⊂ ⊃ y/n l/n ; freshly-baked cinnamon rolls, fruit roll-ups, loud laughter, messy study notes, falling in love, writing in a diary, lip gloss collection.

⊂ ⊃ suna rintarou ; the smell of pine, messy hair, worn-out hoodies, tired eyes, vast music taste, dark bed sheets, tangled headset wire, bad horror movies.

[sunrizef1]

Monaco Green

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Warnings: suicide jokes in relation to a happy relationship? (Yall know what I mean)

Authors note: more Lando!

Requested: Yes/No

———————————————

yourusername

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by user1 user2 and 13,800 others

yourusername took a day-trip away from London to go visit Monaco, bit posher than I’m used to, vlog coming soon xx 💚💚💚

In the meantime, new cooking video is up now, we made pesto pasta! 🍝

load comments…

user1 I’m actually in love with her

user2 she’s so pretty!

user3 who’s behind the camera in the pasta video???

user4 is it her editor???

user5 James??? Nah, he’s American, the guy in the video is British

user6 secret boyfriend???

user7 why Monaco?

yourusername visiting a friend! It was quite nice, might have to consider moving 🤔

user8 no offense but how tf would she afford Monaco rent

user9 yk these influencers and their rich parents

user10 so pretty 🥰

yourusername thank you, love 🫶

user11 I love her phone case 💚💚

user12 “we” made pesto pasta 🤔

user13 I loved the new karting vid!!! James had no chance lol, how r u so good?!

yourusername I had a good instructor haha, helps that James is absolutely abysmal at it

jamesedits that’s rude, we don’t all have experienced go-karters to teach us 😒

user14 I want to be her friend so bad, omg her life seems so cool

———————————————

landonorris

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by jamesedits maxfewtrell and 3,008,996 others

landonorris Monaco green 💚

load comments…

user15 the soft-launch????

user16 who is that??????

user17 not Lando posting his secret girlfriend on a random Tuesday

user18 ooh but she’s got good taste in nails I’ll give her that

user19 and who tf is that then

maxfewtrell ah, bold innit?

landonorris 🤐

user20 wtf is max talking about

user21 all we get is hands????

user22 some Twitter detectives about to figure out who that is just based on the hands i bet my life

user23 and if I told you I know who that is, then what

user24 now how tf do you know that

user23 pure vibes and delusion

user25 who taught this man to soft-launch???

user26 I can tell she’s pretty

user27 NOOOOOOOO

user28 what about our marriage and kids???

oscarpiastri she’s lovely

landonorris you have not met her

oscarpiastri this is your sign to change that

oscarpiastri and from what you’ve told me, she is lovely

landonorris she is

user29 awww I already love her

———————————————

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by user1 user2 and 31,998 others

yourusername supposed to be a one day trip but now it’s been three days 😅

Day 1 Monaco vlog is up now! 💚

load comments…

user30 is this the girl that Twitter thread was about????

user31 she has the phone case!!!!

user32 you can’t tell me that the “tour guide” in the vlog isn’t Lando

user33 love that James was so against the sunshine the entire time lmao

jamesedits I’m white and from London, I can’t survive in the sun 😔

user34 I love the green 💚💚💚

user35 is this landos girlfriend????

user36 are yall just harassing this poor girl because she has a popular phone case??!! 😭😭

jamesedits can I go home now

yourusername pls do, you third-wheel too much

user37 third-wheeling???? I sense landooo

user38 are you staying with that friend you mentioned

user39 pretty girl 🤩

user40 if you go to the part of the vlog when they’re walking the circuit and go over the grand hotel hairpin, on my life you can see Lando for a split-second in the background

user41 are you sure that’s him and not James?

user40 James was wearing a black jacket, that guy was wearing like a beige hoodie

user42 I just binged like 20 of her videos because I heard she might be dating Lando and now I’m in love with her 😭😭😭

user43 I’m convinced it’s her just because of the phone case and yall can’t change my mind

jamesedits I had to work overtime to get all that footage cut quickly so you’re welcome

yourusername “work overtime” you are on vacation it’s hardly working

jamesedits don’t police my stress

yourusername 🙄

——————————————

yourusername added to their story

landonorris

🤩🤩🤩🤩

yourusername

🫶

————————————————

landonorris

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by yourusername charles_leclerc and 3,006,001 others

landonorris 3 days of Monaco with a guest 💚

load comments…

user44 GREEN AGAIN

user45 and if I told you that phone case girl had that same hat in her Instagram post then what

user46 “three days of Monaco” “supposed to be a day-trip but it’s been three days”

user47 that third picture must be from day 1 because someone’s wearing that same beige hoodie in the back of her day 1 vlog

user48 and the green ny hat???

user49 y/n was wearing green converse on her insta story!!!

user50 AND SHE LIKED!!!!

user51 I recognize those shoessss

user52 this is so cute 😭🫶

oscarpiastri she’s lovely!

landonorris now you can say that

oscarpiastri it was lovely to meet her 🫶

landonorris I’ll tell her you said that

user53 the green aesthetic is so adorable omg I love it so much

user54 LANDO DONT BE SCARED TAG HER

user54 OR POST HER ACTUAL FACE

user54 OR EVEN A STRAND OF HAIR PLEASE LANDO

user55 bathing with a toaster tonight dhmu

user56 wdym my husband has a gf? 😭

user57 what about our kids Lando?? What about the kids?

user58 I’ve never even seen her face but that’s my mom now I don’t make the rules 🤷‍♀️

——————————————

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by landonorris oscarpiastri and 78,661 others

yourusername Day-trip —> full-time stay

More Monaco vlogs to come, then 😅

Monaco day 1 vlog (Lando’s version) is up now, thank you to James for re-including all the clips of him that he'd previously cut out 🫶

load comments…

user59 AWWWWWWW

user60 where’s the user who guessed this from the start

user61 James I going through it

jamesedits it’s bad enough I had to scrub through all the clips of them being lovey-dovey but then I had to look at all of them again to put them back in the vlog

jamesedits and NOW she’s gonna put these clips in EVERY VIDEO! THEYRE SO GROSS!

user62 oh my god poor James 😭

user63 somebody get James a pay raise

yourusername don’t listen to him, he’s like a dog, he’ll act sad to strangers but in reality he gets treated perfectly fine and gets fed on time every day, he doesn’t need any more treats

jamesedits I don’t appreciate being compared to a dog

landonorris dw about it mate, you’d be a nice little yorki

jamesedits 🤨

user64 LANDO!

user65 they both look so good im frothing at the mouth

landonorris glad I could convince you to stay

yourusername you’re very convincing

user66 sleeping on train tracks tonight

——————————————

landonorris

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by yourusername maxfewtrell and 5,000,881 others

landonorris might have to get her a different phone case…💚

Tagged: yourusername

load comments…

user67 SHE GOT A TAG!!!!

user68 Y/N!!!!!

user69 awww they’re adorable 🥰

user70 I’ve followed y/n for years and it’s so nice to see her so happy 😭

user71 HES PESTO PASTA GUY

user72 knowing it’s him makes it make sense as to why he never actually cooks in the video

user73 man moved to Monaco and still found an English girl

user74 I wish my rich athlete boyfriend would convince me to move in with him in his Monaco home… 😞

user75 I’m in love with both of themmmmm

maxfewtrell she made the main page! And you can see her face! Congrats mate!

landonorris 😐😑😐

maxfewtrell seriously though, happy 4 u

landonorris thanks max

user76 now I need to know where she got the phone case

yourusername wildflower!

user76 omg I wasn’t expecting a reply! Tysm!

yourusername 💚

user77 I’ve never been more interested in a relationship

user78 HARD-LAUNCH

yourusername 💚💚💚

landonorris 💚💚💚

user79 oh my god they’re so perfect

————————————

@casperlikej @evie-119

[starlightkun]

⇢ word count: 16.3k ⇢ genre: fluff, college au, brother's best friend trope, christmas/holiday themed, baseball player!jisung, rich kids!reader and chenle, part of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon ⇢ warnings: chenle and reader are annoying as hell together lol (they love each other but would die before saying ily), everyone’s parents suck!, only minor proof-reading bc i wanted to post for christmas, FAKE pro baseball players mentioned (idk anything abt baseball and was not going to research any real baseball players and be wrong abt them ok) ⇢ extra info: this is part of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon, three short, unrelated fics starring jisung all with cheesy hallmark christmas movie-esque premises. there’s no continuing plotline between fics in this series, they’re all standalone fics ⇢ author’s note: ok so this one isn’t exactly “short” but as always, i got carried away. im just happy i got this one out in time and it didn’t end up being 20k+ lmao. anyway, this is my last fic of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon, and of 2024, and i hope you guys had as much fun reading them as i did writing them! happy holidays and i will be back with even more fics in 2025! ⇢ 2024 hallmark movie marathon

“I know what you’ve been trying to do this whole time. You’re not ‘very into baseball,’ you’re into Jisung.”

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20

Clicking the ‘submit’ button for your last final paper of the semester, you let out a sigh of relief. You were done, for now. The time in the corner of your laptop read 10:58 p.m. You’d submitted with an hour to spare. Usually, you hated cutting it so close, but four of your five classes this semester had assigned fifteen-page papers, and you wanted to take your time researching, outlining, drafting, and editing all of them before the deadlines.

There were only a few other students scattered around the library so late on the last academic day of the semester. One table away from you was another student, a boy who had also been hard at work on his laptop for the greater part of the past four hours. You had seen him around campus, not in any meaningful way, but enough that his face was familiar to you. And tonight, you had been stealing glances at him—when he let out a groan or a sigh that rang a little too loud in the dead silence, pushed his hoodie off his head to reveal his dark hair and handsome features, or stood up from his chair to go to the vending machine around the corner and walk around the library to stretch his obscenely long legs. Yeah, you’d done a bit of ogling, you also needed a break every now and then.

He was still typing away at his laptop when you had packed up for the night and were heading out, your path taking you right by his table. You were never usually this bold, but maybe it was the rush from finally being done with finals week, or how late it was, but you found yourself stopping next to the end seat the cute boy was occupying.

Upon realizing that you were there, he looked at you with wide, uncertain eyes, slowly taking his headphones off. “Hm?”

“Are you going to be here till closing?” You asked him knowingly, a playful smile on your lips and bag of gummy candy in your hands. You had bought it during a vending machine break earlier in the night but never ended up opening it.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m hoping only another thirty minutes…”

“Here.” You offered the candies out to him. “I’m done for the night.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You set them down next to his laptop. Not wanting to take up any more of his waning time left to submit his assignment, you started off towards the exit again. “Good luck. Have a good break.”

“You too…”

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21

“You didn’t get his number?!” Your roommate gasped in horror after you told her about the cute guy from the library. She had been asleep when you got home last night, and now the two of you were packing in preparation for your respective winter break plans. Sooyoung was heading back home while you and your brother would be driving to meet your parents at your family’s winter house in the mountains.

“Or his name,” you confirmed sadly. “I mean, the poor guy only had an hour left of the semester to submit whatever he was working on, there was no way he would’ve wanted me wasting it.”

“You have got to find him when we get back.”

“I’ll try,” you agreed.

There was a long honk from outside your dorm, and you rolled your eyes before peering out your window. Sure enough, your brother’s sleek black SUV was outside.

“Alright, I’ll see you in two weeks, Soo.” You hugged your roommate goodbye. Before you could even grab your bag, there was another obnoxiously long honk, followed by a series of shorter honks.

You immediately videocalled your brother.

Chenle picked up, already complaining. “Y/N, hurry up! You always take forever—”

“Shut the fuck up!” You retorted, flipping off the camera. “You’re so fucking annoying, I swear to—”

He laid on the horn again, and you could hear complaints start up outside from other people yelling at him to shut the fuck up. Then, you swore you heard another voice in Chenle’s car, quietly suggesting that he stop, but it was too indistinct for you to properly identify.

“Who was that?” You squinted at him suspiciously.

“I told you I was bringing a friend—”

“I know, I meant which one?”

“Get your slow ass down here and find out, or we’re leaving you!” With that, he hung up.

You pocketed your phone with a quiet scream, then turned to your roommate. “Ugh! Can you believe we’re related?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately, not even looking at you.

Hauling your stuff downstairs by yourself, you were a little out of breath by the time you shoved the front door of your dorm open. Your duffel bag started slipping down your shoulder, and as you readjusted that, you weren’t even looking out for the uneven slab of concrete that you knew stuck up in front of the entrance. Your toe caught on it, and you let out an unfortunate ‘eep!’ as you tripped forward. Your bag slid off your shoulder again, catching on your elbow and swinging around, the weight making you stumble a little more. You stayed upright, and you were thankful that only your brother and his friend saw all that. Yeah, Chenle was going to tease you for the entire three-hour car ride, and Mark or whoever was coming with would definitely get in on the ribbing, but you had plenty of dirt on them too. It was the natural order of things.

“Clumsy ass,” Chenle yelled at you from the car, the driver’s side window rolled down. You flipped him off on instinct. “Jisung, go help her before she hurts herself.”

Jisung. That was a new one. Admittedly, you didn’t know all of your brother’s friends, you two ran in different circles at school. You were usually introduced them in passing if you happened to run into each other at events, or some you knew from before college, like Jeno and Jaemin, the twins who lived next door to you guys growing up, or Mark and Donghyuck, who you all went to high school with.

A car door opened and closed before a tall figure was walking around the front of the car to meet you on the sidewalk. You blinked in surprise as you recognized Chenle’s friend that was approaching you, and not because of your brother. The cute boy from the library was standing in front of you, seemingly having a similar sense of déjà vu as he froze, hand already outstretched, reaching for your duffel bag.

“Hey again,” you chuckled, putting your bag strap in his hand. “Did you get everything turned in on time?”

“Yeah, I did.” Jisung unfroze and smiled at you, and you swore the sun seemed dim in comparison. “Thanks for the candy, by the way. Completely forgot to tell you that.”

“It’s okay, you were busy.”

“I’m Jisung, by the way.”

You nodded towards your brother’s car. “I had guessed.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“I had guessed,” he quipped back.

Chenle honked again, then yelled, “Come on!”

You rolled your eyes. “Pain in the ass.”

Chenle popped the trunk for you from his seat, and Jisung put your duffel bag in among their things that were already packed, then he took your suitcase to put away as well. As you opened the passenger door, your brother immediately shook his head.

“Nuh-uh.”

“What?” You looked at him incredulously. “I always get shotgun!”

“And Jisung gets carsick in the backseat.” He pointed at the boy standing awkwardly behind you. “I’m not having him puke all over my car. You’ll survive the backseat for once.”

Hating his condescending tone, but with no other option, you graciously stepped aside. Jisung gave you a quiet ‘sorry, thanks’ as he opened the back door for you. After buckling yourself into the middle seat and Chenle starting his music, everyone was ready to go.

“Y/N, Jisung,” Chenle made introductions over his shoulder, jabbing his thumb between you two. “Jisung’s on the baseball team and was in my bio lab last semester. Y/N is my annoying little sister.”

You kicked the back of his seat. “By ten months. As soon as you popped out, Mom and Dad were so disappointed they immediately decided to have another kid.”

“Regret saying yes yet, Jisung?” He asked his friend smugly.

Jisung, meanwhile, had been staring straight ahead at the road, clearly feeling uncomfortable as he didn’t want to get in the middle of your typical bickering.

“Ignore him, Jisung.” You leaned forward between their seats over the center console, your tone much more friendly. “So you’re on the baseball team? Do you have an athletic scholarship or something?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” he answered hurriedly. “Uhm, it’s the only way I could afford to go here. Full ride as long as I keep my grades up.”

You all did go to a rather expensive private university—your parents were alumni, they wouldn’t have sent you anywhere else, of course.

“Wow, so you must be really good, then.”

“I mean, I don’t know—”

“A full ride, I would think they only give those out to the best players, right?”

“Well—”

Chenle cut in, “You’re making him nervous, Y/N. Back up, for fuck’s sake.”

You didn’t back up. “Am I making you nervous, Jisung?”

“No, it’s fine,” he rushed to reassure you, finally turning around in his seat to face you. He let out a squeak as soon as he did, probably not anticipating that you’d be as close as you were. He sat back in his seat, propping himself up against his seatback on his forearm. “Uhm, it’s just that this is only gonna be my second season. Still a rookie, you know. I don’t think I’m that good.”

Jisung sort of reminded you of a little hamster when he was nervous like this, and your lips twitched with amusement. He really was cute.

“When’s baseball season?”

“Practice officially starts in January, first game’s in February.”

“Don’t you get cold out on the field?”

He shrugged self-consciously. “I mean, we’re moving around a lot. And we have hand warmers and stuff for when we’re on the bench.”

You kept eagerly asking him questions. “What position do you play?”

“Pitcher. I’m a switch pitcher—I can pitch left or right-handed—so they like that.”

“So it’s a surprise for the other team?”

“No, you have to declare which hand you’re going to pitch for each batter beforehand,” he admitted, then quickly tacked on, “But it still kinda throws them off!”

You hummed thoughtfully. “What about when you’re hitting the ball?”

“I could do either, but I prefer my right.”

“You’re never this interested in my friends,” Chenle interrupted accusatorily.

“Because I already know like, way too much about the twins, Hyuck, and Mark. Wish I could unlearn some of it, actually,” you snorted. “And you’ve been trying to get me into sports for our whole lives. What’s the problem?”

“Basketball,” your brother corrected you. “I’ve been trying to get you to watch basketball with me. Jisung plays baseball. Wrong sport.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m five,” you snapped, kicking his seat again.

“Stop kicking my seat like a five-year-old and I might,” he retorted.

You scowled at the back of his big head.

“I can see you pouting in the rearview mirror.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, flopping back against your seat.

“Saw that too.”

“Wasn’t trying to hide it!” You snipped back childishly. Turning your focus back to Jisung, who was looking out the passenger window, you asked, “Is he like this to you, Jisung?”

“Don’t answer that,” Chenle directed him before the other boy could open his mouth. “She’ll tire herself out.”

“Oh, you’re insufferable!” You spat. “Talking about me like I’m not even here! Or like I’m Daegal!”

“Well, Daegal is actually trained.”

“Pull the car over, I’m going to beat your ass!”

“Hey!” Surprisingly, it was the soft-spoken Jisung who raised his voice over the sounds of you two fighting, shocking both of you into silence. He continued, “Chenle, you’ve been antagonizing Y/N ever since we pulled up in front of her dorm, man. Then you act like she’s crazy for being pissed off at you. It’s honestly pissing me off.”

Chenle huffed loudly, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, before he finally said, “Fine. Sorry, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever. Thanks for apologizing because Jisung told you to.” You unbuckled and scooted over to the seat behind Jisung, buckling back in and looking out the window at the scenery rushing by.

The car was silent other than Chenle’s music, which he turned up as you pulled out your phone.

[you: i found out cute library guy’s name]

[soosoo: omfg the cia has nothing on u]

[soosoo: SPILL]

[you: i didn’t stalk him, turns out he’s my brother’s friend. his name is park jisung and he’s on the baseball team]

[soosoo: your brother’s friend that you’re going to be ALL ALONE WITH in the mountains for the next TWO WEEKS???]

[you: not ALL ALONE, chenle will be there, remember?]

[soosoo: unfortunately]

[soosoo: WAIT i found him on the team’s roster online and WHEW GIRL]

[soosoo: attached image.]

It was a screenshot of Jisung’s athlete profile on the university’s sports page. The small ID photo he had on there honestly did him no justice.

[soosoo: how is ur brother always friends w the HOTTEST GUYS who ALSO PLAY SPORTS????]

[soosoo: i need him to hook me up fr]

[you: don’t tell me ur thinking abt jeno and jaemin rn]

[soosoo: always]

[you: u don’t need chenle to hook u up if u rlly want, im friends with them too??]

[soosoo: YOU WOULD????]

[you: but you’d have to pick one]

[soosoo: god i am not your strongest soldier]

[you: exactly what i thought]

At the mountain cabin, you three were the first ones there, of course. You parents wouldn’t be arriving until Christmas Eve due to their work schedules. The house was already decorated like something straight out of a Hallmark movie—lights, red and green bows, candy canes, baubles, and other decorations all throughout.

“Wow,” Jisung breathed out, stopping in the foyer and turning around, his eyes wide as he took it all in. “Your parents are really into Christmas, huh?”

“Not really.” You had also stopped to watch his slow circle of awe. “They pay somebody to set it up.”

The wonder dropped off his face and was replaced with confusion, his brow furrowing. Chenle yelled for him from further in the house, and you jerked your head for him to follow. Your brother was at the threshold of the hallway where all your rooms were located.

“Yours is there,” Chenle pointed Jisung to one end of the hallway as you slipped by him to head to the bedroom at the other end. “Y/N’s is on the other side.”

“We share a bathroom,” you called over your shoulder as you opened the door. “Don’t use all the hot water in the morning!”

“And I’m upstairs.” Your brother indicated to a small ladder between Jisung’s room and the bathroom in the middle. “I got the loft. Won it in rock-paper-scissors almost two decades ago.”

“You cheated!” You reminded him loudly from where you had started unpacking your things in your room.

“Sore loser!”

“Sore winner!”

“Anyway, holler if you need something.”

You were still unpacking when there was a soft knock at your open door. It was Jisung leaning in your doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly.

“Hey.” You smiled at him brightly. “Bathroom��s the middle door. We both have doors that connect to it, so knock before we go in? Even if the light is off?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Jisung continued silently watching you unpack, then finally blurted out, “You egg him on.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Chenle.” He held his hands up in front of him defensively as you opened your mouth. “I know he started everything back in the car, but you didn’t help.”

You sat back on your feet in front of your open suitcase and dresser drawers. “Yeah, I know I’ve got a temper problem. I need to work on it.”

“I didn’t say anything in front of him because I kind of got the feeling that he was being extra mean because I was there.”

