#this happened a handful of times in my life so far

[nayeoniiz]

WEBCAM PERV! (2)

REBLOGGING HELPS A TON, LOUD SUPPORT IS THE BEST SUPPORT!

pairings ❥ heeseung x fem!reader

genre ❥ smut

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

synopsis ❥ you meet heeseung on omegle and quickly hit it off until you accidentally disconnect. feeling at a loss from not being able to find him again, you give up and live life as if it never happened. unbeknownst to you, however, he turns out to be a hacker who hacked into your camera, resorting to watching your secretly from behind the screen… until he didn’t.

warnings ❥ stalking, voyeurism, fingering, oral (both receiving), raw sex (wrap it up!), missionary (reader is flexible), big dick heeseung, slight degradation, ass eating, backshots, facial (omg no cream pie?!?!)

word count ❥ 11.7k

Webcam Perv! (1)

author’s note: tbh guys i ended up rewriting a lot of stuff because i wasn’t satisfied with my work & also ended up also i had writers block so sorry for that, i just didn’t like how it turned out at the time. not proofread so beware.

taglist: taglist: @rayofsunshineeee @strayy-kidz @d-dilemma @kkamismom12 @cinnawonbabe @innocygnet @planetmarlowe @jakeswifez @river-demon-slayer @yoonglestangies @yangjungwonnie @norihoyeon @ch4c0nnenh4 @heephile777 @azzy02 @s0nnyang3ls @friedtalong @m3wkledreamy @mheretoreadff @vegahrid @ttulixia @heesexual74 @immelissaaa @heeseungssidechick @toffeehee @lavxndxrsworld @miuwonis @freaky-enhamadswriter @yohanabanana @jaeyunsbimbo @siimplestar @slut4hee @chobitos @isagistar @starry-eyed-bimbo @511rkive @skzenhalove @diorfmu @liafterhours @millis-diary @ki2rins @asscoups17 @ravenslocked

“i miss fine shit…” y/n sighed dramatically, her chin resting in her hand as she stared off into the distance. her thoughts seemed to be lost in a world far removed from the present lately. despite the fact that it’d been almost two weeks since the scandalous video call with heeseung, her mind remained fixated on him.

natty, on the other hand, had heard more than enough. she had sat through all of y/n’s endless rambling about it for these past couple of days, initially nodding along while the girl swooned, but her patience was running thin now. it wasn't uncommon for y/n to develop crushes, but this one? in natty’s eyes, it was foolish, exaggerated, and unreasonably intense. she spoke so highly of heeseung in a way that felt odd given the scenario in which they met. she couldn’t let y/n continue living in a fantasy.

“i’m sorry girl, but you don’t even know him for real,” natty words were low, her voice flat as she glanced up only briefly from their shared computer screen, where they were working on a class project. her response evoked a frown from the girl.

“maybe not,” y/n agreed, but her eyes remained distant as she was still lost in her daydreams of the boy. “but i do know that we at least live in the same country. you never know, i could bump into him,” she added with a quiet conviction, unwilling to acknowledge the more obvious reality of the situation which was leaning toward him being nothing more than a chance meeting. compared to natty, who’s had a long list of lovers, y/n didn’t seem to have luck when it came to men. she wasn’t exactly looking for that kind of attention anymore because of that fact. what she did with heeseung was completely out of character, he made her feel alive that night. she wanted to keep chasing that feeling. she had to.

“that doesn’t mean you know where he lives,” natty countered, her voice laced with softness in her tone as if she were trying her best to let the girl down gently. “he could be hours away, hidden somewhere in the middle of nowhere.”

y/n shook her head slowly, her belief unshaken. she was certain there had to be a way. “then i’ll just manifest running into him. this time, in person.”

her word make natty cringe as she let out a long, exasperated sigh. “you’re crazy,” she muttered, a hint of disbelief in her voice. she knew her friend was stubborn, but never to such an extent over a boy she only knew for a couple of hours.

“oh, girl, if only you could have seen what i saw in him,” y/n sighed, a smile tugging at her lips. images of heeseung flashed through her mind. the way he spoke so smoothly, the way he said her name, his smile, his smirks, the way he was so attentive to everything she said. she craved it all. with another content sigh, she spoke again. “you’ll understand when you see him.”

natty didn’t respond this time, realizing that y/n was too far gone to be reasoned with. this fated little fantasy had already settled into her mind, and it was clear there was no pulling her away from it now.

heeseung, on the contrary, was doing just fine. in fact, he had already grown accustomed to the unrestricted access he had to y/n’s devices, marveling at everything she did. from the way y/n spent countless hours searching omegle for him, and the way he found great pleasure in reading the messages between her and her best friend natty talking about how he was the one that got away, and of course that camera access had completely shifted his jerk off sessions each night as he finally had a face to openly fantasize about.

besides his endeavors, heeseung’s focus had shifted to something far more calculated—her routine. with the help of his hacking system, he managed to piece together most of the tiny fragments in her daily life: the café she frequented, the public library she studied in, the late-night convenience store she occasionally visited every now and then. but none of these places provided him with what he was looking for. there was never a specific time she went to any of them. he needed something more reliable, something he knew would guarantee their reunion.

while stalking wasn’t new territory for him as he had dabbled with brief obsessions in the past for the thrill of it, never taking them too seriously. this was different. this was y/n. for the first time, he was prepared to go further than everything he had before, to put in the effort, and asking for advice even if it meant bending the truth along the way.

that evening, heeseung entered the kitchen, where sunghoon sat hunched over his laptop absorbed in a research paper. the rhythmic sound of the keyboard came to a brief halt as heeseung pulled out the chair opposite sunghoon, the legs scraping gently against the floor.

“yo, can i ask you something?” heeseung began, leaning forward, resting his chin in his hand, his expression serious. his fingers lightly tapped against the table as he waited for his roommate’s acknowledgment. and sunghoon didn’t look up immediately, but the edge in heeseung’s tone piqued his interest.

“what’s up?”

heeseung hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words. he realized he should have thought it out before jumping straight in. “so, i went to this coffee shop a few days ago, right?” he started, his voice softening as he imagined the scene he was about to start painting. sunghoon nodded. “and i swear, i saw the most beautiful girl i’ve ever laid eyes on.” his gaze turned unfocused as he imagined her face, the nervous mannerisms she had shown, and the way her lips parted when caught off guard. “i just can’t stop thinking about her.”

sunghoon laughed, finally glancing up at him. “damn. she got you that down bad?”

“worse,” heeseung sighed, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “i’m convinced she’s my soulmate, man. but here’s the thing… i’ve only seen her once. she hasn’t shown up since, and i have no idea how to find her again.” technically, none of this was a lie, though he conveniently omitted certain details.

sunghoon leaned back in his chair, processing this. “why don’t you just go there every day? eventually, she’ll show up again.”

heeseung frowned. “dude, that place is expensive. i can’t keep buying overpriced coffee for no reason.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes. “who said you had to buy anything? just sit there, pretend to study, or work on something. they’re not gonna kick you out for existing.”

heeseung clicked his tongue, unconvinced. the idea of sitting in a café for days, hoping for a chance encounter, felt unreliable. she was unpredictable—her schedule too scattered, her habits too inconsistent. there was no definite timeframe it’d take to catch her. he was already going crazy these last few days, his thoughts, his actions, his dreams all consisted of her. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

“might take some time,” sunghoon added, stretching his arms overhead. “but if she’s a regular, she’s bound to show up eventually.”

heeseung hummed, a sense of doubt clouding his thoughts. “yeah… i doubt that’ll work.”

sunghoon shrugged, uninterested in offering more advice. “that’s all i got. take it or leave it.” his suggestion was weak, but perhaps it didn’t need to be perfect. he could make it work, he just needed to ensure their paths crossed by his own doing.

heeseung sighed, pushing himself up from the chair. his mind was already spinning with plans and possibilities, each more elaborate than the last. that’s when the bell rang in his head and he decided to install a live tracker on y/n’s phone.

before this, his access had been limited. he could only observe the traces of her movements when she shared her location with others or after purchases were made when the receipts would land in her email. but now, with the tracker in place, everything would change. he would have real-time access, no more waiting, no more gaps in his knowledge. it almost made him chastise himself for not having done it sooner, but in a way, this felt better.

enough time had passed to make their meeting seem more like fate than manipulation. what harm was there anyway? y/n had been looking for him too. just the thought alone sent a rush of excitement through him. she wanted to see him just as badly as he wanted to see her. even if she didn’t know it yet, their mutual longing was proof that something far deeper than chance was there. they both craved each other’s connection.

once the program was fully operational, his heart was almost pouncing outside of his chest as her location flickered onto the screen. heeseung’s eyes narrowed as he observed the information. she was at a university. not just any university—sunghoon’s university. his pulse quickened, but he forced himself to remain calm. there wasn’t much he could do with this information yet, so he could only store it away for later. instead, he switched to her messages, scanning her most recent conversation.

y/n: coffee, then my place?

natty batty: ok lemme finish this last slide first, im almost done

y/n: yes ma’am 🫡😁

y/n: coffee coffee coffee

natty: girl.

y/n: sorry

heeseung smirked, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. bingo. he quickly switched to her camera feed. he watched as she picked up her phone and slipped it into her pocket after a few minutes. he couldn’t see her face, buy he didn’t need to. he knew exactly what she looked like in this moment: eager, giddy, and blissfully unaware of how much better he was about to make her night. his mind raced. the university was only 15 minutes away from the coffee shop while his apartment was 25. he had to move and he needed to move now.

he looked down at his outfit realizing he was nowhere near ready to be seen by her yet. cursing under his breath, he shoved himself away from his desk and rushed into the kitchen where sunghoon was still sitting at the table, this time his headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. heeseung wasted no time.

“bro, i need you to drive me somewhere,” heeseung said, his tone urgent as he pulled one of the earbuds to the side so his friend would hear his plea.

sunghoon blinked up at him, confusion evident on his face. “why so sudden?”

“no time to explain,” heeseung said with a barely suppressed a grin. “i just have a feeling i’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

sunghoon squinted, still not understanding the sudden change in plans. but after a moment, he shrugged. “whatever, man. get your shit and grab my keys.”

heeseung darted to his room, quickly yanking on a gray sweater and black sweatpants. he grabbed a tub of mousse and raked it through his hair, styling it as quickly as possible. usually, he would take his time, making sure every strand was perfect, but tonight, he didn’t have the luxury.

that’s why having sunghoon drive was ideal; it gave him those extra minutes to prepare. as soon as the two of them jumped into the car, sunghoon pulled out of the driveway while heeseung sat in the passenger seat, his hands moving frantically in his hair as he tried to perfect his appearance. he didn’t even bother with a seatbelt. his mind was too focused on the task ahead.

when they arrived at the haven brew, heeseung was the first to step out of the car. he scanned the entrance, but there was no sign of her yet. “go find a table,” he ordered sunghoon, barely glancing at him. “make it look natural.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes but complied, making his way toward an empty table while pulling out his laptop and to make their presence more convincing, he ordered a couple of pastries and set them beside his notes.

meanwhile, heeseung made a beeline for the bathroom. he pulled out his phone and opened the tracker. y/n’s location was getting closer, only two turns away. his fingers trembled as he watched her dot inch toward the café. she was coming. the thought sent a shiver through him, the energy rushing beneath his skin. the idea of seeing her in person, after everything, was overwhelming. his body felt electric with anticipation, but he had to stay calm.

he inhaled deeply, shook out his hands, then left the bathroom, moving toward the table where sunghoon sat. “what do you want to drink?” he asked, keeping his voice light, forcing himself to sound normal despite the excitement rushing through his body.

sunghoon didn’t even glance up, too focused on his work. “uh… caramel macchiato.”

heeseung nodded and stepped into line. the place was busier now, the line stretching long, winding through the café. good. it gave him more time. every time the doorbell jingled, his heart lurched. was it her? was she here? where would she sit? what if she sat near him? would their drinks be ready at the same time? what if she hear his name when they call it? would she look at him and just knowㅡ?

“hello, sir. what can i get for you today?”

heeseung snapped back to reality, his gaze shifting to the barista who he now stood in front of. she was smiling politely, her presence a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts in his head. he forced himself to focus, quickly rattling off his order, swiping his card, and returning to the table.

he pulled his phone out one last time, he checked the tracker. y/n had arrived. she was inside, but he couldn’t see her—not yet. the line was still too long and the building was overcrowded. his fingers curled around the edge of the table, his pulse hammering in his ears. the game had finally begun and heeseung was more than ready to play.

near the middle of the line, y/n and natty stood talking about heeseung, to no one’s surprise. the café was lively, the hum of conversation blending with the faint whir of espresso machines, yet y/n could only focus on the topic that had been consuming her thoughts for days.

“i really feel like i’ll actually see him soon,” y/n cooed, rocking on her heels, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag in excitement.

“and why’s that?” natty gave her a tired and mostly unreadable look, already growing numb to her rants. y/n tapped the side of her head with a knowing smile, her expression smug as if she were about to drop some great wisdom.

“law of assumption. look it up.”

natty sighed deeply, rubbing her temple in an attempt to ward off the headache that was beginning to make its way. she had heard enough about this so-called manifestation to last her a lifetime. it was like y/n fixated on every topic she thought of as of late. “if you want a boyfriend so bad, why not go for jake?” she asked, her tone flat, as if simply humoring y/n at this point.

y/n’s nose scrunched in immediate distaste. “jake? as in the one in our musical theory class?” her voice carried a mix of disbelief and mild horror, as if the mere suggestion was absurd. he was one of the students they both agreed was insufferable. he was a know-it all, ass kissing teacher’s pet. and just straight up rude as hell, always looking down on anyone who he felt wasn’t on his level of intelligenceㅡ and both girls had caught their own respective strays from him. natty nodded, humming in confirmation, but y/n only scoffed.

“hell no! he’s a total bore and an asshole.”

natty shrugged, adjusting the strap of her purse as she considered the argument. despite the way he behaved as a person, it was easy to forget on the rare occasion when he‘d look you in the eye. “a hot one, though.”

y/n wasn’t swayed. her expression remained unimpressed as she pursed her lips, leaning in slightly. she lowered her voice as if confessing a secret. “well, my fine shit had the looks and the personality.” her words softened at the end as her mind drifted back to heeseung’s effortless charm, the teasing tilt in his voice, the confidence he carried himself with when he spoke to her.

natty rolled her eyes. “well, jake has something heeseung doesn’t.”

y/n turned to her, brow raised in challenge. “and that is?” there was nothing he could offer that heeseung didn’t. the only thing saving jake from weirdo status was his face, it was his best and only positive attribute.

natty barely hesitated before deadpanning, “hm,i don’t know.. maybe the fact that he’s accessible and this heeseung guy isn’t?”

y/n let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes before shifting her gaze across the café. she was more than ready to tune natty out, but just as she was about to dismiss the conversation entirely, her breath caught in her chest, and it tightened. she even felt as if her heart nearly stopped. across the room, standing near the merchandised cups, was a familiar face toting a gray sweater.

“oh my god,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

natty groaned. “no. don’t ‘oh my god’ me,” she warned, already sensing where this was going. “i’ve been listening to you talk about this man nonstop for days. you need to be realistic—”

y/n grabbed natty’s shoulders and spun her around so fast that natty nearly stumbled. “that’s him! that’s fucking him!” her fingers dug into natty’s arms, grip tightening as excitement coursed through her, adding a jump in her step.

natty frowned, still skeptical. “girl, where?”

y/n’s voice was ecstatic, but she tried to contain it. “i can’t point, but he’s near the cups. purple hair, gray sweater…. oh my god, bitch. manifestation is real.” her entire body buzzed, it felt unreal. her mind couldn’t fully process that this moment was actually happening.

she had spent days thinking about this. dreaming about this. and now, here he was—standing just a few feet away.

natty, however, wasn’t as convinced. her arms were still locked in y/n’s grip, but her expression remained doubtful. “are you sure?” she squinted, trying to get a better look. the odds of this were ridiculous, impossible even. y/n had met some random guy online, obsessed over him for days, and now, he just happened to be in the same café? for a brief second, natty wondered if she should be worried. she was concerned the girl’s obsession had rendered her borderline delusional. y/n was already lost in her own world, eyes locked onto heeseung, thoughts swarming im her head.

“i will fucking go up to him right now, bro. swear,” y/n let go of her death grip on natty’s arms and attempted to push past her, but natty grabbed her wrist before she could follow through on the impulsive declaration. “okay, chill. let’s order first?”

as they stepped forward in line, y/n could barely focus. her hands felt clammy, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. the café around her blurred into the background, her senses narrowing in on one thing, and one thing only. a barista‘a voice called outㅡ “heeseung!” and y/n’s stomach flipped. her head snapped toward the employee so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash. she glanced near his area and realized he was coming this way. now, it was her turn to order, but her mind was so blank. she needed more time.

“i need a second to think,” she said hastily, voice unsteady. natty shot her a look, but let it slide. she believed it now after hearing his name. and she couldn’t fathom how everything truly seemed to work in her friend’s favor, but she was somewhat happy for her nonetheless. though, she still wasn’t sure if her man of choice was the best.

heeseung was seemingly oblivious. he grabbed his cup first, then sunghoon’s, fingers wrapping around the sleeve as he turned to leave, doing everything in his power not to scan the line for his muse’s face. but y/n’s pulse skyrocketed upon he was leaving. he was finally right there in front of her, and he was leaving. before she could second-guess herself, her hand shot out, fingers curling around the sleeve of his sweater.

heeseung froze. his body tensed at the sudden touch, breath hitching as he slowly glanced down to where her hand clutched the soft fabric. the warmth of her fingers seeped through the material, faint but noticeable.

and for a brief moment, everything around him ceased to exist. the café, the noise, the people—it all faded, leaving only this. his gaze lifted, meeting hers. and in that instant, it all clicked like a puzzle piece falling into place.

y/n swallowed, her grip loosening as her fingers dragged slightly against the fabric before letting go. “hi, i’m so sorry, but i know you.” her voice was quiet, hesitant, yet certain all at once.

the sweater was soft. softer than she expected. and suddenly, she wanted to know more. she wondered if his skin was softer, how his hands would feel in between her fingers, how his lips would feel against hers, everything. she wanted to know everything about him now.

heeseung swallowed hard, forcing himself to find words to say. he had an array of scenarios that their first physical encounter would go and yet nothing could have prepared him for this. he never considered that she could approach him first. everything he knew about confidence, his charm, his certainty, all of it left him. “y/n?”

oh. his voice.

it was even better in person, smooth and warm, like a melody lingering in the air long after the last note had been played. it wrapped around her, wrapped her in something almost intoxicating. made her feel safe. made her feel wanted.

her breath caught. “yes. heeseung. hi.”

his lips parted slightly before curling into a slow, almost disbelieving smile.

“hi.”

they just stood there, staring at each other, taking in every detail, every feature. it felt like time had stopped. y/n’s eyes traced the shape of his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the slight crease between his brows as he studied her just as intently. it was strange meeting someone she had only ever seen through a screen. yet, in this moment, nothing about it felt unnatural, like they had always known each other.

“do you guys mind? other people need to order,” a customer behind them huffed, shattering the moment.

heeseung blinked and turned to the man behind y/n. both of them muttered apologies, though neither of them had fully detached from the high of finally seeing each other in person. heeseung hesitated for only a second before asking, “would you… maybe want to sit with me?”

y/n’s first instinct was to glance at natty as they had already made plans. they were supposed to head straight home after getting coffee and study at her place, but y/n felt like studying could wait. in fact, everything else could wait. she exhaled, shaking her head as a slow smile spread across her lips. “we were gonna go home and study, but fuck that. this is a celebration.”

heeseung chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “you’re right.”

as they walked over to the table, sunghoon barely acknowledged them at first, reaching for his drink absentmindedly. then, he did a double take, eyes flicking between heeseung and y/n, taking in their body language, the energy between them. heeseung had talked about her before, mentioned her like she was just another girl he had met online. but now, seeing them together, sunghoon could tell it was different. heeseung met his gaze, giving a small nod. this is her.

introductions were given, natty and sunghoon exchanging brief conversations. but it barely mattered. because y/n and heeseung? they were locked in. their conversation flowed without pause or much of any effort. it was like they had already skipped past the awkward phase of getting to know each other and landed in a space that felt comfortable. natural.

sunghoon stirred his drink, watching them. curiousity piqued, and he wondered why this was so easy for them. “so… how exactly did you two meet?” he asked, his tone casual but inquisitive.

heeseung and y/n exchanged a glance, amusement flickering between them. y/n was the first to answer. “omegle,” she said, like it was her greatest achievement: meeting him by chance. she was almost sure it was, too. she’d never felt this accomplished.

natty groaned, already dreading hearing the story again. sunghoon, however, only frowned. “omegle?” he repeated in an effort to make sure he heard correctly.

heeseung leaned back in his chair, relaxed. “yeah. i went on there when i was bored the other night, wasn’t expecting much. but then y/n popped up, and we just ended up talking. for a while.”

y/n nodded. “hours, actually.”

heeseung’s lips quirked up slightly. “yeah. until you disconnected.”

y/n huffed. “i didnt disconnect, my dumbass laptop died.” heeseung didn’t argue, just shook his head, amused. he already knew that much. sunghoon, however, still wasn’t convinced.

“so let me get this straight. you met on omegle,” sunghoon repeated slowly, “and now, a few days later, you just so happen to run into each other here?” something wasn’t adding up. they claimed they met by chance, but how could that be true when heeseung’s previous mentions of the girl were allegedly in person? if the latter wasn't true, how did he know she’d be here? no one just stumbles onto someone’s location like that—especially not a stranger.

y/n nodded with a grin, nudging natty. “see? i was just telling her i’d find him again.”

natty gave her a look, unimpressed. “yeah, but you have to realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

“sure, but i know better than to question fate,” y/n said with a smirk. and heeseung absolutely melted over that response. she didn’t question things, never overanalyzed. it made it all the more easier.

sunghoon, however, still couldn’t bring himself to let it go. he watched them, his mind running. he watched as y/n and heeseung continued to chat, their faces lighting up with the kind of easy conversations. heeseung had a way of downplaying things, but sunghoon had known him long enough to know when his friend was lying—or at least not telling the whole truth.

the way heeseung had flipped his story, so effortlessly, about how he truly met y/n felt so odd. it didn’t add up. and sunghoon had seen his friend fixated on something before, but this felt different. the way he was acting now as if everything had simply fallen into place, wasn’t how he’d been when they were first talking about this girl. something was off, but sunghoon couldn’t figure out exactly what.

his stomach churned as a weird feeling crept up on him. he didn’t want to be suspicious of his own friend, but something about this didn’t sit right. for now, though? he said nothing, just went back to finishing off the last pieces of his homework.

it had been a few hours now that the group had sat, chatting away at their tables. sunghoon had finished his work and put his suspicions in the back burner while he focused on being engaged in the conversation, still situationally aware in case heeseung had slipped up again. but things had gotten tame by now, and it was getting late. he didn’t say much as he packed up his belongings and put them away.

heeseung and y/n paid him no mind as they were still too deeply involved in their own conversation, and heeseung was delighted to say the least. y/n was completely different in person than she was online. her once timid demeanor has shifted into that of a devoted lover in his eyes. she was outwardly engaged, her focus was solely on him, and only him. she hadn’t even said much of anything to natty since she sat down, disregarding the times where the girl would speak to her first.

“here,” y/n said, pulling out her phone and handing it over to heeseung. he looked at it wide-eyed for a brief moment before quickly cooling his expression, tilting his head as he studied her curiously. she opened her apps section, clicking on instagram as she went to her search bar.