“When we’re hanging out with friends that we kinda share, like Jeno and Jaemin or whoever, it’s fine. You know, they met both of us at the same time. But I think when we’re with people that are his friends, it’s different,” you explained, gesturing to an armchair in the corner for Jisung to sit in while you talked. “We were always in the same grade and stuff, so obviously people assumed we were twins. That’s also why he really gets on the ‘little sister’ thing. When we got to college, we were both relieved to finally be different people, you know? Have different friends, different things that were ours.”

“You seem to understand him really well.”

“Known him my whole life,” you pointed out. “And just because I understand why he acts like this doesn’t mean it still doesn’t piss me the fuck off.”

“To answer your question from the car, no, he doesn’t treat me like that. He’s sarcastic, sure, but not like that.”

Zipping up your empty suitcase, you started on your duffel bag that was on your bed. “Sorry you had to deal with us like that, even more so that you had break us up. I’m sure the next two weeks were flashing before your eyes, huh?”

“Honestly, I’m just glad you didn’t actually start beating him up,” he chuckled.

“Me too, that would’ve been embarrassing.” You added, “For him. To get his ass beat in front of one of his buddies.”

He looked out the room down the hallway, checking to see if Chenle was coming, then admitted, “Don’t tell him, but I was sort of calculating how many swings to let you get in before it would look unreasonable for me to not intervene.”

“Oh really? And how many would you have ‘let me’ have?” You grinned, using finger quotes over ‘let me.’

“One good punch and a hair pull, I think.” He looked to be sizing you up, a teasing glint in his eye. “You seem like you fight dirty like that.”

“Could claim you didn’t want to hurt your friend’s little sister, let me get a few more in.” You mimicked punching and kneeing the air. “At least let me knee him in the balls.”

“I’ll consider it in the event you two do actually brawl while we’re here.”

You looked up at the ceiling, thinking about your brother up there somewhere. “Eh, we’ll make up properly soon. One thing about us, we fight a lot, but it’s never for that long.”

“Okay, now I’m worried about the next two weeks.”

You laughed, maybe a little harder than his joke warranted, but you couldn’t help it—he was cute, he was funny, and he was making your chest feel tighter and your head spin faster the longer you were around him.

“Why are you in here?” Chenle had appeared in your doorway, looking genuinely perturbed at the visage of Jisung sitting in your chair.

“Because we’re talking?” You answered for him. “Or is he only allowed to talk to you while he’s here and I have to take a vow of silence?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he snickered, walking in and flopping on your bed.

“You first.”

“You want to do lunch in town then get the tree?” He checked the time on his phone. “Mom and Dad know how much you like Christmas tree shopping so that’s the only thing not done.”

“Or is it just another responsibility to pawn off on someone?” You snorted, opening the door into the adjoining bathroom to put your toiletry bag away.

Your brother’s distant voice called after you, “Even if it is, we can still have fun!”

You took a deep breath, and came out of the bathroom with a smile on your face. “You’re right. Let’s do it.”

“Ew, stop that, it’s creepy.” Chenle threw a pillow at you.

You caught it and chucked it right back at him. “What? Smiling?”

It hit him in the face before falling to the floor. “Yeah, exactly. I’m done trying to cheer you up, keep being a little Grinch, it suits your face better.”

You climbed on the bed and grabbed a pillow to smack him with it. “Quit being fucking rude!”

He laughed and cackled, rolling away from your pillow attack until his eyes went wide with panic as he went right over the edge of the mattress and landed on the floor. It was your turn to burst into laughter at the sound he made, and when he started groaning and complaining, you knew he was fine. Jisung was also laughing from his seat.

You finally gathered yourself enough to peer over the edge of the bed, looking down at where Chenle was sprawled out dramatically like a cartoon character that had been crushed by an anvil. As soon as he looked at you, he started giggling too.

“What about this one?” Mr. Song, the elderly man who had run the Christmas tree farm in town for as long as your family had been coming for the holidays, was showing you around to the various trees they had for sale.

“Ah, too skinny.” You shook your head. “We have a lot of ornaments. And a vaulted ceiling too, so we can get a taller one.”

“Right, of course. How could I forget?” His eyes crinkled fondly as he walked you around by the elbow. “You and your brother have gotten so big, Y/N. I remember when you two were up to my knee. Always playing hide and seek in the trees.”

“We used to think you were Santa Claus,” you giggled, gesturing to his big, bushy beard. “We told everyone we knew that we got our Christmas tree from Santa every year.”

“Good to see that Chenle and your boyfriend get along so well.” He nodded to where Chenle and Jisung were throwing snowballs at each other. More accurately, Jisung was pelting them at Chenle with scary precision, and Chenle was doing his best to throw some back in between peals of laughter.

“Oh, Jisung is Chenle’s friend from school, he’s not my boyfriend,” you clarified quickly.

“My mistake.” Mr. Song patted your arm.

After circling the next one Mr. Song showed you, you were content, inspecting how dense the branches were, the height, and general shape.

“Guys!” You yelled out to get Chenle and Jisung’s attention. They ceased their (unfair) battle, meandering over to you. “What do you think?”

Chenle gave it a once-over before nodding. “Great pick as always, Y/N.”

“Is that going to fit through the front door?” Jisung asked skeptically, trying to fit his arms around it to gauge the size.

“It will,” you promised as Chenle pulled out his checkbook.

Two of Mr. Song’s grandsons brought the tree up to the cabin in their truck, and you had to open both front doors all the way for them to carry it in. They got it set up in the corner for you, and you sent them on their way with an extra cash tip.

“We’ve got to let the branches settle before we can decorate it,” you advised Jisung. “So we’ll do that tomorrow.”

“Y/N’s got a whole thing about the tree,” Chenle added from one of the couches, turning the TV on.

“Smells nice,” Jisung piped up.

“Did your family have real trees or artificial ones?” You asked, taking up the other couch.

Jisung seemed to momentarily panic about where to sit, before taking the empty space at the end of Chenle’s couch, facing you. “A fake one. It came with the lights already on. Easier for my mom to set up.”

“One or two?” Chenle asked abruptly.

“What?”

“Two!” You answered, and Chenle immediately played a movie from whatever streaming service he was scrolling through. You went to fill Jisung in, “It’s a game we like to play. One of us will assign numbers to things in our head without telling the other, and you have to reply with a number without really knowing what you’re picking.”

“I couldn’t decide which movie to watch,” Chenle added.

“So, instead of a coin flip, you used Y/N?” Jisung clarified.

“Sort of. You can do it for more than two options. Like…” You tilted your head back and forth as you tried to think of one on the spot. As soon as you had, you perked up. “One, two or three?”

“Three?”

“Hot chocolate it is.” You stood up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen.

Jisung turned in his seat to keep you in his eyesight. “Wait, what were the options?”

“That’s part of the fun.” You smiled. “Sometimes you never know.”

A few minutes later, you came back into the room with three mugs of hot chocolate, and handed one each to Chenle and Jisung before sitting back on your couch.

Several movies, rounds of various video games, and large pizzas later, you were beat. Standing up from your couch, you stretched and started grabbing everyone’s plates.

“I’ll get these if you guys put the food away?”

Chenle gave you a thumbs-up, his eyes locked on his phone screen.

“Night!” You tossed back over your shoulder as you traipsed out of the room.

“Night!” Your brother echoed.

“Goodnight!” Jisung replied.

As soon as you were bundled up in your blankets in your room, you videocalled Sooyoung. She picked up, the familiar scenery of her childhood bedroom in the background.

“Hey!” She beamed. “How was day one? Kill Chenle? Make any moves on cute library guy?”

“We know his name now, Soo!” You laughed.

“But a nickname is so fun and mysterious!”

“I did almost kill Chenle in the first ten minutes of the car ride,” you groaned. “Jisung surprisingly came to my defense.”

“Your brother’s friend took your side against him? Wow…”

“He’s really sweet, he’s making an effort to be my friend too.”

“Friend? Or something else?” She waggled her eyebrows.

“I don’t know, it’s been one day,” you giggled, rolling over onto your back. “Anyway, how’s your family?”

You stayed up chatting for another hour before finally going to sleep, giddy with thoughts of what could happen tomorrow.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 22

In the morning, with no alarm for class to get you up, you woke up, rolled over, and went back to sleep several times. Eventually, you decided that it was time to get up, and slowly shuffled out of your room. Chenle was already up, by the stove cooking something. Jisung was nowhere in sight, probably still sleeping.

Upon hearing your footsteps, he looked over his shoulder. “Morning.”

You grunted back.

“Mom called.”

You made another noise of acknowledgment, still rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you lumbered over to your seat at the table. Your brother set a plate of pancakes down in front of you, and you squinted up at him suspiciously. Typically he would’ve made you get your own plate, or more likely, make your own food. Actually, it was kind of weird that he was up before you. He must not have gone back to sleep after talking to your mom. It wasn’t unusual for her to have called early in the morning—your parents’ work took them all around the world, and often the only free time they could find had them calling at odd hours.

“They’re not going to make it for Christmas, Y/N,” he told you softly, still standing next to your chair.

“Of course,” you scoffed, lip curling with distaste as you picked up your fork.

“They’ll be here on the 26th, and we can do everything with them then.”

“Are they staying for New Year’s?”

His silence was all the answer you needed.

“Of course,” you repeated with more venom in your tone than before, dropping your utensil back down onto the table. “What the fuck else should we have expected? Honestly, why do they even fucking bother?”

He put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Chenle, don’t apologize for them.” You patted his hand. “It’s not your fault.” Pushing your chair back, you stood up. “I’m not hungry right now. I’m going out back.”

“I’ll save your plate.”

Shoving boots on your feet and pulling a heavier coat on, you opened the door in your bedroom that led directly out onto the back patio. It had snowed last night, so you had to shuffle through the fresh layer to get to the swing seat back here. The cold morning air bit at your nose and cheeks, and you tucked your hands into your pockets to keep them warm—you’d forgotten gloves. Sighing, you watched your breath fog up in front of your face, until your tears overtook your vision and you couldn’t see anything past them.

You pulled your knees to your chest on the porch swing, pushing your face into the thick material of your pajama pants. Why did it still hurt so bad? They did this all the fucking time.

The sound of feet crunching snow came to your ears, and you wiped at your face as you looked up at who was approaching you. It was Jisung, two steaming mugs in his gloved hands.

“Uhm, Chenle said you weren’t hungry. Does cider count?” He offered one out to you.

You chuckled, accepting it, grateful to have something warm to wrap your chilly fingers around. “No, it doesn’t. Thanks, Jisung.”

“It’s pretty out here,” he commented, looking around at the scenery. “Or not, if you want me to go back inside.”

You laughed again, gesturing to the empty half of the porch swing next to you. “You can stay.”

Jisung brushed off the snow from the rest of the porch swing before sitting down. He wedged his mug of cider between his legs and you watched him curiously as he started taking his gloves off. He offered them out to you, making you shake your head.

“I’m fine, I’ve got the cider—”

“So do I.”

“Then how about this.” You plucked one glove from him and put it on your right hand, which was holding the handle of the mug. Your left cradled the body of the mug, where all the warmth was. “Glove goes on the colder hand.”

He chuckled, slipping his remaining glove on his left, and wrapping his right hand around the mug. “Innovative.”

“Thank you.”

The smile faded as he turned more somber. “I’m sorry to hear that your parents’ plans changed.”

You took a sip of the cider, staring out at the still landscape of snow-covered trees and mountains. “Me too. You think I would be used to it by now.”

“Chenle was talking about maybe going to this ice-skating place later. If you’re feeling up to it.”

“That’s what’s nice about having him. No matter how much stupid shit we fight about, we’ve at least got each other when they do stuff like this.” You half-smiled to yourself. “You know, sometimes I think they did that on purpose. Had two kids instead of one so they wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving us alone all the time.”

The tears had come back, and you wiped at them with your bare hand, not wanting to soil Jisung’s glove that he had given you. Shaking your head at yourself, you said derisively, “I’m sure I seem pathetic to you. Rich girl crying in her family’s winter vacation home because mommy and daddy won’t make it for Christmas.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

You turned your gaze to Jisung to find him already looking at you, so sincerely, too. Swallowing down more tears, you asked, “Why aren’t you home with your family? I’m sure you’d much rather be with them than stuck here with us.”

“My parents are divorced. Every year, my dad and his wife go on some cruise for Christmas, and my mom spends it with my stepdad’s family. They say I’m welcome there, but they’re all strangers, except my mom.” He shrugged half-heartedly, blowing across the surface of his cider. “I know it’s kinda my fault too, I’m not making an effort to get to know them or whatever. But I just… don’t want to.”

“How’d you end up coming along with Chenle then?”

“Last year I stayed at school for Winter Break. Met Chenle in the spring, and when Winter Break plans came up this year, he was appalled at the idea of me eating at the dining hall for Christmas dinner.” Jisung chuckled, and you smiled fondly, able to imagine your brother’s horrified face. “It wasn’t even an offer, he decided for me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here instead of eating dining hall food by yourself.”

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry your parents suck too.”

“Shitty parents club.” He held his mug out to you.

You clinked your against it in a commiserative toast. “We need Chenle out here for our full membership.”

“Yeah, but this swing only fits two people…”

You smiled a little as you sipped your cider. “Then I guess it’s just us for right now.”

Jisung smiled back. “Guess so.”

That afternoon, as promised, you three went ice skating. The local nature reserve had a lake that always froze solid, and would rent out ice skates and sell hot chocolate and other treats to earn a little extra income—free admission if you brought your own skates. You were the first one to get your skates on, and shuffled onto the frozen lake excitedly. There were a few other people out here—couples, families, groups of friends—but the area cordoned off for ice skating was big enough that everyone had plenty of room to spread out. A wide smile immediately spread across your face. Chenle knew you well, which was a blessing and a curse. He knew exactly how to push your buttons and cheer you up.

Speaking of, your brother smoothly skated up next to you, smug look on his face. “Better?”

“With a head that big, I’d hope you’d have a good idea every so often,” you teased, lightly bopping him through his beanie.

“Ungrateful.” He snapped one of your earmuffs against your head, not hard enough to hurt.

You two had been milling back and forth waiting for Jisung, and you looked back over at the bench where you’d all been tying up your skates to find him still sitting there, fiddling with the laces.

Chenle followed your gaze. “What is he doing? He had them tied when I got up, I thought he was right behind me.”

You shrugged, exiting the ice to stop in front of Jisung on the bench. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just—” Jisung swallowed, squinting and scrunching up his nose nervously. “I’ve only been ice skating once, and I was a kid, so…”

“You don’t know how,” you finished.

“I mean—Yes.”

“Come on.” You offered out your arm out to him.

He waved his hands as he refused. “I’m going to do something stupid like fall and end up breaking your arm or—”

“No, it’ll be fine,” you assured him. “Seriously, I did ice skating lessons as a kid.”

“You did?”

“You’re in good hands, I promise.”

Jisung grabbed your arm, and using both you and the bench as leverage, stood up. He looked around warily as you patted his back.

“There you go, you got it. Now, you get to walk until you get to the ice.” As you coached him through the basics of operating his skates, you slowly guided him closer to the edge of the ice. You stepped onto the ice first, keeping a hold on both of his gloved hands for him to cautiously join you, one foot at a time.

“You didn’t think to tell us you’ve never skated?” Chenle questioned dryly as he joined you two.

“I have!” Jisung defended himself. “Once…”

“Well Y/N can teach you,” he offered you up. “She used to do lessons, till she got kicked out.”

“Wait, for what?”

You rolled your eyes at your brother just having to bring that up. Nudging Jisung forward to start moving his legs, you began relaying the story, “I called my coach a bitch to her face and refused to apologize.”

“Just because or…?”

“First of all, I was seven, so impulse control wasn’t even in my vocabulary. Second of all, she called another little girl in the class fat to her face! She had just gotten a new competition dress, it was this really pretty purple one with sparkles and stuff all over it, and the teacher told her she shouldn’t wear it because something about the pattern made her look bigger or something ridiculous. A seven-year-old! She’s just lucky she didn’t get an ice skate to the face!” Your rant picked up steam and volume as you continued, feeling freshly pissed off as you recalled the incident.

Jisung frowned, looking troubled as well. “That’s awful.”

“I know! Honestly, I’m glad I got kicked out. I hated that woman.” You pulled him away from a divot in the ice. “Watch out. Don’t want your blade getting caught in that.”

“Thanks. You seem to have retained a lot.”

“I didn’t get very far before I was booted,” you scoffed. “But I guess we still went to rinks and out here pretty frequently, so I haven’t lost the basics, at least.”

“So are we decorating the tree later?”

“Yep, should take the rest of the day.”

“Seriously?”

“We’ve got a lot of ornaments.” You snickered at his wide eyes, looking to your other side where Chenle had been skating for confirmation. Instead, your brother had disappeared. Confused, you scanned the figures on the ice, finally spotting him far ahead of you, skating backwards at an impressive speed. “He left us.”

Jisung finally detached his eyes from where they’d been glued on his feet, chuckling when he saw Chenle as well. “He’s not very patient, is he?”

“Not a virtue he was born with, no.” You turned your attention back to Jisung. “Think you’re getting the hang of it?”

His grip tightened on your arm. “If I say yes, are you going to let go of me?”

“No,” you laughed. “Not until you’re ready.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“But let’s try this.” You moved to hold both his hands, skating backwards in front of him. “Okay?”

“You can’t see behind you,” he said, nervously glancing between your face and over your shoulder.

You checked over your shoulder. It was clear, and you redirected your path to make sure you weren’t heading directly at the next closest people. “I’ve got it.”

“I feel like I’m leaning forward too much, how do I—Wah!” The distinct clank of Jisung’s skates hitting each other rang out, and he fell forward.

Not wanting him to faceplant into your skates or the ice, you braked and tensed your arms to try to keep him up. However, since you had braked and he obviously did not, his forward momentum sent him catapulting directly into you. His arms wrapped around your waist as his legs scrambled against the ice trying to find his footing again. You readjusted your hold on him to clutch him under the arms in an attempt to keep him up, but with all the layers that you were bundled up in and the slippery ice, it was a losing battle. You were a good skater, but you couldn’t haul him back to his feet like this. So you decided to just let the two of you slowly descend, squatting down until you could plant your butt on the ice and kick your feet out on either side of Jisung, careful not to hit him with your blades.

“You alright?” You asked him, pulling his beanie back from where it was entirely obscuring his eyes.

“Please tell me I’m dead,” he groaned, the half of his face that you could see was completely pink and his eyes were squeezed shut. His head was pressed against your middle as he was still clinging onto you.

“No, you survived that,” you laughed. “And so did I. No broken arms or other bones.”

“Will you kill me anyway?”

A spray of ice showered both of you as Chenle stopped next to you guys, proceeding to double over with laughter. “Clumsy ass.”

“Nice, thank you,” you scoffed, wiping off the cold ice from your face, then a couple drops that had gotten on Jisung’s cheek. “Anytime you’d like to quit being an asshole and help us up.”

“I don’t know, you two look pretty cozy to me.”

Jisung somehow turned even redder, squirming in your grasp. “Y/N, I’m sorry!”

“Chenle, shut up!” You scolded your brother. “You’re making Jisung freak out and he’s going to hurt himself!”

“You make him sound like a scared prey animal,” he snickered. Letting out a sigh, he patted his friend’s back. “Alright, Jisung, come on.”

With Chenle’s assistance, Jisung got to his feet, and you were then able to stand back up on your own. Brushing snow off your legs, you shivered, and saw that the entire front of Jisung’s pants were soaked through thanks to the ice, and you could feel that the back of your own had suffered a similar fate.

“I think that’s enough ice skating for today,” you declared. “My ass is quite literally going to freeze off if we stay out here any longer.”

Jisung nodded quickly from where he was clinging onto Chenle to stay upright now. “I’m skated out.”

“Good thing my car has heated seats then,” Chenle said, beginning to drag his friend back towards the exit.

After a hot shower and in a fresh change of warm pajamas, you were in front of the Christmas tree with all of the boxes of decorations for it. You had already wound the lights around it when Jisung joined you in the living room, hair still damp from his shower—he’d given you first shower out of guilt.

“Hey, you know where Chenle is?” You asked, flipping open boxes of ornaments. Chenle’s loft bedroom had a private bathroom, so you figured he’d be out by now.

“He got a call—Mark, I think,” Jisung informed you.

“Oh, that’ll take an hour,” you snorted. “You can help me. Put any ornaments that have Chenle’s name on them aside, he gets to put those up whenever he’s done.”

“Any ornaments with your name are yours to put up?” He guessed, reaching into a box and pulling out an ornament in the shape of a bear with a Santa hat on. The white band of the hat had ‘Chenle’ written in cursive.

“Yep. Everything else is fair game for you. Quick tip, any bear ornaments will be Chenle’s. That’s his parent-assigned motif.”

“Got it. And what’s yours?”

You held up the honeybee ornament that you’d just fished out, letting it dangle and twist in the air, the yellow gems catching the light. “Bees. They had a theme, kind of.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” He reached up to hang a blue and gold ornament on a higher branch, though you could feel his eyes on you as you put your own up on a middle branch. Finally, he blurted out, “Are you sure you didn’t get hurt earlier?”

“Yeah, Jisung, I’m okay,” you chuckled. “Really, we were both wearing so many layers we were practically bubblewrapped.”

He visibly relaxed. “Okay, good.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. But I crashed into you, not the other way around.”

“True, but you had a much less graceful descent.”

He visibly grimaced, a bashful smile on his face. “Mm-hm. Thank you for bringing that up again.”

“Pretty sure you brought it up again,” you teased, nudging his arm with yours as you reached in front of him to hang an ornament.

“And I would love to change the topic now.” He grabbed an ornament in the shape of a snowman.

“What’s your major?” You decided to save him this time. “You and Chenle had bio lab together, but I know he took bio for non-majors, so you’re not a STEM major either…”

Jisung made a buzzer noise, and you blinked at him in surprise. He cracked a grin as he said, “Cybersecurity.”

“Ah, so you’re a baseball jock and a little computer geek…” You nodded slowly, grabbing another ornament. “The duality of man, truly.”

“Geek?” He repeated incredulously.