“i need your instagram. or would you prefer to give me your number?” she tilted her head, eyes searching his face, and when he didn’t respond right away, a small pout formed on her lips. heeseung blinked, momentarily thrown off. she was more forward than he had anticipated. too bold and it wasn’t that he didn’t like it—he just hadn’t expected it. in his mind, he had already mapped out how this would go, how he would lead the pace, dictate the push and pull, and savor every second of the chase. but in reality she was the one making the first moves. and if he was being honest, it kind of messed with his rhythm.

“unless you don’t want to..?” her voice was low now, almost being drowned out with the vibrant chatter that still boomed through the cafe. heeseung bit his lip, fighting to hold a smile. there it was. that insecurity, that approval seeking. his eyes met hers as he shook his head, grabbing the phone and exiting off of instagram and going to the phone app to dial his number. if she was going to make the first move, then he’d just have to take the control right back.

“sorry, i blanked,” he murmured, his tone dipping into something lower, smoother, as he let his charm do the work. his fingers moved over the screen, inputting his number, but his gaze never left hers. he let the moment stretch just long enough, let his words sink in before flashing her a slow, lopsided grin. “i’m just not used to a pretty girl making the first move.”

the way he leaned into it, he let the words settle between them like a challenge. and when y/n’s breath hitched, he knew he had her right where he wanted. “i don’t want to be the party pooper,” sunghoon’s voice sliced through the air of their moment, bringing everyone’s attention to him as he slung his back over his shoulder. “but i gotta hit the hay, i have AM classes tomorrow, can’t afford to be late.” he shot heeseung a look that ultimately was saying ‘let’s go’, to which the boy only pursed his lips as he handed y/n’s phone back to her without a word.

for a moment, her eyes flickered back and forth between the two boys, an uneasy feeling rising within her chest. she didn’t know what came over her before she blurted out. “do you really have to go?” her question was directed toward heeseung who was still gathering his belongings, completely ignoring sunghoon’s presence despite him being the one to speak up. heeseung almost swooned at her reaction. she truly did not care for anyone’s presence but his. he wondered how he had gotten so lucky to find a girl like her. so desperate, so eager to be around him.

“i mean, he’s my ride,” heeseung replied, his words devoid of sadness. it was evident in his tone that he had expected her to beg, wanting to see how far she would go just to not see him leave. he waited for her response as she pursed her lips, eyes wandering around the room as if she were finding the right words to say and the courage to voice them. when she finally spoke again, it was as if everything had fallen back into alignment of heeseung’s expectations

“i have a car. maybe you can stay for a while as i study, and i can drive you home afterward,” y/n suggested, her words sounding more like a question than a statement, as if she felt foolish for saying them. inviting a stranger to her home and promising a ride home? she had to be crazy. and natty seemed to think so, firmly kicking y/n’s shin under the table and shooting her a wide-eyed, warning look.

heeseung glanced at his friend sunghoon, who merely shrugged before turning on his heel. “do what you want, man.” he couldn’t care less at that point; it wasn’t his decision to make. the two of them seemed perfect for each other—young and reckless. maybe that’s what his friend needed.

“i do still have work tomorrow, so i can’t be out too late,” he chuckled, grabbing his cup as he got up, the two girls doing the same.

“oh of course, just let me know!”

and with that, they made their way to y/n’s car where y/n had offered heeseung passenger seat as courtesy while natty sat in the seat directly behind him. the vibe from there had changed. though y/n and heeseung were able to keep the chat going, natty refused to engage, ignoring every attempt y/n made to include her. instead, she scrolled through her phone in silence—until she sent a message that expressed everything she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

natty batty: are you fucking crazy? i understand you like him but there’s levels to this. you don’t even know him, y/n. this is dangerous.

y/n, focused on the road, didn’t see it. but heeseung did. his gaze flicked to the notification popping on his phone, his expression darkening for a split second before he forced it back into neutrality. it was a shame, really. he had hoped natty would warm up to him, but she was already resisting. that left him at risk if y/n listened to her best friend over him. and heeseung didn’t like obstacles. he needed to take control.

the drive was only fifteen minutes, but with the tension hanging thick in the air, it felt like an eternity. when they finally pulled into the driveway and made their way into the house, natty was lagging behind, every step she took a protest to the situation. she wanted to go home. she didn’t feel safe being here with heeseung, a complete stranger that she and y/n barely knew, but it was also the very reason she had to stay. she couldn’t bear the thought of leading y/n in harm’s way by leaving her alone with him. it was a dilemma. and if something happened, she’d never forgive herself.

so she settled onto the loveseat, keeping her distance while y/n and heeseung took the couch, sitting too close for her liking. she kept her eyes on her phone, but her ears were trained on their conversation, which seemed to flow endlessly.

heeseung didn’t know if it were the change in scenery or the close proximity he had to her, but y/n’s demeanor had transformed. she was no longer the playful, assertive girl from earlier. now, she was quieter, more reserved. the version of her he had first seen through that screen. he liked it.

“should we watch a movie?” he inquired, his doe eyes meeting hers as he titled his head. god, he was so damn handsome under the warm-toned lights. he looked too perfect to be real. but he had to be because he was right in front of her. y/n nodded, tossing him the remote before getting up to turn off the lights.

as the movie began playing, the soft glow of the screen casted shifting shadows across the room. y/n reached for the blanket draped over the couch, unfolding it with care before settling back into her spot beside heeseung. she threw it over herself, a good half of it falling on top of him as well.

and while they watched the screen, he couldn't help but get lost in the warmth from her body being near his. the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the small blanket enveloping their heat, it was intoxicating. a new kind of yearning settled in his chest. his hand moved beneath the blanket, fingers searching until they found the smooth skin of her thigh.

her fingers twitched at the unexpected contact, but she didn't pull away. heeseung hesitated for a moment, then let his hand linger, gently rubbing slow, soothing circles against her skin. it was then that he noticed that her hands were the skin he made contact with, her fingers brushing against his. without thinking, he took a hold of them, intertwining their fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. and she wavered at first but then squeezed his hand in return, a silent confirmation. this was okay. this was wanted.

everything with y/n was effortless. she made it so easy for him to get close, to break unspoken boundaries without pushback. it made him wonder what made her this way. why was she so trusting, so soon? more than anything, though? he was grateful for it.

before long, their quiet hand holding turned into a more cuddling-like state. y/n inched closer, her body molding against his until she was laying on him. heeseung shifted to make room, one arm wrapping around her shoulder, and embraced the added heat from her thighs that she had thrown over his legs. the movie played on, but neither of them were paying attention now.

as y/n nestled closer into heeseung's embrace, his fingers traced lazy circles against her thigh, each circle inching higher. not too fast, not too slow, but just enough to keep her on edge. she tried to focus on the glowing screen, but the way he touched her made it impossible. every breath he took, she felt. every soft, raised movement of his fingers sent a ripple through her. it was overwhelming in a way she didn't expect, and she swore she could hear his heartbeat against her ear as she rested her head on his shoulder. she wondered if hers was just as loud, if he could feel how consumed she was in this moment.

across the room, natty glanced up from her phone. at first, the sight made her stomach churn. she wanted to be mad. she wanted to march over to y/n, drag her away and slap some sense into her. but as she watched them cuddle, something in her almost softened. maybe y/n was right. maybe she shouldn't question fate. so with a quiet sigh, she turned back to her phone, choosing for now to let it be.

heeseung, on the other hand, was losing himself completely. she didn’t even deny him access when his hands finally grazed her clothed cunt. she only silently spread her legs to give him more access. the small action made his grip tighten just slightly around her. all mine. the thought crept into his mind before he could stop it, and once it was there, he couldn't let it go.

she didn't know it yet, but this was already far beyond a casual moment for him. he had no intention of letting this be fleeting. he wanted her, in every way possible, and he was going to make sure she felt the same.

y/n shifted in his arms, adjusting herself to get more comfortable, and the movement snapped him out of his thoughts. he began pressing his thumb against the thickness of her jeans so she could feel him rubbing her clit. he looked down at her, watching as her lashes fluttered, her lips parting slightly as she let out a soft breath before biting her lip. the action, albeit not being much, felt so, so damn good.

"you like that?" heeseung murmured, his voice low, almost teasing. he maneuvered his fingers under her pants and panties in a swift motion, shoving his fingers down past the uncomfortable tightness that engulfed him. she nodded against his shoulder as his fingers finally made contact with her bare clit. he smirked, leaning down slightly, his lips dangerously close to her ear. "good."

his voice sent a shiver down her spine, but before she could react, he pulled back, his focus returning to the movie as if he hadn't just sent her heart into a frenzy. now, y/n wasn’t the type to admit when she wanted something, but the moment his hand left her, she felt the absence like a chill against her skin.

she huffed, shifting slightly, adjusting the way her legs draped over his lap to graze against the growing erection in his pants. he barely reacted, but she could see the way he stiffened. she scooted just a little closer, her knee raised before brushing against his stomach, an unspoken demand for his attention. still, nothing.

her frustration simmered, and she shifted again, more deliberately this time, grabbing his free hand and putting it on the button of her jeans, an intense stare in her eyes as if daring him to ignore her.

“getting comfortable?” he didn’t know whether to be more amused or aroused. he knew exactly what she was doing, and the boldness surprised him. he didn’t think she was the type to seek sexual pleasure in the presence of others, but it was just another way the two of them were alike. she only hummed in response, making him chuckle.

he let the silence stretch, waiting. then, with a smirk, his fingers found their way down again. he struggled to unbutton her jeans, so she moved hers down to swiftly unbutton them for him, letting him drag the zipper down as she lifted her ass slightly. once his fingers met her cunt, she shuddered. his touch was light at first, but the way it spread warmth across her skin, combined with the slow massaging on her nub, was so stimulating.

heeseung made sure to leave no areas untouched. dipping two fingers into her folds, he almost groaned at how soaked she already was despite his movements being little to none. y/n tried to keep her eyes on the screen, pretending to follow the movie, even as his fingers made their way inside, curling slowly as he thrusted them into her. she bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay still, doing everything in her power not to react.

natty was still right there, although absorbed in the movie, y/n wasn't about to give herself away. but heeseung wasn't making it easy. his thumb met her clit, pressing down just enough to make her breath hitch. she masked it with a cough, casually shifting her weight as if she was just getting comfortable, but she only wanted more.

"you good?" natty asked suddenly, eyes flicking toward y/n who looked like a deer caught in headlight. y/n nodded, her expression nearly failing to be perfectly composed.

"yeah. just stiff from sitting."

she could feel heeseung smirk beside her, his fingers scissoring her insides, testing her poker face. she refused to give him the satisfaction. so she kept her face neutral, eyes on the screen, and pretended she wasn't losing her mind.

heeseung could tell she was forcing herself to act unaffected, keeping her face blank like she wasn’t even paying attention to him. and maybe at first, it was amusing—watching her fight to stay composed, but the longer she kept up the act, the more it got to him. he pressed his thumb down a little firmer, moving his finger in slow and deliberate circles, the way he knew would make any girl melt. but still, nothing. she didn’t even spare so much as a glance his way. her eyes only stayed glued to the screen with an unreadable expression.

his jaw tightened. so that’s how she wanted to play? fine. he shifted, using one knee to lift her up, the other forcing her legs more open. he adjusted his hand, his touch becoming just a little more purposeful as he picked up his pace. he curled his fingers, shoving them as deep as he could until they brushed against that elusive spot deep within her that made her breath hitch. a barely there twitch in her jaw, a slow inhale she tried to contain. he smirked. got her.

now, he knew exactly what would get to her. slow, hard, calculated, and unrelenting thrusts. again, the tiniest reaction slipped through. a soft moan was cut short as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, though her body still responded to his every movement as he continued.

he chuckled, leaning in slightly. he murmured just low enough for her to hear, “you can keep pretending, but we both know you’re losing it.”

y/n’s fingers curled into the blanket draped over their legs, her poker face still intact—but he could see the way her shoulders tensed and the way her breath came just a little quicker. he had her right where he wanted.

and heeseung was relentless. his touch stayed slow, but each movement served its purpose, making y/n swallow hard. all she could focus on was him, the way his fingers moved inside her cunt, the way his thumb still circled ever so slowly around her clit. he was dragging it out just to mess with her.

her hips buckled upward, just enough to press closer, hoping he'd realize the silent plea she was making. but instead of giving her more, he eased up pulling his fingers out almost as quickly as he buried them inside. he was barely touching her now, only offering clit action to keep her in an aroused state.

"heeseung," she whispered, her voice so quiet it barely made a sound. he heard it loud and clear, and almost wanted to pretend as if he didn’t, but the look on her face made the blood rush to his already painfully hard cock. he couldn’t ignore it. but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feign innocence.

"hm?" he hummed, acting like he had no idea what she was calling him for.

her fingers moved under the blanket, grabbing at his hand each time he’d move it from her, frustration bubbling under her skin. she knew he wanted her to say it, to admit that she needed more. but she wasn't going to.

she tried again, thrusting as subtly as she could into his hand, pressing into his touch, silently begging him to just do something. but his lack of reaction was all she was met with.

“please,” it was almost a whisper yell at that point, and she was thankful for the tv’s loud volume because if natty were to hear, it would be over. her breath came out shaky as her patience wore thin. she hesitated for only a second before finally whispering again, "faster."

his lips curled into a smirk. thatta girl. "what was that?"

she shot him a glare, barely holding it together. "please," she gritted out, her voice so soft that only he could hear. "please go faster."

satisfied, heeseung finally gave in, fingers wasting no time to dive right back inside of her cunt as if it were their rightful place. the quickness of it all made her body jump as he picked up the pace, just enough to make her whole body tense and her pussy to clench around his fingers.

"good girl," he murmured. it was hell for him to only be able to sit there and work his magic, he wanted to feel all over her, kiss her neck, leave hickeysㅡ he wanted to hear her moan out his name, hear her beg aloud. but for now, the sight of her facial expressions, eyes squinting with lips parted only slightly as she tried to fight back any noises her body so desperately wantedㅡ no needed to make. it was enough for him for now.

y/n was barely holding it together. every nerve in her body was burning as that oh so familiar knot started forming in her stomach. she was getting dangerously close, her body betraying her despite how hard she tried to keep still and stay quiet. her breaths were coming out uneven as she gripped the blanket tighter.

her head tipped back slightly, her lips parting just enough for a shaky breath to slip out. she bit down on the inside of her cheek, trying to hold herself together. but heeseung wasn’t making it easy.

“so quiet,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. he was finding it hard to contain himself as well as he thrusted his hips into her thigh, his cock wanting so badly to be put to use. “thought you were watching the movie.”

she wanted to rebuttal or at least snap back with some kind of sassy retort, but she couldn’t trust herself enough to speak because at this point it would give everything away. natty was still there, completely unaware at how much of a desperate slut her best friend was being. she didn’t even want to think about how the girl would react if she got caught up.

she shifted slightly, trying to get more. her nails found refuge as they dug into her palm, her body wound so tight she thought she might break. just a little more, just a little closer, her hole was now throbbing around him, everything felt hot and she was sure she’d come undone with a few more thrusts.

her whimpers were becoming more audible as his speed slowed to a more rhythmic pace, her orgasm crashing almost seconds after. she threw her hand to cover her mouth as he continued fingering her through her high, biting hard into her palm’s skin.

heeseung smirked at the sight of her. by now, his tip was leaking a pool of precum through his sweats. he didn’t know how much longer he could hold back. he pulled out and brought his fingers to his mouth, licking up her juices before pulling them out with a loud pop.

now his eyes were dark, filled with something primal as he watched her. he could barely restrain the desire burning beneath the surface. "lay down," he growled, his voice low, rough with lust.

y/n hesitated for only a second, her eyes flickering towards natty, who paid them no mind, before obeying. she scooted downward, allowing the blanket to engulf her as her head disappeared underneath the fabric. heeseung’s eyes followed hers. hovering the blanket, his gaze traced every inch of her like he was memorizing the sight of her beneath him as she looked up at him with bedroom eyes. the movement alone made his dick twitch.

slowly, she helped him push his sweats down while he lifted his hips to aid the process, his cock springing up and smacking his lower belly region. she gawked at the sight of it, it was even bigger than what she had seen on their video call. it was intimidating almost, how did he expect her to fit all of that? his hands found the back of her head, grabbing a chunk of her hair to push her mouth onto his tip. she complied, opening her mouth to take it in as she kitty licked it, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

heeseung let out a sharp exhale, his jaw clenched, and his composure slipped just a little as he let out a choked up groan. it was like a reward, the way her mouth moved at his cock’s head, bobbing as she hollowed her cheeks. he sucked in a breath, biting his lip as he pushed her head lower forcing her to take in the entirety of his length, not caring for the gags she let out from not being able to handle all of his size.

“aw, fuck,” he praised, voice thick with something almost dangerous. heeseung's grip tightened in y/n's hair, his breathing ragged as he thrusted his hips upwards, fucking into her face. she could only look up at him, a knowing glint in her teary eyes, as she let him continue hammering her throat. the sensation burned, but that made it feel all the more rewarding.

his control was slipping with every second. it felt so good, she made him feel so good. the sounds filling the room were obscene, his low groans mixing with the wet, muffled squelching noises beneath the blanket.

lost in the moment, he sped up, chasing the high that was coming dangerously close. he whimpered, biting his lip, ignoring the way y/n punched on his thigh for a breather. neither of them had noticed when natty finally turned her head. a sharp gasp cut through the air like a slap.

"are you guys fucking serious?!" natty's voice shrieked, filled with disbelief and absolute disgust.

y/n froze, her entire body going stiff as shame crashed over her. she was glad she couldn’t see the scene unfolding in front of her, but she knew exactly how it looked. heeseung cursed under his breath, helping y/n pick her head up to save face, but the damage was already done.

natty shot up from the couch, snatching her things with loud, unexaggerated gags. "you're so disgusting. you are actually so disgusting, y/n."

y/n’s face burned, her heart was pounding against her ribs. she opened her mouth, searching for something—anything to say, but what was there? an apology? for something she could have easily chosen not to do? for something she didn’t regret in the slightest?

the door slammed behind natty as she stormed out, the sharp sound lingering in the heavy silence her absence left behind. shame settled between them, thick and suffocating, but y/n barely let it sink in as she sat up, peeling the blanket away.

her eyes flicked to heeseung as she pursed her lips in thought. for a moment, she debated, then shrugged. grabbing the remote, she switched off the movie before turning to him with a playful grin. “so… do you wanna take this to the bedroom now?”

heeseung blinked. the shock was clear on his face as his mind scrambled to process her words. confusion flickered in his eyes, but beneath it was something else. something darker, something intrigued.

he watched her carefully, still trying to understand the way she brushed everything off so easily. natty had just stormed out, disgust practically dripping from her words, and yet y/n sat there like nothing had happened. he raised a brow, leaning back against the couch. “you’re not gonna go after her?”

“it’s not like it would change anything,” y/n said as she stretched her arms above her head, rolling out the tension in her shoulders before meeting his gaze with another shrug. “she made her choice, we’ll talk it out later.”

heeseung didn't bother responding. words felt pointless when the only thing running through his mind was her, the way she sat there, so shameless, so unbothered. maybe she really didn’t care. or maybe she just refused to let it show. either way, he found himself even more drawn in.

without warning, he leaned in, crashing his lips against hers, his hands immediately finding their way to her waist and pulling her onto his lap. y/n let out a muffled gasp, but she didn't resist. if anything, she melted into his touch, matching his tempo, her fingers slipping into his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan against her mouth.

the kiss was messy, desperate. all teeth and hunger, like they were both chasing the same high. heeseung's hands roamed her body, gripping at her as if to reassure himself that she was really there, really his. not only in the moment but forever. when he pulled back, his breathing was jagged while his forehead rested against hers. "bedroom. now."

and y/n didn't hesitate. she slid off his lap, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the hallway, her smile never fading. as soon as they made it into the bedroom, heeseung barely gave her a chance to steady herself before backing her up against the door. his lips found hers again, deepening the kiss as he bathed in every sound she made.

y/n breathed out a moan as he pressed closer, his warmth a great contrast against her skin. her fingers curled around the hem of his sweater, tugging impatiently. heeseung smirked against her lips but didn't make her wait, he pulled it off in one swift motion, letting it drop to the floor before reaching for her in return.

the air between them was thick, charged with the desire that neither of them cared to hold back anymore. his hands found the edge of her shirt, his fingertips skimming her skin as he leaned down, voice low against her ear. "you really don't feel bad about natty leaving?"

y/n shivered at the way his breath ghosted over her skin, but she only smiled, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. "i have better things to focus on."

his gaze darkened, a quiet chuckle slipping past his lips before he closed the distance again. his hands found the small of her back, lifting her to wrap her legs around his waist. they were firm as he guided them backwards, their lips never breaking apart as he stumbled toward the bed.

as heeseung hovered over y/n, his gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world, like she was something delicate yet untouchable, a dream he had finally been granted permission to hold. his fingers traced the strands of her hair, admiring the way they fanned out against the sheets, the way the warm glow of the bedside lamp reflected in her eyes.

he wanted this moment to be perfect. he needed it to be. everything about y/n consumed him, embedding itself so deep that he wasn’t sure he could ever get rid of her. not that he wanted to. she was meant to be his, and he wanted to make sure she felt that—make sure she never doubted how much he wanted her, how much he needed her.

his fingertips ghosted over her cheek, trailing down to her jaw before brushing against her collarbone. he took a seat next to her, his touch never leaving her skin.

y/n’s breath hitched. she had never wanted someone the way she wanted him. her entire body felt like it was on fire under his gaze, his touch leaving trails of heat wherever it lingered. she had imagined moments like this before, but none of them compared to this—to the way he looked at her, to the way he made her feel like she was the center of his universe.

her fingers twitched, aching to reach for him, to pull him closer, to feel more of him. she didn’t care that they had only just met or that everything about this was reckless. all she knew was that she wanted him, desperately, completely, and genuinely.

heeseung’s lips curled into a small smile, as if he could sense her thoughts, as if he knew exactly what she wanted. he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with possessiveness. all he needed was her word.

“tell me what you want, y/n.” his fingers traced down her arm, sending a shiver through her. her lips parted, her mind hazy with longing, with desire, but the words were caught in her throat.

“please don't make me beg.”

heeseung chuckled, low and sensually, before capturing her lips in his once more. “oh baby, i think you’ve earned it now.”

y/n bit back a smile, as he dipped his head in between her legs. he licked up a stripe, and it felt like magic. every suckle on her clit, every time his tongue dipped deep between her folds, it sent shivers through her body. he could taste the sweat she had worked up from their endeavors on the couch. he savored the salty flavor mixing with the sweet juices leaking out of her.

she held herself up by her elbows and could only watch with hooded eyes as she stared down at him. there was something about the way he effortlessly held eye contact, as if he wasn’t nearly sucking her soul, that almost made her eyes roll back. she was in awe at the sight of her slick covering his nose, lips, and chin. he was gorgeous.

he began leaving a trail of wet kisses amongst her thighs as his fingernails unintentionally dug into her soft skin as he smiled against it. oh, he was gone. and he lost himself even more the minute her fingers slipped into his hair before grinding against his face.

heeseung was the perfect mix of rough and gentle. everything he did left her wanting more. as he lay sprawled out on the bed, his legs subconsciously lifted and started swinging back and forth.

he was having a time. at that point he wasn't sure if he was eating more for his own pleasure or not as he buried his face deep into her cunt. his hips bucked into the satin blanket, though it did nothing to ease the ache he grew from being so hard for so long. and there was no need for fingers when his tongue and nose were an even better substitute. she was getting every form of stimulation from his face alone.

her grip on his hair was harsh as she threw her head back with a loud moan. he let out a combined and muffled whimper-moan against her cunt, tongue fucking her. then he moved to suck on her clit. she couldn’t hold it back, her body had only given her a subtle warning before an orgasm crashed over her.

“fuck!” she exclaimed as she gripped her breast. arching her back into his face, her hand forcefully held his head in place as she rode her high out. not that he wanted to move anyway, she was literally cumming inside his mouth. he would stay here forever if he could help it.

and it took her a second to pry him off, immediately tongue kissing him when she did. she tasted as much as she could of herself and heeseung found it so sexy. he deepened the kiss, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her closer with roughness.

when he finally pulled away for a breath, his eyes lingered on her like he was afraid to look away, as if she might disappear if he did. they held so much love, admiration, possession. he had never felt this way before, he’d never knew he’d need someone like this.

he was desperate for her in a way that scared him, in a way that felt like he would never be the same without her. she had slipped into his lifeㅡinto his mind so suddenly, so effortlessly, and yet it felt like she was always meant to be there, in his arms, under his touch.

he pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched hers. his hold on her head softened, his cheeks burning red while he held gently onto her like she was his lifeline.

"fuck, y/n, i want you so bad." his voice was raw, almost shaky, thick with emotion and something deeper, something unspoken. his lips hovered near hers again, not quite touching, just close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath. he searched her eyes, desperate to see the same hunger, the same longing reflected back at him.

"then have me," she murmured, voice barely above a breath, but it was all he needed.

his lips met hers, rushed and deep, without failing to pour every unspoken word, every hidden feeling into the kiss. he grabbed his cock, lazily lining himself at her entrance and coating his tip with her juices before pushing in. the stretch made y/n’s back arch as she winced in pain, but he kept moving, slowly sliding in until he bottomed out. her nails found their way to his back as she scratched. he slowly started moving after letting her adjust for a moment, each thrust hitting perfectly on her g-spot.

"you don't know how much i've been thinking of you," he murmured between breaths, his chest pressing against her as his lips lingered near her ear, the words coming out almost desperately. "you're mine, y/n. everything i've done, everything that's happened... it's all to show you how much i want you. how much i need you.."

she didn’t hear much of anything he was babbling about because not too long after, he had her legs to her head, penetrating her deeply. her moans were loud and pornographic, echoing against the walls. she couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. her senses were at an all time high and the only constant was heeseung. she could only see heeseung, only breathe him, only taste him. and she was on the verge of tears because of how good he made her feel. her body stiffened before another orgasm shot throughout her body.

he didn’t even try to give her body a break as his thrusts never lost their tempo. he had her whole body shaking, her hands alternating between gripping his hair to scratching his back unsure of where to go as they desperately tried to exude the overwhelming amount of pleasure still brewing.

“f-feels so good,” was all she could manage to get out. “so, so good.” he smirked before pulling out swiftly. he almost came just from hearing those words. but he had to hold back because was nowhere near through with her.

heeseung's grip on her tightened as he guided her into a position where she was on all fours, his touch firm as he did so. he leaned in, placing a tender kiss on each ass cheek.

he took a deep inhale as he licked her asshole, tongue flicking away happily. he pulled back to spit before diving back in, swirling, lapping away. his breath was heavy when he pulled back, his body humming with unrestrained hunger for her as he slammed back inside of her, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady.

“and here i thought you were the innocent type," he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. he let out a low chuckle, leaning over her, his chest flush against her back as he whispered in her ear. "but seeing you like this.. so shameless. such a slutty and desperate whore for me—" he exhaled sharply, a groan rumbling in his chest. "it's so much more rewarding."

his hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades, pushing her face down into the mattress as he moved with deep, relentless strokes. the room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed beneath them, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

heeseung's grip on reality was slipping; all he could focus on was the way she felt, how she responded to him so willingly, so perfectly. her cunt clenched around her, letting him know she was close again. her moans were past the point of emitting sound louder than occasional high squeals.

"mine," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with unshakable certainty. "all mine." he could feel himself unraveling, could feel the intensity building with each thrust he managed to get out despite the effort he put into holding back his own climax.

his free hand slid to her waist, holding her even closer, anchoring himself. she was everything he had ever wanted more than he had ever expected. and in this moment, nothing else in the world existed but her. even her backside was sexy. he was enchanted by every part of her.

“fuck, let me cum on your face, baby.” he bit his lip as he pulled out after a few thrusts, replacing her cunt with his hand as he stroked himself. she complied and turned onto her back, gazing up at him with sparkly eyes. her breath was unsteady, lips slightly parted as she stuck her tongue out, waiting for his next move. heeseung’s heart pounded at the sight—she looked so delicate beneath him, completely trusting, completely his. he never broke eye contact as he continued stroking, fucking into his hand.

his hips stuttered as sprouts of his cum painted her face. she caught as much as she could on her tongue, licking her lips as she smiled at him. it was sweet, it was tangy, and it was so deliciously his. he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as his fingers intertwined with hers. he never wanted to let her go.

Webcam Perv! (1)

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 7

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

Aftermath - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Aftermath - Chapter 5 Aftermath - Chapter 6 Master List

warnings & a note: this is mostly smut but like, emotional smut? idk but while this was a struggle to write, i think it's one of my favorite bits. so enjoy!! as @lestapiastrisgirl said, this feels like a sigh of relief, like a FINALLY moment. but don't worry, we still have a bit to go so this is a sigh, but not the end!!! pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.7k

When Max kisses you for the first time if felt like something in your soul slotted into place. Like you’d been holding your breath for your entire life and the moment his lips found yours you were finally able to breathe for the first time. He’s slow and unhurried with it at first, like he wants to savor that first taste of you for the rest of his life. Your hands clutch desperately at the fabric of Max’s shirt, a shudder zipping through your body at the way he works his mouth over yours like he’d been waiting years for this moment. You’re fairly certain he had been.

Every nerve ending in your body sparks to life when he drags his heavy calloused hands up your bare arms. Nothing has ever felt quite this good and he’s only just begun touching you. You lean into Max’s touch, needing the heat from his body as much as you need air in your lungs. Meanwhile, Max is trying to commit every curve and dip of your body to memory so he never forgets this moment. How he ever thought he’d be able to get over his obsession with you is utterly insane. The sound you make, a mix of a whimper and a sigh, when he licks into your mouth has Max’s hands gripping at your waist even tighter. 

Your hands find their way up into his hair, your fingers carding through the blond strands in a way that nearly sends Max to his knees. The strangled groan that rumbles through his chest when you tug at his hair sends a shimmer of satisfaction up your spine. He can’t get enough of the way you taste, the way you feel, the way your perfume overwhelms his senses. He’s fairly sure that he’ll never recover from this moment and he’s absolutely certain he’ll never forget the way you melt into him when he pulls you closer. His tongue works into your mouth, pressing against yours, licking against you in a way that has your breath catching in the back of your throat. You’re having trouble breathing against him you’re so overwhelmed with how he tastes and feels, warm and solid in a way you’ve never experienced before. 

It could be five minuets or five hours, you get so lost in the way he’s kissing you but eventually Max pulls back, blue eyes hazy with need. You should be embarrassed at the pathetic whimper that slips from your lips when he removes his mouth from yours, but the look that Max gives you tells you he feels the same. Your chest feels heavy with the weight of what just happened. Like the years you’ve known Max have all been leading up to the tension that crackles between you and the way it burns brighter when he touches you.  

Max lifts his hand to cup your cheek in his palm and you lean into the touch, sinking into the feeling of his warmth. You both can sense the weight of the moment, like there’s no going back to the way you two were before that kiss. Lines have been crossed and everything finally feels like it’s clicked into place. Like the thing that you two have been dancing around for however many years has finally been unleashed and you’re finally found the person to whom your soul belongs to. 

He drops his hands down your body before they finally grip your ass as he yanks you towards him. It’s  like you weigh nothing when he picks you up, strong arms cradling you against him. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, giggling as you bury your head in the crook of his neck. It feels so wildly satisfying to be with someone who clearly not only wants your physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.

Max takes a few steps towards the corner of your studio where the couch that converts into a day bed sits. When Max spots it though, he freezes. You crane your neck around, wondering what’s made him go still. “Max?” 

“Have you been sleeping here?” 

Panic surges in his chest as he observes the little nest you’ve built yourself. It usually is folded up, disguised as a full sized couch but lately, you’ve been using it as your bed. Piled on one end are several pillows while a pile of blankets are spread out across the cushions. It gets cold in your studio at night due to the large windows that take up one wall and the lack of efficient heating in the building. 

Max slowly sets you down, needing a moment to get the pain in his chest under control. Your eyes dart away from his, cheeks burning in embarrassment. You had totally forgotten you hadn’t tidied up the bed from last night. You hadn’t needed to as no one really came in here lately and it had morphed into your second home. 

“Yeah.” You whisper, taking a step away from Max.

“Because of me?” 

You shrug, knowing that he’s going to take on the guilt when he hears you confirm his suspicions. “It just seemed like you didn’t want to see me. I didn’t want to make it awkward if we ran into each other in the building.” You pause, noticing the guilt etched into Max’s features. “It was easier to just stay here.” 

Max takes a step towards you, crowding you against the edge of the couch. You can see how labored his breath is and you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him. When you do though, Max flinches away from your touch, brows furrowing as his eyes drop to the floor. “Fucking hell.” He swears under his breath. “I was just like him, wasn’t I?”

He doesn’t have to say Lando’s name, you both know who he’s talking about. Guilt sits heavy in his chest as he looks down at you, your eyes wide and innocent starting up at him. You reach for his waist, desperately needing to touch him. “Max…” You sigh, knowing that nothing you say is going to ease the anger you can see he’s going to beat himself up with. 

“No, don’t try to tell me that what I did was okay.” He shakes his head but doesn’t pull away when you reach up to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. “You’re right, I took a page right out of his book. I gave you the silent treatment and ignored you for weeks because I couldn’t handle being honest with myself or with you.” 

“But baby,” You coo before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You know how hard Max is on himself on and off the track and can sense that he’s about to go down a road that’s going to end up being destructive. “Baby, listen to me.” 

Max drags his gaze up to yours and the pain in his eyes has the breath catching. “You’re not him. He used the silence as punishment, as a way to get me to fall in line with what he wanted. He was abusive with it, and that’s not what you were doing.” 

“It doesn’t matter though.” He argues. In a move that shakes you to your core, Max sinks to his knees in front of you. His hands drag down your body until they come to rest heavily on your hips. He looks up at you, brows knit together like he can’t believe you’re allowing him to be in your presence. “I hurt you and I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself for that.” 

“Well,” You run your fingers through his hair, tugging a bit to get his attention back up to you. “How about we start with the fact that I forgive you, oui?” 

“That’s not enough.” Max’s voice scrapes a rough path against your skin like sandpaper. “I need to show you how sorry I am. I need you to know that I’m never going to do this again.” From where he sits kneeling, Max gently pushes you towards the couch. The backs of your knees hit the edge and you’re forced to sit. Your knees part to allow him closer and he wraps his arms around your waist. Your hands sit at his shoulders, gripping desperately at his shirt.

“You’re safe with me, liefje. I need you to know that. Need to show you how much you mean to me.” 

“Then show me, Max.” You whisper. 

Max’s pupils blow wide as he stands, encouraged by the heavy rasp in your voice. The way he towers over you, staring down with eyes so dark you swear they’ve gone black has your stomach twisting in anticipation. 

“Lay back.” He orders and you obey instantly, scrambling back to where your pillows are stacked. “Let me show you how fucking sorry I am. How much I need you, how much I adore you.” 

“Max.” You breathe, breath coming in short bursts as he reaches underneath the hem of your shirt. 

The rough scratch of his calloused hands send shivers skittering over your skin, goosebumps erupting whoever he touches you. Your shirt is the first thing to be discarded on the floor, tossed into a corner as you fight the urge to squirm under Max’s heated gaze. It’s almost too much, the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s been waiting for this very moment for his entire life and his wildest dream is about to come true. 

Max swings his knee over you so he’s straddling your hips. He leans down, pressing heated open mouthed kisses to the slim column of your neck before dragging his tongue so tortuously slow towards your collar bone. You gasp when he nips little bites into the delicate skin at the hollow of your neck, his tongue immediately licking in soothing strokes across the heated skin. Your hands skate over the fabric of his shirt, clutching at anything you can use to ground yourself in the moment. You fear if you don’t, you’ll float right off the bed. 

Max continues his perusal of your body, an erotic discovery of the sounds you make when he kisses new pieces of skin that have been long neglected. 

“Look at you.” He murmurs right before his mouth closes over a lace covered nipple. The whine that leaves your lips is breathy and should be embarrassing but you’re long past caring. All you care about is never having to go without Max’s mouth on you ever again. “So pretty for me. Always so pretty for me.” 

You whimper as he sucks the lace deeper in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the already pebbled skin. His hands slip under your back, lifting you up just enough to get access to the clasp of your bra, and before you’re able to blink you’re bare beneath him, bra discarded somewhere on the floor along with your t-shirt. 

His gaze meet yours and the raw desire you saw in his blue eyes just moments before is replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. He traces the curve of your breast with a trembling finger. “God, you’re beautiful.” He whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I…I never want to hurt you ever again.” He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the fierce hunger of his earlier kisses. “Can I do this? Please?” He asks, his eyes searching yours for permission. 

The question hangs in the air, the vulnerability in his voice striking a chord deep in your chest. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his cheek, the rough stubble a familiar comfort to you now. 

“Max.” You breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. His name feels like a prayer, a plea for the connection you both crave. His eyes close briefly as your fingers graze his skin. He nuzzles his face against your hand, his breath warm against your palm. 

“Tell me.” He murmurs, his voice raw with need. “Tell me what you want. Tell me how I can fix this.” 

It almost sounds like he’s begging and that sets the fire stoking even hotter deep in your belly. The words are so simple but they carry the weight of everything that has happened between you over the last few months. All the hurt, the anger, the longing…it all boils down to this moment. You swallow hard, your throat tight with unshed tears. Looking into his eyes you see the man that you grew up with, the man that you thought was just a friend for so long, the man that would never love you because of who you were and who you were with. But he’s more than that now. You see the man that you love, the man that is asking for your forgiveness, for permission, offering you a chance to rebuild what he broke with him. 

“I…” You start, your voice trembling. You take a deep breath, trying to find the words to express the complex web of emotions and feelings swirling within you. “I want this…I want you, Max. More than anything but I need you to promise me you’re going to be gentle with me. I need you to be careful.” 

A flicker of understanding crosses his face. He nods slowly, like he knows you’re not only talking about tonight, here in this room where everything feels so heavy and at tipping point, but beyond this. You’re asking him to be more of what you need and more of what you’ve never gotten from anyone else. 

“I know.” He whispers. He leans down again, this time his kiss is feather-light and tender, full of promises he fully intends to keep for the rest of his life. “I promise I’ll be everything you need me to be. Do you trust me?” 

You meet his gaze when he pulls back once again, your heart aching with a mixture of fear and hope. You knew there were no guarantees, that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. But this was Max you were talking about. You know more than anything that he’ll keep his word and will protect you with everything he has. In this moment, looking into the vulnerable depths of his icy blue eyes that you’ve found yourself lost in so many times over the years, you believe him. You believe in the possibility of healing, of rebuilding, of finding your way back to who you were before Lando had tried to destroy you. 

You nod slowly, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek. “Yes.” You whisper.

With a nod, Max reaches behind him, pulling his shirt off in one quick movement. You’ve seen him without a shirt before but this is completely different. The dim light of the room catches the subtle play of muscle across his chest and shoulders, a familiar landscape that suddenly feels both familiar and utterly new to you. You sit up on your elbows, breath catching in your throat, not just from the physical beauty of him but from something else. 

As his shirt falls to the floor, your eyes are drawn to a black smudge of ink on his side, right in the middle of his rib cage.

A dove. 

A thin black outline, its wings slightly outstretched as if poised for flight. 

The sight of it steals the breath from your lungs. You stare at it, transfixed, your mind reeling. The vulnerability you saw in his eyes moments before deepens as he notices your eyes fixed on his ribcage, becoming something more profound. This wasn’t just a fleeting desire of his, a momentary lapse of control. This was…commitment. A brand. 

“Max.” You breathe, heart pounding in your ears as he sits frozen on top of you, watching your reaction silently. You reach out, your fingers tracing the outline of the dove. Max shudders under your touch, his hips rolling into yours ever so slightly. “When…when did you…” 

Max watches you, expression unreadable. He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze locked on yours. The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and husky. “Vegas last year.”

After he secured the championship, ending Lando’s title hopes.

His mind flickers back to that night. He had been drunk before he even left the track but not drunk enough to say no when someone on the team suggested tattoos to celebrate. No one on Red Bull had made the connection that night and at first, he had been able to reason with himself that it was just a generic dove, that it didn’t have any extra meaning. But watching you walk off with Lando that night, watching you console your boyfriend instead of celebrating with him had been a punch to the gut. 

“I guess drunk me knew I wanted you longer than sober me was willing to admit.” He chuckles lightly, but there’s a heaviness to his words that has your chest squeezing. 

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with regret and the weight of the past. You look at him, your heart aching with mixture of tenderness and a new sense of fear. This gesture, this permanent mark, it changes everything. It raises the stakes, making the possibility of future pain even more terrifying, but also making the potential for happiness that much more profound. 

You close your eyes briefly, trying to process the wave of emotions crashing over you. When you open them again, Max is watching you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that mirrors your own. He reaches down, his hand covering yours where it rests on his ribcage. His touch is warm, reassuring. And in that moment, you know that whatever the future holds, you’re not alone in this. 

Max leans down and kisses you again, this time with more urgency. His tongue traces the shape of your lips before slipping in side as he deepens the kiss, a silent conversation of longing and need. His hands move over your body, discovering curves and sensitive places that are now reserved for only his touch. He unclasps your jeans, the zipper whispering open, and you lift your hips against him, your own hands fumbling with the button of his pants. 

The air crackles with anticipation as he pulls back, eyes searching yours. “Are you sure?” He asks, tone rough with need. 

He’s achingly hard and desperate to be inside you but he’d stop if you said the word, no questions asked. And you know that. 

You nod, your heart racing in your chest. “More than anything.” You murmur.  

He kisses you again, a deep, possessive kiss that leans you breathless and your hips rolling up into his, searching for more friction than ever. With a slow, deliberate movement, he slides your jeans down your legs, revealing the soft skin of your thighs. He pauses, his gaze lingering on your body, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. 

A blush creeps up your neck but the heat of his gaze quickly chases it away. You reach up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then move lower, to the pulse beating at the base of his throat. His skin is warm beneath your touch, his breath coming in short ragged gasps. 

With a shared breath you both move, the remaining barriers of clothing falling away, discarded somewhere on the floor. The contact of his bare skin against yours ignites a fire within you that’s been smoldering for years now, a burning need that’s been simmering for so long. 

Max pulls you closer, his body molding against yours. His touch is careful, as is he’s afraid he might break you. He kisses you agin, a slow and sensual press of his mouth to the crook of your neck. His hands roam over your body, caressing your curves, teasing at your skin. 

You moan softly, your own hands finding their way to his body, exploring the hard muscles of his back, the smooth skin of his chest. You trace the outline of the dove tattoo, a silent reminder of his commitment and vulnerability. 

Max shifts slightly, his weight pressing down on you and what a welcome pressure it is. His fingers dip below your waist, swiping at the wetness pooling between your legs. The growl that rumbles in his chest has your hips tipping up towards his cock that sits heavy and hard between your bodies. “So wet for me, my sweet girl.” He murmurs in your ear. “Are you ready for me?” 

All you can do is nod, eyes pinching shut as the heat between you two grows needy and frantic. 

“Open those pretty eyes for me, I want to see how you look when I fill you up for the first time.” 

You whimper at the filthy words, heated pleasure pulsing between your legs as Max pumps his dick a few times in his hand. The spark that started all those months ago when he walked you home from the art show has  grown into an out of control forest fire, blazing it’s way through both of your souls to where it’s brought you here in this moment. 

When Max presses into you for the first time, your entire world narrows to that delectable stretch of him filling you. He moves slowly at first, leaning into you inch by maddening inch. You’re not sure if he’s doing it to drive you crazy or to make sure you’re not too overwhelmed with the size of him. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before and the way he stretches you has you crying out.

For a moment, Max freezes which has you shaking your head and scratching at his back. “No, oh my God, no. Please, don’t stop Max. Keep going.” You beg, lifting your hips up towards his in a desperate attempt to be so stuffed full of him. It’s the only thing on your mind, the way your world has completely narrowed down to the spot where you and Max are connected on the most physical level two people can be. 

The sensation, the heat, the overwhelming pleasure is almost too much to take. You arch against him, your breath catching in your throat. His name escapes your lips, a whispered prayer for friction that you so deseparely crave from Max and Max alone. 

And then, he’s bottomed out and you’re full of him. Every bit of your existence stutters down to his touch, the way he feels, the way his skin tastes as you latch your mouth onto his shoulder, muffling your cries of pleasure as he begins to move. 

Max answers with a groan of his own, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours. The years of longing, months of dancing around each other, the mutual pining that you’ve both been too scared to act on since your youth…all of it melts away in the heat of the moment. It’s replaced by pure, unadulterated connection that you didn’t even know was possible to experience with another person.

Max feels the release building at the base of his spine but he’s determined to bring you along with him. “I want you to come with me, baby. Can you do that for me?” He murmurs, tongue licking at the shell of your ear. His hips stutter erratically as he struggles to hold onto some sense of control. 

Your eyes flutter closed as your entire sense of being sparks to life. This feeling of connection, of pure pleasure, of being so full of another person, of Max is so foreign you almost don’t know what to do. The pressure builds deep in your tummy and you know you’re not far behind Max in chasing down your orgasm. In a desperate attempt to glean more pleasure out of the moment, you reach between your two sweaty bodies, fingers swirling around your own clit as Max continues his slow, deep grind into your needy pussy. 

“That’s it, shatje. Take what you need. Come with me, sweet girl.” 

The words are exactly what you need and the first waves of your orgasm crash over you, threatening to drown you in the waves of pleasure. Seeing you come undone beneath him is all Max needs to follow you over the cliff. The low groan that rumbles from deep in his chest has you clamping down around him, his name tumbling from your lips over and over. 

It takes several minutes for you both to come down form the high that washes over you and several more minutes for Max to find the strength to pull out of your soft, warm center. He doesn’t want to, fairly certain that he could spend the rest of his life buried deep in you. The whine that scratches at the back of your throat tells Max that you feel the same. 

Outside, the sun has long set and the night has settled over the city. The lights of the harbor drift in through the bay windows that hover above you, casting a soft glow of moonlight over your naked bodies. Goosebumps pebble your cold skin, missing the warmth of Max being buried deep inside you already. Max pulls you into his chest, your back fitting perfectly against his front as he pulls a blanket over your exhausted bodies. 

For the first time in what feels like weeks, a deep sense of calm settles over you. Max’s steady breathing behind you lulls you into the sort of peaceful sleep you’ve been chasing for years. 

Max isn’t sure how long he falls asleep but it’s still dark when he wakes up. The first thing he notices is how cold it is. He’s still under the heavy blankets he tugged over your sleeping frame as you cuddled into his frame after the most amazing sex he’s ever had but there’s one thing missing: you. 

His eyes blink open, confusion pulling at the spider webs of sleep still clouding his brain. “Liefje?” He croaks, sitting up. The room is chilly and dark, the quiet of the night still settled over the studio. 