“What? I think it’s cute.” You giggled and put up the glass snowflake in your hand. Then, you turned back to him hopefully. “Ooh, actually, my laptop gets possessed sometimes ever since Chenle clicked on one of those sketchy porn pop-up ads when we were fourteen. You don’t think you would be able to take a look at it sometime, would you?”

Jisung visibly sustained whiplash at your words, his head jerking back and eyes going wide before he furrowed his brows. “Wait, what? How old is your laptop? He did what to it? What do you mean it gets possessed? What exactly does it do?”

“Uhm… it’d probably be easier to show you.”

“Y/N, this thing is old enough to drive.”

You put your hands on either side of your laptop’s screen as if you were covering its ears, giving Jisung a stern look. “Sh! You’re going to hurt her feelings!”

He continued to look at you over his glasses, entirely unamused. This was the first time you’d seen him wear them—even in the library, he’d had contacts in. Now, with him wearing his casual clothes, glasses, sitting on your bed and attempting to fix your laptop, you felt like you were going to lose it, truly. Especially when you’d catch a whiff of his shampoo, and you’d have to stop yourself from leaning in to follow the smell of cinnamon.

“Seriously, why do you still have it? Chenle has the newest Macbook,” he asked, fingers flitting across the keyboard.

“Because it works fine!” You insisted, removing your hands. “I get the internal stuff cleaned out regularly, and make sure all the software is updated and everything.”

“It still gets software updates?”

“It just… gets possessed every so often.”

“I wouldn’t call the occasional possession ‘working fine.’”

“When it’s not possessed, it works great! And it doesn’t even happen that much, only like, once a month.”

“Once a month since you were fourteen?” He squinted at you in disbelief where you were sitting on the opposite side of the laptop screen. “And you kept the damn thing?”

“No, once a month now,” you clarified. “It happened the first time when Chenle clicked on that porn ad, then maybe once a year for a few years after, and slowly started happening more and more often.”

“And he was watching porn on your computer because…?”

“So it wouldn’t be on his internet history.”

He snorted. “Of course. I should’ve realized.”

“Can I watch?”

“Oh, uhm, sure?” He readjusted to make room to his left side on the mattress, angling the laptop that way as well.

You shuffled around to the other side of the computer, dropping to lay down on your front, propping your chin up with your elbows to observe. Tilting your head, you rested it against Jisung’s knee that was next to you. His hands froze over the keys, and you lifted your head back up, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Sorry—Is this okay?”

“Y-Yeah, you’re fine.” He nodded quickly and pushed his glasses up as he returned his attention to the screen.

Leaning your head back against his knee, you settled in to watch him work on your laptop. You couldn’t follow what exactly he was doing to the computer, opening and closing different windows, folders, and applications. You zoned out, watching his hands and fingers deftly move over the keys instead. He was muttering to himself under his breath, his low voice pleasant to listen to even if you couldn’t make out the words he was saying. This close to him, you could smell the cinnamon better, and were starting to think that maybe it was actually a body wash or cologne.

“Y/N?” He said your name, making you snap out of a daze as you realized he was calling for you. “Hello?”

“Hm?” You perked up a little.

“We need to do an exorcism.”

That woke you all the way back up. “Wait, what?”

“Complete reset. Wipe everything and redownload the OS.”

“But I have everything on there!” You pleaded, stretching your hands over the keyboard to prevent him from doing anything else. “We’ve been through so much together! You can’t kill her!”

He sighed regretfully. “Is there an electronics store or something around here? We can get an external hard drive to back up all your personal stuff.”

“There’s a mall like an hour away. Chenle and I need to go gift shopping anyway so we can go tomorrow!”

“Why did I hear my name?” Chenle’s voice came from further down the hallway. He must have finished his call with Mark. Your brother poked his head into your room, briefly pausing when he saw you and Jisung. “I thought you guys were decorating the tree…?”

“Remember how you downloaded a virus trying to watch porn on my computer in high school? Jisung is fixing it for me,” you said pointedly, never missing an opportunity to bring that moment up. “But we need to buy something. I was telling him you and I need to go gift shopping anyway, so we can all go to that mall tomorrow.”

“Please tell me the thing you’re buying is a new laptop.”

“Never! She’s going to outlive you if I have anything to do with it!”

“Based off the fact that it sounds like a jet engine taking off right now, I’m pretty sure that was a threat on my life.”

MONDAY, DECEMBER 23

“Okay, so you’ll need at least this much storage for the files that you have right now,” Jisung explained, motioning to a few different options of hard drives that the electronics store had. He then gestured to a few more. “But if you really want to have her until Chenle’s dead, you might want to consider some more storage.”

You grinned, bumping his shoulder affectionately. “You said ‘her.’”

He covered his mouth as he let out a sputtering laugh, his cheeks turning pink. “Oh God—I didn’t even realize. That’s—Ah, you’re rubbing off on me.”

“I like that one,” you declared, pointing to one hard drive that was a similar colorway to the laptop case you had.

“Yeah, that’s more than enough storage.”

After purchasing your hard drive, you and Jisung headed out of the electronics store together. Chenle had already gone off to gift shop on his own so you and Jisung couldn’t see what he bought you.

You turned to Jisung. “Want to help me shop for Chenle?”

“Sure.”

The two of you meandered around the mall, popping into stores that seemed promising from the outside. As you passed by a jewelry display in a window, you tapped on the glass in front of a pair of earrings.

“Those are cute,” you commented, slowing down but not stopping entirely.

“You think so?” Jisung questioned, looking at them over your shoulder as you kept walking.

“Mhm.” You nodded, then clicked your tongue. “I’d get them, but I already have a pair like them.”

“You do?”

“Yep.” Keeping your gaze on the passing storefronts, you said levelly, “I don’t want to assume anything about what you think of me, Jisung, but I want you to know that I don’t expect a present from you. We only properly met two days ago.”

“Yeah, that’s… really reasonable,” he chuckled, the relief evident in his voice.

“Seriously, if you fix my computer, that’ll be the best Christmas present I get this year, hands-down. I don’t care what expensive crap my parents get me or surprisingly thoughtful, niche thing Chenle somehow manages to find.”

“I didn’t realize how much my computer exorcism skills were worth.”

“To me, they’re priceless,” you assured him. “I wish I had something to offer in return.”

“Hey, you already taught me how to skate,” he insisted, nudging your arm.

You tilted your head side-to-side contemplatively. “One could argue whether I was successful at that…”

“Completely my fault that the lesson got cut short, not yours.”

“Alright, alright. I suppose a computer exorcism can be our quid pro quo for ten minutes of ice-skating lessons.”

“I didn’t pay much attention in my high school history class when Mr. Yoo was talking about the bartering system, but I’m pretty sure those two things are equivalent, yeah.”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut as you started to go a little light-headed from how hard you were laughing. You were still walking forward alongside Jisung, and felt him grab your arm and tug you towards him at the same time he warned, “Watch out.”

You couldn’t see whatever you must’ve almost walked into as you were still trying to sober up from your chuckle fest, covering your face as more giggles bubbled up every time you tried to close your mouth. Jisung kept you right next to him, guiding you through the mall crowd with a gentle but steadfast grasp on your arm, not letting you bump into anybody or trip over anything.

“Are you really still laughing?” He asked, and though his words were exasperated, his tone was overly fond, letting out a soft laugh of his own at the end. “I don’t think it was that funny…”

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, shook his hand off you, and suppressed your giggles to say, “Fine. I don’t think you’re funny at all and I hate you, actually.”

Jisung’s mouth parted as he stared at you in shock, and you couldn’t keep the bit going for very long when faced with his adorable look of being totally caught off-guard and floored, even if both of you knew it was all a joke. You grabbed his arm this time, your laughs getting muffled in his sweater as you buried your face in his shoulder and leaned against him for support.

“Oh my god, you looked like I ran over your dog or something!” You gasped for air between guffaws, apologetically rubbing his arm.

“You’re…” He trailed off, letting out a sigh instead, reaching for your purse that was on your arm and now awkwardly crushed between you two with you holding his arm. “Here, I’ll take that.”

He had already been carrying your shopping bags that you’d been acquiring from the various stores, and you now stopped to wordlessly shimmy off your purse for him to shoulder on his opposite side from you. You reattached yourself to his arm that you had been holding, and though his cheeks were turning pink, he had a small smile on his face as he looked down at his phone to check the time.

“Did your family assign you an animal too?” You asked him, your eyes getting caught on a kiosk of Christmas ornaments as you continued your journey through the mall.

“What?”

“Like how my parents decided when we were born that Chenle’s a bear and I’m a honeybee,” you explained, quickly looking back over to Jisung. “Did you ever have an animal or something that was like yours?”

He scrunched his nose as he thought, then shook his head. “No, not that I can remember. I always had a bunch of different stuffed animals.”

“I think you look like a hamster,” you informed him. “Especially when you do that with your nose.”

“Do what with my nose?” He questioned, his nose unintentionally twitching and scrunching up again as his eyes flitted around nervously.

You giggled, squeezing his arm tighter as you couldn’t help but coo over how cute he was. “That!”

He covered his nose with his hand, and though it obstructed half his face, you could tell he was pouting behind it.

“I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious, I’m sorry!” You apologized, grabbing his hand and trying to pull it away from his face. “I think it’s really cute!”

He stubbornly kept his nose concealed. “You still haven’t told me what it is…”

“You just scrunch up your nose sometimes, like this—” You imitated it, doing your best not to make it look like you were mocking him. “Seriously, it’s adorable! Please don’t ever stop, I might die!”

Jisung’s eyes crinkled and he dropped his hand back down as he chuckled. “Well we can’t have that.”

Your phone buzzed in your hand then, and you saw that it was your brother calling. “Mm, hold on, it’s Chenle.”

“Hey, where are you guys?” Chenle asked on the other end.

“We’re still on the first floor,” you told him. “By the pretzel stand. Where are you?”

“What have you two been doing? I’m on the third floor; I’ve been through the whole mall already. I’m done,” he scoffed. “Stay there, I’ll come to you.”

“I had to get my hard drive first, remember? You got a head start.”

“Anyway, are you done?”

“No, I have a couple more people to find gifts for.”

“Alright, hold on, I see you.”

You craned your neck looking for Chenle, still with your phone to your ear. “Damn bitch, how many old ladies did you take out on your way here?”

“Only two,” Chenle’s voice came through your phone and from directly beside you at the same time. He was loaded up with shopping bags on both arms.

You jumped out of your skin before rolling your eyes and hanging up the call. “Did you see a place that sold bath bombs and stuff?”

“Yeah, second floor, directly to the left off the escalator.”

“That’s my next stop, SooSoo loves that stuff,” you declared.

“There’s a baseball specialty shop on the third floor,” Chenle stated, eyes lingering on where you were still holding onto his friend’s arm. “If you want to go check it out, Jisung?”

You perked up, giving him an enthusiastic smile. “That sounds awesome! You totally should.”

Jisung turned to Chenle and nodded. “Yeah, sounds cool. Let’s do it.”

“I’ve still got a couple people on my list, so I’ll call you guys when I’m done so we can meet up and go,” you said, reaching for your purse that was still on Jisung’s shoulder. He handed it back to you, and you hurried off to take care of your final errands.

Back at the house, you watched on with bated breath as Jisung performed his laptop exorcism. The screen turned on, which already was good news. After a few more progress bars, you eventually saw your homescreen and looked at him with guarded hope.

“I still need to transfer your personal files back over. And you won’t know if it worked unless it just never gets possessed again, but…” Jisung gestured to your laptop with a certain finality.

“Ahh, thank you! Thank you!” You cheered, hugging him.

“O-Oh, you’re welcome,” he mumbled, hesitantly hugging you back.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 24

Christmas Eve was ushered in with a fresh snowfall overnight, and maybe the Christmas spirit finally possessed you, because all three of you were outside playing in it like little kids. A rather lumpy snowman had already been built and decorated with various rocks, sticks, and kitchen utensils. Snow angels were scattered around, and Chenle had just thrown the very first snowball, hitting Jisung squarely in the back of the head.

You laughed incredulously as the pitcher turned around and calmly started packing snow between his hands.

“Are you stupid?” You snickered at your brother, who was also preparing another snowball.

Before he could finish readying that one, Jisung wound up and launched his snowball, nailing Chenle in the face. You weren’t even focused on your brother as he desperately wiped the snow off his face with both hands, however, your eyes still watching Jisung, who was chuckling to himself. You’d been too preoccupied at the Christmas tree farm to really watch any of their snowfall fight that had happened there, and obviously hadn’t gone to any of Jisung’s games before, so this was the first time you’d seen him really use any of his pitcher skills. While it wasn’t a proper pitch, the practiced ease and skill that he clearly possessed even in doing something as silly as throwing a snowball was admittedly really attractive.

Chenle had taken his loss and grabbed a stick to start writing something in the snow, a good distance away from where you and Jisung were, his back to the two of you.

Stepping deliberately closer to Jisung, you said, “That was really cool, Jisung.”

He fidgeted with making sure his beanie was down over his ears. “Ah, I mean, it wasn’t a real pitch or anything—”

“Then can you teach me how to pitch for real?” You requested sweetly. “I’m very into baseball these days.”

“Uhm, y-yeah,” he agreed, clearing his throat and nodding. He stooped down to pack more snow between his hands into a round sphere, then held it out for you. “Here, that should be the right size.”

You graciously accepted it, then looked at him expectantly.

“Do you prefer to throw with your left or your right?” He asked.

You held up your dominant hand holding the snowball, and he nodded.

“Okay, uhm, you should stand with your feet like this.” He demonstrated the correct positioning himself, and you copied.

Jisung went through the basic steps with you, making minor adjustments here and there, and you were actually finding it sort of interesting, outside of the cute boy teaching you something he was passionate about. Learning a new skill or something to that effect. When he was showing you how to actually move your arm when throwing, you were genuinely trying to do it per his verbal instructions, but apparently there was still something wrong with the way you were doing it. And so he walked behind you, covering your gloves hand with his. You could feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, and his other hand grabbed your opposite shoulder to correct your posture as he manually moved your arm through the correct motion. Slow at first, talking through it.

“Feel how it’s different than what you were doing?” He asked, doing it again, a little faster this time.

But you were long gone, your brain white noise and your vision blurring a little bit (but that was mostly due to the cold wind hitting your eyes). He still smelled like cinnamon, and you wanted to listen to his voice all day. Jisung could read you a car manufacturer’s manual for all you cared.

“Mm, mhm,” you agreed absentmindedly.

“Alright, I’m going to step back and let you throw your first pitch.” He patted your shoulder and did just that, leaving you feeling even colder.

You momentarily panicked as you grappled in your short-term memory for anything that he had just been saying. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, deciding that you would probably suck anyway, and to just fucking do it. Trusting your gut and muscle memory of what Jisung had just been walking you through, you did your damndest to throw that snowball in something akin to a pitch.

Amazingly, the snowball actually hit the trunk of the tree that you had been aiming for, and you stared at it in disbelief, hands hanging down by your side. Jisung clapped, the sound dampened by his gloves, but his cheers were surprisingly upbeat for how soft-spoken of a guy he was.

“Wow! That was a really good first pitch!” He congratulated you, holding up both his palms for you to high-five. “So awesome…”

You high-fived him, but stayed holding onto his hands, wide smile overtaking your features. “Thank you.”

“I—You’re welcome.” He held onto your hands too, throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed.

“Jisung!” Chenle yelled out, reminding the both of you of his presence. “Can you get my phone? I made Daegal out of snow and I want to take a picture. It should be charging on my bed.”

“Yeah!” Jisung called back. He gave you a regretful look, letting your hands go to trudge back up to the cabin.

Rounding on your brother, you stomped over to him, observing the admittedly cute snow-Daegal for a moment before addressing him.

“You can get your own phone,” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

“I thought I might hurt Jisung’s feelings if I told him to leave to his face,” Chenle replied nonchalantly. He looked at you over his large-framed sunglasses. “I feel like I have to warn you, as your big brother—”

“By ten months.”

“—about Jisung.”

You gave him a sour look, knowing that he knew that you wouldn’t be able stop yourself from asking a follow-up question to a statement like that. “What about him?”

“I know what you’ve been trying to do this whole time. You’re not ‘very into baseball,’ you’re into Jisung.”

You immediately got fired up, hands balling into fists at your sides. “Don’t you dare start pulling the ‘my friends are off-limits’ card now. You’ve never—”

“Hey, I like Jisung.” He held up his hands defensively, an amused smirk on his face. “If I had to make a tierlist of my friends for you to date, he’d be like, the only one in S-tier.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Do you have a fantasy draft of boyfriends for me too?”

“I’m genuinely trying to help you here, alright?”

“So, what? Does he have a girlfriend or something?”

“Not exactly…” Chenle sighed. “Right before we left, during finals week, he met this girl in the library and just absolutely fell head-over-heels, okay? Like, he’s never even looked once at all the girls who show up to his games, but this one says three words to him and gives him some candy and he’s a goner. I don’t get it.”

It took everything in you to suppress your giddy grin and instead cock your head, playing dumb as you asked, “Wait, did he even get this girl’s name?”

“No, he never got a chance since they were both working on finals stuff,” he answered. “Anyway, I’m just trying to warn you. You’ve got to compete with the romanticized version of mystery library candy girl that he has in his head.”

“Mm. Tough competition,” you nodded with mock solemnity.

“I’m serious, Y/N. He called me at like midnight walking back from the library to tell me about it. He’s got it bad.” As if suddenly realizing everything he had just told you might dampen your spirits, Chenle’s entire demeanor shifted, and he gingerly patted the top of your head. “But uh, you’ve totally got this. I’m rooting for you, lil sis.”

“Right. Thanks… big bro,” you replied with intentional stiltedness, softballing a punch to his shoulder.

That night after dinner, you all sat down around the Christmas tree for your family tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve. You sifted through the presents under the tree, some of which were ones that had been shipped here ahead of time by your parents or other extended family, others from Chenle.

“Hmm… one or two?” You asked, your eyes on two particular gifts.

“One,” Chenle and Jisung answered unanimously.

You grabbed the one that had been under your left hand, returning to your seat next to Jisung. Chenle had already picked his box, and fished out a gift bag, plopping it in front of Jisung. He seemed surprised, blinking down at it.

“But—”

“I got you more than one gift, dummy,” Chenle cut him off, already guessing what his confusion was about. “Go ahead.”

“No!” You stopped Jisung. He looked at you with alarm as you snatched the gift bag away, putting it back under the tree and replacing it with a different, much smaller one instead. “Open mine.”

Jisung looked even more confused, and slightly betrayed. “I thought we agreed we weren’t doing gifts…?”

“Yeah, but then I saw this and…” You smiled sheepishly. “Just open it!”

Shaking his head, he pulled out the tissue paper, then removed the object at the bottom of the bag. It was wrapped in more tissue paper to protect it, which he carefully wrapped, revealing the ornament that you had bought yesterday while you were split up. It was in the shape of a hamster popping out of a present box, and as soon as you saw it at the mall kiosk, you knew you had to get it for him.

Jisung turned it over his hands, looking up at you still a little confused, but with a smile. “Wait…”

“It looks just like you!” You giggled, taking it from him to hold it up next to his face. Aiming your next question at Chenle, you asked, “Doesn’t it?”

Your brother started laughing, reaching forward to tweak one of Jisung’s cheeks. “Ha, she’s right. How adorable.”

Jisung pushed his hand away, rolling his eyes. His gaze softened when he looked back over at you. “Thank you, Y/N. It’s great.”

“Hang it up!” You urged, giving it back to him and gesturing to the tree.

He got up on his knees to reach forward and affix it to an empty branch, between a bear ornament and honeybee ornament.

“Okay, Y/N, you next,” Chenle directed.

Ripping the wrapping paper off the small box, you were met with a small jewelry box, and took that lid off. Inside was a pair of ornate, bejeweled earrings, a little flashy for your taste. You checked the card.

“Great-Aunt Ying,” you announced, and Chenle let out an ‘ahh’ sound in understanding. You put the lid back on the box and set it aside. “SooSoo will love those.”

“Who’s that?” Jisung asked curiously as your brother started unwrapping his present. “Not your great-aunt.”

“Sooyoung, my roommate since freshman year,” you explained. “She’s also like, my best friend. And those earrings aren’t really my style, but I know she would wear them like, all the time, so I’ll just give them to her when we get back.”

Chenle’s box was a bit larger than yours had been, and was similarly stylish. He turned it over to shake the lid off and make the contents fall out all in one go, catching the fabric that fell out in his hand. Holding it up, it was a tie in what looked like a nice material, a monochrome and not exceptionally busy pattern on it.

“Another tie, wonder who it’s from…” he snorted, picking up the card. “Oh, Great-Uncle Feng. Surprise.”

“Does he think you’re eating all the ties he gives you or something?” You snickered.

“I think he’s so old he forgets he’s given me a tie before and thinks I don’t own any.” Chenle then offered it out to Jisung. “You need a tie? If not, I’ll ask the other guys.”

“I would need a suit first…” Jisung admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Chenle stared at him in disbelief, then sighed. “Okay, so we’re getting you a suit when we get back to school.”

“What do I need a suit for?”

“Don’t you have formal stuff that you have to go to for baseball? Awards or press conferences or something?”

“That’s maybe once a year. I just rent a suit!”

“Jisung, don’t say another word, you’re going to kill me.” He put a hand over his heart as if it were going to give out any second.

You chuckled at their antics, starting to clean up the trashed wrapping paper. “Christmas movies?”

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 25

You felt like a little kid, unable to sleep the night before Christmas morning. It was after midnight, so it technically was Christmas now. And even thought you knew that neither Santa nor you parents were coming, you were still oddly giddy. You had already videocalled Sooyoung to recap the developments of the day, but you were still replaying everything in your mind, kept up with thought of Jisung. How it felt being that close to him when he was teaching you to throw a snowball, the information that apparently he was just as smitten with you after the library as you were with him. Even Chenle’s unofficial blessing put your mind at ease—not because your brother determined who you dated, but he knew Jisung better than you did and was brutally honest, so if he said that he liked Jisung for you, you knew he meant it.