A soft glow burns across the room where a lamp sits switched on. Next to it, Max spots your frame, sitting on a stool in front of a canvas. You’re wearing his shirt form earlier, the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, hem barely covering the tips of your thighs. Your hair is piled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, golden light from the lamp beside you reflecting off the shiny surface. You may be working on a painting, but Max is pretty sure you’re the prettiest masterpiece in the room. 

You turn to him then, soft smile playing on your lips. “Hi.” You whisper before turning back to the painting in front of you. 

Max gets up, tugging on his boxers, before padding across the hardwood floors to join you in front of the painting. His painting. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, lips finding the warm crook of your neck as he whispers into your skin. 

“I wanted to get this finished.” You murmur, leaning back into his solid frame. “I’m debuting several new pieces at Nessa’s gallery in a few weeks.” 

Max grips your waist as your words sink in. “Including this one?” 

“Is that okay with you?” You twist around so you’re facing Max fully now and he crouches down so you’re eye to eye. 

“Of course it is but it’s going to cause a stir, don’t you think?” 

The passion you’d poured into the painting of Max is undeniable. Anyone looking at it can tell your raw feelings for the man in front of you. 

“I think we’re about to give people a lot to talk about, so why not just get it started ourselves?” You shrug, a glint of mischief winking in the corner of your eye. 

Max chuckles before pulling you in for a kiss. “God, I love you.” 

You smile against his lips, “Love you too.” 

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[taro-jpg]

Ok bet.

I dislike the second and fourth options and I will think more about why that is as I go about my day.

I know that the options you presented are not the only ones, though, because in my life i don't live only by those. I believe everything that exists is valuable by the fact of it's existence AND at the same time at the same time know that everything will be one day gone, and thats OK. Those two things don't have to exist separately, though. I think that's where I got confused with your post--which, if i am reading this right, is most against the fourth option.

---

So why are you... interrupting your usual value system and placing yourself in a far-off future where the suffering is already over and none of it matters anymore in the grand scheme of things?

From my understanding, mass extinction (of not just humans) IS in the far off future. Mass extinction events take forever. Extinctions on the other hand can be so fast. Especially if they are human-caused, like the wooly mammoth and the dodo bird.

I don't think my view of mass extinction interrupts my normal value system. I do want to do things to reduce suffering and climate collapse right now, but knowing extinction of humans or others will happen is just something I think about a lot.

maybe that makes me punchable and I prefer, if at all possible, to not get punched :( but I also believe my beliefs don't need to exist in a dichotomy.

Anyways, end my defensive reply. I wish I knew how to only argue the argument instead of feeling defensive about my person. you are not using ad hominem(?) but I see it in everything and i really need to quit lol.

Still. I can say that I will do my best to ensure my worldview never comes at the expense of the lives of others, and will do more to ensure people do not think that I devalue the earth or the life on earth just because it may not always be here.

I do genuinely thank you for taking the time to respond to me and explain further the point you were making in the first post in the context of my beliefs. That was kind of you and I appreciate it.

If anyone talks with any amount of approval about the potential mass dying of humanity during climate collapse, you can punch that person in the face.

If that person is white, you can punch them twice.

(Technically, unless you are interrupted, nothing is physically stopping you from punching people who trivialize the mass murder of billions of people of color many more times. The ones or twice are just suggestions of what you could do.)

[yois2aki]

wc. 0.7k

the moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room as caleb slept beside you, his arm draped over your waist. his steady breathing was the only sound, a rhythmic comfort that made you feel safe. but deep within the recesses of his mind, caleb was far from peaceful. the nightmare came in flashes, images of you in danger, of him failing to protect you. it started with a distant voice, one he didn’t recognize, calling out your name—sharp and desperate.

“no!” he gasped, jolting awake, his heart pounding in his chest.

his eyes darted around the room, wide and frantic, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he thought he saw shadows creeping along the walls. his body was tense, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he tried to ground himself in reality. the room was still, silent, save for the soft sound of your breathing beside him.

he turned to you, his face pale, eyes wide with fear. you stirred in your sleep, unaware of the storm raging inside him. but the panic didn’t fade, it only grew. the images were still vivid in his mind—your body crumpling to the ground, his hands reaching out but failing to catch you, unable to protect you from whatever danger had come for you. the thought of losing you, of not being able to keep you safe, twisted something deep within him.

without thinking, he shot up from the bed, his breath shallow as he stood by the side of the bed, looking over you like a soldier on guard. he scanned the room, the familiar comfort of it now suddenly foreign and threatening. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, his protective instincts kicking in like a switch. you were safe now, but what if something happened? what if it happened again?

you shifted in your sleep, and caleb froze, heart racing as you murmured his name. he rushed back to the bed, kneeling beside it, his hand hovering over you like he was afraid to touch you too roughly. “hey,” he whispered, his voice thick with anxiety. “baby, wake up.”

you groggily opened your eyes, disoriented, the soft warmth of sleep still clouding your mind. “caleb?” your voice was hoarse, but your confusion only added to his growing unease.

“i couldn’t protect you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice breaking as the nightmare’s grip tightened. “i couldn’t keep you safe…”

your brow furrowed, still caught between the real world and the dream world. “caleb, what are you talking about?” you reached out, touching his arm gently. “what’s going on?”

he was trembling now, and his hand, which had been hovering over you just moments ago, now gripped the edge of the bed as if holding on for dear life. his eyes were wide, filled with terror, and you could see the raw vulnerability behind them, the same vulnerability that he only allowed himself to show in your presence.

“you were—” he stopped, taking a shaky breath, trying to calm himself but finding it impossible. “you were in danger. i couldn’t get to you in time. i… i failed.” his voice cracked, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to erase the haunting images from his mind. “i couldn’t protect you.”

you sat up slowly, now fully awake, your heart aching at the sight of the usually calm and composed caleb so unravelled. you placed both hands on his cheeks, gently guiding him to look at you. “caleb,” you said softly, your voice steady, “you haven’t failed me. you’re here. you’re always here, and i’m safe with you.”

but he shook his head, the self-doubt crawling into his thoughts. “what if something happens when i’m not around? what if i can’t protect you when you need me the most?” his grip on your hand tightened. “i can’t lose you. i can’t…”

you could feel his fear, his overwhelming need to keep you safe, and you cupped his face, grounding him with your touch. “caleb, listen to me,” you said, the conviction in your voice helping to pull him back from the edge of his panic. “you are my protector, but you can’t control everything. you can’t be everywhere at once. i know you’d do anything to keep me safe, but i need you to know that i’m not going anywhere. i trust you, and i trust us. okay?”

his breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. but all he found was love and reassurance. he swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “i can’t lose you,” he repeated, his voice a mere whisper.

“you won’t,” you promised, leaning in to kiss him gently, your lips soft against his. “you’re not going to lose me. i’m right here.”

caleb finally relaxed, his breathing slowing as he pulled you into his arms. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “i just… i can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”

“i know, caleb,” you whispered back, your head resting against his chest. “i know.”

and there, wrapped in each other’s arms, caleb finally allowed himself to believe that you were safe, even if only for the moment. the fear was still there, lingering in the back of his mind, but with you beside him, he would fight to keep you safe for as long as he could.

[dykespirk]

I think both tos and aos Jim survived Tarsus. but I think tos Jim was older (15-17) and aos Jim was younger (10-12).

I think tos Jim became the de facto leader of children survivors (as we see with Kevin Riley and Thomas), because of his age. That Jim carries the survivor’s guilt of not being able to save more kids—of watching the youngest ones die (ostensibly) in his care. his coping mechanism is thus leadership—usurping and clinging to positions of authority in an effort to save others; he craves authority, wants and needs to embody it to turn it into something that would’ve saved the others, would’ve saved him. Starfleet becomes his white whale. he needs the myth of Starfleet—an intergalactic emblem of peace, carving through deep space purely to discover (and defend). he embraces starfleet’s militarism because it echoes his understanding of power (some evils need to be defeated; innocents need to be protected). Jim also loves to defend—to entrench and hold boundaries (with the Klingons, the Romulans, with any hostile life). deep space is at the same time mystical—where birth and rebirth are always possible, where miracles happen every day—and orderly, where regulations and boundaries are clearly defined. Jim finds solace and role stability in this space, defending others, acting as a father figure, and indulging in hyper-independence & isolation.

that’s how we get tos Jim, who’s desperate for connection & intimacy, but ultimately clings to his leadership role like it can sustain him—like it’s all that can sustain him. (love, you’re better off without it, and I’m better off without mine. this ship, I give, she takes…I’m the captain…I’ve lost the enterprise, I’m losing command…nothing is more important than my ship) the guardian role is essential to his self-image.

conversely, aos Jim was the child. he was the scared, too-skinny kid who had the rug ripped from under him. aos Jim is born into a world where fatherhood/authority is already dead; George Kirk’s absence is a gaping hole in his life. Starfleet’s idealism makes martyrs, but it also cannibalizes its men to sustain its ideals. George’s replacement, Frank, neglects if not abuses him. that Jim witnesses the complete breakdown of authority. he watches Starfleet come with too little, too late. he sees the older kids die. he watches his only solace from Frank’s terror, his fresh start, become a waking nightmare.

that Jim learns that no one is coming.

his coping mechanisms are withdrawal from the system entirely; to bare his teeth at it, to claw at it, to draw blood. scare them before they can scare you. act bigger than you are. appearances are everything. to distrust authority entirely. give up on Starfleet, because Starfleet is an empty vaccum that will take and take, ineffectual at its core and hypocritical at best.

instead of being defined by his attraction to space, aos Jim is defined by his inability to stay still; his distaste for Earth, for Iowa, for groundedness. for him, staying in Riverside is a kind of self-harm, one he doesn’t understand how to escape and ultimately believes he deserves.

this Jim is lonely not because he uses distance as a defense, but because he’s so distrustful of others, he genuinely can’t imagine an open hand. (enlist?)

that’s how we get the Jim that ultimately cares way more about his crew than his ship; who latches onto Bones like a leech and craves Spock; who wants connection with far less shame has absolutely no expectation of receiving it. this is the Jim that blares sabotage while charging into battle, says fuck you to the admiralty, and would rather die saving lives than live with taking them—that’s what I was raised on.

there’s also the fact that tos Jim is a Jewish man written in an era of liberal internationalist optimism underscored by the early Cold War and the shadows of the Shoah whereas aos Jim is the flashy product of peak commercialized Hollywood in a post-9/11, post George-Bush America. anyways.

[loserlvrss]

｡ ｡ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 ( 이.𝐌𝐇 )─────엔시티

( 二月 ). ──your best friend fell asleep on you, and suddenly he wasn't your friend anymore 이민형 &fem!rea. ⟡ drabble, fluff warn. kiss wc : 807HUN ++( 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈 )

노트 mark, as promised <3

You don’t know how it happened, however you weren’t complaining. No, nothing of the sort even crossed your mind. 

All that was on your mind was how comfortable you felt despite the pins and needles in your hip. How warm you felt with arms wrapped around your waist. You could hear soft breaths taken against the silent air—your show lost on the ‘continue watching’ screen some time ago. 

You’d blinked yourself awake a couple of minutes ago, not even realizing that you’d actually fallen asleep. When you woke up, you didn’t even know what day it was anymore either, pushed into the worst brain fog. However, the dream you were having was all sunshine and rainbows, you almost regretted coming back to reality. Well, that was until you saw that your best friend, Mark, had also fallen victim to just resting his eyes. 

But then, reality hit, making your stomach drop. 

Your best friend had fallen asleep too, somehow ending up with his head pressed into your side and arms paralyzing. 

You bit your lip, feeling a little bad about reveling in such an intimate thing for friends to be doing. Of course you’d shared hugs and even held hands, Hell, it seemed he couldn’t be more than a couple inches from you sometimes, but that was always innocent. That was always because you were feeling uncomfortable, or anxious or something of the sort. 

There was never anything between the lines to read. 

Butterflies made you nauseous. You liked the feeling he instilled, but you hated that you shouldn’t actually be feeling it at all. 

Should you wake him up? You could pretend you hadn’t been staring at him for the past however long then. But, on the other hand, you could make it a thing. Afterall, It was an opportunity to make the feeling yours to hold—make him yours to hold. 

But No. No, you couldn’t. 

You were friends, nothing more and nothing less. There were never any shades of gray. No stolen glances or prolonged eye contact. There was no tension, no lingering touches or sense of fleeting time. There was nothing, and you didn’t know anymore if you could take it. 

People hadn’t even mistaken you for a couple before, and it hurt your pride a bit. 

Why couldn’t you swallow it down and ask? Too scared to lose what you already had? Circles and circles you’d been running, but not getting very far. All the destinations led back to one thing—one very, very special man. 

The man you loved. 

You groaned at the thought, head hitting the arm of the couch. And suddenly Mark was awake, very aware of the position you two were in. It was your movement of disappointment (in yourself) that stirred him, your breathing and heartbeat queuing him in. The soft plush that only a body had, making him get up faster than you thought humanly possible. 

“Oh my God,” He put his hands up like he was surrendering, “I’m sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep after you. I didn’t mean to,” 

You lifted your head through all the commotion, being met with the sight that made your heart pick up speed. He looked so adorable half-awake; hair messy, and features swollen. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologized again, “It just happened, like on an airplane when your head just—you know, drifts. You looked so peaceful, I guess I got jealous.” He tried to joke, an awkward laugh leaving his lips after the rant subsided. 

You’d sat up some time during when he was talking at you, “It’s fine,” You sighed, now regretting ruining the moment more than turning your good dream off like the show you hadn’t been comprehending. 

He was right, it was peaceful. 

Mark brought peace to your life, a sense of clarity during the worst storm you’d ever lived through. He was the rain that brought flowers, the rainbow that brought color. 

He was everything right in a left world. 

“Don’t apologize to me.” 

And just as quickly as he’d lifted from you, he was back in your space, this time soft lips against yours. Your eyes were wide when he pulled back, then his were too. 

His mouth was slightly parted, broken sounds leaving it without real substance. You assumed they’d be more apologies, so before he had the chance to gather his thoughts you leaned back in, closing the distance you thought you’d put between you two. 

Your hands found the side of his head, palms resting on his cheeks, pulling him as close as you could get. And, he didn’t protest. 

You couldn’t decide if maybe you hadn’t actually woken up, because if you were having a good dream before, then this was the best one. 

Your stomach was doing Olympic-level flips, gold medal acrobatics. But, at least, you could say the feeling was yours. 

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

networks : @kstrucknet @starlit-network @blossomnet @k-films

taglist : @slytherinshua @saxytalks @mystarsohee @seomisaho @chwesun @oc3anfloor @markyoursupplier127 @atzlordz @bbangbies @cyjzzl @minkilicious @am00ures @seokminfilm | fill out form to be added. 

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[lila-went-missing]

Hiii, saw you wanted some requests for Sevika and I've had this idea bubbling up for a while. Imagine Vika with a reader that's normally experienced, yk has fucked one or two people before and it's not a sex god, and they're growing insecure about sevika never starting intimacy even after months of dating, so they think it's because they're not as good as the girl's she's been with before. Idk just thought that'd be good

I'm kind of obsessed with this, ngl. This isn't the first smut that I've written but it is the first smut that I've posted on here so feedback is always appreciated. Y'all will never guess... it's not proofread. Again. Enjoy my lovelies! X

Warnings: Smut (obviously), mild angst but nothing too horrible, mentions of body image issues but readers body type isn't specified or described.

Fem reader, of course, with female genitalia.

At first, you didn't think anything of it. She probably just wanted to take things slow with you. You weren't as experienced as her so she probably wanted to take her time.

That made sense for a while.

But now, after eight months together, you haven't had sex once. More importantly, she hasn't initiated it.

Realistically, you know that it's fine. There's plenty of reasons as to why nothing has happened so far. But that voice in the back of your head is doing a fantastic job of convincing you otherwise.

Sevika was kind of a sex symbol before you two got together.

She'd been with countless women, she was a regular at Babbettes. Her name was uttered on the streets like a sacred prayer.

You, on the other hand, have only been with two people: your ex, and a drunken one night stand that was less than satisfactory. So you did have sexual experience, but not nearly as much as her.

Honestly, it's starting to worry you.

Did she not like you? Was she not physically attracted to you? Was there something wrong with your body? Were you not showing enough skin?

Thoughts plagued your mind night and day. You were stuck in constant turmoil. It was impossible to stop your own brain once it got going.

It was taking everything in you to focus on the stove and not burn dinner.

You flinch at the sound of the door closing. Heavy footsteps sound through the house, approaching the kitchen.

Sevikas thick arms wrap around your midsection, her face making home in the side of your neck. For a long time, she doesn't say anything. The only sounds come from the meat sizzling in your pan. Moments like this make it easier to not think about the painful lack of aw sex life between you two.

Her lips purse, pressing small kisses against your skin. She hums against your neck.

"What are you cooking doll?" Her voice is muffled against your flesh but you understand her all the same.

"Spaghetti." You feel her smile.

"My favorite.." She mumbles. You hum a small "Mhm" before focusing back on the seasoned beef and water you're waiting for to boil. Her arms tighten ever so slightly, one hand slipping under your shirt. Her thumb caresses your bare skin.

It should be sweet but it really just drives the nail into the coffin for you.

Your voice comes out before you can stop it.

"Why won't you have sex with me?" You regret it the moment it leaves your mouth.

"I- woah, what? Doll what do you mean?" She honestly sounds baffled.

"Forget I said anything, please. It doesn't matter."

Her hands gently grab your shoulders, turning you around.

"No way. What are you talking about?"

You shake your head. "It's stupid.."

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you." She reassures you.

"It's just, we've been together for eight months, and we practically live together. But we haven't done anything. I know you don't have an issue having sex because half the undercity talks about how good you are and I just don't understand. Is there something wrong with me? Am I not appealing to yo-" Your rant is cut off by her lips. Her hands are holding you like glass, one on your cheek, one curled around your hip.

"There is nothing wrong with you." Her voice comes out as a soft whisper. "I'm sorry I made you feel like there was. I just knew that you don't have as much experience as I do. I didn't want you to feel rushed, or forced."

"Rushed? No, you could never.. I thought you just didn't want me that way." She immediately shakes her head. She kisses you again, more urgently this time.

Her hands grab anywhere they can, pulling you in. They're on your hips, waist, groping your ass.

"I do want you." Then they're picking you up and lifting you on the counter. "Let me show you how much I want you?" All you can do is nod as her lips trail down your neck. Her touch dances over your body, removing your top.

Her mouth follows soon after, sucking dark bruises into the skin on your neck and chest. She takes a nipple in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. A low whimper leaves your mouth at the new, but not unpleasant, sensation.

Her right hand copies her tongue's motions on the other, pinching and pulling. Your body trembles against the counter with need.

She moves away from your breasts, kissing and licking down your stomach to your navel. Her hands unbutton your pants. She looks up at you as she lowers herself to her knees, silently asking for permission. You nod your head. You don't trust your voice. Your pants are off in seconds and thrown somewhere in the kitchen that you'll worry about later.

Her hand splays across your stomach and gently pushes you to lay against the tile. It's cold against your bare and burning skin, your back arching off of it but she keeps your hips pinned down.

You gasp as her teeth nip at the skin of your thigh. A breathy laugh leaves her.

"Shut up.." You mutter.

"Didn't say anything."

Your eyes roll in fake annoyance but you don't get the chance to reply as the cold air hits your bare cunt. Her thumbs pull your lips apart, admiring the sight before her.

"Fuck doll, you're so wet. All of this for me?" Her voice is husky between your legs and it stirs something delicious in your belly.

"Yes, all for you Sev.." She chuckles. Her teeth take the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs. She kisses your hips and navel, sucking hickies and marking you as hers.

"Please, Vika. Need you.." You whine. You can't bring yourself to care about how desperate you sound. You're sure that you look even more so from her position.

It seems, though, that your prayers have been answered because as soon as the words leave your mouth hers is back on you. This time it's between your legs.

She licks a long stripe up your pussy before stopping to suck your clit into her mouth. A loud moan reverberates from your chest as you lean your head back into the counter. Her tongue kitten licks at the bud before suckling on it like shes trying to nurse herself.

You've had people eat you out before but never this well. You don't think it could get better than this.

She moves down, opting to fuck you with her tongue instead. You definitely understand the appeal now. You've given yourself plenty of orgasms but this is the fastest one has risen before.

She feels it in the way you clench around her tongue and moves back to your clit. Her fingers fill up the now empty space, fucking into you in a gently but rough way only she could manage.

She's eating you like a woman starved and with the lack of sex the two of you have had she may as well be. If you didn't know better you might think this is her last meal.

Gasps and whimpers leave your mouth in a desperate way you can't stop.

"Fuck Sev.. ngh~ m'gonna cum, please.."

She smirks against you once more, speeding up her ministrations.

"Come on my tongue baby, make a mess on me." Her voice is muffled against you cunt, vibrations travel through your clit with her words.

You last maybe thirty seconds longer, hand tangled in her hair, before releasing over her tongue.

She laps you up, milking you for all that you're worth. She's never tasted anything more delicious. Her mouth doesn't let up until your whimpering from the overstimulation and pushing her head away.

She looks you in the eye as she sucks her fingers clean before kissing back up your body. Her lips lock onto yours and you can still taste yourself on her tongue. It makes your head spin in a way you've never felt before.

When you come back to earth, her hand is running through your hair.

"I'm sorry I made you believe that I didn't want to do that." She mumbles. "But now I may need it to be a daily thing." You giggle at her words.

"It's okay. I wouldn't mind honestly." She helps you sit up, a large hand cupping your cheek. "You didn't get to cum.." You whisper as you lean in closer.

"Don't worry about me, I'll get my fill later." The look on her face tells you that this isn't over. "I'm going to change out of these clothes. You just worry about dinner okay?" She slips your panties back on along with your shirt.

You nod, sliding off the counter. You wince at the mess you made but she's already wiping it up. Her lips meet your temple as she mutters a low, "I love you."

"I love you more." She shakes her head, chuckling before walking back to her room. You feel much better now, and you really can't wait for what she meant by "later".

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Real Man"

Older Au Chapter 3.

THIS IS A MATURE STORY. IT HAS SOME SEXUAL SENCES, IF YOU DONT LIKE DON'T READ. Ok yall ik i said i was gonna post this last night but i hated it so i rewrote it! if it sucks don't say anything pls. sorry if it's repetitive, lmk whose team ur on!!! And what you want to happen next. comments, reblogs, likes and kind asks are always appreciated. If this one random anon keeps sending theses crazy things, i'll have to remove anon asks, which I dont want to do. I love my anons, so pls be nice. Send in asks, I miss yall, I've been sooooo busy with school lately and I havent had time to get on here. THIS IS MY 1ST TIME WRITNG ANYTHING LIKE THIS SO LMK HOW IT ISSSSS

WHY AM I GETTING THE FEWLINF EVERYONE HATES THIS??? IM ABT TO DELEYEB TS NGL 😭

Six months had passed since that night—the night you let Slade’s words sink into your skin like venom and made the choice that changed everything. For better and worse.

You hadn't accepted his offer easily. Not after what happened with Two-Face. That betrayal still sat in your chest like a dull ache, a constant reminder of how easily people could take what they wanted and leave you with nothing. You had sworn not to trust so easily again, not to let yourself fall into another cycle of being used and discarded. So when Slade made his offer, you hesitated.

"You're smarter than this," you had told yourself that night. "You know what happens when you trust the wrong person. You know what men like him want."

And yet, here you were. Living in his world.

Not as a prisoner, not as a puppet, but as something more. The lines were blurred, shifting with every glance, every order he gave that you didn’t question, every moment that stretched too long in the dim glow of your shared space. Because that’s what it was now, shared.

The apartment Slade had set up was far from a safe house. It was huge and spacious, Slade wasn't a cheap man. It felt lived in. Your things mingled with his, your scent lingering in the air. You bought vases and filled them with flowers, you organized the kitchen and bought him real groceries, not just canned food. You hung pictures you developed of you and him. Ones he didn't know you took. You roped him into painting your room a baby blue, a color he swore he hated, yet he still slept in your room every night. It was comical to see such a large man laying in a pastel colored room on your floral bedsheets, the last man you let into your bed was equally large. But we don't talk about him.

Slade cared for you deeply, or at least tolerated you. At first you were always at each others throats, each person throwing a more cutting remark than the other. When your arguements got so bad that you began to ignore him, he brought home women, made sure he heard them moaning through the walls till you snapped and began screaming.

You hated Slade Wilson

But after the first month things began to change, Slade never said anything about it, but you caught the way his eyes would darken when he returned from a mission, his gaze sweeping over you like he needed to confirm you were still here. Like he expected you to disappear.

You leaned against the counter, watching him from the corner of your eye as he cleaned his weapons. The rhythmic motion of his hands, the way he handled each blade with the kind of care most reserved for something fragile, it was almost mesmerizing. Everything he does is.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up. God, he's so smug.

You scoffed. "No, you are. I don't stare at creepy old men. In fact, it's usually the opposite."

His lips curled into that knowing smirk, the one that made something tighten in your chest. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

The nickname used to irritate you. Now, you weren’t sure what it did. All you knew was that it made your heart race the way only one person had before. He used to call you sweetheart too.

Slade’s presence in your life was suffocating, an unshakable force that wrapped itself around you, squeezing tighter with every passing day. He was cruel in the way he trained you, brutal in his expectations. If you failed, he had no patience for it. Slade trained you for greatness and he wouldn't tolerate anything less.

“You call that a punch?” he sneered one evening in your early days of training, after you had barely managed to land a hit on him. “Pathetic. I’ve seen senior citizens put up more of a fight,"

Gritting your teeth, you launched at him again, only for him to sidestep effortlessly. A sharp pain bloomed across your ribs as he shoved you down, hard. The thing that you loved and hated most about Slade was that he treated you like an equal. He didn't see you as his younger, fragile, kind-of girlfriend; he saw you as an equal opponent.

“You hesitated,” he said, standing over you. “That hesitation will get you killed.”

You spat blood onto the mat and glared up at him. “Or maybe I just don’t care if I live or die. Nothing is ever really this serious.”

Something flickered in his eye, dark and unreadable, before he crouched beside you. His fingers dug into your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He didn't understand your humor sometimes, considering he's old enough to be your father.

“Oh, but you do, you want to survive. To be great, ” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

He let go of you with a sharp shove and stood. “Get up. We’re not done.”

The tension between you both had only grown over the months. Slade had a way of pressing in, invading your space without ever needing to touch you. Sure you guys fucked almost twice, sometimes three times a week, but there was that small sliver of confusion and hesitation.

Sure, he slept in your bed ever night now, called it "our room," and sure you stayed up waiting when his missions would take too long. Yeah, you would run and jump into his open arms, feeling nothing but content as he kissed your forehead and took you to the bed, it's normal that ya'll didn't even have sex some nights, that you just cuddled.

Sometimes, you swore he was waiting, waiting for you to be the one to close that final inch between you. But you never did. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you fell into a rhythm. Training. Fighting. Learning with him and laughing with him. He pushed you harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection, never letting you slip back into old habits. He didn’t coddle you like they did. He didn’t pretend you were something delicate. He made you strong.

Most nights, after an exhausting day of training, you would sit on the brown leather couch cuddled up to him with your head on his chest and his arms around you, the dim glow of the television flickering between you. Slade wasn’t much for small talk, you talked enough for the both of you, but the silence between you felt... comfortable, almost warm

“Why did you take me in?” you had asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

He had taken a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. “Because I saw something in you,” he finally answered. “Potential. Something you’re too afraid to admit to yourself.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, you wondered if there was truth in his words. You liked that he believed in you, no one had done that before.

Then there were the other moments. The ones that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge. The way he stood too close when showing you how to hold a blade properly, his breath warm against your skin. The way his hands lingered too long when correcting your stance. The way his gaze dropped to your lips before he forced himself to look away.

Neither of you ever acknowledged it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. It's completely normal for your teacher/mentor/enemy to sleep in the same bed as you every night. It'd be weird if you didn't make breakfast and dinner for the two of you. It'd be weird if you didn't know his favorite foods and if he didn't know how to braid your hair. It'd be even weirder if he didn't make you coffee exactly how you like it and help you put away the dishes.

Slade had become an inescapable presence, his control over you extending far beyond training. He knew where you were at all times, had a way of appearing when you least expected it, his eyes always sharp, always knowing. Some nights, when you tried to slip out for air, you’d find him already outside, leaning against a wall as if he’d been waiting for you. He let you do what you wanted, think you were free, but he was always watching you.

If you were singing at a bar, you could count on him to be in the crowd. If you met with Selina at a restaurant you could count on him to drive you home. Slade was always there. Selina thought it was strange, you took comfort in it.

“You really think you can go anywhere without me knowing?” he had mused once, a shadow of amusement in his voice.

It should have bothered you. Maybe it did. But part of you had started to crave it, the way he made you feel like you belonged to him, even if neither of you would ever admit it.

Slade had been… watchful lately. More than usual. He came back late from missions, missions he didn't let you come to, sometimes with a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. He was hesitant to let you go and preform at bars, sometimes convincing you to just play the songs on your guitar in the living room and run your fingers through his hair as you both laid on the couch.

There were the calls—brief, coded. You were offended, Slade told you almost everything these days but somehow no amount of sweet talk and bedroom eyes could get him to budge this time. And then there were the other things. The subtle shifts in the city’s underworld. More movement in Gotham than usual. The quiet whispers of old ghosts stirring, names you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

Dick. Jason. Tim. Damian. Bruce.

You saw it in the way certain streets had too many eyes. As if waiting. As if listening.

And then there was the whisper of something else. Something darker, something clawing at the edge of your awareness. A name that had once sent a thrill through you, now only bringing unease and resentment.

Harvey Dent.

A name you hadn’t spoken in months, yet it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake. A man you couldn't bare to even think of. A drink left for you at a bar you hadn't performed at in weeks, a coat draped over the back of a chair that looked too familiar.

Slade noticed before you did. “You’ve got a ghost,” he murmured one evening, the flicker of a knife between his fingers. “One that doesn’t know how to stay buried.”

You didn’t ask him what he meant. You didn’t have to. You already knew. You just didn't know why. Had he finally seen through Tiffany, now that it was too late?

At first, you didn’t question it. Slade had always been territorial—watchful, overbearing when he wanted to be. He had a way of controlling things without seeming like he was. That was how he worked.

So when you first noticed the shifts, you didn’t react. Your schedule changed, but not because you changed it.

You used to go out when you wanted. Walk the streets when they were quiet, feel the Gotham night press against your skin, the air cold and sharp. Not anymore.

Things began to change this week. Now, every time you thought about leaving, something stopped you.

The fridge was always stocked, eliminating any reason to step outside. Your favorite food. Your favorite drinks. Little things appeared when you needed them; new clothes, supplies, anything that might have made you leave for even a moment. Things you mentioned only in passing, like the new lipstick you wanted or a pair of vintage heels or a new bag.

If you reached for your coat, Slade would speak before you even touched the door. Asking where you were going, trying to be casual.

It was never a command. Never outright control. But the implication was there. And every time you hesitated, he won. If you needed to leave or just wanted to go out, he would come with; a silent yet protective figure always in the shadows.

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that should have been peaceful but wasn’t. The apartment smelled like old wood and gun oil, the faintest trace of smoke lingering from Slade’s cigar earlier. You had just stepped out of the shower, skin still warm from the heat, hair damp as you walked barefoot across the floor in your towel.

Your hand brushed against the pretty golden door knob absentmindedly.

And then you froze. Something was different.

Your fingers curled around the lock, tracing over the new ridges, the reinforced structure. The weight of it felt wrong.

It wasn’t your lock. Not the cute one you insisted on buying at the antique shop that Slade hated. It didn't match the walls.

Your stomach twisted. You turned slowly, your damp hair clinging to your skin as your mind raced. This wasn’t an accident. You hadn’t imagined it. Slade had changed the locks. The thought sent something icy down your spine. Alarm bells blared in your mind.

You tried to shake it off, tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was security. Maybe he just wanted better protection.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. Because he didn’t tell you. Because Slade never did anything without a purpose. Because Slade Wilson didn't need a lock to keep people out. And because you hadn’t noticed until now. You took a slow, steady breath and turned toward the living room.

Slade was there, like always, seated in his usual chair by the window, sharpening a knife. The sound of steel against whetstone was rhythmic, deliberate. His posture was relaxed, but you weren’t fooled. His fingers were too steady, his shoulders just a little too still.

He was waiting. Watching. Like he had already predicted this moment, like he was ready for an argeument. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, heart pounding too fast, not caring if you were in a towel.

"Planning on keeping me in a cage?" you muttered.

Slade didn’t pause. Didn’t even look up. “Planning on keeping you alive.” The words were so smooth, so easy, that your stomach turned.

Your breath caught. Because he wasn’t hiding it. He wasn't denying it. Not anymore. This wasn’t a mistake. This was intentional.

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow in your throat. “Right. Because I’m just so incapable of keeping myself safe. Even after all the training we've done. Even with my literal super-human abilities.”

Slade finally looked up. His eye locked onto yours.

There was no humor in his gaze. No smirk, like he usually had on while teasing. Just that slow, assessing stare that made your pulse stutter.

"If I thought you were capable of that," he murmured, voice quiet, too quiet, "we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Your chest tightened. Because the way he said it sent something sinking into the pit of your stomach. This wasn’t just about protecting you. This was about making sure you never left.

Two days later, you decided to test it. Just to see what would happen. Slade had stepped out—or so he wanted you to believe. The moment you heard the door shut behind him, you moved.

Your fingers curled around the knob.

Turned it— but a large, scared hand beat you two it

"Going somewhere?"

Your entire body locked up. You gulped and licked your suddenly dry lips, he had you cornered with one hand on the knob and the other caging you in as he towered over you. His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. You turned slowly, pulse thrumming in your throat. Slade stood right behind you.

The door was still closed.

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard him come back. Hadn’t even realized he was there. So much for super hearing. Nothing worked on Slade Wilson. You kept your expression neutral. Didn’t let him see the panic creeping up your throat.

"Didn’t realize I had a curfew," you muttered with an uneasy grin, trying to start your usual banter. Slade didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. Just watched you.

“You don’t.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t step aside. Didn’t let you leave. The silence stretched too long.

Finally, you forced a smile, tilting your head. “Then I’ll be back in an hour.” Nothing changed in his expression. But you could feel the weight of his stare. Then he tilted his head, eye dark and calculating.

“It's not safe out there anymore. Not for you.”

You blinked. Something in his tone shifted.Not amusement. Not control. Something else. Something darker. Like he was waiting for you to figure it out.

Your stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move.

Just let the question hang in the air, stretching the silence tight between you. And that’s when it hit you.

He wasn’t stopping you because he was afraid you’d leave.

He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.

Something he wasn’t telling you about.

Your mouth went dry. Slade finally let out a slow, amused breath, pushing off the wall.

And then—

He stepped aside. A challenge. Daring you to open the door. You hesitated. And that was all it took.

The moment you hesitated, you lost. Slade smirked, shaking his head like he had already predicted every move you would make. "Let's get to bed." He rasped out, looking at you with dark, seductive eyes.

And then he turned, walking past you like the conversation was over. Because it was. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave now.

The next morning, the locks changed again. The windows were reinforced. Your pretty pink curtains replaced with black shutters. Your phone stopped working. You couldn't call Selina. Every excuse to leave was removed before you could even think about it. You tried not to panic. Tried not to question it.

But Slade was closing the walls in. And you weren’t sure if it was to keep someone out—

Or to keep you in.

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence.

You had slipped into a bar down the street, needing to breathe, needing something normal.

The moment you stepped in, your stomach turned. Something familiar. Cologne. Not just any cologne. Expensive. Sharply tailored. The scent of whiskey and authority.

You froze.

Your mind screamed at you. It’s just someone else wearing it. It’s just your imagination. And then you saw it. A glass at the bar. Untouched. Neat. No ice. A double pour. your breath hitched.

Harvey’s drink.

It wasn’t until you came home that you truly realized. Because that’s when you saw the rose.

A single red rose on the kitchen counter.

Waiting for you. Your entire body went cold. It wasn’t from Slade. It couldn’t be from Slade. Slade would never bring you roses, he wasn't a gentleman. And he knew you liked hydrangeas and peonies now.

You turned slowly and nearly threw up.

Slade was already standing there. Watching. Waiting. His jaw was tight. His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t say anything. And that’s when you knew,

He had seen this coming.

“Where did that come from?” you asked, voice thin. Why was he doing this? Was shattering your heart not enough? Did he want to ruin things with you and Slade?

Slade didn’t answer. Instead, he walked forward, plucked the rose from the counter, and rolled it between his fingers. Slowly. Deliberately. Then, he crushed it.

Your stomach dropped. The petals crumbled to the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. "You tell me, sweetheart."

For the rest of the night, he didn’t let you out of his sight. Not directly holding you hostage, but you felt it. The way he lingered in doorways. The way his hand ghosted too close when you passed him.

Like he was waiting. Waiting for you to ask. Waiting for you to figure it out. Waiting for Harvey to stop playing games and make a real move.

You weren’t sure when it had happened; when you had stopped keeping track of time, stopped caring about the difference between one night and the next. Slade made sure you had no reason to count the days. He made sure you had no reason to want anything. You woke up every morning in his arms and went to bed satisfied and well loved. It wasn’t a prison but it wasn’t freedom either. It was something in between. A limbo of his design. A small slice of heaven in hell.

You were happy. But something was off, Slade was being more paranoid and he got less subtle about it each day.

You weren’t trapped, not physically. Slade let you leave the apartment. You weren’t chained to the walls, weren’t locked in a room. He took you out on missions, let you get your hands dirty alongside him, let you breathe in the crisp Gotham air under the cover of night. In some ways, those nights were the only times you felt alive, other than when you were with Slade. The weight of a blade in your hand, the burn in your muscles from the chase, the sharp adrenaline rush of the fight, of using your powers on someone they affected; it reminded you that you still existed outside of this quiet game he played with you. Because that’s what it was. A game.

Slade never said it outright, never told you he was keeping you on a leash, but you could feel it tightening with every passing week. At first, it was small things. The way he subtly redirected missions away from Gotham’s city center, keeping you to the outskirts, where the shadows were deeper and the chances of running into familiar faces were slimmer. The way he always made sure you stayed close during a job, always just within arm’s reach. It wasn’t just protection. You knew better than that. It was control. He was testing you, waiting to see if you would try to slip away, if you would give him a reason to remind you just how easily he could pull you back.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the real test wasn’t in the field. It was what happened after.

After the job was done, after the adrenaline had settled into exhaustion, after the long, banter filled walk back to wherever Slade had decided to keep you that night. It was in the way he never let you wander too far. The way his hand would hover at the small of your back without quite touching, guiding you down the streets like he was the one who decided where you went. It was in the way he never left you alone for too long.

At first, you told yourself it was coincidence. Slade was always working, always had something that needed his attention. But then you started to notice the patterns. You ate together, you slept together, trained together, hell; you even showered together. You were never alone for more than a few hours. If he had business elsewhere, you were given something to occupy your time—training, surveillance, a task that kept you exactly where he wanted you.

You tested it once again, just to see what would happen. After he had left for what you thought was a routine meeting, you had grabbed your coat and made your way to the door. You weren’t even thinking about leaving him, not really. You just wanted to see if you could. If there was still a part of you that could step outside without feeling the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Your fingers had just curled around the doorknob when you heard his voice. Low. Even. Inevitable.

“Going somewhere?”

You were getting de ja vu. This happened last time too. You had swallowed hard, pulse spiking in your throat as you turned. He was standing right behind you.

You hadn’t heard the door open. Hadn’t heard his footsteps. He was just there, watching, waiting. The worst part was that he wasn’t even angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, wasn’t raising his voice or blocking your way. He didn’t have to.

Slade had simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eye scanning you with that sharp, unreadable expression that made your stomach twist. “Didn’t realize I needed permission,” you had said, forcing your voice to stay steady. You wouldn't let him control everything, not another man would be in charge of your life.

“You don’t.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he had already solved. “Just wondering if you really think it’s safe out there.”

Not this odd shit again.

That made you pause. The way he said it. Not like a threat. Not like he was trying to scare you into staying. He said it the same way as last time. Like he already knew something you didn’t.

Your grip on the doorknob tightened. “What are you talking about? You said this last time.”

Slade didn’t answer right away. He just let the silence stretch, let you feel the weight of your own hesitation. Then, slowly, he took a step back. Another challenge.

“If you want to go,” he said, gesturing toward the door, “go.”

Your breath caught. You should have. You should have walked out.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew that if you did, if you stepped outside now, you wouldn’t just be walking into Gotham. You would be walking into something else. Something waiting.

Slade knew it. And now, so did you.

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the door. Slade huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like you had just proven his point. Then, without another word, he walked past you and disappeared into the other room. That was the moment you knew, whatever was waiting for you out there was worse than what was waiting inside. You just didn’t know what it was yet.

You found out a week later. A part of it, at least.

The envelope was waiting for you when you returned from a job with Slade, slipped under the apartment door like a whisper of something you had tried to forget. You had bent down, fingers hesitating just for a second before picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. No return address. No markings. But you didn’t have to open it to know who it was from. The sharp smell of cologne gave it away.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in the back of your throat as you tore it open, your hands gripping the edges a little too tightly. The letter inside was simple. Only four words.

You won't forget me.

Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled. Because the worst part was, he was right. No matter how much Slade consumed you, or your occasional fantasy about Clark; he also stayed on your mind

You barely had time to process it before you heard the apartment door shut behind you. Your fingers snapped the letter closed, chest tightening, but it was too late.

Slade had already seen.

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel it. The shift in the air. The way his shoulders set just a little too still, the way his single eye flickered from your face to the envelope with something dark and unreadable. He stepped forward, not rushing, just closing the distance between you with the kind of inevitability that made your breath come short.

You turned, but before you could move, his hand shot out. Not rough, not gentle like usual, just firm. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting you in place.

“Let go,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the letter.

You pulled back.

Slade’s grip tightened. “Let me see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. He wasn't used to you denying him these days, not when you loved him.

Your stomach clenched. You didn’t let go, but it didn’t matter. Because Slade never asked twice.

With one sharp tug, he tore the letter from your grasp, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. You watched as his eye scanned the words, his jaw tensing, his fingers tightening around the paper just slightly.

Then, finally, a quiet chuckle. A dark, amused sound. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your breath hitched. Slade looked at you now. Expression unreadable.

“Do you miss him?” Your heart stopped. You denied it, but you could see in Slade's eyes that he didn't believe you. In the way he turned away from you that night. You didn't blame him, you didn't even believe yourself.

Harvey always knew how to play the long game.

Small things began to shift in your life and you knew who was behind it. The song on the radio. A scarf. A photo photo. They were never coincidences, he didn’t believe in coincidence. The man was calculated, meticulous in his pursuits. When he wanted something, he played patient, steady, unyielding, watching from the shadows, striking when you least expected it.

Slade was the same way, but Slade never needed patience. Slade took what he wanted. Harvey waited for it to come back to him.

The jazz playing in the bar was nothing, just white noise in the background while you sat beside Slade, nursing your drink, your head still fogged from the last mission. You weren’t thinking of anything other than how good it felt to finally sit still.

Then, days later, the scarf appeared. Neatly folded on the couch, like a gift wrapped in silence, waiting for you to pick it up. You hadn’t touched it at first, just stood there, staring at it, fingers twitching at your sides. It was a trick of the mind, an old memory manifesting in a way that didn’t make sense.

Except it wasn’t.

He had been here. Or close enough to touch. You should have told Slade. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And then, the photo. A photo Selina took of you and him dancing at the Pink Pony Club. It smelled like him too.

That was what shattered the illusion of security, the idea that you had control over this. The moment you saw it, you knew.

Harvey had always been a sentimentalist, clinging to memories long past, treasuring things most people would discard.

You, once upon a time, had been one of those things. And now? You weren’t sure. You weren't sure what he wanted, especially since he had Tiffany. You had placed the photo down carefully, afraid to crumple it, afraid to acknowledge what it meant.

You had kept your movements neutral, your breath steady, but Slade had been watching. His presence in the other room was a solid weight pressing into your chest. The shuffle of files, the slow deliberate sound of metal being set down, he was waiting.

He had noticed. Of course, he had. Slade noticed everything. And yet, he didn’t say a word.

You lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling Slade’s presence next to you like a silent storm waiting to break. He wasn’t asking. He was waiting for you to give yourself away. To tell him the truth, to trust him like he trusted you.

Slade had been watching you too closely, keeping his invisible leash tight without ever pulling. That was the way he worked, he let you think you had freedom while keeping you within his reach. If you had tried to leave through the door, he would have known.

So, you didn’t.

You waited, feigned sleep, forced your breathing into something slow, even, something convincing. You heard him move in the other room, heard the creak of his chair, the slow inhale of a cigar.

You moved the moment he shifted. Window, not the door. Silent steps. A fire escape that groaned beneath your weight. By the time Slade glanced back toward the couch, you were already gone.

Harvey knew you would come.

You knew that from the moment you stepped onto the rooftop, the Gotham skyline stretched out behind him like a kingdom.

He turned before you could say anything, a slow, easy movement, his face shadowed beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. And then, he smiled. Not a smirk. Not the sharp, dangerous grin you had been expecting. It was something softer. Something more desperate. Like a man in the desert coming across a well.

“Took you long enough, didn't think you got my message. I started thinking that maybe the note didn't reach you.” he murmured. The message he left in the women's bathroom at a bar you and Slade frequented.

Your throat felt tight. You felt hurt all over again. Like someone reopened the wound of his betrayal. Like the same broken girl Slade took in six months ago. You came here for closure. So that it wouldn't hurt when you said his name or sang the songs you wrote for him. “How did you find me?”

What did he want? To torture you? Rub salt in your wounds?

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I never lost you.”

Only Slade called you that now. The words made your stomach twist, a cold knot settling in your chest. You should have walked away then. But you didn’t. Because you had to know.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you haunting me? Not letting me move on?” Your voice shook as you said it. This conversation was long overdue.

Harvey’s fingers gripped the railing, his knuckles white. “Because I need you to listen to me. Just once. Just this once. Hear me out.”

Your heart hammered. Hear him out? He could've started with an apology.

“You think I’ll forgive you?” you spat. You would, because when you looked at him, you still felt the same warmth you did all those months ago; only this time it was mixed with resentment and longing.

He flinched. And for the first time, you saw it—the raw, desperate emotion that he had always hidden behind sharp words and confident grins. The mask cracked, just for a second.

His voice turned rough, unsteady. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know that. But I need you to hear me out.”

You shook your head, stepping back, but he reached out—not touching, not yet, but close.