Pushing your covers off, goosebumps immediately popped up on your legs that were now exposed to the cool air. You treaded over to the bathroom door. The light was off, but you still knocked. When there was no response, you opened it. You didn’t stop there, however, continuing on to the opposite door, which you knew led to Jisung’s room. Taking a deep breath, you knocked softly on that one too.

You heard the rustling of sheets and quiet padding of footsteps before the door handle twisted and opened, Jisung on the other side. He looked down at you, nose scrunched up in bewilderment.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked, rubbing one of his eyes behind his glasses.

“Yeah. Uhm, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, I uh, I couldn’t sleep, actually.”

“Me neither.”

“Oh.”

There was a pause, and you fidgeted with the ends of your longsleeve. “Do you want to hang out for a bit? Since we’re both up…”

“Oh! Y-Yeah, sure.” He stepped back from the door, motioning you in. “Uhm, come in.”

“Thanks.” You stepped inside, and he closed the door behind you.

The bedsheets were rumpled on one side, so you sat down on the other side, pulling the blanket over your chilly legs. Jisung watched you, frozen halfway from the bathroom to the bed for a second.

“I’m cold,” you told him, turning your phone on.

“Of course, right,” he breathed out, snapping out of his trance.

He climbed under the covers as well, putting a headphone in his ear opposite from you and pressing play on a video on his phone. Curious, you peeked over at his screen to see what he was watching. It looked like a bunch of clips of professional baseball pitchers.

“It’s my favorite pro pitcher,” Jisung blurted out, pausing the video again. He had apparently noticed you snooping at his screen. “Well, that’s currently active. He’s a lefty, and he does this thing on some of his pitches where he gets this spin and—”

You blinked as he had abruptly cut himself off in the middle of his sentence. Tilting your head, you asked, “What? Why’d you stop?”

“You’re not really interested in baseball, are you?” He questioned, turning his eyes down to his lap. “You’re just being nice.”

“Hold on—”

“It’s okay, you can go back to what you were doing, I don’t want to bore you.”

“Jisung,” you giggled, turning over on your side fully to face him. “You really haven’t figured it out?”

His brow furrowed and he pouted slightly as he seemed to genuinely be confused. “Figured what out?”

“I’m interested in baseball because I’m interested in you,” you said bluntly, watching the gears turn in his head before his eyes widened.

“Wh—Oh. Really?”

“Mhm. But Chenle did warn me that apparently you’re head over heels for some mystery girl that you met in the library during finals week who gave you candy,” you teased, letting out a wistful sigh. “So I have no chance…”

Jisung dropped his phone to cover his face with both hands, letting out a noise of embarrassment from deep in his chest, shaking his head. “Oh my God…”

“I told SooSoo about you too,” you informed him. “After the library.”

He opened his hands to peek at you meekly. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jisung glanced upwards, and you snickered.

“Chenle’s not like that. He’s not going to care unless you’re a dick to me.”

“Because only he gets to be a dick to you?” He joked, slowly removing his hands all the way from his face.

“Yep. Same for the girls he dates. Nobody gets to be a bitch to him except me.”

“So, now what?” He asked nervously, glancing around the room.

“Now, you’re going to finish telling me about your favorite pitcher,” you stated, scooting over until you were snuggled into his side, head resting on his shoulder so you could see his phone screen better.

Jisung grabbed his earbud case from the nightstand, bringing the other one out. He offered it to you, and you put it in as he turned his phone back on. He restarted the compilation, but didn’t press play yet, instead launching back into his explanation from before, excitedly talking faster now.

“So this is Hwang Myungjun. Like I said, he’s my favorite pitcher that’s in the league right now. He’s a lefty and—you’ll see it in this video, but—he does this really cool thing on some of his pitches where he can get this certain spin on the ball and…”

You listened to him go on and on with a smile on your face, breathing in the warm smell of cinnamon.

In the morning, you stirred a little, sighing and pulling the covers up to your nose. Covers that smelled like cinnamon. Opening one of your eyes, you were greeted with Jisung already wide awake, sitting up against the headboard, staring at you from behind his glasses.

You rubbed your eye and yawned. “Christ—Did you sleep at all?”

“Yeah, we get up early for baseball conditioning, so I don’t really sleep in even on days off.” He rubbed the back of his neck, ears turning pink. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Good morning…”

“Morning,” you mumbled, yawning again. “Sorry for falling asleep here.”

“It’s okay. Sorry for talking you to sleep.”

“No, it was nice. I like your voice.” You pushed yourself into a half-sitting position. Pecking his cheek, you added, “Merry Christmas.”

His face flushed as he smiled down at his hands. “Merry Christmas…”

Climbing out of bed, you stretched your arms over your head, then wrapped them around yourself. “Anyway, I should emerge from my own room. Just because he doesn’t care if we date doesn’t mean Chenle needs to think something other than watching baseball compilations happened in here last night.”

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head. “Good idea.”

“See you in a few.” You bid him a momentary farewell, opening the door to the adjoining bathroom.

Shuffling back into your own bedroom, you almost screamed when you saw a figure sitting on your bed in the dark. You grabbed for the closest thing in your reach, a candlestick on the dresser next to you, ready to swing. The figure turned on the lamp next to the bed, and you saw that it was Chenle, still contemplating hitting him anyway. You decided to set your weapon down, however.

“What the fuck?!” You hissed, stalking up to your bed and grabbing a stuffed animal to chuck at him instead. He caught the stuffed bee, holding it to his chest as he smirked at you.

“Something you want to tell me?” He raised an eyebrow. “About where you’ve been?”

You followed his line of sight between you and the bathroom door that you just came out of. “What are you, the piss patrol? Can’t a bitch pee in peace around here?”

“Toilet didn’t flush, sink didn’t run,” he immediately shot back. “Also, I’ve been in here for the past hour.”

“Don’t be weird about it—” You held up a finger in his face threateningly, and a victorious grin immediately spread across his features. “Jisung and I talked about how we felt, and I fell asleep in his room. Nothing else, okay?”

Chenle gave you a look that told you he didn’t entirely believe you, but he didn’t press you any further. “God, how am I going to choose between being your brother of honor and his best man?”

“We haven’t even gone on a date!” You grabbed a pillow and tried to pushed it over his face to shut him up. He narrowly saved himself from being smothered, cackling as you resorted to smacking him with it instead. “As if I’d even ask you to be my whatever you just made up! You’ll be lucky if you even get an invite, I swear to—”

The door to your room was thrown open from the bathroom, Jisung looking around the room wildly. “Y/N! Are—”

You stopped your assault on your brother to smile breathlessly at Jisung. “Oh. Hi.”

“I heard you yelling, I wanted to make sure…”

“I’m fine,” you reassured him. “Thanks, Jisung.”

“I know!” Chenle announced loudly. “I know everything, Park Jisung! Last night, you and my little sister—”

You succeeded in smothering Chenle this time, muffling whatever obnoxious things he was about to spew.

After breakfast and opening presents in the morning, Jisung excused himself to go call his parents. Chenle tsked, turning the gaming console on to start up one of the new games he’d gotten and tossing you a controller.

“He tell you how he ended up coming with us?” Your brother asked, his gaze on the screen.

“Yeah. His dad goes on a cruise and his mom is with his stepdad’s side of the family. So he would’ve just been at the school if you didn’t bring him,” you replied, only paying half-attention to the opening cutscene.

“At least ours pretend to make an effort,” he scoffed. “His mom didn’t even offer to pay for his plane ticket.”

“Hm?”

“His mom and stepdad live on the other side of the country. They technically ‘invite’ him to Christmas every year, but he’d have to get himself there and back.”

“So it’s hardly a genuine invite.”

“And you know what his stepdad does?”

“What?”

“CEO of that logistics company that Mom and Dad are always talking about. The big one.”

“Shit, really? And he can’t be bothered to pay for his wife to see her own son once a year?”

He clicked his tongue. “Apparently not.”

A few levels into the video game, Chenle’s phone lit up with a text. He paused the game, and sighed upon reading the message. “Jisung says we can eat lunch without him. He’s suddenly not feeling well.”

You winced. “I take it his phone calls didn’t go well.”

“You go check on him. You can handle crying people better than me.”

You nodded in agreement, getting up from the couch. Outside of Jisung’s bedroom door, you listened carefully first, just in case he was still on a call. It was quiet, and you knocked softly.

“Jisung?” You called out. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away.

Opening the door, you saw him laying on the bed on top of his covers, his back to the door. You stayed in the doorway, asking, “Do you want to be alone?”

“No.”

You sat down on the bed behind him, still giving him his space. “Do you want to talk or do you want quiet?”

“My dad didn’t even pick up,” he muttered. “And my mom—God, I got to tell her about school for all of five seconds before she started gushing about how her grandbabies are learning how to write or whatever. I’ve never even met those kids, honestly, I don’t give a fuck about them. They’re not even her grandkids, they’re her husband’s. Apparently, one of them is on a little league baseball team. When she started saying I could teach him how to pitch when I come to visit for summer, I pretended the call was dropping and hung up. ‘When I come to visit’—I live with my dad in the summer because he didn’t move away from me.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” you said, feeling the hurt in your heart as his voice tightened and cracked.

“It’s funny, they used to have these-these blowout fights every year about who got me for Christmas,” he sniffled. “And now that they moved on and got their new families, they couldn’t care less about me.”

“Lucky for me and Chenle, then. Because we got you this year.”

He laughed, finally rolling over to face you. He wiped at his eyes, but you still saw the tears that had run down the side of his face. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” You gently stroked his hair, brushing some of it out of his face.

Jisung scooted closer, until he could pillow his head in your lap instead, his eyes fluttering shut as you resumed your ministrations. “I’m glad you guys got me too…”

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 26

A knock on your bedroom door woke you up. It opened, and somebody who was neither Chenle nor Jisung peered in.

“Merry Christmas, sweetie,” your mother hummed lightly. “Are you up?”

“Mm, yeah,” you grunted, pushing yourself up against your pillows.

She came over to press a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”

“Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas,” you smiled up at her, letting her take your hand in hers. “Did you and Dad just get here?”

“A few minutes ago. Your father’s getting Chenle.”

There was a loud thunk from above you, followed by a yelp and two very familiar and similar laughs that you recognized as your families’. You chuckled as your mom rolled her eyes fondly.

“I think he was successful,” you snickered.

“We’re going out for breakfast when you’re ready,” she informed you, squeezing your hand before letting it go.

“Mmkay.” You yawned as she headed for your door. “I’ll let Jisung know.”

She paused, tilting her head. “Who?”

“Didn’t Chenle tell you his friend was coming? Park Jisung?” You pointed at the room next door.

“Oh, I thought he was bringing Mark for some reason.” She looked at you with concern. “Does Jisung like basketball too?”

“I… don’t know? He plays baseball?”

“Oh. Hm.”

“So, what are you studying, Jisung?” Your mother asked, stirring sugar into her coffee.

The five of you were at a diner in the small town at the base of the mountain, you, Jisung, and Chenle packed into one side of a booth and your parents on the other. The car ride had been filled with you and Chenle filling your parents in on your various happenings from this semester, but now your parents seemed to have zeroed in on the newcomer.

“Cybersecurity,” he rushed to answer.

Both your parents seemed impressed by that. Your dad spoke next, “And what do your parents do?”

“He’s got an athletic scholarship, Dad,” Chenle cut in before you could. You both knew what he was really asking about.

“Full ride,” you added proudly. “Baseball. He’s the pitcher.”

“Really?” Your dad’s interest was piqued—he was a bigger sports fan than your brother.

“Yes, sir,” Jisung replied.

“The school doesn’t give out full athletic scholarships frequently. You know that?”

“No, sir, I-I didn’t know that.”

Your dad took a sip of his own coffee, regarding Jisung like he was evaluating his investment portfolio. “So what makes you so valuable?”

“W-Well, uhm, I-I don’t—”

“He’s ambidextrous,” you answered for him. “He can pitch with both hands.”

“Switch pitcher?” Your dad hummed thoughtfully. “You know who the best switch pitcher in the history of the league is, right?”

“Kim Beomjin, sir,” Jisung replied firmly.

“Has he passed your test, yet, Dad?” Chenle scoffed. “Come on, stop treating him like he’s interviewing at the company.”

“I was trying to get to know—”

“You were being a bit much, dear,” your mother interrupted your dad’s attempts to defend himself.

“Alright. My apologies, Jisung.”

“It’s fine, sir, really.”

You didn’t understand why your mother had asked if Jisung liked basketball until you got back to the house. Your parents had brought a few more presents with them, including, kindly, a couple for Jisung. Except they hadn’t been expecting Jisung, they had been expecting Mark, which evident in the gifts. Both Chenle and Mark loved basketball, so the matching jerseys for their favorite team would’ve made the perfect present, if it had been Mark receiving it.

“I’m so sorry, Jisung,” your mother kept apologizing, clearly embarrassed at the mistake.

“No, I-I like basketball too, ma’am,” he tried to reassure her.

“It’s a requirement for being my friend,” Chenle helped him out. “If only I could’ve made it a requirement for being my sister.”

“If we got to pick, I would’ve made not being annoying as fuck a requirement for being my brother,” you retorted.

“Language!” Your mom scolded you, at the same time that your dad warned Chenle to “Be nicer to your sister!”

Your parents were gone again after dinner, leaving in a flurry of hugs, kisses, and promises of celebrating Christmas together properly next year. As soon as he’d shut the door behind them, Chenle turned to you, cynical disbelief on his face already.

“No way,” he chuckled and shook his head. His phone rang then, and he tutted. “Gotta take this. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Jisung was already in the living room, and you plopped down next to him on one of the couches, dropping your head into your hands.

“Your parents seem nice,” he said quietly.

“Mhm, they’re really great when they’re here,” you agreed bitterly. “Sort of makes it hurt worse. It’d be easy to just hate them if they left us all the time and changed plans last-minute and were awful when we did see them. But they do all that shit, and then I see them and it’s good. And it makes me start thinking that maybe it’ll be different, maybe they’ll really keep their promises next time.”

“I get that.” He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. “But maybe this time you just don’t get your hopes up. Might be easier on you.”

“Yeah, probably.”

With a sigh, you sat up, turning into Jisung’s side and snaking your arms around his waist. He wrapped his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head. His other hand slowly rubbed your back, encouraging you to relax into his embrace even more.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 31

The morning of New Year’s Eve, the three of you were sitting around the kitchen table silently eating breakfast scrounged together from various leftovers and the singular grocery store trip you’d taken since Christmas. Then, there was a knock at the front door, and with your cereal spoon sticking out of your mouth, you gave Chenle and Jisung a bewildered look. They, however, didn’t seem put off at all.

“Y/N, can you go see who it is?” Chenle asked you, returning his gaze to his phone screen.

“Are you expecting someone?” You retorted. “You go answer it.”

The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

“Y/N! Just get it!” Chenle demanded loudly.

“Fine! Fine!” You got up, stomping over to the front door.

Opening the solid wood door, your jaw dropped when you saw six figures on the other side, before you were tackled in a hug by the one at the front.

“Surprise!” Sooyoung squealed, nearly squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“Soo!” You gasped, hugging her back. “What are you doing here?”

“We were invited!” Jaemin informed you cheerily, grabbing you for a bear hug next.

“We’d never pass up an invite to a Chenle-Y/N party,” Jeno’s eyes twinkled as he pecked the crown of your head.

“Especially a New Year’s Eve party,” Donghyuck added.

“Since when have we been throwing a New Year’s Eve party?” You spluttered, still in delighted shock as you took in all of your friends standing in your foyer.

Mark hugged you too. “Chenle texted us a couple days before Christmas to see if we could make it for New Year’s.”

You grabbed your roommate’s hand, bewildered the most by her presence. She wasn’t friends with Chenle or any of the other guys standing there, to your knowledge. “But how did you…?”

“Jisung’s idea,” Chenle had joined you all, standing at the threshold of the foyer with the baseball player. “We figured out that Renjun and Sooyoung were in a study group together this semester and…”

You’d spotted Huang Renjun, one of Chenle’s friends from college whom you’d met several times before, hanging back on the fringes of the group. You smiled at him before beelining for Jisung, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek a couple times in your excitement.

“Thank you!” You were smiling ear to ear, so much that your cheeks hurt, but you couldn’t help it.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” Jisung returned the hug, rubbing your back. “My late Christmas present to you.”

You let him go to hug your brother next, hooking your chin over his shoulder and squeezing him so tight you felt like your chest might burst, and you hoped he could feel how much all of this—how much he—meant to you. Despite everything you may say or do to each other. “Thanks, Chenle.”

“Of course,” he whispered, hugging you back just as tight.

“SooSoo, I’m serious, not that much has happened!” You promised, laying on your bed to watch as she got settled in your room. She had of course insisted that you filled her in on every details of everything that’s happened between you and Jisung, including things that she had already heard before since you two talked almost every night. “It’s only been like a week, and my brother is literally here.”

“We all saw those little cheek kisses earlier,” she replied pointedly. “You’re at least going to kiss him at midnight, right?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, quite literally kicking your feet as you thought about it. “Onto you—You just spent three hours in a car with them, have you figured out if you want me to set you up with Jeno or Jaemin?”

“We took two cars. I was in Renjun’s with Donghyuck,” she informed you with a desolate sigh.

“Why did you—”

“He offered because he knew I didn’t know anybody except him, and I didn’t know how to explain why I wanted to go in the other one!”

“Foiled once more by empathy and kindness.”

“I’ll figure it out before we go back to school!”

“Maybe you can get one of their numbers on your own before then.”

Despite the reputations that ‘Chenle-Y/N’ parties carried amongst your friends, and your friends also bringing enough alcohol to host a full-blown kegger, the event itself was pretty low-key. You’d gotten the firepit on the back porch going, food ordered, music going throughout the house, and had already completed several different games.

You were fixing yourself a cup of eggnog in the kitchen when you spotted someone out by the firepit. Pouring another mug, you took both out with you. Jisung looked up when he heard the back door open. He smiled as he recognized that it was you, scooting over on the bench to make room for you to sit with him.

“Eggnog?” You offered a cup out to him. “I didn’t spike it, but I can go add something in if you really want.”

“No, this is perfect,” he chuckled, his laughs rising as white wisps in the cold air. “I’ve been thinking…”

“About?”

“Were the three options hot chocolate, cider, and eggnog?”

It took you a second to catch up, but once you had recalled your first night in the mountains, you burst into laughter, nodding. “Yeah, those were the three options when I made you pick a number.”

He smiled, taking a sip of his drink. “There was something else, that I was thinking about.”

“Oh?”

“Are-Are we going to kiss at midnight? Do you want to? I know we haven’t gone on a real date or anything—”

“I do want to kiss you,” you admitted. “Do you?”

He nodded hurriedly. “Yes, god.”

“You still seem… fidgety. We can wait, if you—”

“That’s not it.” He set his cup of eggnog down, and you did as well. “I want to kiss you. I just don’t want the first time I do to be in front of a bunch of our friends.”

You smirked, tilting your head curiously. “Are you asking to practice before?”

He blinked. “I don’t think I was before, but I definitely am now.”

You snickered a little, leaning in and gently touching your lips to his in a feather-light kiss. He let out a small sigh against your lips, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek and pull you closer, sealing his mouth over yours. Everything was warm, no matter the fire or the cold wind or the thick jacket you were wearing, you were being heated from the inside out.

When Jisung pulled back, he had such a dazzlingly soft smile on his face that you couldn’t help but stare, wanting to burn that image in the back of your eyelids forever. He moved to duck his head shyly, but you grabbed his face.

“I think we might need some more practice before midnight,” you teased, nuzzling your nose with his affectionately.

“Mm, of course,” he agreed humorously, kissing you again. And again, and again, and again.

⇢ 2024 hallmark movie marathon

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001

@classicroyalty @giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01

@tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69

@winkeuu

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[Chapter 16] || [Chapter 18]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.7K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: we're getting there.

Gaz's outfit is 100% a rip off of this fanart by the lovely @temeyes.

Chapter 17: Guard Dogs

You don’t exactly know what you did to deserve this.

You really don’t.

You went on Tinder one time. One night after work.

So why the fuck do you have three men lurking around you like guard dogs?

Ever since the Ethan incident last Friday, they’ve been taking turns going to pick you up at work and walking you home.

Monday - Kyle

Tuesday - Simon

Wednesday - Kyle

Thursday - Simon

It wouldn’t be so bizarre if it weren’t for the fact that people (especially your coworkers) stare when there’s suddenly men waiting for you after work… 

Especially when one of them is a 6ft4 man that’s built like a fridge, giving everyone copious amounts of side-eye as they walk out.

And then you wonder why they ask you get asked questions the next morning.

Today, Friday, you exit work to see not one, not two, but all three of them, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. They look frankly adorable, all beaming at you as you come out of work and preening themselves a bit.

Kyle’s on the far left, wearing a cream-colored hoodie with a blue flannel shirt atop, black cargo pants and white and black Air Jordans. The hoodie is pulled up over his hair and his hands are tucked into the pocket of his hoodie.

Simon’s next to him, in the center, wearing black boots, jeans and a black parka with an inner pollar layer that’s zipped up all the way, so as to cover his mouth, in lieu of his usual mask. His hair is sticking up all over and you just know he put hairgel on it. 

Johnny’s on Simon’s other side, the far right, and wearing a pair of distressed blue jeans, a shaggy burgundy Ramones t-shirt and an unzipped grey hoodie jacket. Just like Kyle, he’s also wearing some Nikes and they’re so pristine and clean you’d swear he’s gotten them from the box a minute ago.

“Hi…?” You said in surprise as you adjusted the sling of your laptop bag on your shoulder.

“Hey!” Johnny greeted you.

“Hi, lovie.” Kyle said with a beaming smile.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Simon said simply and nodded upwards at you.

“What are you… doing?” You trailed off as you came to stand in front of them, your eyes going back and forth between them.