“You don’t know what’s happening,” he continued, his voice dropping into something urgent, pleading. “Your family—Tim, Dick, all of them—they’re figuring it out. They’re finding out the truth about Tiffany. They'll realize what she's doing, like I did.They'll know soon, maybe not today or tomorrow; but soon. They'll realize she's been using her powers on them like she did to me.”

Your breath came too short. No. This was not happening. Not when you were finally happy again. Not when you think you've fallen in love with Slade.

“No,” you whispered.

Your vision blurred. It was happening. Everything you had tried to scream about for years, everything they had ignored, it was going to come to light. Harvey’s fingers brushed your wrist.

Soft. Careful. Like he was trying not to scare you away.

“And when they realize what they did to you,” he murmured, “they’re going to come running. Crawling back like I am.”

Your stomach twisted.

“They’re going to act like they care,” he continued, voice soft, insidious. “Like they’re sorry. But they’re not. Not like I am. You know that, don’t you?”

Your lips parted. You hated how much sense it made. Hated how deep the doubt had already burrowed into your skin. Hated how genuine and honest he was being, you could sense it. Harvey tilted his head.

And then, voice lower, almost fragile he said, “You don’t have to go back to them.”

Your stomach dropped. You stepped back. “I’m not going back,” you said, voice shaking. Never.

Harvey swallowed hard. And for a moment, you thought he might break, that the weight of what he had done, what he had lost, might finally crush him. But then, he looked at you.

And you saw it, the shift. The danger. Not Two-Face. Not the cold, calculated criminal.

Just Harvey Dent. The man who never let go. “You think you’re free?” he murmured.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Harvey smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You think he just let you leave?”

Your chest tightened. You tried not to show the flicker of doubt, the small crack in your resolve. But Harvey saw it.

And then, voice so soft, so dangerous—“He’s not going to let you go either. He'll keep you locked up. I won't.”

You should have never gone to him.

You had known it was a mistake the second you saw him standing there, leaning against the rooftop railing, the glow of Gotham’s skyline making him look almost human.

But you had gone anyway. Because Harvey had always been a mistake you kept making.

You clenched your fists, how dare he talk about Slade? What right did he have to tell you who to trust. "Yeah and I'm gonna take advice from you. That's rich."

He softened immediately, his regret and remorse so obvious; yet he refused to apologize. You wanted to hit him, hurt him like he hurt you; yet when he stood in front of you in the moonlight, your treacherous heart still beat for him. Your heart didn't want to hurt the man who showed you what love is. The man who picked up the shattered pieces your family and Clark left and rearranged them beautifully. It didn't care that he broke them again; he could fix it.

“I made a mistake. I paid for it, I know the truth now.” He said steadily stepping closer, sensing your reluctance.

Your pulse pounded. “What do you want from me?” You were here for answers, not to rekindle an old flame. Not when you were starting one.

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing from you. ”

The words hit you too hard. You understood what he was implying, what he wanted. You knew he would come crawling back someday, you just didn't expect it so soon

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Why?”

His smile faltered. His hands curled around the railing, gripping it like he needed something solid to hold on to.

"You know why. But that's not what i called you for. I called you to warn you about your family and Tiffany,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. More desperate. “I can throw them off for a little while, lead them off track and make sure they don't know the truth. If that's what you want. But once they know the truth, they won't leave you alone. Certainly not with him.”

You hated the way your chest tightened with affection at his consideration. You hated that you were here. You hated that he still had a hold on you. You hated how he talked about Slade. You hated hearing him say Tiffany's name, it brought back so much hurt and hatred.

“I don't care about them Keep them away for as long as you want. You know I'm not here to hear about them or your whore.” you said viciously, your eyes shining and your teeth sharpening.

Slade would be proud.

Harvey didn't react to your fangs, he wasn't afraid of you. He came closer and grasped your hand, his eyes so heartbroken that it gave you satisfaction, only for a minute.

His voice cracked slightly. “Nothing I do or say can make up for what I did.” His jaw tightened. “I know that.”

You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because Harvey’s voice dropped lower, his words curling around you like a trap you should have seen coming. “But I need you to know something,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. “She wanted to be you, she tried so hard.”

Your breath hitched. You knew this. But hearing Harvey say it made you feel so much better.

Harvey’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “But she never could.”

Your stomach dropped. Why did this have to happen now? Why now when you finally forgot about him?

“She dressed like you,” he continued. “Talked like you. Watched the way you moved. The way you laughed.” His voice hardened. “The way you loved.”

You shook your head, backing away. You couldn't take this anymore. You wanted to run back into Slade's arms, where nothing could touch you. “Shut up.”

Harvey didn’t.

“She wanted to take everything from you.” His expression twisted. “And maybe, if I had been a different man, I would have let her.”

Your skin crawled at the thought. Harvey let out a breathless laugh, bitter and sharp. “But I couldn’t. I had to go digging, looking for clues.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Because she wasn’t you. No matter how hard she tried to be. No matter how much she played with my mind, she could never replace you.”

You hated him.

You hated that you believed him.

You hated how you still loved him.

Harvey exhaled sharply, tilting his head, watching you with something frighteningly raw. “Every time she touched me, every time she tried to take something that wasn’t hers—” his voice dropped into something dangerous, low and dark and broken— “I was thinking of you.”

Your breathing came too fast.

Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her,” he whispered, “I wanted it to be you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop. I don't care.” Lies.

“She wasn’t you,” he repeated, voice almost pleading. “She never could be.”

Your throat closed. Your eyes watered and your teeth burned with unshed venom just thinking of his betrayal. Why was this happening.

Harvey’s fingers ghosted over your wrist. Not touching, not quite.

“I never wanted her, not really” he murmured. “Not once.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. This was all you wanted to hear, all you wished for for so long. So why did you feel trapped. Harvey’s voice dropped even lower. He moved even closer

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You forced yourself to look at him.

“If you don’t care,” he whispered, eyes burning, “why are you still here? Why do you want answers so bad? Why do you still look at me like that?”

You shouldn’t have come.

But you hadn’t been able to help yourself.

Because Harvey always knew what to say, how to linger in your mind like an open wound that refused to heal.

And now here you were, standing under the dim glow of the rooftop’s city lights, your eyes watering, the weight of his gaze pressing into you, sinking into your bones like something familiar, something dangerous.

You forced yourself to keep your stance steady, your pulse even. “You don’t get to ask me those questions.”

Harvey let out a breath, almost a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His hands curled around the railing as he moved away from you again, gripping the cold metal like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for you.

“Do you know how many times I told myself you were gone? That I lost you, ” His voice was steady now, but there was an edge to it—something dangerous. “How many times I tried to let you go, to let you move on?”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else, something more dangerous. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me. I didn't want you to regret your choice. I didn't want anything but happiness for you. No matter how much you hurt me.”

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

“No.” His lips pressed together in a thin line, he knew the truth, that you always wished the best for him. “No, you didn’t.”

The wind curled between you, cold and sharp, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. You should have turned away. Should have walked back the way you came.

But then Harvey laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

“She used her little snake charm but somehow,” he continued, “after a week I was thinking of you. I never loved her. Couldn't even bring myself to like her, honestly.”

Your stomach dropped. It was a gut punch, sharp and unforgiving. He saw it—the flicker of emotion in your face, the tightening of your jaw, the way your breathing caught for just a second too long.

And Harvey, Two-Face, the man who never let go, moved forward, voice soft, eyes burning.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I never stopped loving you”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Shut up.”

He ignored you. Again.

“I love you so much,” he said, voice low. “You love me too or you wouldn't be here.”

“I said shut up.” He was right, he always is.

Harvey smirked, but there was nothing victorious in it. It was almost self-loathing.

“I never loved her,” he whispered again. He was making sure you knew.

“She wanted me to,” he continued. “She wanted to take everything from you.” His jaw tightened. “And maybe, if you had been a different woman, I would have let her.”

The thought of it made your skin crawl.

Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.

“But I couldn’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because she wasn’t you.”

He kept repeating it, trying to speak his remorse into your heart directly. You hated how much it affected you. Hated how your chest ached, how your mind burned with the thought of what could have been. You shouldn’t care. But you did. And Harvey knew it.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, forcing steel into your voice. “You used her, just like she used you. You wanted to spy on Bruce and I wouldn't do it.”

Harvey let out a sharp breath. “Yeah.” His eyes met yours. Unflinching. “I did.”

There was no shame in his voice. Just cold, simple truth. No regret anymore. He didn't regret using her, he regretted hurting you.

“But it wasn’t revenge, sweetheart,” he murmured, his Gotham accent slipping in the angrier he got. “It was survival. She had me under her little spell at first; when that stopped working, her little dream team made sure I never stepped outta line. Never came crawling back to you, never told anyone the truth. But I'm done with them now.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her, every time I played along, I was thinking of you.” His voice dipped, lower, darker. More desperate. “Every time I called her by her name, I wanted to say yours.”

Your breathing came too fast. This wasn’t fair. Harvey was not supposed to be able to do this to you. Not anymore. He was supposed to be dead to you. He had killed himself in your mind the day he let himself be used, the day he betrayed you.

And yet—

Yet.

You couldn’t move.

Because deep down, a part of you knew—you had thought of him, too. When you weren't with Slade, Harvey consumed your thoughts.

Your stomach twisted as he stepped closer again. “You’re smart, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You always were. Choose carefully.”

You swallowed hard. This wasn't about your family anymore. This was about him and Slade.

“You don’t have to go back to them.” He repeated himself again trying to convince you. His words settled in your bones, heavy, unshakable.

You clenched your jaw again. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Harvey’s eyes flickered, something dark and pleased curling at the edges. And then, voice low, almost dangerous, “Then why are you still with him?”

Your breath hitched. Slade. Your body went rigid.

Harvey took another step closer. Your noses almost touched and you nearly threw yourself into his arms.

“You think he's better than me?”

Your chest tightened. Doubt crept in. You had been so careful. So quiet. Hadn’t you? Harvey saw it. And he smiled.

A slow, knowing smirk. “He’s not going to let you go, he won't give you a choice. I don't blame the man, if I hadn't fucked everything up; I wouldn't let you go either.”

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you all at once, suffocating, crushing. You hadn’t been careful. You had been playing into Slade’s hands all along.

Because Slade always knew. And if he hadn’t stopped you?

That meant he was letting you dig your own grave. A shiver ran through you.

The moment Harvey’s voice dipped, the second his fingers ghosted over your wrist like a lover’s touch—you should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because part of you needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him tell you what you already knew.

That he still wanted you. That he never stopped. That you were never meant to be replaced. And it felt amazing to hear the regret in his voice and see the pure longing in his eyes.

The wind curled between you, cold and biting, but Harvey’s presence was stiflingly warm. He was watching you the way he always had; like you belonged to him, like the months between you hadn’t changed a thing. And for the first time all night, you let yourself look at him.

Really look at him.

The scars on the left side of his face had deepened, his two-toned gaze more piercing than before. The weight he carried in his shoulders was heavier, more defined. He was still Harvey, but he wasn’t just Harvey anymore. He had become something darker, something rough around the edges, something broken in a way that made you feel like a piece of you had broken along with him.

You swallowed. “I have to go.” Before you did something you couldn't take back.

Harvey exhaled, slow and deliberate. He nodded, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stop you. But he wasn’t letting you go, either.

“You’re going back to him.” It wasn’t a question. A statement, like he knew it was coming

Your pulse stuttered. “It’s not like that and you know it.” You still felt the need to defend yourself, even though you knew you didn't owe him an explanation.

You still loved him, that much was clear.

Harvey let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Sure it isn’t.”

You took a step back. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t say anything to stop you, but his presence curled around you like a shadow, wrapping itself around your spine, keeping you anchored in place. And then his voice dropped. Low. Certain.

“I’m letting you walk away. But I'm not letting you go. Not when we still love each other.”

Your throat tightened. He wasn’t chasing you. Not yet. But you felt it. The promise in his voice. The inevitability. You didn’t respond.

You didn't deny that you still loved him, it was like a child insisting they didn't eat cookies when they have crumbs all over them.

You just turned and forced yourself to walk away.

The apartment was silent when you returned. Slade was waiting, seated in his chair, drink in hand, legs spread, glaring at the walls. He didn’t turn when you entered. Didn’t move when you stepped further inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You slipped off your shoes, moving slowly, watching him, waiting. Nothing. No reaction. Just that unshakable stillness. The kind that had always been more dangerous than his anger.

You took a steadying breath. If you didn't speak first, he wouldn't speak at all. “Slade—”

“I knew you’d come back.”

His voice cut through the room, sharp and even. Your fingers curled at your sides. “Of course I came back.”

Now, he looked at you. Finally. And when he did, it felt like a blow. That single eye, cold and assessing, swept over you, taking in every detail, every movement, every breath you tried to keep steady. Then, his lips curved. Slow. Controlled.

“Did he tell you what you wanted to hear? Make you want to run into his loving arms again?”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t let it show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Slade exhaled through his nose, the faintest huff of amusement. “Don’t insult me.”

Your jaw tightened. Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to snap, or if he was waiting for you to confess. Then, finally—Slade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, voice lowering into something dangerous.

“Tell me something,” he said lowly.

You didn’t move. “What?”

Slade tilted his head, watching you like he was already playing out the end of this game. “Did you hesitate?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. You could lie. You could tell him what he wanted to hear. But it wouldn’t matter. Slade always knew. And that was the worst part.

Slade was quiet for too long. Then—he sighed. Tired. Expectant. And that was worse than anger. You hated when he treated you like this, so indifferent. You liked his anger better, at least then you could get a reaction out of him.

“Take off your coat,” he said. You hesitated. Slade’s expression didn’t shift. “Now.”

Slowly, carefully, you did as he asked, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair beside you. Slade’s eye flickered toward it. Then, back to you.

You weren’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for something Harvey left behind. Something you didn’t even realize you had carried home with you.

Then, after a long pause—Slade smirked. And it wasn’t kind like the ones you've grown accustomed to.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You stiffened. “Realize what?”

Slade leaned back again, completely relaxed. Like he had already won. “You'll know soon.”

Your breath caught. Where was he going with this? You hated when he spoke like some ancient being and he knew that. He was gonna be insufferable these next few days; he always is when you do something he doesn't like.

“Doesn’t matter where you go,” he continued, his voice so damn certain. His smirk widened, mocking. “You’ll always come back to me.”

Your chest tightened. You hated him. Because he was right. He knew you hated it, too.

You lay awake that night. Not because you couldn’t sleep. Not because Slade was in the other room, making you sleep alone for the first time in months, still awake, waiting, watching, knowing.

But because you couldn’t shake the way Harvey had looked at you before you left. Not angry. Not resentful. Just patient and remorseful. Like he already knew something you didn't.

Slade never brought it up again. Not directly. You weren’t sure if that was worse. You weren't sure if you wanted him to scream at you and demand you never see Harvey Dent again. You would rather anger than the silent treatment.

He didn’t demand answers. He didn’t press the issue. He simply carried on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t watched you walk through the door smelling like another man’s presence.

That should have been a relief. But it wasn’t. Because Slade didn’t let things go. He let them fester.

It was in the way he touched you now, more deliberate, more possessive. The way his hands lingered a little too long on your waist when he passed you in the kitchen, the way his fingers grazed your wrist, as if reminding you that you were still there, still his.

It was in the way he watched you. He had always been observant, but now it was different. Sharper. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was reading you.

Every twitch of your fingers. Every slight shift in your breathing. Every time you looked over your shoulder without realizing it. You had brought something back from that rooftop, and Slade knew it.

And still, he said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, but neither of you were asleep. Your back pressed into the cool sheets, heartbeat steady but too aware of the man beside you. It'd been three days since Harvey and Slade was finally sleeping next to you again, but you knew he wasn't truly letting things go.

Slade’s fingers traced slow circles against your wrist, his grip loose but present. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he murmured.

You exhaled, shifting slightly beneath his hold. “And you have?”

A quiet chuckle. “I sleep when I need to.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the bedroom. “And when do you need to?” You missed teasing him.

Slade’s smirk was lazy, knowing. “Whenever you’re not around to keep me entertained.”

You rolled your eyes, but he didn’t let you pull away. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he was there.

“You think too much,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Keeps you restless.”

“Maybe I like thinking,” you shot back booping his nose. You lived to annoy him, to push his buttons in a way only you could get away with.

Slade hummed, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow, still watching you. His fingers trailed down your arm, you would've though he was trying to start something if his movements weren't so slow and calculated.

“What are you thinking about now?” He said reeling you into his trap, his eyes hard. You hated when he tried to trap you. Your pulse skipped. Nothing you said would be the right answer.

Slade’s lips quirked up slightly, but there was something in his expression—something darker, something expectant.

“You can say it,” he mused. “Say his name.”

You were tempted to do it, moan Harvey's name just to piss him off, but that was a line even you knew not to cross. You rolled your eyes, "God, just let it go Slade. It wasn't important."

Why couldn't he just let this go? Slade smirked, mocking. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t look away. Because he knew. He always knew. Nothing goes over Slade Wilson's head.

The next morning, you woke up to a message. Not a text. Not a voicemail. A gift.

The small wooden box sat on the kitchen counter, neat, precise. Like it had been waiting for you. Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t heard anyone come in. You hadn’t even felt him. But Harvey had been here. You swallowed, fingers brushing over the lid before carefully lifting it open.

Inside was a single playing card.

The Two of Hearts.

And beneath it—folded carefully, as if it was meant to be unwrapped like some kind of sentimental treasure—was the same scarf he had left before.

Except this time, there was something else. Perfume. Your perfume. It smelled like you and him. Like Harvey had held onto it. Like he had kept it close. Your stomach twisted.

Harvey had been here. And you hadn’t even noticed.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the box, breath coming a little too sharp, too shallow. The walls of the apartment felt smaller. You didn’t hear Slade approach, but you felt him before he spoke.

His voice was smooth, dangerous. “Something I should know about?”

You forced yourself to breathe. “No.”

Slade leaned against the counter, eyeing the box like he already knew exactly who it was from. And then—he laughed. A quiet, amused sound, as if this was a game he had already won. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” he said, in the same tone some used when regretting not buying a book before it sold out.

Your stomach dropped. Slade tilted his head, eye still locked on you. “But you wouldn’t have liked that, would you?”

You said nothing.

Slade smirked, shaking his head. “Soft spot for old flames.” He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist. “That’s your problem.”

You clenched your jaw, jerking your arm away. “And what’s yours?”

Slade’s gaze darkened. “I don’t have problems.”

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. Always with the tough guy persona, honestly it must be tiring always acting untouchable. “Right. Sorry, I forgot. Because you don’t feel anything.”

Slade didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, unreadable. His hand reached for your jaw, firm, demanding. His thumb traced your cheek, slow, deliberate. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I feel plenty.” You swallowed. Slade smirked. “You just don’t like what I feel.”

You stepped back before you could do something stupid. Something that would make you forget about the box on the counter, the scent of Harvey still lingering in the air. Something that would make you forget that you weren’t sure who you were more afraid of losing.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Harvey was right. They were going to find out the full truth soon. And when they did, they would come for you.

Now, a week after your meeting with him, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Message after message, call after call, each one from Tim Drake-Wayne. All asking you questions about Tiffany, about yourself. About where you were.

Your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled through the texts, hands shaking, stomach twisting itself into knots so tight you thought you might be sick. Of course Tim was the first to figure out something was wrong. He was about five years too late though.

Tim: We need to talk. Please answer. I have questions. About Tiffany..

You could barely breathe. He wanted to investigate, to look deep into Tiffany. Now?

Now, after years of pushing you aside, after ignoring every cry for help, now he wanted to take your warnings seriously.

Your eyes burned, fingers tightening around the phone, your mind screaming at you to respond, to finally say all the things you’d held in your chest for too long.

But you didn’t. Instead, you turned the phone off. You shoved it under the pillow, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to push away the tears, trying to ignore the way your chest ached with something ugly and desperate.

The moment you walked out of the bedroom, you knew he had seen.

Slade was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, gaze heavy with something unreadable. The phone was still buzzing beneath the pillow in the other room, and somehow, you knew he had heard it.

He had been waiting for this. You swallowed, standing stiffly near the doorway, trying to pretend like everything was fine. Slade didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.

“Took him long enough,” he mused, his voice casual, controlled.

You rolled your eyes. He's been bitchy ever since the whole Harvey thing.

Slade’s eye flickered to your hands, still clenched at your sides. “And let me guess—you ignored him.”

You hated how easily he could see through you. You glared at him, jaw tight. “None of your business.”

Slade chuckled, shaking his head, pushing off the counter and closing the distance between you in slow, measured steps.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was lower now, smoother, curling around your spine like a threat disguised as affection. “Everything about you is my business.”

You tensed. Slade reached up, tracing a gloved finger along your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“He’ll keep calling,” he murmured. “He’ll keep begging. He'll figure it out and tell the rest of the little squad and they'll all come running back. Just like your dear old Dent. ” His lips curled into something mocking. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? Make mistakes because they know you'll forgive them?"

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Not to hurt you, just enough to remind you who was in control.

His thumb brushed over your lips, slow, deliberate. “What are you gonna do?”

Your breath hitched. Slade leaned in slightly, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. “Do you want Tim to tell the others? Want your family back? Want him back? Even after he fucked your sister while you were lying sick in your bed?”

Your throat tightened. He was toying with you. Mocking you, trying to hurt you. Making you say it. And you didn’t want to say it. Because you didn’t know. Your family had been your world.For so long, all you wanted was to be seen.

To be loved.

To be something more than just a ghost standing in the background, watching them fawn over someone who had stolen everything from you. And Harvey gave that to you, before he betrayed you.

And now, he was sorry. Soon, they would all know the truth and be sorry.

The emotions clawed at your throat.

You wanted to scream at Tim. Tell him it was too late. Tell them that he could never fix this. No amount of investigating and apologies could make up for years of neglect.

But another part of you, the part that still ached for their love, the part that still wanted them to prove you wrong,

That part whispered, “What if?” What if when they found out the truth, they would love you? What if this time, they actually stayed?

What if this was your chance to finally have the family you always wanted?

The war inside your head made you dizzy. And Slade knew it. He was still holding you, still keeping you rooted to him, while your world spun out of control. After a long, suffocating silence, Slade finally sighed. “You’re a mess.”

You glared at him, pushing away from his grip. “Fuck you.”

Slade chuckled, unfazed. “You do it almost every night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're a child, you know that?"

You turned away, grabbing a glass from the counter, hands still shaking slightly as you filled it with water. You weren’t thirsty, but you needed something—anything—to keep yourself grounded.

Slade leaned against the counter again, watching you with amusement, but something deeper lurked beneath it. Then, in a voice so casual it almost didn’t register, “I’ll make him stop. I'll make them both stop.”

The glass almost slipped from your fingers. You turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

Slade shrugged, like it was nothing. “You don’t want to deal with them. You don’t want to make a decision. So I’ll make it for you.”

Your breath caught. Slade never dealt with things peacefully, he got rid of problems permanately. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His smirk deepened. “And I will.”

Your stomach twisted. Because the worst part was; you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified. Because Slade was right. You didn’t want to make a choice. You wanted someone to do it for you.

And Slade was more than happy to take that burden.

The first thing you noticed the next morning was the silence. No more buzzing. No more messages lighting up your screen. Slade had done it.

He hadn’t waited for you to argue. Hadn’t given you the choice. By the time you checked your phone, every number had been blocked. Every contact erased like they had never existed at all.

And maybe that’s what Slade wanted.

For them to be nothing but ghosts in your past. A clean break. A fresh start. So why did it feel like your chest was splitting open?

You had spent years craving their attention. Years begging for even a scrap of love. And now? Now you had the chance to get it. And you ignored it. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need them. That you had spent too long chasing something that was never meant to be yours.