“Couldn’t decide who should come get you. So we decided to both come” Simon told you sincerely. “And since the two of us were coming, Johnny wanted to tag along.” He added.

“Why are ye talking like I’m a puppy that couldn’t be left at home by myself?” Johnny said with raised brows.

“Because you were begging for us to take you with.” Kyle retorted from Simon’s other side.

“Go fuck yourselves.” Johnny added. “You look nice.” He complimented you with a boyish grin.

“In my work uniform?” You retorted as you looked at him with a playful look of disbelief.

“Aye.” He replied. “Always love seein’ someone all knackered and sweaty after work.” He admitted.

“Johnny are you flirting?” Simon asked and he gave Johnny a look that could kill someone.

“Aye.” Johnny replied with a mischievous look in his eyes and pursed his lips together. “Is that forbidden now?”

“Mate…” Kyle quipped, his tone a soft warning.

“What? They already got two blokes after them, can have another one.” Johnny remarked with the same casualty of someone saying they ‘might as well have another biscuit from the box’.

You blinked away the surprise at the flirting. It was still bizarre to have one man like Simon interested… And you felt overwhelmed to have Kyle on top of it… And now Johnny too?

“Okay, erm… So… let’s go?” You announced and turned to start marching up the street to work before anyone could say anything else.

The guys followed behind you wordlessly, in a formation lead by Simon… like you were a mother duck and they were your ducklings… Or, rather, like they were your pack of guar dogs.

-

You’re standing by the door of your kitchen feeling like a guest in your own flat. 

Kyle and Simon are cooking… without even being asked. You stopped by the shop and they immediately announced they’d cook for you and… now they are.

Johnny’s sitting at the dining table behind you, sprawled open and sipping a can of Monster he got himself at the shop when you were all there.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” You announced as you watched the two men move about your kitchen as they made your meal. Simon’s was first in charge of chopping and dicing things… and now he’s in charge of frying… something, while Kyle takes care of basically everything else.

“What do you mean, lovie?” Kyle asks as he turns to glance at you while stirring something.

“You all came to pick me up together… And now you’re cooking for me…” You trail off as your nails clink a bit against the glass of wine they poured you. “What’s going on?”

“You’re adorably annoying with how perceptive you are, you know that?” Simon asks as he glances back at you as well before plucking something out of the frying pan and to a dish on the side. The oil sizzles loudly when he puts something else down to fry.

“Thank you.” You say with a playfully smug tone as you shift around. “But you didn’t answer the question.” You remark.

“After dinner, alright?” He answers and Kyle makes some sounds of agreement.

“They want to be yer boyfriends, officially.” Johnny says behind you and it causes you to whip around to look at him… Which also made Kyle drop whatever he was holding, in shock.

“SOAP!” Both Simon and Kyle shout, scolding the Scot who’s sitting at the table with a broad grin on his lips.

“You… You do?” You ask as you turn to look at them, mouth parted in surprise.

“Yeah...” Kyle replies as he looks at you. 

Simon simply nods and turns away to focus on the food he’s frying.

“I… I’m honored…” You admit and feel your cheeks warming up so bright you fear you’ll start sweating. “I…”

“I’d like a shot at it too, if ye don’t mind.” Johnny adds. Once again, all eyes turn to Johnny with another ‘JOHNNY?!’ which causes him to laugh.

“I’m serious.” He replies. “I’ll gladly date ye too.” He adds.

Your eyes widen. “You-”

“Mhm.” He adds.

“No.” Simon replies as he turns around once more.

“What do you mean ‘no’, L.T.?” Johnny asks in exaggerated offense.

“I mean, I don’t wanna date you.” Simon adds.

“I- Wait.” Now it’s Johnny’s time to get flustered. “Date me?” Poor lad, his whole face warms up bright red.

“Y-Yeah… Kyle and Simon kiss each other sometimes.” You announce and out of the corner of your eye you catch both of the other men stiffening up.

“I KNEW IT. I FOOKIN’ KNEW IT!” Johnny jumps up to his feet, spilling his Monster can on the table. “Ah, shite!” He says as he scrambles to pick it up again before it spills too much.

“What do you mean you knew it?!” Simon asks in shock.

“I KEN YE LIKE EACH OTHER! SAW THE WAY YOU SHARE THOSE COY LOOKS BETWEEN YE!!” Johnny shouts as he points a finger at the two men.

You’re pretty sure they’re all blushing now, you included.

“We didn’t share any looks!” Simon says defensively.

“DID TOO!” Johnny insists. “AND I TAKE OFFENSE TO YE NOT WANTING TO DATE ME, L.T.!” He adds. “I THOUGHT YE LIKED ME!”

Your eyes widen and you move your head side to side trying to keep up with the banter between them as Johnny marches his way into the kitchen so him and Simon can keep bickering.

“Are they always like this?” You find yourself asking Kyle, your eyes widened as they shout your house down.

“Yeah… This is a tame day for them actually. Should hear how they are on comms during missions.” He leans over to whisper in your ear.

“Ah…” You say softly. “I don’t know if I can handle dating this all the time.” You quip playfully, making Kyle laugh.

“You’ll get used to it.” He adds.

As you two continue watching the two men arguing, during which Simon is still, somehow, still tending to the food… You find yourself sneaking little pieces of carrot from the salad Kyle’s making.

Only to stop chewing halfway and let your piece of carrot fall right out of your hands when Johnny suddenly grabs Simon by his face and plants a big kiss right on the taller man’s lips. No warning.

At that moment, Simon looks every bit like Kyle did when they kissed for the first time. Perfectly statue-like still, eyes widened, both hands hanging in the air as if he was frozen…

Johnny’s hands are wrapped around Simon’s face, his palms over his ears, and fingers in his blonde hair, their mouths pressed together…

And then Simon comes back from the trance he’s in and his hands wrap around Johnny’s head too, his fingers digging into the back of his mohawk as their tongues battle together.

“Jesus Christ…” Kyle replies next to you, voicing your exact thoughts.

Once they pull apart, both the men are blushing red and out of breath, eyes widened.

“Ye’ll date me now?” Johnny replies.

Simon doesn’t reply, he simply turns around to finish cooking.

“I think that’s a yes.” You finally announce, finding your voice softly.

Johnny turns to look at you and smirks. “From him or from you?” He asks with a cocked brow.

“Both.” Simon quips with his back turned.

“I think that was the hottest kiss I ever witnessed.” Kyle says softly.

“I’ll give ye a smooch too, don’t get jealous, Gary.” Johnny quips and winks at Kyle.

Then, the Scot grabs a paper towel from the roll and walks toward the door to go mop up the spilled Monster from the table.

But not before he cups Kyle’s face and stealing a peck off his lips…

Then, he does the same to you… before licking his lips at the end. 

“Your wine’s tasty.” He adds, before slinking back out of the room.

You’re left blinking away the shock with an equally stunned Kyle next to you… And you’re pretty sure Simon’s stunned too…

Meanwhile, Johnny’s giggling to himself in the living room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. setting powder.

about. whilst getting ready to meet your new boyfriend’s extended family — you learn that he knows a thing or two about doing makeup.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up to 20s, enemies to lovers, meeting the family, new relationships, brief mention of injury and hospitals, reader wears makeup and dresses, pro hero!bakugou, nurse/doctor!reader.

“we’re gonna be late, sweetheart.”

leaning against the door frame, bakugou crosses his arms over his chest — his perfect lips pulled into a suave smirk as he watches you finish your makeup for tonight.

“wha…huh? you said i had twenty minutes?” you’re still half dressed, your boyfriend’s baggy hoodie from an old merch collection draped over your sweet little dress to protect it from your foundation, your hair is tied back and away from your face so it doesn’t get in the way and though you’re still trying to blend your cream blush in with one of those sponge things — katsuki thinks you’re the most adorable thing in the entire world.

pushing himself off the door frame, he sits behind you on the bed — still watching you work at the vanity whilst he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt. “that was twenty minutes ago,” the blonde rasps affectionately and grasps your at your jewellery laid out on the bed. the rough pad of his thumb traces over the ‘K’ on the silver heart locket he’d gotten you for your birthday before he undoes the clasp and places the chain around your neck — being mindful of your hair in the process. “y’said you’d be done by then.”

you catch your boyfriend’s vermillion stare in the reflection of your mirror — his subtle smile when he sees his initials dangling from your neck. it feels you with warmth to know that no matter what, katsuki will always find you beautiful and will always love you. even with how chaotic your makeup looks when half done. “i think i spent too long in the shower ‘n underestimated how long this look would take,” you sigh, reaching for your lip gloss next. you’ll have to put it in your purse, do your lips in the car. “do you think they’ll mind if we’re any later than this?”

“my parents won’t. neither will inko. deku — i mean — izuku will, but he’ll pretend he ain’t bothered,” bakugou prattles down the list, making a note of tonight’s attendees. it was tradition that the bakugous and the midoriyas had a monthly dinner together, it had been going on since the two pro heroes were children. only now, their partners were invited since they were family too. family included you.

you hadn’t gone to U.A and you certainly didn’t know katsuki until he became an up and coming pro hero. the first time he’d saved you, by the sidewalk of the hospital you worked at, you thought he was brutish and stuck up. you’d hated him and he’d hated you. but over time, and more frequent trips to A&E after saving civilians or sometimes after being wounded in villain attacks — you’d come to appreciate bakugou’s brooding personality and observant nature.

he’d come to like you too. how much you cared for others and wanted to make the world a better place. you reminded him a little bit of izuku, in a strange way.

so one night when you were on call, katsuki brought you flowers instead of a stomach wound that needed stitches and you’d given him a kiss instead of berating him about being careful, over vanilla and chocolate pudding cups from the hospital cafeteria.

signing impatiently, you bring katsuki back to present day. “i wanted to make a good impression on your aunty and on your best friend,” rubbing your arm nervously, you cast your gaze over the mess on your vanity — expensive products splayed across them in organised chaos.

“you will. they’re gonna love you. they already do,” bakugou stands behind you now, rough palms smoothing over your shoulders. “izuku says you’ve made me less bitchy at work. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle, eyes sparkling in delight as you look at the blonde in the mirror. “really?”

“really,” he nods sheepishly. the way you look at him makes him feel so loved. it’s new to him. nice to him. “now, whaddya need help with s’we can hurry up ‘n hit the road.”

you begin to ramble on, perking up at the idea of katsuki helping with the rest of your routine.“well… i’ve done my lashes, my eyes, my base and blush… i can do lips in the car. aside from putting on earrings and fixing my hair all i need is to set my face with—“

“settin’ powder,” bakugou grabs the little pot from your vanity as if he knew where it was all along, picking up a little face cushion as well as he prepares to get to work. “got it.” he dips the cushion into the translucent powder, rubbing the excess off on the back of his hand before leaning in real close to dab at the areas he thinks you need it. like your t-zone.

your boyfriend’s touch is like magic on your face, perfectly setting your makeup while making you feel like a pampered princess. “who taught you how to do this?” comes your shy mumble, his proximity to your face causing you to grow flustered and squirm in your seat. “h-how are you so good at it?”

“keep still, i’ll be finished faster if y’stop squirmin’ sweetheart. don’t wanna mess up what you’ve done already,” pausing his actions, katsuki gives you a toothy smirk — revelling in how bashful you’ve become under his touch while he helps you with your makeup. “…grew up behind the scenes of fashion shows ‘n shoots. so i picked up a thing or two i wanted to make sure i could still do it so i watched a couple of videos on it too. ‘n i noticed…you always put so much time ‘n effort into your makeup. wanted to help make the process easier for you.”

you feel as though you could melt at katsuki’s kind words and gesture as he dabs at your face a little more — tongue caught between the tips of his pearly white teeth as he sticks it out in concentration. he’s so cute it makes you want to scream. “you’re sweet,” you coo appreciatively, stilling yourself to let him finish before he pulls back — satisfied with his work. “i love you.”

it’s not the first time you’ve said it to one another, but the three words are still new to the both of you. “i uh…i love you more,” a pink, rosey hue rises on the surface of bakugou’s tanned skin and his red, loving eyes dart away from your face bashfully. “‘m gonna get your shoes ‘n jacket ready by the door while that sits. don’t forget your settin’ spray after you brush that shit off — oh ‘n don’t take my hoodie off until you’ve done that. don’t wanna ruin your dress, kay?”

“okay,” you respond fondly, hiding your smile at his very specific instructions. “i’ll be down in a minute.”

katsuki nods hesitantly, standing up as he gathers your belongings and outerwear — ready to load them up in the car, when he suddenly pauses in place. “you look beautiful tonight, sweetness. you always do.” he adds as one last parting message, before disappearing down the hall.

leaving you wondering how you ever lucked out with such a man. one who’s not only kind and gentle and loving, but a pro hero and a makeup artist at that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[jezebelblues]

cinnamon | h.s | 2

pt 1, pt 2 (completed)

summary: in which two broke college students ignore the fact that they’re falling for each other. (just because you ignore it, doesn’t make it any less real.)

cw: smut18+ (piv) …dare i say…subrry (if u squint), drug dealing/usage, angst, violence, blood (only a lil), college!harry, fem!reader

word count: approx 16.4k

| i needed some softrry i’m not sorry. BUT i am sorry for being a lil late with this final part!! i took a hot minute to edit / drive home from work. all that fun stuff. anyway!! hope u liked it :^)

masterlist

the shift between them was subtle at first.

YN didn’t say anything the next time they crossed paths in the hallway. she didn’t make eye contact, didn’t give him her usual raised eyebrow or sharp comment. she just walked past, her bag slung over her shoulder, her face blank like he wasn’t even there.

it wasn’t dramatic. it wasn’t loud. but it was deliberate. empty.

harry noticed it more than he wanted to.

their usual routine—the unspoken agreement to walk home together after their evening classes—just stopped. she didn’t linger by the exit anymore, didn’t slow her steps like she was waiting for him to catch up.

the first time it happened, he told himself she’d just left early. the second time, he figured she’d had something to do. by the third, it was clear; she wasn’t waiting for him.

and yet, he found himself hesitating by the doors anyway, glancing toward the biology lab like an idiot, only to leave alone, his steps echoing too loudly in the quiet.

at home, it was worse.

the silence between their apartments felt heavier now. he used to hear her faint laugh through the thin walls, the clink of a coffee cup on her counter, the muffled hum of her shitty netflix shows. now it was quiet, like she’d taken all the noise with her and left him sitting in it.

harry didn’t know why it bothered him so much. this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? to keep things simple. clean. to keep people out.

but then he’d remember the look on her face when he said it—it’s not like we’re friends—and something sharp twisted in his chest.

and all he had to sit with was his own guilt and regret.

the distance wasn’t one-sided.

YN hated how much it stung. she told herself she didn’t care, that she was too busy with school and work to think about harry, but that was bullshit, and she knew it.

she felt his absence in the small things—the sound of his voice beside her on those walks home, the way he’d lean against the wall outside their building, cigarette dangling from his fingers like he had nowhere better to be.

she told herself he didn’t deserve her attention after what he said. that he’d made it clear where they stood.

but sometimes, when she caught a glimpse of him—his curls hidden under a backwards cap, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie—she couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he was carrying. and why he seemed so determined to carry it alone.

it wasn’t until thursday evening, two weeks since they last walked home together, that their avoidance finally broke.

harry was heading back from class, his backpack slung low, his rings clicking softly against the railing as he climbed the stairs, nails painted a cherry red that already started to chip.

as he reached their floor, the door to YN’s apartment opened, and she stepped out. her hair was tied back, her sweatshirt hanging loose over her frame, a pair of worn sneakers on her feet.

they froze when they saw each other, the air between them thick and awkward.

he glanced at her, then at the stairs, his jaw clenching—not in anger, not in hate, but in quiet hope. “hey.”

she didn’t answer. she just stared at him for a moment, her hand tightening on the strap of her bag. finally, she nodded once, curt and distant. “harry.”

then she walked past him, her steps quick, her head high.

he stood there for a moment, staring after her, his fists clenching at his sides. he wanted to say something, anything, to pull her back. but the words caught in his throat, weighed down by the same wall he’d spent years building.

so he didn’t. he just turned toward his door, the silence swallowing him whole as the door clicked shut behind him.

*

the house wasn't packed, but it was loud. laughter and bass thumped through the walls, voices spilling out onto the porch where clusters of people leaned against the railing, cigarettes glowing faintly in the dark.

YN hadn't planned on coming.

but her roommate had begged, tugging on her arm like a child demanding candy at a grocery store. "come on," she'd sigh. "it'll be fun. you don't even have to stay that long. besides, you think jays cute, right?"

and YN, with no pressing deadlines and no excuse not to, had reluctantly agreed.

harry didn't want to be here either.

the house hummed with energy—the kind of energy that clung to saturday nights in college. voices blended with the low pulse of bass—heavy hip hop, the faint static of a projector flickering on the far wall casting neon splashes of color across the crowded living room. laughter spilled out from the porch, accompanied by the faint, acrid tang of weed smoke drifting in through an open window.

he slipped inside unnoticed, his nyu hoodie pulled low over his face, his hand brushing the pocket where an empty altoid tin sat snug against his leg.

the thing about acid drops was they were tiny. clean. no plastic bags crinkling to give him away. no smell to catch on clothes. just a few paper tabs, tucked neatly into a tin that could easily pass for mints.

this one wasn’t supposed to take long, anyway. pauli had texted earlier, casual as ever.

bring me four. party downstairs but i’ll be at the same spot.

simple.

harry liked pauli well enough, even if he’d never say it out loud. he was easy to deal with—no drama, no bullshit, and he tipped. if things weren’t so complicated, maybe they’d even get along.

he moved through the thrumming crowd, his eyes scanning the room automatically, checking for the usual signs of trouble.

that’s when he saw her.

YN was tucked into a corner of the living room, half-hidden behind a group of people, her back leaning lightly against the wall. the warm glow of fairy lights strung across the ceiling flickered over her, mixing with the neon hues spilling out from the projector somewhere behind her.

it made her look like art—like she didn’t belong here, needing to be some vibrant watercolor strung high up in a gallery.

she had a red solo cup in hand, her lips curving into the faintest smile as she listened to something the guy next to her was saying. harry didn’t recognize him, not in the dim light, but it didn’t matter. what mattered was how close he stood to her, how his arm brushed hers whenever he moved, how he leaned in like he was trying to fill the space between them.

harry’s eyes drifted lower, tracing the line of her figure almost involuntarily. her shirt clung in all the right places, the loose wrinkles in the fabric shifting faintly when she’d move around. her black jeans, straight-legged with a single slit on the right knee, revealed a faint bruise just above her kneecap.

his eyes narrowed. the thought came unbidden, like bile rising in his throat—a thought he had no right to conjure, no right to mull over.

was it from him?

the thought pushed itself to the front of his mind, uninvited, insistent.

did she get on her knees for him?

he clenched his teeth, ripping his gaze away before it could wander further, before his thoughts could twist into something darker, uglier.

he had no right.

his hand brushed the strap of his backpack, grounding himself as he trudged up the stairs. the second floor was quieter, though the music’s thrum still vibrated the floor beneath his feet.

at the end of the hall, pauli’s door was already cracked open, a faint glow spilling out—a mix of blues and purples that pulsed softly, courtesy of the lava lamp perched on the nightstand.

he stepped inside, letting the door creak wider as he entered.

he looked up from his spot on the bed, his grin as effortless as ever, the glow from the lava lamp catching on his teeth. “harry. what’s up, man?”

he nodded toward him before he pulled the altoid tin from his pocket, flipping it open and sliding four tabs onto the corner of the nightstand. “same price.”

pauli sat up, grabbing his wallet from the bed. “you know me. always good for it.”

he handed over the cash—a neat stack of bills folded lengthwise—and harry pocketed it without a word. “tipped you fifteenthis time.” pauli added with a wink, leaning back onto his elbows.

harry smiled faintly, “‘preciate it.”

he grinned, the blues and purples of the room painting his face like some kind of hipster saint. “likewise, man. let me know if you ever wanna hang. game a little, whatever. always a spot for you here.”

he nodded once, already moving toward the door. “noted, thanks.” (he didn’t stay long enough to hear a response.)

the bass hit harder as he made his way back downstairs, his hand ghosting along the banister.

as his foot touched the last step, marie was already there.

pretty brunette, long legs, and a perpetual smirk that always seemed to say you can’t resist me. she never stopped trying to score free weed from him, always angling her body just close enough to make it seem like an invitation.

“hey, haz,” she drawled, stepping into his path.

he glanced at her, half a second’s worth, his eyes scanning the room as he muttered, “don’t have anything on me right now, marie.”

she pouted faintly, her head tilting just enough to catch the light. “come on. just this once?”

harry stepped past her without a second glance, his tone sharp but dismissive. “not now.” he avoided brushing her shoulder, his steps measured as he maneuvered past her.

the main room was a mess.

a circle of people had formed, shouting over each other as someone recorded the chaos with their phone flashlight. harry didn’t care what was going on—he just didn’t want to get stuck in it.

he b-lined for the kitchen instead, slowing his steps when he caught the low hum of voices just beneath the music.

he wasn’t planning to stop, wasn’t planning to get involved in whatever was going on in there. but then he caught the tone—a mix of light coercion and arrogance, the kind of smug insistence that made his stomach churn.

“come on,” the guy said, his voice smooth, confident. “just one pill, YN. you’ll feel amazing, i swear.”

harry’s stood still, his grip on the strap of his backpack tightening.

“jay…” her voice was quieter, hesitant.

“it’s no big deal,” he pressed, his tone almost lazy. “just let loose. it’s saturday, for fuck’s sake. live a little.”

it was jay. of course, it was jay.

he knew that voice anywhere—smug and dripping with entitlement, like the world owed him whatever he wanted.

“i don’t know,” she sighed, her voice soft, her uncertainty cutting through the noise like static.

harry’s chest tightened, a knot forming just beneath his ribcage. he knew he didn’t have a right to feel anything about this. he’d said it himself—they weren’t friends, even if that was a lie. YN could make her own choices, could hang out with whoever she wanted, could take whatever jay was trying to shove into her hand.

but the knot didn’t go away.

it tightened further when he heard her sigh, gentle and resigned, like she was starting to give in.

that sound sent something sharp slicing through him. before he even realized he’d moved, harry stepped into the kitchen.

YN was leaning against the counter, her red solo cup in one hand, jay towering over her, his arm braced against the counter beside her. his other hand held a small pill—molly, probably—his fingers hovering just inches from her lips.

he looked over his shoulder, startled by the sudden presence. but before he could say a word, harry was on him. he grabbed jay by the bicep, yanking him away from YN with enough force to make him stumble.

“what the—”

his words were cut off by harry’s fist colliding with his face. the sound of bone crunching echoed through the kitchen, sharp and final.

he fell back, clutching his nose as blood began to drip onto his shirt. “what the fuck, man?” he shouted, his voice muffled and nasally.

his knuckles throbbed from the impact, the skin already split and stinging, but he didn’t flinch. his breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts as he stood there, his fists still clenched at his sides.

he didn’t look at jay.

he looked at YN.

her breath hitched audibly, her chest rising sharply as her lips parted in shock. but she didn’t say anything.

she just bandaged that hand.

she didn’t even glance at jay—not once. her wide eyes were locked on harry, and in that moment, the noise of the party faded to nothing.

his gaze softened, the adrenaline in his chest burning into something heavier as his eyes traveled down.

the bruise on her knee caught his attention again, stark against her skin just above the ripped fabric of her jeans. his jaw tightened, his features shifting slightly—something flickering across his face that she couldn’t quite name.

and then he looked up, his eyes meeting hers again, and the weight of whatever had passed between them felt unbearable.

without a word, he turned and walked out, his shoulders tense, his fists still aching from the punch. he didn’t look back, but YN’s eyes followed him, her chest still tight, her cup clutched tightly in her trembling hand.

jay muttered something—another fucking psycho—but she barely registered it.

the only thing she could think about was the look in harry’s eyes before he left.

three days had passed since the party, and the library was quieter than usual.

a few scattered groups occupied the tables near the entrance, laptops open, notes spread in chaotic displays of end-semester panic. YN moved past them, heading toward her usual spot near the back, a corner table she’d claimed as her own months ago.

but as she turned the corner, she paused. harry was there.

he was slouched in a chair at one of the smaller tables, his head resting in his hand, his elbow propped on the desk. his other hand hovered over a textbook, pen in hand, though he wasn’t writing anything.

he looked tired. dark circles smudged under his eyes, his curls an unruly mess that barely held under the backwards cap perched on his head. his sweater was wrinkled, the sleeve pushed up just enough to reveal his forearm, where faint bruises from something she couldn’t place mottled the skin.

she stood there for a moment, debating whether to turn back, but something in the way his shoulders sagged made her pause.

despite herself, she walked over.

“how’s your hand?”

her voice broke the silence between them, startling him slightly. his head lifted, his eyes locking onto hers, his expression caught between surprise and something unreadable.

“huh?” he croaked, blinking at her like he wasn’t sure if she was real.

she nodded toward his right hand, which was still gripping the pen. “your hand,” she repeated. “you messed it up again.”

harry glanced down at it, flexing his fingers slightly like he’d forgotten it had happened. his knuckles were still faintly red, the scabs on his skin threatening to crack.

“s’fine.” he muttered, his voice low, his tone as casual as he could manage.

she raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “doesn’t look fine.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back in his chair and setting the pen down on the open page of his textbook. “you always this nosy?”

she rolled her eyes, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down without waiting for an invitation. “you always this defensive?”

he smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “only when people ask stupid questions.”

“it wasn’t a stupid question,” she shot back, leaning forward slightly. “you punched a guy in the face hard enough to put him on the ground. you’re lucky you didn’t break anything.”

he shrugged, glancing at his hand again. “felt worth it at the time.”

YN’s expression shifted, her brow furrowing slightly as she studied him. “why’d you do it?”

he looked up at her then, his smirk fading, replaced by something sharper, more guarded. “thought he deserved it.”

“that’s not an answer.”

he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her. “what do you want me to say, YN?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with tension. “that i hated the way he talked to you? the way he tried to push you into something you didn’t want? or that it pissed me off seeing him so close to you, like he had the fucking right?”

her breath caught, her fingers curling against the edge of the table.

he let out a sharp exhale, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater as he slouched into his seat again, his gaze dropping to the textbook in front of him. “doesn’t matter. s’done.”

“it does matter.” she whispered, a furrow forming on her forehead from concern.

harry didn’t look at her, but his jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck flexing faintly.

“you don’t owe me anything, harry,” she continued, her tone careful but firm. “but don’t act like what you did wasn’t about me. because we both know it was.”

he finally met her eyes, his expression guarded but not cold. “so what if it was?”

she stared at him for a moment, her chest tight, the words stuck in her throat. finally, she sighed, leaning back in her chair.

but harry spoke first, his eyebrows knit together. “did you sleep with him?”

her eyes darted between his, her lips pressed into a tight line, her shoulders faltering. it caught her off guard, obviously—she could’ve torn into him, yell about how he had absolutely no right to ask her that, but the way his eyes looked slightly glassed over underneath the fluorescent lights made her keep composure. “no, harry.”

he bit the inside of his cheek, nodding with a frown.

finally, she stood, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “take care of your hand, okay?”

*

the walk home had always been theirs. a quiet that belonged to them.

not awkward, but comfortable, the kind of quiet that felt earned. the rhythm of their footsteps, the hum of the city around them—it was just enough. for weeks, though, that rhythm had been off, broken by the absence of something harry didn’t want to admit he missed.

but now, it was back.

it started on a tuesday.

YN walked out of her bio lab, distracted as she finished sending a text. she didn’t notice him at first, leaning against the wall just outside the lecture hall, his cap pulled low, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

when she did notice, she froze for half a second, her breath catching. he wasn’t looking directly at her, but he wasn’t not looking, either.

she could’ve walked past him. maybe a week ago, she would have.

but instead, she shifted her bag higher on her shoulder and walked toward him, her steps slow, deliberate. “you’re still here?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

harry shrugged, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside her. “just needed some air.”

YN raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “right. sure you did.”

he smirked faintly, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

they didn’t talk much on the walk back to the apartment, but it didn’t feel heavy, not like the silence that had filled the space between them for weeks.

the november air sharpened the sound of their footsteps, campus quieter than usual around them. she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, glancing at harry from the corner of her eye. he walked with his usual loose stride, his cap casting a shadow over his face, but there was something less guarded about the way his shoulders hung, something less tense in the way he moved.

when they reached the front of their building and went up the familiar steps, right into their hallway, YN hesitated, her fingers brushing against the door handle. “goodnight, harry.”

he glanced at her, his jaw working like he was debating whether to say something more. “night, YN.”

he opened the door and slipped inside, leaving her standing there for a moment longer, the faint echo of his voice lingering in her chest.

by thursday, it felt less strange.

harry was already there when she walked out of her lab, leaning against the wall again like he had nowhere else to be.

this time, she didn’t pause. she just walked toward him, her bag slung low on her shoulder, and nodded in his direction. “let me guess,” she said as they fell into step together. “you needed air again.”

he smirked, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets “you’re quick.”

she rolled her eyes, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “quick enough to know you’re full of shit.”

as they turned the last corner before their building, harry finally broke the quiet. “so,” he breathed, glancing over at her, “how’s bio lab? still full of idiots?”

she raised an eyebrow, giving him a side-eye as she adjusted her hood. “you care about bio lab now?”

“just making conversation.”

she hummed, skeptical. “it’s fine. i’m getting through it. probably not as hard as chem, though, huh?”

harry laughed softly, shaking his head. “chem’s fine. can’t say the same for everyone else in that class, though.”

YN slowed slightly, turning to face him. “wait—fine? i thought you said you were failing?”

he smirked, tilting his head as he held the door open for her. “did i?”

she blinked, stepping through the doorway before narrowing her eyes at him. “you’re kidding.”

he shrugged, his grin small but sharp. “guess you’ll never know.”

she opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat, stuck somewhere between annoyance and disbelief.

“night, YN.”

“goodnight, harry.”

by the next week, it was a routine again.

neither of them acknowledged it, but they didn’t need to. the walk home became theirs once more, the silence and conversation fitting together like pieces of something neither of them wanted to break again.

two days later, her radiator would give out sometime after midnight.

it wasn’t subtle—first, the groan of old pipes struggling to keep up, then the sharp hiss of steam escaping. finally, a metallic clunk that echoed through the apartment like the radiator had given up entirely.

she stood in front of it, arms crossed, glaring at the rusty old thing like sheer willpower might make it start working again. the cold was already creeping into the room, the chill biting through her socks and sweatshirt.

she’d called the maintenance guy twice, but as usual, it went straight to voicemail.

she paced for a few minutes, debating whether to try fixing it herself. she’d done it once before with her dad’s help over the phone, but the tools she needed weren’t here, and the memory of burning her hand on scalding metal wasn’t exactly encouraging.

with a sigh, she leaned against the counter, her eyes flicking toward the wall separating her apartment from harry’s.

she hesitated.

asking harry felt like admitting something—weakness, maybe, or a level of dependence she wasn’t ready to face. but the cold was making her breath fog, and the maintenance guy clearly wasn’t coming.

“whatever,” she whispered, grabbing a throw blanket from the couch and wrapping it around her shoulders as she crossed the hall.

when harry opened the door, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

his curls were a mess, his hoodie slouching lazily over his frame, the sweatpants he wore hanging low on his hips. his eyes were half-lidded, his features slack with sleep, but when he saw YN standing there, his expression sharpened slightly.

“what’s up?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

she shifted, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “my radiator broke.”

he blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. “did you call maintenance?”

“twice. nothing.”

he sighed, stepping back and jerking his head toward the corner of his apartment. “give me a second. toolbox is somewhere under all this shit.”

she raised an eyebrow. “you have a toolbox?”

“yeah,” harry muttered, crouching to dig through a pile of books and loose papers. “what, y’think i just let my stuff stay broken?”

she smirked faintly, leaning against the doorframe “honestly, kind of.”

he glanced up at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile before he returned to his search. a minute later, he stood, a small red toolbox in hand. “let’s see how bad it is.”

the radiator wasn’t just broken—it was practically on life support.

harry crouched in front of it, his knees on the worn wood, wrench in one hand and flashlight in the other. his hoodie shifted as he moved, revealing the sliver of a shirt beneath and the faint line of muscle along his forearm.

she leaned against the counter, clutching the throw blanket around her shoulders, trying not to stare.

it was a radiator, for god’s sake. there was nothing sexy about it.

but somehow, the sight of harry focused, his brow furrowed as he fiddled with the valve, was enough to pull her attention. the way his hands moved—sure, precise, his knuckles faintly bruised—felt like a distraction she didn’t want to have.

“how long’s it been acting up?” he asked, breaking the silence. his voice was low, steady, like he was more invested in the question than he should’ve been.

she blinked, snapping her gaze away from his hands. “um, tonight. but it’s been making weird noises for a while. hissing. clunking. you know, the usual signs of impending doom.”

harry let out a quiet huff, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he adjusted the flashlight. “you waited until it died t’deal with it?”

she shrugged, her grip on the blanket tightening. “figured maintenance would actually show up for once.”

harry snorted softly, shaking his head. “rookie move.”

she rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched faintly upward. “okay, expert. what’s the diagnosis?”

he tilted his head, glancing at the valve before pressing the wrench into it. “clogged. pretty bad, too. no wonder it gave out.”

she shifted closer, crouching beside him to get a better look. “and you know this because…?”

“cause i’ve fixed this piece of shit more times than i can count,” harry sighed, his voice laced with dry humor. “y’think i just let it flood my place every time it breaks?”

YN smirked, tilting her head as she studied him. “so you’re saying you’re handy. good to know.”

harry paused, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “wanna find out?”

“oh, ew.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you walked right into it.”

their eyes met briefly, the air between them shifting. YN didn’t move, her fingers brushing the edge of the blanket as she watched him.

he broke the stare first, turning back to the radiator with a soft exhale. the metal creaked under the pressure of the wrench, the sound loud enough to fill the room.

she leaned further against the counter as she tried not to let her gaze wander. but the way harry moved—confident, efficient, like he knew exactly what he was doing—made it impossible to ignore.

“you do this for everyone, or am i special?” she asked, her voice lighter now, teasing.

harry chuckled faintly, his lips quirking upward. “you’re special.”

she blinked, caught off guard by the casual honesty in his tone. “wow. didn’t think you’d admit it.”

he glanced back at her, smirking. “don’t let it go to your head.”

“too late.”

a few minutes later, he leaned back, resting his elbows on his knees as he inspected the radiator. his curls fell forward slightly, the faint sheen of sweat on his temple catching the light.

“alright,” he breathed, “should be good f’tonight. just don’t crank it too high, or you’re asking for trouble.”

she stepped closer, crouching beside him again to inspect his work. “so you’re saying this isn’t a permanent fix.”

he shook his head, wiping his hands on the front of his hoodie. “nope. keep bugging maintenance. eventually, he’ll get sick of you.”

she glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “you ever think about being less cynical?”

he snorted, standing and grabbing his wrench. “not really my style.”

YN followed him to her feet, the blanket slipping slightly off her shoulder as she leaned against the counter again. “well, thanks. for whatever your style is.”

harry glanced at her, his jaw tightening briefly before his expression softened. “don’t mention it.”

their eyes met again, the space between them feeling smaller than it should have.

YN swallowed, her fingers brushing the edge of the counter as she tilted her head. “i mean it, thanks. you didn’t have–”

“YN,” harry interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. “it’s okay.”

the weight of his eyes lingered, his features unreadable but softer than usual, like something unspoken was hanging in the air.

she nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around herself “okay.”

harry grabbed his toolbox, heading for the door. as he opened it, he glanced back at her, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “try not to break it again.”

“no promises.”

the door clicked shut behind him, and YN stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where he’d been.

christmas break arrived a bit too quick, final exams and whispered see-you-later’s mumbled after lectures.

but YN stayed at the apartment.

so did harry.

it was sometime after eleven when she heard it. the knock had been frantic, sharp, and loud enough to rattle her nerves.

she sat up from her spot on the couch, her blanket falling to the floor as she turned toward the door. it wasn't the casual tap of a neighbor or even the hesitant knock of someone unsure if she'd answer. it was loud. rushed. desperate.

her heart kicked up, the kind of thud that made her breath catch in her chest. she didn't even think before standing, her bare feet padding softly across the floor.

she opened the door without a second thought, and there he was.

his curls were a mess, sticking to his damp forehead like he’d been running. blood smeared his cupid’s bow, dried into the corner of his mouth. his cheekbone was bruising fast, a shadow of purple already spreading beneath the skin. his knuckles, raw and bloodied, hung at his sides, trembling slightly as he stood there, his breathing uneven.

but it wasn’t just how he looked. it was his eyes.

they were glassy, far away, like he wasn’t even really standing there.

her breath hitched as her hand tightened on the doorframe. she wanted to ask a million questions—to demand what the hell had happened, to make him explain. but the way his gaze barely met hers before darting to the floor made her stomach churn.

“can i come in?” he asked, his voice low, rough.

she nodded quickly, stepping aside. “of course.”

harry stepped into the apartment, his movements slow and heavy. he stopped in the middle of the living room, his shoulders sagging like the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

she shut the door softly, her heart pounding as she turned to face him. “sit.”

he hesitated, glancing at the couch like it might collapse beneath him. then he slumped into it, his elbows resting on his knees, his head dropping into his hands.

YN hovered for a moment, watching him, before disappearing into the bathroom. she grabbed a towel, dampened it with warm water, and pulled the first aid kit from under the sink.

when she returned, he hadn’t moved.

“you’re a mess.” she murmured, sitting down upon the coffee table that sat right across from him.

he huffed a weak laugh, his shoulders shifting slightly. “you don’t say.”

she started with his face, gently wiping away the blood smeared across his lips and jaw. the silence between them was thick, heavy, but not uncomfortable. it was full, almost brimming, like there was too much in the air between them to put into words.

harry’s eyes stayed downcast, his breathing uneven as YN dabbed carefully at his split lip.

“this is gonna sting,” she warned softly, tilting his chin slightly so the light hit his face. she worked in silence, her fingers brushing against his skin as she cleaned the dried blood.

he didn’t flinch, but she felt the tension in him—the tightness in his jaw, the way his shoulders hunched slightly, like he was holding himself together by a thread.

when she finished with his face, she turned her attention to his hands. his knuckles were a mess—split, swollen, and crusted with blood.

“let me see, please?”

harry hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly before he lifted his hand toward her. she took it carefully, her touch light as she began cleaning the wounds—split raw and red.

and then, without warning, harry broke.

it started with a sharp inhale, his chest heaving as he tried to pull in air. then came the tremble, the kind of shake that started in his shoulders and spread like a wave.

she froze, her gaze snapping to his face.

his eyes were squeezed shut, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he couldn’t stop the tears that spilled over, running down his bruised cheeks. it wasn’t a quiet cry. it was raw, deep, the kind of cry that came from somewhere buried so far inside that it was impossible to contain.

YN set the towel down, her fingers still wrapped lightly around his hand. “harry…”

he shook his head, his voice breaking as he choked out the words. “i don’t know how much longer i can do this.”

her chest tightened, her free hand coming up brush strands of hair from his forehead. “do what?”

he exhaled sharply, a shuddering breath that seemed to rattle his entire frame. “all of it,” he croaked, his voice cracking. “the fucking drugs. school. the… everything. i can’t keep it together anymore.”

“you don’t have to.”

his eyes snapped open at that, his gaze locking onto hers. they were red, glassy, but sharper now, like her words had cut through something.

“yes, i do,” he said, his voice bitter. “you don’t get it, YN. if i don’t, it all falls apart.”

“then let it,” she whispered, her voice sharper, the tension in her chest spilling into her words. “let it fall apart, harry. you don’t have to carry everything alone.”

he stared at her, his breathing still uneven, his knuckles trembling in her grasp. the silence that followed was thick, full of everything he wanted to say but couldn’t.

but she didn’t let go of his hand.

he sat back against the couch, his chest still rising and falling unevenly as he wiped at his face with the heel of his uninjured hand. his head tilted back, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling like it might hold some kind of answer for him.

then, after a beat, he shifted forward, his elbows on his knees, preparing to stand. “i should go,” he muttered, his voice rough, worn thin.

he rose to his feet, wobbling momentarily before he ambled toward the door.

her frown deepened. “don’t.”

his eyes flicked to hers, hesitant, searching. “YN, i—”

“stay,” she said, cutting him off, her tone leaving no room for argument. “just… stay. at least for tonight.”

he paused, his jaw working as he glanced toward the door. but then he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging like he’d finally let go of whatever excuse he was clinging to.

slowly, he toed off his sneakers by the door, one foot pressing against the back of the other to slip them off without bending. he straightened, looking at her expectantly, unsure of what to do next, waiting for her to guide him.

YN’s chest ached at the sight.

she crossed the room, shutting off the tv and the lamp in the corner, plunging the living room into soft darkness. then she turned back to him, stepping closer, her fingers brushing gently over his hand.

“come on,” she murmured, her grip light but steady as she led him toward the bedroom. the room was dim, the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds.

harry lingered by the door, his steps hesitant as YN turned back to face him. “just for tonight,” she breathed. “just so i know you’re okay. we don’t have to talk about it. not ever, if you don’t want to.”

his lips twitched, almost into a smile, but the weight in his eyes dulled it. “just once, huh?” he whispered, the faintest trace of humor slipping through.

YN nodded, watching him carefully. “just once.”

he shifted, glancing down at his hoodie, the edges of it damp and stained. “can i…?” he gestured toward his chest. “s’kind of a mess.”

“yeah.” her voice was barely above a whisper as she began to fumble with the blankets on the bed.

he reached for the hem of the battered fabric, pulling it over his head in one slow, fluid motion. it clung slightly, damp with rain and speckled with blood, before he tossed it to the floor. his tshirt followed, revealing the lean line of his frame, faint bruises already forming along his ribs, the tattoos that decorated him.

her eyes flicked over him briefly, catching on the dark smudge of a bruise near his collarbone, but she didn’t comment.

he stepped toward the bed, hesitating for a beat before sliding under the covers. the mattress dipped slightly as he settled, his movements slow, unsure.

she slipped in beside him, her movements deliberate, careful, leaving just enough space between them to let him decide. for a long moment, the only sounds were the faint rustling of sheets and the distant hum of the city outside.

harry lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his hands resting loosely on his stomach. his breathing was quieter now, steadier, but the tension in his frame was still palpable.

then he shifted.

he turned toward her, the covers rustling softly as he inched closer, his chest brushing her side as he lowered his head against her shoulder.

she froze briefly, her breath catching as his curls tickled her collarbone, the faint scent of rain and something sharp lingering on him. she moved her arm at his pace, holding his head against her, fingers brushing through his curls.

he let out a shuddering breath, his body softening against hers, the weight of him settling in like was made to fit against her.

she combed her fingers gently through his hair, her other hand resting lightly against his bicep as his arm draped over her.

it was all unspoken.

harry’s breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm against her side. YN’s fingers didn’t stop, the motion soothing for both of them.

just once—it seemed to echo like a taunt. just once, even if neither of them truly believed that.

the hours ticked by slowly, the room heavy with the kind of silence that didn’t feel empty, but full.

harry hadn’t moved much since he’d settled against her, his head resting on her chest, his breath brushing faintly against her collarbone. she honestly thought he’d fallen asleep, at least, till he spoke again.

“i didn’t mean t’scare you.” he croaked, his voice muffled slightly by the fabric of her shirt.

she paused, her hand stilling for a moment before resuming its path through his hair. “you didn’t scare me.”

“you don’t have to lie t’me.”

“i’m not.” her voice was soft, steady. “you didn’t scare me, harry. you just… worried me.”

his hand shifted, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of her blanket. “i didn’t mean to do that, either.”

she tilted her head slightly, her chin dipping into his tousled mess of curls. “then stop doing things that make me worry.”

he smiled weakly, the expression brief and half-hearted. “easier said than done.”

they fell into silence again, the weight of his words hanging between them.