And yet, as you stood in the quiet of the apartment, phone gripped too tight in your hands, you ached. Because you had wanted them to fight for you.

Slade had left that morning, his usual teasing smirk in place, but there had been something off.

Maybe it was the fact that his mission was dragging out longer than expected.

Maybe it was the way his fingers had lingered under your chin before he left, thumb brushing over your jaw like he was making sure you were still his.

Or maybe it was the way he had muttered, “Be good while I’m gone, sweetheart.” as you kissed him goodbye.

Like he already knew you wouldn’t be. Like he already knew something was coming. The apartment felt too big without him. His absence wasn’t something you should have noticed.

But you did.

It was in the empty space beside you when you sat on the couch. The extra portion of dinner you made out of habit. The lack of footsteps behind you. The missing weight of his presence pressing against your world, keeping you safe.

It was the first time in months you had been truly alone. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You took a nice, long, hot, shower, trying to dull the ache below your hips. You and Slade had sex last night, but somehow you were already wanting more. It was like your body could sense his absense.

You stood under the hot water, letting the steam curl around your skin, letting the heat scald away the thoughts clawing at your mind.

Maybe Slade was right. Maybe it was easier to just let go.

There was a sound. Soft. Distant. A creak where there shouldn’t be one. You wouldn't have heard it, wouldn't have sensed the body heat if you didn't have your powers. Your heart stopped. You turned off the water immediately, listening.

Nothing.

Maybe it was just—

Another creak. Closer this time. You swallowed, pulse hammering, every nerve in your body screaming at you that something was wrong. Slade was gone.

No one should be here. But you weren’t alone.

The second you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp skin, fangs reader and a knife in your hand, you felt him.

The shift in the air. The weight of someone watching. And then, his voice.

“Gotta admit,” Harvey mused, voice smooth, mocking, as if he had any right to be angry “didn’t think you’d be the type to shack up with a guy like him.”

Your stomach dropped. You turned sharply, eyes darting across the room, breath catching in your throat when you saw him.

Sitting on your bed. On Slade’s bed.

Harvey was leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t the intruder in this equation.

Harvey sat there like he hadn’t broken in, hadn’t shattered what little peace you had left. The moment you stepped out of the shower, still dripping, wrapped only in a towel, you knew, he was waiting for you.

Your fingers clenched around the towel’s edge, jaw tight, pulse pounding.

"You’ve got some fucking nerve," you muttered, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between you and him.

Harvey leaned back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over the headboard, watching you with something smug, something knowing.

"Had to see you," he said simply. Like it was normal. Like it was nothing.

Your stomach twisted. It was never nothing with Harvey.

"And let me guess," you bit back. "You just let yourself in."

His smirk widened. "Door was unlocked, it’s not breaking and entering if you used to live together."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Bullshit. That’s exactly what it is, Dent. We don't like together anymore. Never did officially either."

Harvey didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze slid lower. Over the damp strands of your hair. Over your throat. Your collarbone. Your bare legs.

You knew that look. It made something ugly stir inside you.

He looked at you, gaze slow, deliberate, taking in every inch of you. The damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. The way the towel barely covered enough to keep you decent.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t stop on my account. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

Your fingers clenched around the towel, pulse thundering. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Relax, sweetheart. Just thought I’d drop by. Say hello. You wouldn’t answer your phone, so I figured—” he spread his arms in mock innocence, “—why not pay a visit?”

You hated how calm he was. How easy he made it look. Like he hadn’t just broken into your home. Like he hadn't broken your heart. Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, heart hammering against your ribs. Slade was gone. Gone.

No one was coming. But you could handle yourself. And Harvey knew it. His eyes flickered down your body again, this time slow, calculating. Looking at all the marks and love bites Slade had left the night before. “You always did have a thing for older men,” he mused.

Your jaw clenched. Low blow.

Harvey smirked. “What’s the matter? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Thought you could just run off and play house with Gotham’s favorite mercenary and I’d let it slide?” He tsked, almost disappointed. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

You glared at him. Where did he get the audacity? “You don’t own me. Especially not now. Especially not after what you did. Your apology didn't change anything. You've got no right to be here.”

Harvey’s expression darkened, but only for a second. Then he grinned. “Funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking about him.”

Your stomach twisted. Because you knew what he was doing. He wanted you off balance. He wanted you to doubt. It was working. Because a part of you—a part you hated—was already wondering what Slade would do when he found out. Because he would find out. How jealous would he be? Would he finally drop the whole nonchalant act, ask you to be official?

Harvey’s smirk widened. “You think he’s coming back soon? You waiting for him? That's real cute princess.”

Your throat tightened. “He'll be back tomorrow.”

Harvey shrugged, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How missions can just drag out longer than expected?” His grin turned sharp. Cruel. “Would be a real shame if something happened to keep him… occupied.”

Your blood froze. Harvey watched you, waiting for the realization to sink in. He knew. He knew Slade wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Your fingers curled into fists and suddenly you were on top of him, fangs bared, “What did you do?”

Harvey simply leaned back, enjoying himself and the view of your almost naked body on top of him. He turned his neck, as if trying to give you more access to him.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Now, now. Don’t go blaming me. I didn’t lift a finger.” His grin widened. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who did.”

Your breath was coming too fast, too shallow, panic creeping up your spine. Slade was gone. Harvey was here. You were trapped. And Harvey knew it. Your pulse pounded. Slade was gone. Harvey was here.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pinning him down harder against the mattress, your fangs bared, breath coming in sharp, furious exhales.

"What did you do?" you hissed again, voice low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained rage.

Harvey smirked up at you, completely unbothered. His eyes gleamed with that same smug amusement, like he was playing with his food.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, voice infuriatingly smooth, teasing. "No need to get all worked up."

You pressed your thighs against his sides, pinning him harder. "Answer me, Harvey."

He let out a slow breath, his smirk twitching, dark amusement flickering across his features. "You always were so determined. I love that about you."

Your fingers tightened, nearly scratching his back, sharp acrylics pressing into his skin through the fabric of his white button down. You didn't want to hurt him, not badly at least.

"Tell me why Slade’s mission is taking so long," you demanded, your weight pressing down on him, your legs gripping him tighter.

Harvey’s hands moved then; sliding slowly up your thighs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath catch.

"You really think I’m gonna make this easy for you?" he murmured, voice dropping to something lower, something thicker with something he wasn’t bothering to hide.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping down your spine, twisting through your limbs. He knew. He felt it.

His smirk widened, his hips shifting beneath you just slightly.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Throbbing. Pressing against the thin fabric of his slacks, against the barely-there barrier of your towel. You nearly moaned, stop being a slut, you tried to tell yourself.

You froze, just for a second. And Harvey noticed.

You were straddling him, baring your venomous fangs. You could kill him. And he was hard. You could feel it, it was impossible not to, thick, twitching against your inner thigh, pressed right against you.

Your powers didn’t help. They never fucking did. The second you got close enough to feel body heat, it was over. It was a constant hum under your skin, that ache, that need, clawing at your sanity. Your towel barely clinging to your damp skin, the heat of his body seeping into yours, you didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

He let out a low, pleased chuckle, his good hand settling on your waist, just barely gripping. "Didn’t know you missed me this much, sweetheart. Thought you were over me?"

Your nails dug into his chest even harder, but he didn’t flinch. He never fucking did. "Tell me where Slade is," you demanded.

Harvey hummed, mocking. "You sure you wanna talk about him right now?" His fingers flexed against your skin, his smirk widening as he shifted slightly beneath you again. "Because from where I’m sitting, you got bigger problems."

Your breath hitched, and you hated it. Hated the way your traitorous body reacted to him. Hated the way he felt so familiar.

His gaze flickered, taking in the flush on your skin, the way your thighs squeezed involuntarily around him. He felt it too. The heat. The tension. The pull that never really disappeared, no matter how many times you had tried to convince yourself that you were done with him.

"You always were greedy," Harvey murmured, tilting his head, eyes dark with something wicked. He was loving this. "You just can’t get enough, can you?"

Suddenly, you were angry at him again. You remembered Tiffany. Your grip tightened around his wrists, holding him down, pressing harder into him, and his smirk twitched, just slightly.

Good. Let him fucking squirm. "You still think you have control here?" you whispered, lowering your head, your breath grazing the sharp line of his jaw.

His breathing faltered. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then, just as quickly, his lips curled again, sharp and taunting.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice deep, smug, full of sin. "As long as youre on top of me or under me, I don't give a shit who's in control."

Your entire body tensed. Your nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing, right over his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, fast, erratic, out of sync with the smug bastard act he was putting on.

He was burning for you. Just as much as you were for him. But you weren’t going to give in.

"You still think you can do whatever you want to me?" you whispered, leaning in, letting your lips hover just over his.

Harvey’s eyes flickered. A muscle in his jaw ticked. And for the first time since he had shown up, his smirk finally fucking dropped.

You grinned. Then you moved your hips and ran your fingers up and down his chest.

Harvey cursed sharply through his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening instantly, fingers digging into your skin like a vice. His dick twitched against you through his slacks, so fucking hard and aching that you could almost feel the pulse of it.

You let out a slow, breathy chuckle. "Guess you do still want me, huh?"

Harvey’s breathing was uneven. "Careful," he rasped, voice lower, darker, more dangerous now. "You’re playing a real stupid game, princess."

"Why?" you taunted, grinded your hips again, watching the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to snap. "Because you can’t handle it? Because you can’t handle me?"

It was fun being in control. Slade never let you do whatever you wanted to him, barely ever in the bedroom. You loved control, especially when it meant having a man at your mercy beneath you.

Harvey’s eyes flashed. Then, he flipped you. Fast. Brutal.

You barely had time to react before you were the one beneath him , your towel barely hanging onto your body, his hand locked around your wrist, pinning you down, his body hovering over yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His breathing was hard, uneven, tense.

"You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?" he murmured, so close now.

Your chest heaved. You got too cocky, too confident, and now you were paying the price, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Harvey laughed softly, mocking, brushing his nose against yours. "Liar."

You swallowed, pulse hammering.

"You love this," he said, voice like gravel against your skin. "The attention. The desperation and groveling. You love seeing me beg. The way you talk like you want to kill me, and the next second," his lips ghosted your cheek, his cock pressing hard against your thigh, "you’re grinding against me like a fucking addict."

Your breath hitched. His grip tightened.

"He ever let you get on top?" he murmured, lips just barely grazing yours.

Your stomach twisted. "Don't."

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Did you think about me when he had you at first? Did you close your eyes and pretend it was my hands on you even after I broke your heart? Should I tell him that?"

Your nails dug into his shoulder, your body betraying you, the heat between your legs only getting worse, stronger, overwhelming, unbearable.

"You wish," you rasped, but it sounded too breathless, too shaky.

Harvey smirked. He knew. "Say you don’t miss me," he challenged.

You clenched your jaw, turning your head away, trying to ignore the way your body burned beneath his.

"Say it," he demanded.

You tried to, but the words wouldn't come out.

Harvey hummed. Then, his fingers slid lower, trailing along your bare thigh, teasing the hem of the towel.

"Yeah," he mused, smug and cruel. "That’s what I thought."

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.

"Little desperate, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something smug, something rough.

You scoffed, but your heart was hammering, your body betraying you. "If I was desperate," you whispered, leaning forward until your lips were just barely brushing against his, taunting, teasing. "You’d already be inside me."

Harvey let out a low groan. He flipped you back around, giving you full control. Letting you be on top. You lost yourself for a moment, lost the plot. You melted into him and began kissing his neck slowly and unbuttoning his shirt as you slowly moved against him. But then, you saw the picture frame you hung of you and Slade, right behind Harvey.

Slade made you take down all the photos whenever he went away on a mission, in case someone broke in and saw them, and decided to hurt you to get back at him. It was the only one you refused to remove.

It was of you and him, two months ago. Slade had a mission in Paris and he let you tag along, after you were done, you made him go to an ice cream shop. Some sweet old man asked if you wanted a picture together, Slade wasn't smiling, barely even smirking, but you could see the happiness in his eyes as he had his arms around your waist, looking down at you.

You felt nauseous, all the arousal you felt was gone. You were a whore. How could you do this to Slade? You stopped moving as your eyes watered, what if Harvey had done something to him?

Harvey's hands snapped up, gripping your hips, grinding you down onto him. He wasn't gonna let you stop now.

"Fuck, baby, I forgot how good you are at this. Don't stop, please." he exhaled, almost begging, his jaw tightening, his cock pulsing against you.

You bit your lip, trying to fight the heat clawing through your body, the way your nerves lit up at the sheer pressure of him beneath you. It felt so good. You were horny again. But you could use this to your advantage, Harvey wanted you even more that you wanted him.

"Tell me," you whispered, rolling your hips just slightly, torturing him. "Tell me what you mean when you say Slade's occupied.."

Harvey’s smirk curled, his hands dragging you down harder, making you feel every inch of him. " What’s it worth to you?"

Your breath hitched. Harvey’s fingers trailed up your back, slow, possessive, teasing. "You wanna make sure your merc comes back in one piece?"

You swallowed hard, your body thrumming with frustration, anger, something else. All control you had was slipping, your powers were making you horny but they weren't working. Harvey wasn't listening to what you told him to do.

"Make me happy, sweetheart. If I’m happy," his smirk deepened, his voice dripping with dark amusement. " the bastard stays alive."

Your chest tightened, heat roaring up your spine, burning you from the inside out. You hated him. You wanted him. You needed to keep Slade alive. Harvey’s hands slid lower, his thumbs tracing slow, burning circles into your skin.

"Make a decision, pretty girl, his flight leaves soon." he murmured, his dick twitched against you, heavy with need. God, how could he be horny while threatening your teacher/ mentor /situationship's life?

You couldn’t lose Slade.

So you kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

Harvey groaned against your lips, his hands flying up to grip your waist, dragging you down harder against him, practically trying to merge your bodies together.

"That’s my girl," he muttered, his voice rough, victorious, possessive.

Your stomach burned with shame, with need, with something twisted and terrible. You hated him. You loved him.

You needed Slade to live.

But you couldn't do this to Slade, couldn't betray him on the bed you shared every night. He would be livid, what would he do in this situation? Probably kill Harvey. But you weren't Slade, you weren't as brave or as cruel as him.

So you did what you do best: You ran.

You jumped off of Harvey, punching him in the nose, still only in your towel that somehow stayed on, and shut the bedroom door in his face. You had powers, you were faster than Harvey, maybe even stronger than him. You made it to the front door in seconds, but your heart dropped as you saw the three new deadbolts.

Fucking Slade. You debated letting him die at that point.

Suddenly, you felt him behind you, grabbing you and pinning you against the door.

“Goddamn,” He laughed, amused, mocking, “you really thought that would work?”

You snarled, struggling harder, but he didn’t budge. His grip only tightened.

“Let me go, Harvey.”

His breath hitched at the way you said his name. Not Dent. Not Two-Face. Not some alias meant to keep distance. Just Harvey.

And it made something in his chest clench. His fingers flexed, his other hand dragging up your spine in a slow, deliberate motion, making you shudder.

“You always run, don’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—but there was something dangerous beneath it. “Always running from someone.”

His grip tightened on your wrists, pressing them into the wall, “From them. From me. From yourself.”

You hated how well he knew you. You hated that he was right. You hated how he got you into bed willingly even as the guilt ate you up. You hated how good he made you feel, how you couldn't bring yourself to say no. If you did, he would stop, and you didn't want that.

"Don't act like you don't want me now. You were all over me not even a minute ago." He sneered, as he ripped off your towel like it offended him.

You didn't know how many times you came, or how long you went for. You felt so good, but somehow you've never felt worse. Even as Harvey made you scream his name, you thought of how Slade would react.

You felt even worse as the night wore on, and instead of rough sex, you began to make love. Harvey buried his face in your neck as he muttered apologies, still buried inside you, and swore he would make it up to you.

You began to cry, it felt so good. But it was so wrong, so disgusting.

And you knew you never felt true regret until you woke up the next morning in Harvey Dent's arms, naked on the bed you slept on with Slade Wilson.

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[snoozify]

Me and My Husband PT2

Milf Abby x Suburban Wife Reader

Warning: Abuse, Sexism, Smut (in later part), cussing, homophobia, Men being Men, child abuse, happy ending, substance abuse, cheating.

A/N: This fic is based off the song Me and My Husband by the Queen Mitski. 8k words.

tags: @glass-apothecary. @asothinking. @half-of-a-gay. @0h-basic. @antobooh

P1 P2 PT3

It’s been days since the kiss. Days filled with the weight of silence, of not knowing how to look at her, how to look at yourself. The memory of her lips—soft, fleeting, but searing—lingers in the back of your mind, always there. You try to bury it, to drown it in the routine of your daily life, but it keeps resurfacing, like a whisper that won’t go away.

Each time you see her, you look the other way, pretending not to notice her standing just across the street, pretending she’s not there, like she doesn’t occupy a space in your heart that you can’t shake. You feel guilty—so guilty. Not because you don’t know what to say to her, but because you wish you didn’t feel that way at all. You wish you could pretend like it didn’t happen, that it didn’t matter.

But it does. It matters more than anything, and that’s what scares you.

The first light of morning seeps into your room, slanting through the curtains, casting a faint glow across the floor. The quiet is thick, the kind of quiet that follows a night spent tangled in your own thoughts. You shift in the bed, blinking the sleep from your eyes as your mind refuses to quiet down. Your eyes drift to your husband, turned away from you, deep in sleep. His back rises and falls in an even rhythm, unaware of the turmoil swirling within you.

You stare at him for a long moment, searching for some kind of comfort, but it’s no use. There’s nothing there but the same distant emptiness that’s been there for months now, maybe even longer. His body takes up space in the bed, but it feels like there’s a thousand miles between you.

You shake your head, the exhaustion from the past few days weighing on you. You don’t even have the strength to keep pretending, to keep up the act. You want to slip away from this—away from him, away from the guilt that churns in your stomach every time you think about Abby.

You slip out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him. The cool floorboards press against the soles of your feet, sending a chill up your spine as you move toward the door. For a moment, you pause, casting a glance back at your husband’s sleeping form—his steady, rhythmic breathing a stark contrast to the chaos swirling inside your chest. The weight of it all crashes over you, a tidal wave of guilt, confusion, and frustration, but you don’t let yourself linger. You can’t afford to. There’s no time for weakness, no time for any of this.

You let out a quiet sigh, closing the door softly behind you as you step into the hall. The house is still, eerily so, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant creak of floorboards as you make your way down the hallway. The silence feels suffocating, a constant reminder of how far you’ve fallen from what you once hoped for, from what you once promised yourself.

You stop in front of the kids’ bedroom, hand hovering over the door handle. There’s a moment of hesitation as you draw in a breath. And then, with a quiet push, the door creaks open.

Your eyes immediately find Madison. She’s sitting up in bed, her small body curled into the softness of her blankets, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her face, still heavy with the remnants of slumber, lights up when she sees you, her lips forming a sleepy smile.

“Mornin’ momma,” she murmurs, pushing herself off the bed with a small groan, her tiny hand clutching the stuffed animal she’s never without. The worn edges of the fabric are familiar, comforting in a way you wish you could be for her.

Her eyes—half-lidded and still filled with the haze of sleep—search your face for something. Comfort. Reassurance. The answer to a question she doesn’t know how to ask yet. She doesn’t know how broken you feel, how fragile the thread holding you together is. All she knows is that she’s still her innocent, trusting self, believing that everything is okay.

Your heart aches as you look at her, at the way she clings to the safety of her stuffed bunny as if it can protect her from everything in the world. You want to believe that it can, want to believe that you can, but the weight of the day presses on you.

For a brief moment, you forget everything else the guilt, the confusion, the tension. You forget about the kiss that has turned your world upside down, the storm that’s been brewing inside you. All that matters is her. This small, precious part of your life.

You kneel down in front of her, letting your smile slip out even though it feels foreign on your face. You reach out, brushing her messy hair away from her face, the soft strands still damp with sleep.

“Morning, sweet girl,” you whisper, your voice soft despite the storm brewing deep inside you. You kneel down to her level, your hands gently cupping her small shoulders, pulling her into a hug. Her tiny frame melts into yours, the warmth of her little body against you grounding you in a way you can’t explain. It’s a fleeting comfort, a moment of peace in the chaos, but for that heartbeat, you let it fill you.

The scent of her hair, faintly sweet and so familiar, clings to you as she leans against you, her small hands resting lightly on your back. The weight of everything falls away for just a second, and in that moment, she’s your world. The kiss that changes everything, the confusion in your heart none of it matters. Not when you’re holding her, when you feel her so close that her breath mingles with yours.

After a beat, you pull away reluctantly, though her little arms stay wrapped around you for just a moment longer, as if she knows something you’re not ready to admit. You smile softly, brushing her messy hair from her forehead, your fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Her face, still marked with the remnants of sleep, gazes up at you with wide eyes full of innocent curiosity.

“Can I help you clean, Momma?” she asks, her voice sweet and earnest, her words thick with the slowness of early mornings. The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re struck by how much she wants to help, to be part of something, to ease your burden in the way only a child can.

Her eyes search your face, her little brow furrowed as if she’s trying to figure out if you’ll let her. The innocence in her expression makes your heart ache—a gentle reminder of the simple world she’s still living in, unaware of the messiness that exists beyond it. It’s almost unfair, you think, that she should be forced into this too early.

You swallow the lump in your throat, forcing another smile, though it feels tight and hollow. “Not today, baby,” you say gently, stroking her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin under your fingers. “You just go sit at the table, okay? Let me take care of breakfast.”

She looks at you for a second, her brows furrowing slightly in quiet contemplation, as if she doesn’t quite understand why she can’t help. But then, with the same unwavering trust that only a child can have, she nods, the tip of her stuffed bunny still clutched tightly in her tiny hand.

“Okay, Momma,” she says, her voice small and soft. She gives you one last lingering look before turning to shuffle off toward the kitchen, her steps still clumsy with sleep.

You watch Madison as she trudges toward the kitchen, her little feet padding softly on the floor, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. There’s something so painfully normal about this moment, something that makes the chaos in your mind feel so foreign to the routine of this life you’ve built. It’s all so normal, so mundane, yet you can’t shake the feeling that you’re losing grip on it.

The clock is ticking louder in your ears as you move toward the kitchen, still caught in the weight of the moment with your daughter. You glance at the hallway mirror for just a second as you pass, catching a glimpse of yourself—tired eyes, hair slightly mussed from sleep, shoulders tense with the weight of everything unsaid, unresolved. It’s like staring at a stranger, someone who’s supposed to be in control, who’s supposed to know what to do. But you don’t. You can barely keep it together.

In the kitchen, the sunlight filters through the window, casting soft light on the countertops and the little chairs where your children sit. Madison is already at the table, her bunny still clutched tightly against her chest, and you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. She’s so small, so innocent, and yet, here you are—holding it all inside, pretending that everything is fine.

“Momma, are we goin' to church today?” Madison asks, her tiny voice drifting over from the kitchen table. She peeks over the top of her chair, her big brown eyes already searching for reassurance. You pause for a moment, glancing up from where you’re pouring the orange juice, catching the innocence in her expression.

You smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yes, dear. After breakfast,” you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

As you pour her a glass of juice, you walk over to where she’s sitting and place it gently in front of her. She looks up at you with a soft smile, her fingers wrapping around the glass like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Thank you, Momma,” she says, her voice still thick with sleep, before her little hand caresses your cheek. You lean into it for just a moment, letting the softness of her touch remind you of something pure, something you’re desperately clinging to.