YN wanted to ask what had happened, what had pushed him to show up at her door the way he had. but she bit her tongue, letting the steady rise and fall of his breathing fill the space instead.

it wasn’t until his hand shifted again, this time fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, that he spoke once more. “s’been a long time since i…” he hesitated, his voice trailing off like the words were too heavy to finish.

her hand stilled, her fingers curling slightly against his scalp. “since you what?”

he exhaled slowly, the sound shaky, almost unsure. “since i let anyone see me like this.”

her chest tightened, the knot of something unnamed twisting deep beneath her ribs. she pressed her fingers gently against the back of his neck, her touch grounding. “you’re allowed to let people in, harry.”

he shook his head, cheek still pressed against her, the movement causing the collar of her shirt to shift a bit lower. “not really.”

“yes, really,” she said firmly, her voice low but resolute. “you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

his hand balled the fabric of her shirt, his body pressing closer to hers like he was trying to absorb the weight of her words. “s’not that simple, cinnamon.”

“it doesn’t have to be complicated, either.”

they didn’t speak again after that, but the tension in the room shifted.

harry’s breathing evened out, his body relaxing against hers as the exhaustion he’d been fighting finally caught up with him.

YN stayed awake longer, her hand brushing gently through his curls, her other hand tracing the muscle in his bicep. she stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with everything she wanted to say but couldn’t. but eventually, her eyes grew heavy, and the rhythm of his breathing lulled her to sleep.

by morning, she woke to the weight of his arm still draped across her waist, the faint warmth of his skin against her own. his face was pressed against her chest, his curls soft and unruly, tickling her jawline. his lips, still split and red, were parted just enough to let out the quietest, almost imperceptible snores.

for a moment, she stayed still, letting the quiet of the room wash over her, the hum of the radiator and the muffled sounds of the city filtering through the window.

but then reality crept in, nudging her to move.

carefully, she shifted, slipping out of his grasp. harry stirred slightly, his arm twitching before falling back against the bed. he let out a soft sigh, his body sinking deeper into the mattress, and YN froze for a beat, watching him.

the bruise on his cheekbone had darkened overnight, a stark reminder of everything that had happened. she stepped lightly toward the thermostat, turning up the heat a touch before padding into the small kitchen.

her fridge was mostly empty, save for a few leftovers and a half-gallon of milk. she sighed, crouching to dig through the shelves until her hand landed on a familiar blue tube tucked into the corner.

ready-to-bake cinnamon rolls.

simple. easy. and hopefully something harry wouldn’t complain about. she pulled the tube out, setting it on the counter before preheating the oven. as she moved, her thoughts swirled—fragments of the night before, the weight of his head against her chest, the broken edge in his voice when he cried.

harry was a puzzle she wasn’t sure she was supposed to solve, but she couldn’t stop trying.

the scent of cinnamon and sugar began to fill the air just as she heard the faint creak of the bedroom door.

YN turned, glancing toward the hallway as harry trudged into the living room, his chest bare, his sweatpants from yesterday still slung on his hips. his hair was a mess of curls, sticking out in every direction, and his eyelids hung heavy, dark lashes casting faint shadows against his bruised cheekbone.

he rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low groan as he stepped further into the room. “what time is it?” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

“almost nine.”

he leaned against the wall, blinking slowly as the scent of the cinnamon rolls registered. “you’re baking?”

“don’t get too excited,” she said lightly, glancing over her shoulder. “pillsbury.”

he smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “good enough f’me.”

YN shook her head, hiding a small smile as she grabbed a plate from the cabinet. “go sit down. they’re almost done.”

he pushed off the wall, his movements slow and deliberate as he sank onto the couch. “didn’t know you were a morning person,” he muttered, resting his head against the back of the couch as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

“i’m not,” she said, pulling the cinnamon rolls from the oven. “you’re just lucky i like you enough to feed you.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes slipping shut. “guess i’ll take what i can get.”

she glanced at him as she set the rolls on the counter, her chest tightening faintly at the sight of him—bare, bruised, and completely at ease for the first time since she’d opened the door last night.

she shook the thought away, grabbing a plate and a spatula as she tried to ignore the warmth spreading through her chest.

when she set the plate in front of him, harry opened one eye, “yeah,” he smiled, his voice still low, almost a drawl. “you definitely like me.”

she rolled her eyes, settling onto the couch beside him. “shut up and eat.”

she stole a glance at harry as he chewed slowly, his head bowed slightly over the plate in his lap. the bruise on his cheek looked worse in the daylight, darker, more defined.

it was uncanny, how vulnerable he looked—shirtless and bruised, curled up on her sofa.

he didn’t look up when he broke the silence. “where’s your roommate?”

“home,” she sighed, “she went back for break.”

he nodded, his focus still on the roll in front of him. “makes sense.”

another silence followed, stretching longer this time, broken only by the faint clank of the plate as YN set it on the coffee table.

he shifted, his fingers brushing the edge of his plate before he set it down beside hers. “can i stay?” he asked, his voice low, hesitant.

she frowned slightly, tilting her head to look at him. “here?”

he nodded, his gaze fixed on the table. “just for a while. i don’t…” he paused, his fingers flexing against his knees. “i don’t feel like going back right now.”

she didn’t respond immediately, her chest tightening as she watched him. there was something raw in his voice, something that made her think he’d never asked for this kind of thing before—not from her, not from anyone. she shifted closer, resting her elbows on her knees as she leaned toward him. “you don’t have to ask. of course, you can stay.”

harry finally looked up, his sleepy eyes meeting hers. “just for a while,” he repeated, his voice quieter now.

YN shook her head, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “as long as you need.”

he didn’t respond, but the tension in his frame seemed to ease, his shoulders dropping slightly as he leaned back into the couch.

she wasn’t used to seeing harry like this.

his usual confidence—his sharp tongue and quick wit, had softened into something quieter, something almost fragile. the way he slouched slightly in his seat, the way his fingers fidgeted against his knees—it all felt foreign, but it tugged at something deep inside her.

he stayed there for a while, his head tipped back against the couch, eyes half-lidded as he seemed to lose himself in the moment. YN didn’t press him, didn’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between them, comfortable and full.

eventually, harry shifted, sitting forward as he rubbed his hands over his face. “i should grab some clothes.”

she glanced at him, pulling her legs up onto the couch. “from your apartment?”

he nodded, standing slowly and rolling his shoulders as he glanced toward the door. “yeah. but…” he paused, his jaw tightening slightly before he let out a slow breath. “can i shower here?”

“you don’t wanna shower at yours?”

he shook his head, his lips barely forming a pout. he didn’t respond, not verbally at least, but his silence was enough.

she nodded, “go get your clothes then.”

he was only gone for a few minutes, slipping out her door and back in with an armful of clean clothes to change into.

she stood as he locked the door behind him, gesturing toward the hall. “c’mon.” she led him to the bathroom she shared with her roommate, flipping on the light and pulling back the shower curtain. “okay,” she breathed, pointing toward the corner of the tub. “this is my stuff.” she glanced at the bottles lined neatly along the edge. “shampoo, conditioner, body wash. whatever you need.”

harry stood just inside the doorway, watching her with an intensity she tried to ignore. his arms hung loosely at his sides, his expression unreadable but steady.

YN reached for the faucet, twisting it to adjust the temperature, testing the water with her hand before stepping back. “there,” she smiled gently, looking at him over her shoulder.

she hesitated, her hand hovering near the shower curtain, before finally stepping toward the door. “i’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

he didn’t respond right away. his eyes flicked to hers briefly, something flickering in their depths—something warm, quiet, and unsaid. “thanks.”

she nodded, slipping out of the bathroom and pulling the door shut behind her.

harry stood there for a moment, staring at the running water, the faint scent of her body wash already filling the small room. his chest felt tight, but not in the way it had last night. this was different. warmer.

he glanced toward the door, his lips pressing into a faint, unreadable line as he exhaled slowly. it wasn’t much—letting him stay, starting the shower for him, showing him her space—but it was enough to make something in his chest ache.

the night would settle in slowly, blanketing the city in quiet.

her back pressed lightly against the mattress as she stared at the faint outline of her bedroom ceiling. the soft hum of the radiator filled the silence, its warmth finally chasing away the lingering chill from earlier.

harry was beside her again, just like the night before.

at first, they were apart, separated by a stretch of empty space between them. she could feel his presence, though—the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the occasional rustle of the sheets when he shifted. but then, just as she’d started to drift off, he moved.

the bed dipped slightly as he turned toward her, his weight shifting as his arm draped across her waist. his chest pressed lightly against her side, and his curls tickled her jawline as he lowered his head to her chest.

it was the same as last night, yet somehow it felt different—heavier, more—just more.

her fingers combed through his curls again, and he let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing against hers, the tension she hadn’t even realized was there melting away with the sound.

the silence stretched, long and unbroken, until harry’s voice cut through it—quiet, almost hesitant. “are we still friends?”

YN froze briefly, her hand pausing mid-motion before she resumed her gentle combing. her gaze drifted upward, staring at the faint pattern of the popcorn ceiling as his question echoed in her mind. she didn’t answer right away, her tummy tightening as she tried to make sense of what he was asking—not just the words, but the weight behind them.

finally, she nodded, the movement gentle as her chin brushed against his curls. “of course,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the slight flutter in her chest.

he didn’t respond immediately, but the way he shifted closer, his arm tightening around her waist, said more than words could have. she kept combing through his hair, the motion slow and soothing, her fingers tangling lightly in the knots at the nape of his neck.

“this okay?” she asked quietly after a while, her voice barely above a murmur.

he exhaled, the sound low and heavy, like he was sinking into her touch. he only hummed, “mm-hm.”

her lips twitched faintly, a small, tired smile forming as she rested her cheek lightly against his head.

his breathing slowed, his weight growing heavier against her as sleep began to pull at him. YN stayed awake longer, her fingers threaded through his hair, her eyes fluttering shut. whatever this was—whatever they were—it was fragile, unspoken, and entirely theirs.

the rest of the week passed in a blur.

monday

it started with breakfast. YN had woken up early, the smell of coffee already filling the small apartment when harry wandered into the kitchen.

he was barefoot, his shirt hung loosely around his frame, curls a mess, still sleep-tangled, and the faint shadow of the bruise on his cheekbone was beginning to fade.

“you’re up early,” he muttered, leaning against the counter as he grabbed a mug.

she shrugged, flipping a pancake. “someone has to feed you.”

he smirked faintly, lifting the mug to his lips. “you say that like i’d starve without you.”

“you might,” she teased, glancing over her shoulder. “your fridge is pathetic.”

he didn’t argue. he just sipped his coffee and watched her move around the kitchen.

tuesday

the snow came down hard that afternoon, blanketing the streets in white.

they sat on the couch, harry’s legs stretched out in front of him, YN tucked into the corner with a blanket draped over her lap. a movie played quietly on the tv, but neither of them was really watching it.

“you ever build a snowman?” she asked suddenly, glancing at him.

“what, like when i was a kid?”

“sure,” she said, nudging him lightly with her foot. “don’t tell me you’ve never done it.”

he shrugged, his smirk fading into something softer. “once or twice.”

she grinned, leaning forward. “you wanna do it now?”

harry stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head, laughing softly under his breath. “you’re ridiculous.”

but an hour later, they were outside, their hands red from the cold as they shaped clumps of snow into something that vaguely resembled a snowman.

wednesday

harry had offered to cook.

she had been skeptical—especially when she saw him poking around the kitchen like he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. “you know how to use that, right?” she asked, gesturing toward the knife in his hand.

he shot her a glare, though the faint grin on his lips betrayed him. “m’not completely useless.”

it turned out he wasn’t. dinner wasn’t fancy, but it was good—better than she’d expected, and she told him so.

“don’t get used to it,” he muttered, glancing at her as he sat back in his chair.

she grinned, her fork tapping against her plate. “you say that like you’re not gonna do this again.”

he didn’t answer, but the faint curve of his lips told her she was right.

friday

the radiator acted up again.

harry fixed it without her asking, crouched in front of the thing with his hoodie sleeves pushed up and a wrench in his hand.

YN leaned against the counter, watching him work, her arms crossed over her chest. “they should probably just hire you as the new maintenance man at this point.”

harry glanced over his shoulder, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

YN shrugged, trying to keep her expression neutral. “it’d be efficient.”

he turned back to the radiator, but she caught the faintest twitch of his lips, the smirk softening into something that made her tummy flutter.

saturday night

harry didn’t leave her bed that night, just like every other night that week.

but this time, there was no hesitation.

he shifted toward her sooner, his arm slipping around her waist as he pressed his face into the curve of her neck.

YN sighed softly, her hand lifting to comb through his curls, her fingers tracing the familiar path she’d memorized over the past few nights. “you know this is becoming a habit.”

harry huffed a quiet breath, his lips brushing against her skin. “maybe s’not a bad one.”

YN smiled faintly, her fingers tangling into his hair. “you saying you like having me around?”

he didn’t answer, but the way his arm tightened around her waist and his body softened against hers was enough.

*

the pounding didn’t stop.

harry groaned, dragging a hand over his face as the sharp knocks echoed through the quiet of the apartment. his head was still heavy with sleep, his curls a messy halo that tickled YN’s shoulder as he shifted beside her.

the sound came again, louder this time, and she blinked herself awake, sitting up slightly as she frowned toward the hallway. “it’s not mine,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

he sighed, sitting up and planting his feet on the floor. “no,” he muttered, his voice rough. “s’mine.”

she turned to look at him, her brow furrowing. “you’re sure?”

harry nodded, rubbing his eyes as he stood. “yeah. i’ll handle it.” he grabbed his hoodie that hung from her bed frame, tugging it over his head as he crossed through her hallway. the knocking hadn’t stopped, and by the time he opened YN’s door and stepped out, his scowl was firmly in place.

a guy stood in front of his door—college-aged, tall, wearing a puffy jacket and sneakers that looked too clean for someone pounding on doors at this hour.

harry’s steps were slow, deliberate, the sleep still heavy in his frame as he approached. “you’re real fucking persistent, y’know that?”

the guy turned, his eyes flicking over him with thinly veiled irritation. “dude, i’ve been texting you all week.”

YN appeared in the doorway behind harry, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the frame. she stayed silent, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the two.

he tilted his head, his curls brushing against his hood as he crossed his arms. “so y’thought banging on my door at ten in the morning was a good move?”

the guy shrugged, his tone defensive. “you’ve been m.i.a, man. i need what i asked for.”

harry let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening as he reached up to run his hand down his face. “jesus christ.”

YN stepped forward slightly, her voice cutting through the tension. “this really something that couldn’t wait?”

the guy blinked, noticing her for the first time. his eyes flicked between her and harry, something smug curling at the edge of his lips. “oh,” he said, dragging the word out. “this why you’ve been missing?”

harry stiffened, his jaw clenching as his eyes narrowed. “don’t.” he warned, his tone sharp.

the guy held up his hands, his smirk widening. “i’m just saying—”

“i don’t give a shit what you’re saying,” he snapped, stepping forward. his voice stayed low, but the edge in it made the guy falter. “you‘ll get what you need later and you’ll walk away. clear?”

the guy hesitated, glancing at YN again before muttering something under his breath and nodding. “fine. i’ll text you later.”

harry watched him walk off, his shoulders tight, his hands curling into fists at his sides. when the guy was gone, she stepped closer, her voice softer now. “you okay?”

he shook his head, exhaling slowly as he turned back to her. “s’fine.”

“are you sure?”

harry frowned, the irritation fading slightly as he glanced at her. but he nodded, brushing past her into the apartment.

she followed him, shutting the door softly behind them. “does that happen a lot?”

he didn’t answer right away. he leaned against the counter, running a hand through his curls before glancing at her. “not usually.”

her frown deepened, but she didn’t press. “you sure you’re okay?”

harry met her eyes, his expression softening slightly, though the tension didn’t leave his frame. “yeah,” he said after a moment, his voice low. “yeah, m’good.”

she didn’t believe him, not entirely. but she nodded, letting the silence settle between them as the morning stretched on.

he had left around two, grabbing his hoodie off the back of the chair and muttering something about finally putting food in her fridge.

“i’ve been raiding yours, doesn’t seem fair.”he said earlier, his voice laced with lazy humor as he ruffled his curls into place.

she raised an eyebrow from her spot on the couch, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “that hasn’t stopped you all week.”

he smirked faintly, tugging the hood over his head. “yeah, well. figured i’d give you a break.”

and with that, he was out the door, leaving YN alone in the quiet apartment.

the knock came twenty minutes later, startling her.

it wasn’t the casual tap of a neighbor or the soft knock of a package delivery—it was firm, insistent. she frowned, setting her laptop aside as she stood, her socked feet padding softly against the floor.

when she opened the door, her stomach twisted. there he was—the guy from that morning, his puffy jacket zipped tight, his expression set in something between annoyance and impatience.

“um,” she paused, gripping the edge of the door. “can i help you?”

his eyes flicked over her briefly before he jerked his chin toward the hallway. “harry here?”

her chest tightened, but she kept her voice steady. “no. he’s out.”

the guy huffed, his hands disappearing into his jacket pockets as he nodded toward the apartment behind her. “you know when he’ll be back? he said i could get my shit later.”

“no, he didn’t say.”

he studied her for a beat, his head tilting slightly. “he live with you now?”

she shook her head. “he just… visits.”

the guy smirked faintly, the expression smug. “yeah. figured that much.”

YN bristled, her hand tightening on the doorframe. “look, if you’re trying to reach him, text him. i don’t know anything.”

the guy held her gaze for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his expression. finally, he stepped back, shrugging. “sure. i’ll text him…again.”

she slammed the door shut, her heart racing as she flipped the deadbolt into place. she leaned against the wood, exhaling sharply as the tension slowly began to drain from her frame.

she didn’t tell harry when he got back.

he’d been carrying enough all week, the exhaustion in his eyes and the weight in his shoulders a constant reminder of everything he was dealing with.

so she kept it to herself.

it wasn’t until later that evening, when they were sitting on the couch with the faint glow of the tv lighting the room, that harry’s phone buzzed.

he glanced at it, his jaw tightening as he read the message.

hey, stopped by urs and then ur girl’s place earlier. said u were out again. just let me know when i can get my eighth man.

harry’s chest tightened, his breath catching as he stared at the screen. “what the fuck?” he muttered, his voice low and sharp.

YN looked over, her brow furrowing. “what’s wrong?”

he turned the phone toward her, his eyes narrowing. “he came here?”

she hesitated, her stomach twisting. “yeah,” she admitted softly. “this afternoon. i didn’t think it was worth stressing you over.”

his expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “not worth stressing me over? YN, he showed up at your door.”

“i know,” she said quickly, her voice steady despite the tension creeping into her chest. “but i handled it. it’s fine.”

“s’not fine,” harry snapped, standing abruptly. “this isn’t just about me anymore, okay? if people start thinking it’s okay to involve you—”

“harry,” YN interrupted, standing to face him. “you’re overreacting. he was annoying, sure, but it’s not like he threatened me.”

“doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice rising. “this shit is getting out of hand. promised myself i’d keep you out of it, and now people are knocking on your door looking f’me. that’s not okay.”

“then maybe you should stop,” YN said, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

harry froze, his eyes snapping to hers, the weight of her words hitting him like a punch. “you think i haven’t thought about that?” he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less tense. “you think i want to keep doing this?”

her stomach twisted in ways that screamed retreat, retreat, retreat—the frustration in his voice cutting deeper than she expected. “don’t do this anymore, harry. it’s not worth it.”

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls as he turned away. “you don’t get it,” his voice was tight. “s’not that simple.”

“then make it simple.”

harry turned back to her, his jaw clenched, chest heaving as if he was trying his hardest to keep his composure. “i can’t.” his tone was sharp, the words heavy. “and you don’t get to tell me i can.”

YN frowned, her arms crossing over her chest as the weight of his words settled between them. he grabbed his hoodie from the chair, pulling it over his head before turning toward the door. “i need air.” he left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving her alone in the quiet apartment.

harry didn’t come back that night.

YN stayed up later than she intended, the silence pressing in on her. she flipped through a textbook on the couch, barely absorbing a single word, her mind spinning with fragments of their argument.

his face—the tension in his jaw, the sharpness in his voice, it just played on a loop in her head.

when she finally gave up on pretending to study, she dragged herself to bed, the empty space beside her feeling heavier than it had in weeks.

harry, meanwhile, had locked himself in his own apartment.

he sat at his small kitchen table, a half-empty bottle of water in front of him and his phone facedown beside it. the air in the apartment was stale, colder than he liked, but he hadn’t bothered to adjust the heat.

his bed was just in the other room, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie down.

the argument replayed in his head, every word a sharp reminder of how badly he’d let things spiral. YN was right—this wasn’t sustainable. he knew it, even if he didn’t want to admit it. but the idea of walking away from the one thing keeping him afloat felt impossible, like stepping off a ledge with no guarantee there’d be solid ground beneath him.

he rubbed his hands over his face, the bruises on his knuckles still tender, a faint throb reminding him of how close everything had come to boiling over.

when he finally moved to the bed, it was late, the clock blinking 3:42 am.

the sheets were cold, unfamiliar, and for the first time in weeks, harry realized just how much he’d come to rely on the quiet warmth of YN’s apartment.

it wasn’t just the bed or the radiator or the soft glow of her bedside lamp.

it was her.

the next morning, she woke up to the kind of silence that wasn’t comforting, just hollow. she sat on the edge of her bed for a long time, staring at the spot harry would normally take—his arm draped over her waist, his curls tickling her collarbone.

now, it was just empty.

she thought about texting him, but her fingers hovered over her phone, indecisive. she wasn’t sure what she’d even say.

harry didn’t text her either.

the day dragged on, heavy and slow, each hour feeling like it stretched longer than it should have.

she couldn’t help but glance at the wall separating her apartment from harry’s, the faint sound of movement on his side making her chest tighten.

he was close—just steps away. but for the first time in weeks, he felt farther than ever.

and neither of them knew how to bridge the distance.

the next afternoon, coming home from work, she spotted him the moment she turned the corner onto her floor.

harry was sitting on the ground just outside her door, his back pressed against the wall, his head tilted back as if he’d been staring at the ceiling for hours. the faint light from the hallway cast shadows under his eyes, making the tiredness on his face even more apparent.

he didn’t say anything when he saw her. didn’t stand, didn’t offer an explanation.

he didn’t need to.

YN’s steps slowed, her bag hanging heavy off her shoulder as her eyes met his. there was a weight in his gaze, an unspoken plea that neither of them needed to put into words.

she didn’t ask why he was there.

instead, she reached into her pocket, pulling out her keys and unlocking the door.

he stood, slipping off his shoes just inside the entryway as if he belonged there. maybe he did. without a word, he walked the short hallway to her bedroom.

the bathroom was warm from the radiator, but the chill of the night still clung to her skin as she slipped out of her scrubs. she could hear the faint creak of the bed as harry settled into it, the sound an odd comfort after the last two days of his absence.

YN pulled on a pair of worn sweats and a loose sweatshirt, her mind too tired to linger on the why of it all. when she finally climbed into bed, harry didn’t move to face her like he usually did. instead, he shifted closer, pressing his chest against her back, his arm sliding underneath her head to pull her closer.

his body was warm, solid, grounding in a way she hadn’t realized she needed until it was there again.

they didn’t speak.

she twisted the rings on his fingers, the very hand that lay sprawled over her tummy, pressing her into his chest. “harry?” she murmured, her voice worn, tired.

he hummed softly in acknowledgment, his arm tightening slightly around her.

“tell me why it’s not so simple?”

his breath hitched, just faintly, and she felt his hesitation in the way his grip faltered for the briefest moment. “it just isn’t,” he sighed, his voice low, rough against her ear.

“that’s not an answer,” she frowned, her index finger tracing the H of his ring. “not a real one.”

he exhaled sharply, the sound heavy and resigned, and for a moment, she thought he might shut down entirely.

but then he spoke. “s’my mum,” he rasped. “and rent. and groceries. and bills.”

she stayed silent, her fingers pausing against his fingers as she let him continue.

“i grew up watching her work three jobs just to keep the lights on—before we moved,” he mumbled, his voice steady but hollow, like he’d had this conversation in his head a thousand times but never out loud. “and it still wasn’t enough. there was always more t’pay for, always something else breaking, something else needing fixing.”

his chest pressed harder against her back, like he was trying to ground himself in the moment.

“when i got here, i thought things would get better. scholarships, loans—it was supposed to be enough. but it’s not.” his voice cracked, just barely. “it never is.”

“so you started dealing,” she croaked, filling in the gaps he didn’t.

harry nodded against her, his breath warm against the back of her neck. “weed was easy,” he admitted. “then psychedelics. then molly. s’not what i wanted, but… it worked. it kept me here. kept her afloat back home.”

YN turned back toward him slightly, her hand reaching for his. “har–”

he shook his head, “don’t.”

she didn’t push him, her fingers threading lightly through his as she pressed their hands between her chest and his.“you don’t have to keep doing this,” she said quietly after a long pause. “you know that, right?”

his grip tightened, and she felt the faintest shake in his fingers. “i don’t know anything else,” his lips trembled, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear it.

she turned fully, her forehead brushing against his as she met his gaze, her hand still holding his tightly. “then let me help.”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally, his voice low, but the bite that usually sharpened his words was absent.

she didn’t flinch. didn’t look away. instead, her lips curved into the faintest, almost tired smile. “i know enough,” she murmured.

they lay there, facing each other now, their cheeks pressed against the pillows. the faint orange glow of the streetlights filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows over their faces. harry’s eyes softened slightly, but he didn’t argue, didn’t push her away. he just watched as she shifted, her hand reaching out to trace the black ink etched into his bicep.

her fingertips moved slowly, following the lines of the tattooed ship, the sails that stretched across his skin. “i get it. not everything, maybe, but enough.”

her fingers paused briefly on the edge of the ink, her eyes dropping to her hand before continuing. “i’m here because of a full ride. the scholarship’s the only reason i even got to set foot in this city. but it’s not just… given, you know? there are expectations, benchmarks, a constant weight reminding me that if i slip up, even once, it’s over.”

harry’s eyes stayed on her, the faint tension in his jaw softening as he listened. “it’s like…” she hesitated, her fingers still tracing the tattoo. “it feels like there’s this blade hanging over me all the time. like one wrong step, one failed class, and it’ll fall.”

her voice wavered slightly, and she exhaled softly, shaking her head. “i’m scared, harry. scared of failing. scared of… what happens if i do.”

his hand shifted, brushing lightly against her arm.

“and the future,” she continued, her gaze flicking up to meet his. “i think about it all the time. whether i’ll make it through this, whether all of this pressure will be worth it in the end. sometimes it feels like it’s too much, but then i think, what’s the alternative? giving up? i can’t do that either.”

harry’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable, but his hand stayed where it was, a small, grounding touch against her arm.

“so yeah,” she sighed softly, her fingers brushing one last time over the edge of the ship before dropping to the pillow. “i don’t know everything, but i know what it feels like to carry something too heavy for too long. and i know what it feels like to be scared of what happens if you stop.”

he exhaled slowly, his eyes searching hers in the dim light. he didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers tightened slightly against her arm told her he’d heard her.

*

harry returned to the building just after five, the sky outside dimming as the cold of the evening set in.

he reached up for the key YN had left above the doorframe, something she reminded him of this morning before she left for work. his fingers brushed the cool metal easily, a smile on his lips as he unlocked the door.

stepping inside, the warmth of the apartment wrapped around him, a stark contrast to the chill that had seeped into his bones from the day.

his eyes landed on YN immediately. she was curled up on the couch, a blanket draped loosely over her, the flicker of the tv casting soft shadows across her face. her chest rose and fell evenly, her lips slightly parted in sleep.

harry toed off his shoes by the door, moving quietly as he turned the heat up a notch. his shirt stuck to his skin, damp with sweat and the stale air from hours spent running around the city. he peeled it off, tossing it over the back of a chair before padding toward the couch.

for a moment, he just stood there, his eyes tracing the soft curve of her body beneath the blanket, the way the dim light from the tv illuminated her features.

he didn’t think twice before bending down, sliding his arms beneath her. she stirred faintly as he lifted her, a quiet sigh escaping her lips, but she didn’t wake fully.

he slipped onto the couch, settling her carefully between his legs, her head resting against his lower stomach. she shifted slightly, her cheek pressing against him as he adjusted the blanket to cover them both.

his fingers found her hair instinctively, combing through the strands in slow, deliberate motions. it was a habit he’d picked up from her, from the way she soothed him almost every night, and he found himself wondering if she felt the same quiet calm from it that he did.

the tv flickered in front of him, some show he didn’t recognize playing softly, but his focus stayed on her.

her breath was warm against his skin, her body soft and relaxed, and for the first time all day, harry felt the weight of the world start to lift, just a little.

he thought she was asleep.

until her voice broke through the quiet, soft and drowsy but steady enough to make his chest tighten. “harry, i don’t think we’re just friends.”

his hand stilled in her hair, his heart thudding once, hard, against his ribs. he looked down at her, his breath catching as she shifted slightly, her face turning toward him, though her eyes were half-lidded. “what makes you say that?”

she hummed softly, her fingers curling slightly against his side beneath the blanket. “because friends don’t… do this.”

harry swallowed hard, his hand brushing lightly against the back of her head, resuming its slow, soothing rhythm. “you think so?”

YN nodded faintly, her cheek nuzzling against him. “pretty sure.”

he huffed a quiet breath, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles despite the sharp twist in his chest. “maybe you’re right, cinnamon.”

she didn’t respond, her breathing evening out again as sleep pulled her back under.

harry stared at the tv, his hand still in her hair, the weight of her words settling over him like a blanket of its own.

they'd both drifted off sometime after the quiet settled, the hum of the tv lulling them into sleep. when YN blinked awake, the room was dark except for the flickering light bleeding from the screen, washing everything in shades of blue and white.

she was still between his thighs, her cheek pressed against his naval, his warmth a quiet anchor as his belly fluttered with every breath.

harry stirred beneath her, letting out a low groan as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, his fingers brushing through his curls. he blinked hard, adjusting to the sudden glow of the television. the bruise on his cheekbone had faded to a dull yellow, but his knuckles still bore the deep, mottled stain of healing. they flexed slightly as he shifted, testing the ache.

she sat up slowly, still nestled between his legs, pulling her knees to her chest as she turned to face him.

his smile was soft, lopsided and heavy with sleep, his dimples cutting through in the faint light. his hands found the outer edges of her knees, palms warm and solid as he wiggled them side to side gently. "the bed is probably more comfortable," he whispered, his voice low and scratchy, like he hadn't used it in hours.

but she didn't move. not away, at least. instead, she shifted closer, folding into herself, her toes tucking beneath him in the small space left between them.

her hands reached out almost hesitantly, brushing against his chest, her fingertips tracing the swallows inked beneath his collarbones.

harry tensed slightly, his breath catching just enough for her to notice.

she leaned in, her knees tilting inward, resting along his hipbones. the flicker of the tv painted her face in broken shards of light as she edged closer, her lips a breath away.

he swallowed hard, his voice a warning but barely that. "YN..”

but he didn't move. didn't stop her.

her lips hovered just over his, her breath warm against his mouth, and her voice came soft and deliberate, barely above a whisper. "tell me to stop."

he didn't.

the space between them disappeared as her lips met his, slow and certain, her hands sliding up to rest against the curve of his shoulders.

for a second, he didn't move, like the weight of the moment had pinned him in place. but then his hands shifted, sliding from her knees to her waist, pulling her in closer as the kiss deepened, quiet and unhurried, their breaths tangling in the stillness of the room.

her lips coaxed his into movement until hesitation (almost) fell away completely. his breath hitched as her hands slid up his neck, fingers grazing over the curve of his jaw.

he whispered her name against her lips, the sound a mix of a moan and a warning, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to stop or pull her closer.

but his hands betrayed him. they gripped her hips firmly, pressing her down until she straddled him, her knees framing his thighs, his back still flush against the armrest of the couch.

her weight settled over him, and harry's breath came out shaky, like the air itself was too much to handle. his hands stayed at her hips, fingers flexing against her like they couldn't decide whether to ground her or let her move.

"we can't.” he managed to say, the words slipping out between kisses that he couldn't seem to stop. the sentence dissolved into a low moan as her lips moved to his jaw, her teeth grazing against his stubble.

she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her own clouded and unwavering, her breath warm against his cheek. "we are.”

the words hit him like a match to gasoline, and his restraint shattered in an instant. his hands slid from her hips to her waist, his fingers curling against the thin fabric of her sweater as he pulled her closer, their bodies flush now. their kisses turned hungry, desperate, like both of them had been holding their breath for too long.

her hands tangled in his hair, pulling softly, and his low groan vibrated against her lips as his grip on her tightened. he tilted his head back slightly, giving her room as her mouth trailed along his jawline, her name tumbling from his lips again, this time softer, rougher, almost pleading.

his head hit the couch's armrest as her kisses worked their way back to his lips, her heat shifting over his in a way that made his breath stutter. his hands roamed higher, curling over the curve of her back, holding her like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

every instinct told him this was a line they couldn't uncross, but the weight of her, the heat of her, the sound of her soft, hitching breaths—it was enough to unravel him completely.

he moaned her name again, softer, almost like a prayer.

so she kissed him in answer.

his hands tugged at the hem of her sweater, his movements rough but not rushed. the fabric slid over her head, leaving her in just her bra, her skin warm and soft beneath the flickering light of the tv.

"fuck," he breathed, the sound slipping out unbidden as her lips found his neck.

the brush of her tongue sent a shiver down his spine, and when her teeth grazed the sensitive skin just below his ear, his hips bucked instinctively beneath her.

his hands slid up her back, fingers fumbling only briefly before unclasping her bra. the straps fell loose, sliding down her arms as he groaned again, low and guttural, the sound vibrating against her lips.

she rocked her hips against him, the friction sending sparks of heat spiraling through his chest. harry's hands flew to her waist, his grip tight like he needed something to hold onto, something to keep him grounded.

“tell me where you need it, h.” the words slipped between her lips through his like a dare as she kissed him again. her hips kept moving, rocking in a way that made his breath stutter.

harry's head tipped back against the armrest, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as her words hit him, a moan slipping past his lips, raw and unrestrained. his fingers curled tighter against her waist, his body aching, straining beneath hers.

"fuck—everywhere.” he muttered, his voice shaking, desperate.

she leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear as she rocked against him again, harder this time, pulling another broken sound from his throat.

harry bucked his hips against her, pressing his hardened cock into her core through the thin layers of their sweatpants. the movement was instinctive, almost helpless, his body speaking the desperation he couldn't put into words anymore.

“harry—” she breathed, her voice catching as she felt him beneath her, hard and wanting.

his eyes fluttered open at the sound of his name, glassy and dark, locking onto hers. there was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, raw and fragile, like she was the only person in the world who could see him like this—needy, exposed, undone.

"you feel so good.” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper as her hands slid up his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, taut under her touch.

harry let out a broken sound, his lips parting as if he wanted to argue, but all that came out was another moan as she shifted her hips, pressing down against him with just enough pressure to make him gasp.

"let me—“ she whimpered, "let me make you feel good.”

his hands slid back to her waist, trembling slightly as he nodded, his breath hitching when her lips found the sensitive spot beneath his ear again.

he didn't need to say it, not when every touch, every soft sound from his throat spoke volumes. YN could feel it in the way his body moved beneath hers, the way his fingers pressed into her skin like he was afraid to let go.

his touch moved higher, his palms grazing the curve of her shoulders, brushing over the column of her neck, before cupping her jawline with a reverence that made her chest tighten.

his thumbs rested just below her ears, his hands holding her in place like he needed to anchor himself in the moment. "please..." he breathed, the word breaking on his lips in quiet desperation. his voice was shaky, his accent thickened by the weight of it, and she felt the sound reverberate through her, lighting her nerves like a match.

she lifted herself, her knees pressing into the couch cushions as she rose just enough to give him space. her hands rested lightly on his chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heart beneath her fingers.

harry took the opening instinctively, his hips shifting as his hands dropped to his waistband. his movements were clumsy, rushed, but YN didn't move away—didn't look away.

his fingers hooked under the elastic of his sweatpants and boxers, tugging them down just enough to free himself, the fabric bunching at his mid-thigh.

her breath hitched at the sight of him, her body flushing warm as his cock slapped against his naval from freeing himself.

she sat back, her movements quick but deliberate as she tugged her sweatpants and panties down in one smooth motion. the cool air brushed against her bare skin, sending a shiver racing up her spine as she climbed back into place, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of him.

she lowered herself slowly, the heat of him brushing against her soaked cunt, but just before she could take him fully, his hands found her.

his fingers curled against the flesh of her bum, halting her movements, his grip firm but not forceful.

their eyes met, and she froze at the look in his. it was more than hesitation—it was worry, soft and fragile, barely hidden behind the glassy haze of his need.

he didn't say a word, but she didn't need him to. she knew what he was thinking, what was holding him back.

"i'm on the pill," she whispered, her voice steady but soft, her eyes never leaving his.

his gaze flickered, something uncertain melting away into something deeper, warmer. his grip on her eased, and his hands drifted lower, brushing over the curve of her thighs. his fingers spread wide, settling there, his palms grounding her as he gave the faintest nod.

she let out a shaky breath, her hands cupping the sides of his neck as she sank down onto him.

the stretch stole the air from her lungs, the way her body adjusted to his cock, enveloping him fully.

harry's eyes widened, his lips parting as a low, broken groan spilled out, his fingers tightening against her thighs like he was holding on for dear life.

"that’s good—” he rasped, his voice trembling as his head fell back against the armrest. his chest heaved beneath as her hands drifted lower, his body taut with restraint.

but his eyes—he couldn't tear them away. they followed every curve, every shift of her body as she moved above him. her skin glowed faintly in the flickering light of the tv, her breaths shallow and uneven, her lashes fluttering as she adjusted to him.

she was art, every movement deliberate, every curve of her body a masterpiece he couldn't stop staring at.

"s’good baby, just like that.” he moaned his words in reverence, his voice soft and raw. his hands slid up her thighs, his thumbs brushing over her hips as if he needed to memorize every inch of her.

"you're perfect.” he murmured, the words slipping out like a secret he hadn't meant to share.

her hips stilled for a moment, her gaze meeting his, and her lips curved into the faintest smile.

he wasn't used to being fucked like this—any of it. not the careful way her hands steadied themselves on his chest, not the slow, teasing rhythm she set, not the soft, coaxing words that slipped from her lips.

"your cock is so good, harry.” her voice was low and warm, melting into the quiet. her fingers traced the faint lines of his tattoos, her touch light but grounding.

he let out a shaky exhale, his hands flexing against her thighs, the grip of his fingertips faltering as he fought to hold himself together.

"like that?" she asked softly, her voice catching slightly as she rolled her hips again, watching the way his chest rose and fell in uneven beats beneath her.

his eyes blinked open, dark and unfocused, his gaze locking onto hers like he couldn't find the words.

"fuck—yes.” he breathed finally, the words breaking apart as they left his mouth.

she leaned forward slightly, her hips never losing their rhythm as her lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “tell me what you need,” she whispered, her breath shaky. “i’ll do anything for you.”

his breath hitched, his head tipping to the side as her words sank into him, and his grip tightened on her thighs.

"just... just keep going," he rasped, his voice rough and barely holding together. "don't stop—please.”

she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her own soft but blazing with intent as she bounced on his cock.

his jaw clenched, a sharp breath hissing through his teeth, his fingers twitching against her skin. his eyes dropped to her chest, watching the way her tits bounced with each motion, his gaze burning and unashamed.

"yes, baby—fuck.” he muttered under his breath, a furrowed crease cutting deep into his forehead as he tried and failed to keep his composure.

she bit her lip, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as she tilted her hips slightly, drawing a low, guttural sound from him that made heat pool low in her stomach.

his eyebrows knit together in pleasure, strings of whimpers falling from his lips in desperation.

his hands slid higher, curling around her waist as he tried to match her rhythm, but yn was still in control, her movements precise, her focus entirely on him—his body responding to hers like it was made for this.

his lips found her tits, warm and insistent, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud before his tongue soothed it, drawing a sharp moan from her.

YN’s back arched into him instinctively, her movements above him never faltering, her rhythm unrelenting.

his hands slid up her spine, his palms flattening against her back, holding her to him as though he couldn't bear even an inch of distance. each roll of her hips sent a tremor through him, his body taut beneath her, every nerve alive and aching with the intensity of her.

"YN—“ he groaned against her skin, her name breaking on his tongue, caught between a moan and a prayer.

his whimpers melted into low, guttural grunts as her pace quickened, her movements growing more frantic. his toes curled, his heels digging into the couch cushions as he tried to hold on, but the way she moved, the way her cunt clenched around his cock—it was unraveling him completely.

her moans rose higher, sharper, each sound pulling him deeper under her spell. his grip on her tightened, his fingers pressing into her skin as though grounding himself in her was the only thing keeping him tethered.

his chest rose and fell in desperate, ragged breaths, his gaze locking onto her with an intensity that made his vision blur.

her body was mesmerizing—her curves, the way she moved, the sheer determination in her eyes as she took him apart piece by piece.

"m’close, baby—please,” he choked out, his voice cracking as his head fell forward, his curls damp against his forehead.

once her heard her come undone, her breath shuddering as she came all over his cock—he was done for.

his eyes squeezed shut, his head tipping back as his toes curled tighter, his muscles tensing with the force of his release. a low, broken moan ripped from his throat, his body trembling beneath her as he spilled into her.

her hand cupped his face, her thumb brushing away the single tear that slipped down his cheek as she steadied her breathing, her body still moving gently along his length, riding out the final waves of their release together.

his hands lingered on her waist, his thumbs brushing over her skin in slow, absent circles, as though letting go wasn’t an option. his gaze flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, soft and unguarded in the quiet aftermath.

she stayed perched in his lap, her body warm and bare against his, her breathing steadying as her fingertips traced the lines of his face. the bridge of his nose. the sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. the faint stubble along his jawline that scratched softly beneath her touch.

her hands drifted lower, finding his, their size so much larger in hers. the bruises on his knuckles were still deep, fading but stubborn, the purple-yellow marks a silent story she didn’t yet know.

she took his hand carefully, her fingers brushing over the tender skin as if she could will the pain away with her touch. harry let her, his shoulders sinking, his chest rising with a soft, uneven breath.

“you make it better.” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant, like the words might shatter if he said them too loudly.

she glanced up, her brow furrowing slightly. “your hands?”

he shook his head, his curls falling slightly over his forehead as he pulled his hands from hers, but only to raise them to her face.

his palms cupped her cheeks, his fingers threading gently through her hair, holding her like she was the only thing tethering him to the world. “life,” he breathed, his green eyes locked onto hers. “you make all of its bullshit better.”

her breath hitched, her hands lifting instinctively to cover his, keeping him there as if to say she wasn’t going anywhere.

they stayed like that, suspended in the stillness of the room, their bodies bare and vulnerable but safe. harry’s thumbs brushed softly against her cheeks, his lips parting as his eyes softened even further.

“my heart is yours.” he confessed, the words simple but heavy, his voice trembling slightly at the edges.

YN’s chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking deep. she knew what he meant—he didn’t need to say i love you outright. it was there in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, the way he couldn’t seem to let her go.

“as mine is yours.” she whispered, “every beat belongs to you.”

the corners of his mouth lifted, the faintest trace of a smile breaking through the intensity of the moment.

they stayed like that, connected, their foreheads brushing as the world outside fell away. they didn’t need more words, not now. it was enough—more than enough—to just be.