You return her smile, though it’s brief, and continue your movements—trying to keep the world at bay. You turn to finish preparing breakfast, the sizzling of the pan and the smell of eggs filling the air. But before you can focus, you feel small feet smacking against the floor. The sound is familiar, like the thudding of tiny hearts that always need something from you.

Suddenly, you feel a tiny arm wrap around your leg, a gentle, unrelenting pull that makes it hard to move. You look down, already knowing who it is without having to check.

“Jayden,” you say softly, your voice tinged with patience, but also a little exhaustion. “You need to let go of my leg so I can finish making breakfast.”

But he doesn’t listen. Instead, his little arms tighten around your leg as he looks up at you, his wide, pleading eyes silently asking to be picked up. You sigh quietly, the weight of the moment pressing against you.You bend down slightly, resting one hand on his small back, but you don’t pick him up just yet.

Before you can respond, you hear a soft giggle from behind you. You turn, and there’s Kimberly, already out of bed and standing next to Jayden, holding the glass Madison had been drinking from. She’s sipping from it with an exaggerated slowness, clearly enjoying the attention it brings. Her messy curls are sticking up in all directions, and her pajama pants are a little too big, trailing on the floor as she moves.

“Momma, she’s drinkin’ my juice!” Madison’s voice rings out, sharp and accusatory as she points at Kimberly, who is savoring the last of the orange juice in the cup that had once been hers. The three-year-old’s small hands wrap around the cup with exaggerated care, making sure she gets every last drop.

You turn toward Madison, catching her eye as you try to soothe the situation. “I’ll get you more, okay?” you say gently, your tone soft but firm. You know it’s a small issue, but you also know how big these moments feel to them. Madison’s face scrunches for a second before she nods, the hint of a frown still playing at the corners of her mouth. She then turns back to the table, her focus shifting from the juice to the task at hand.

You let out a quiet sigh, your eyes scanning the room—your kids, the mess, the dishes piling up in the sink, the sound of the ticking clock echoing louder with each passing second. Time is slipping away, and you feel like you’re falling behind, trying to keep up with a constant whirlwind of needs. The push and pull of duty—caring for them, tending to the house, getting everything in order—is a familiar rhythm, one you know well. But right now, it feels like more than you can keep up with.

You don’t have time to stop, though. You don’t have the luxury of slowing down. You move, you keep going—because that’s what you do. For them. For your kids.

“Alright, alright,” you murmur, crouching down to scoop Jayden up into your arms as his soft whimper reaches your ears. His little face is scrunched in frustration, clearly wanting something that you can’t quite understand, but as soon as you pull him close, his small hands wrap around you, and his head presses into your shoulder. His warmth is like a balm, settling your restless heart for just a moment. You close your eyes, allowing yourself the briefest taste of peace as you feel the gentle rhythm of his breath against your skin. It’s fleeting, but it’s enough.

You pull yourself back into the present, gently placing Jayden back down on the floor. His small feet begin wiggling, eager to get to work on his own breakfast, his determination as strong as ever, even at his tender age.

“Can I help set the table, Momma?” Madison asks, her voice sweet, but you can hear the excitement bubbling in it as she looks up at you. Her eagerness to help, to be part of the action, is both endearing and distracting.

You smile softly, grateful for the momentary relief. “Yes, sweetie. Put the napkins on the table, please.” You try to keep your tone calm, to keep your voice from betraying the chaos that’s swirling just beneath the surface.

Madison’s face lights up, her eyes sparkling with joy as she hurries to grab the napkins. Her little feet patter against the floor, quick and purposeful as she scurries off, determined to help in whatever way she can. You turn back to finish breakfast, the sizzle of food on the stove a constant reminder that there’s no time to waste, no time to slow down.

Your husband’s heavy footsteps thud down the stairs, breaking the quiet of the house. He appears in the doorway, stretching as he yawns and looks around the kitchen. “Good mornin’,” he mutters, his voice low and groggy from sleep.

Madison, focused on the task of finishing up the table, doesn’t respond right away. She’s arranging the utensils and napkins, meticulously placing them in their spots. When she looks up and catches your eye, you give her a gentle smile and nod, signaling that it's okay to greet him.

“Good mornin’, Daddy,” she says finally, her voice soft but sweet as she carefully sets a fork down, her tiny fingers brushing the table’s surface.

Your husband nods, distracted, and without another word, he turns toward the door, heading outside to grab the morning paper. The cold air rushes in as the door opens, and the sharp click of it slamming shut causes a slight jolt in the room. You hear him muttering to himself as he shuffles through the paper. He doesn’t waste time before speaking, his tone irritated, the sharpness clear in his voice. “Hurry up, why don’t you? I don’t wanna be late to church.” The words hang in the air, heavy and impatient.

Before you can respond, the sound of the door slamming behind him echoes loudly throughout the house, a final punctuation to his command. The noise is too much for Nico, still in his crib. The sudden sound jolts him awake, and his wail rings out, cutting through the air with urgency.

You glance at your husband, hoping for some recognition, some shift in his expression. But his gaze never leaves the paper. He remains seated at the table, sifting through it as if nothing has happened. His eyes flicker toward Nico’s cry, and then he sighs, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “You gonna shut that baby up?”

The words strike like a cold slap. You feel the frustration well up, but you swallow it down and manage a tight smile. “I’ll go do that, dear,” you reply, the words a mere formality, as you turn away to deal with the mess the morning has stirred up.

You walk down the hall and into the nursery, the sound of Nico’s cries getting louder the closer you get. As you open the door, the sight of him sitting up in his crib brings a mixture of exhaustion and tenderness. His tiny face, scrunched in discomfort, softens when he sees you. His cries instantly stop, and he breaks into a soft, happy giggle, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

The moment he giggles, your heart catches. He’s so small, so innocent, and so full of life that it feels like the weight of everything else can be pushed aside, if only for a second. You smile down at him, reaching into the crib to scoop him up, cradling him close. His warmth calms you, even if only for a moment, and you allow yourself to breathe deeply, letting go of the noise and tension of the house.

Breakfast is finally on the table, and the smell of it fills the air, but there’s little time for you to savor it. You sit at the table, holding Nico in your arms, spooning bits of soft cereal into his mouth as you try to keep him content. He gurgles and kicks his little legs, his tiny hands grasping at the spoon with more interest than his actual hunger. You smile down at him, but there’s no real time to enjoy the moment—there’s too much to do. The clock ticks away, each second pulling you closer to the time you need to leave.

Your husband finishes his breakfast quickly, pushing his chair back with a slight scrape of the legs on the floor. Without a word, he stands up, grabs his jacket from the back of the chair, and heads for the hallway, likely to get ready for church. The sound of his footsteps fades as he disappears into the bedroom, leaving the weight of the morning all on your shoulders.

You sigh softly, trying to focus on the task at hand. As Nico babbles happily in your arms, you turn your attention to the chaos at the table. Madison is finishing her last bite of toast, Kimberly is poking around at her bowl of cereal, and Jayden is already starting to squirm in his seat, clearly done with his food. You give them all a look, your smile warm but tinged with the exhaustion that’s been building all morning.

"Alright, let’s get you gremlins ready for church,” you say, your voice light despite the underlying tension. The kids look at you, their faces a mix of anticipation and the remnants of sleep. They all seem to know the drill by now—church means more clothes, more brushing, and a little less time to play.

Madison, always the helpful one, hops off her chair and starts gathering her things, ready to get dressed. Kimberly follows her lead, mimicking her older sister with enthusiasm, while Jayden, still too small to fully understand, just starts to wander around, his small feet pattering against the floor. You can’t help but chuckle softly to yourself, even as you feel the weight of everything pressing in.

You gently place Nico back in his high chair, making sure he’s secure, before standing up and walking toward the kids' room to get them dressed. The day is already slipping through your fingers, but as always, you push forward, taking one step at a time.

Once the kids are dressed and ready, you finally slip away into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. The room is small, the air still carrying the faint scent of lavender soap and baby powder. For the first time this morning, you are alone. No tiny hands tugging at your clothes, no cries demanding your attention—just you and your reflection.

You take a deep breath, turning toward the mirror. Your dress is simple yet elegant, the fabric soft against your skin as you smooth it down over your hips. The color compliments your complexion, bringing a subtle warmth to your tired features. You reach up, your fingers slipping through the tight coils of your hair, adjusting a few stray curls that frame your face. No matter how much you try to tame them, they always have a mind of their own. Some days, you find it frustrating. Today, you don’t have the energy to care.

You take a step closer, examining the woman staring back at you. There’s exhaustion in your eyes, dark circles just barely concealed beneath a thin layer of makeup. You tilt your head slightly, searching for something beyond the weariness—something that still feels like you. But before you can dwell on it for too long, a voice slices through the brief moment of peace.

"Can you hurry up!" your husband’s voice rings from downstairs, sharp and impatient. The sound grates against your nerves, making your shoulders tense involuntarily.

You exhale slowly, gripping the edge of the sink for just a second longer before forcing yourself to let go. One last glance in the mirror, one final adjustment to your dress, and you step away. The moment of solitude is over. Time to go.

You step out of the bathroom and make your way into the living room, smoothing out your dress once more as you enter. The morning sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room, making the scene feel almost peaceful—almost.

Madison is the first to notice you. She turns from where she’s standing near the couch, her big, expressive eyes lighting up as she takes you in. A wide, toothy grin spreads across her little face as she hurries toward you, her small hands reaching for the fabric of your dress.

"You're beautiful, Momma," she says sweetly, tilting her head as if she’s admiring you like one of her storybook princesses.

Your heart swells at her words, a warmth spreading through you despite everything weighing you down. You crouch slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, baby," you murmur, brushing a stray curl away from her face.

Before you can savor the moment any longer, your husband strides toward the front door, his heavy footsteps echoing through the space. Without a word, he pulls it open, letting the morning air rush inside.

"Let's go," he says curtly, his voice lacking the warmth you just shared with your daughter.

You swallow down the sigh threatening to escape and straighten up. Turning back to your children, you gently herd them toward the door, checking to make sure their little shoes are on properly, their clothes are neat. Jayden clutches your hand tightly, his tiny fingers wrapping around yours like he’s afraid to let go. Kimberly trails just behind, still clutching a toy she refused to leave behind. And Nico, bundled in your arms, lets out a soft coo, entirely unaware of the tension surrounding you all.

With everyone gathered, you follow behind your husband, stepping outside into the bright morning light. The crisp air greets you as you carefully help the kids into the car, making sure seatbelts are fastened and little legs aren’t dangling awkwardly.

The ride to church is fast. Too fast. The silence in the car is thick, heavy uncomfortable in a way that makes your chest feel tight. No one says anything. Not Madison, who usually chatters about everything she sees out the window. Not Jayden, who often hums under his breath when he's content. Even Kimberly, your little mischief-maker, sits quietly, uncharacteristically subdued.

Your husband keeps his eyes on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel just a little too tight. You stare out of the window, watching the world blur past, your own thoughts just as tangled as the curls on your head.

The church appears in the distance, its tall steeple standing against the sky like a quiet reminder of the place you’re heading a place of worship, of peace, of reflection. But as the car slows to a stop in the parking lot, you can’t shake the feeling that none of those things will come easy today.

"Welcome," the pastor greets warmly as you step inside with your children. His kind eyes sweep over your little ones, offering them a gentle nod before turning to the next family arriving behind you.

Your husband barely acknowledges the greeting, already walking off in another direction where to, you don’t know, and frankly, you don’t care. You exhale softly, adjusting Nico in your arms before scanning the room for an open seat.

You find one near the middle of the congregation and begin making your way toward it, guiding Madison, Jayden, and Kimberly along. But just as you step closer, your movements falter. Someone’s already sitting there.

Abby.

She’s leaning back slightly, her muscular frame relaxed in the wooden pew, her expression unreadable. Your breath catches for just a moment, your mind instantly flashing back—to the last time you saw her. The last time you spoke. The last time her lips were on yours.

You don’t say anything. You simply lower yourself into the seat beside her, placing a pacifier in Nico’s mouth to quiet his soft babbling. The warmth of Abby’s presence lingers at your side, almost palpable, yet neither of you move.

"Y/N," she finally says, turning toward you, her voice softer than you expected.

For the first time in days, you glance up at her really look at her. It’s brief, fleeting, but your eyes meet, and the unspoken weight of everything that has happened sits between you.

You don’t answer. Instead, you give her a small, polite smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Before she can say anything else, your husband appears beside you, settling into the pew with a heavy sigh. His presence feels like a shift in the air, pressing down, suffocating.

And that’s when the pastor begins his sermon.

Abby slides a folded piece of paper toward you, the slight rustle barely audible over the pastor’s voice. Your fingers hesitate before picking it up, unfolding it carefully beneath the shield of the table.

Are you gonna continue to ignore me?

The words are scrawled hastily, but they hit like a hammer to your chest.

You swallow, your grip tightening around the note as your eyes flick up to her. Abby doesn’t look away. She holds your gaze, her expression unreadable, but there’s something there—something expectant, something frustrated. She places a pencil in your hand, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest second, sending a jolt up your arm.

You inhale sharply, turning your focus back to the paper. The weight of everything of the sermon, of your husband’s presence, of your children sitting beside you presses in on all sides. But still, your fingers move.

I don’t know, Abby.

You hand the paper back without looking at her.

There’s a pause, long enough for you to hear the scratch of the pencil as she rereads your words. You can feel her reaction before you see it—the way her body tenses ever so slightly, the way she shifts just a little away from you, like your words pushed her back.

You don’t turn. Instead, you stare ahead, eyes settling on Madison, who sits with her hands neatly folded in her lap, the picture of a little lady in public, soaking in every word from the pastor. Meanwhile, Kimberly and Jayden fidget beside her, their tiny bodies struggling to keep still, feet kicking lightly against the pew.

Your husband's glare burns into the side of your face, his displeasure a silent but suffocating presence. You place a gentle hand on Jayden’s lap, shaking your head in a quiet warning. He stops immediately, Kimberly following suit, though the restless energy still hums beneath their tiny limbs.

Nico shifts in your arms, his small body pressing closer as he buries his face into your chest, his breathing slowing.

You exhale softly, rocking him just a little, grounding yourself in his warmth.

Beside you, Abby is still.

The note is gone.

But the words between you feel louder than ever.

Minutes pass, the weight of the sermon pressing down on you, but your mind is anywhere but the words being spoken. The steady hum of the pastor’s voice fades into the background as a gentle touch brushes against your arm. The warmth spreads across your skin, slow and deliberate, and for a second, you think you imagined it.

But then it happens again—soft, lingering.

Your breath hitches as you glance down, watching as Abby’s fingers trail featherlight along your forearm before she subtly intertwines her hand with yours. Her grip is firm yet careful, as if she’s testing how far she can go, how much you’ll allow.

She doesn’t look at you.

Her eyes remain ahead, fixed on the pastor, her expression unreadable. But her thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles against the back of your hand, grounding you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Your stomach twists.

You should pull away. Your husband is right beside you, just inches away, unaware of the way your fingers are slotting so easily between Abby’s. The air feels too thick, too dangerous, like one wrong move could bring the whole world crashing down around you.

But your heart is screaming something different.

You want this. You want her.

For the first time in a long time, something as simple as holding hands feels like breathing again, like being seen. Like being wanted.

But then Madison’s laughter echoes softly from the pew beside you, the sound pure and innocent as she giggles at something Kimberly whispers in her ear. Jayden kicks his feet against the bench, restless, while Nico sleeps soundly against your chest.

Your babies.

They need stability. They need a father.

Your throat tightens as guilt claws its way up, drowning out the desperate ache inside you.

But Abby? She doesn’t let go.

And when you finally turn your head, meeting her gaze, she’s already looking at you—her face bathed in soft, warm light filtering through the stained-glass windows. A quiet, knowing smile tugs at her lips, as if she already knows what you’re thinking.

As if she’s willing to wait.

The pastor’s voice shifts. It’s subtle at first, but you notice it immediately. The words coming from the pulpit are still about marriage, but there’s a sharp edge to them now, a condemnation of something unsaid, something hidden.

“Marriage, the sacred union between a man and a woman,” he begins, emphasizing each word as if he’s driving a point home. “A covenant made before God, one meant to reflect His love, His plan. Yet, we live in a world where many try to twist that meaning, where people think they can redefine love, change what’s holy to fit their desires, to suit their will.”

You feel your chest tighten. It’s not loud, but it’s there like a dark cloud forming in the room. You glance at Abby, whose hand is still gently resting on yours, and for a moment, you feel the weight of the pastor’s words sink in like an anchor. The tension in the air is palpable.

“Some people believe that love can exist outside of what God intended,” the pastor continues, his voice thick with disapproval. “That love can be shared between anyone, regardless of the bounds He set. But the truth remains: God’s word doesn’t change, and His truth is eternal.”

A quiet chill runs down your spine. The words are directed at you, at what you’ve been hiding, at the way Abby’s hand feels in yours, so natural, yet so wrong in this moment.

You try to focus on anything else, but the room feels suffocating. You hear the faint rustling of the papers your husband is flipping through, unaware of what’s happening around him, and for a moment, you wish you could disappear.

“There are those who take what is sacred and twist it into something unrecognizable, to fit their desires and pleasures,” the pastor’s voice rings out, almost louder now. “But don’t be deceived. What is unnatural cannot stand in God’s eyes. What is not meant to be will crumble under the weight of its sin.”

You feel a wave of panic surge through you. The pastor’s words sting, each one a direct hit to something deep within you. You want to pull your hand away from Abby’s, but the weight of the moment keeps you frozen in place. Your heart is racing, a knot of guilt tightening with each word. This isn’t just about faith or religion anymore it feels like an attack on who you are, on who you and Abby are together.

Abby’s hand moves slightly, as if sensing your hesitation, but neither of you speaks. The tension between you both is thick, but neither of you can break the silence. You don’t dare meet her eyes, terrified of the truth they might hold, terrified of what she might think if she sees the panic in yours.

The pastor’s voice grows louder as he delivers the final blow: “Do not let sin rule your heart, for those who fall into temptation will find that they’ve strayed too far to return. It may feel right in the moment, but it leads only to destruction. And those who partake in it, no matter how much they try to hide it or justify it, will be called to account for their actions.”

You slowly pull your hand away from Abby's, the loss of her touch like a cold breeze against your skin. Your fingers linger for a moment, but then you place your hand gently on Nico, cradling him in your arms as if that will make everything okay. The weight of the pastor’s words presses down on you like an invisible hand squeezing your chest, suffocating you with its intensity.

You glance up at Abby, and her eyes meet yours. There’s a flicker of pain there, an unspoken question hanging in the air between you. She doesn’t say anything, but the hurt in her expression is unmistakable. It's like the connection you had—something so simple, so natural—has been shattered in an instant. You look away, unable to meet her gaze, afraid of what you’ll see in her eyes, afraid of what she might think.

The pastor’s voice swells again, his words cutting through the tension that now clings to the air like smoke. You feel exposed, like a spotlight is shining down on you, pulling everything you’ve tried so hard to hide into the light. Your stomach twists into knots as you try to steady your breathing, but it’s no use. It feels like everyone can see the turmoil inside you, see the truth you’ve been hiding from your family, from your community. It’s all out there now, hanging like a dark cloud over your head.

Nico stirs in your arms, his small hands reaching up for you as if he can sense the shift in your mood. You rock him instinctively, your gaze fixed on your husband, who’s still completely absorbed in the service, oblivious to the storm that’s brewing right next to him. You want to scream, to shake him awake, but instead, you hold Nico tighter, hoping the physical act will somehow center you, make the world stop spinning for just a moment.

The pastor’s words continue to echo in your mind, louder now, as if they’re meant to be a reminder of the sin you’re entangled in. You can feel the weight of the judgment hanging in the air, suffocating any hope you had of escaping it. You glance down at your lap, wishing you could disappear, wishing you could erase the space between you and Abby, wishing you could undo everything that’s happened in the last few days.

But you can’t.

You glance at Abby again, and she’s looking ahead, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her face carefully neutral, but you can’t shake the feeling that she’s fighting something too. The silence between you feels like it’s stretching on forever, thick with the unspoken. Your heart aches with a mix of guilt, longing, and confusion.

The sermon drones on, the words meaningless now, just background noise to the chaos that’s unraveling inside you. The damage has already been done. The secret you’ve been hiding, the bond between you and Abby, has been exposed, even if only to yourself. There’s no going back now

__________

The evening is thick with the hum of forced smiles and conversations you’re not really part of. Your husband’s church friends fill the house, laughing too loudly, clinking glasses, and pretending like everything is normal. But you know better. You know it’s all a façade, and the cracks are beginning to show. Abby is here, of course, a little too present in every corner of the room, her gaze never straying too far from yours. She’s holding a beer, her fingers wrapped tightly around the bottle as she watches you from the couch. Her face is tight with something—anger, frustration, maybe even hurt. You can’t tell, but you feel it, like an electric pulse connecting the two of you.

Nico is asleep in his crib, blissfully unaware of the tension thickening the air. Your other three kids are outside in the backyard, playing with the other children who came over. They’re lost in their own little world of laughter and shouts, and for a moment, you allow yourself to wish you could be as carefree as they are.

But instead, you're stuck playing this role. The perfect wife, the dutiful hostess, the one who smiles and serves.

“Y/N, get me another beer,” your husband’s voice cuts through the noise of the room, his tone sharp and demanding, as though he believes that’s the least you can do. You don’t argue. You don’t have the energy to.

You nod, giving a soft “Yes, dear,” and walk over to the kitchen, trying to move like it’s just another task, another thing on the endless list you’ve been given. You grab a beer from the fridge, your hands shaking slightly as you twist the cap off. The cold metal in your palm feels like a lifeline—something tangible you can hold onto, even as everything around you feels wrong.

You walk back into the living room, handing the beer to your husband without saying anything. He takes it without a second glance, already absorbed in a conversation with one of his friends. You should feel relief, but instead, it’s just another reminder of how little you matter here. He’s not even looking at you. Not really.

"I’m gonna get the chips from the pantry. I’ll be back," you say, your voice too bright, too forced. It’s a lie, but it’s the only way you can escape.

You don’t wait for a response, just turn and walk away before he can demand anything else. You move quickly, almost too quickly, towards the pantry. Your heart is pounding now, the quiet thud of it growing louder in your ears with every step. The last thing you want is to stay in that room, to be near Abby, to feel her eyes on you, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and things left unsaid.

When you slip into the pantry, you push the door closed softly behind you, the darkness offering a momentary escape from the chaos of the house. You rest against the shelves, taking a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. For a few seconds, you let the silence wrap around you, the stillness almost comforting. But then the reality of the situation crashes back down on you.

Abby. The way she’s been looking at you. The way her presence alone feels like a weight you can’t lift. You should have handled things differently. You should have said something. Done something. But all you can do now is hide, just a little longer. Just enough to breathe.

You wipe your hands on your dress, trying to shake off the nerves. You know you can’t stay in the pantry forever. You know you have to go back out there, back to your husband, back to the role you’ve been cast in. But for just a moment, you let yourself be still. You let the noise from the party fade away, as if this tiny space could give you a breath of freedom.

Until you hear it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Heavy, deliberate steps approaching the door. Your heart skips a beat. The door opens, and Abby walks in, closing it behind her with a soft click. She stands there, taking up the small space between you and the shelves, her eyes not leaving yours.

Neither of you says anything at first. The silence is thick, almost oppressive. You both know exactly why you’re here, why you're in this cramped, dark space away from the prying eyes of the party, away from everything that’s been gnawing at you all evening. The tension that’s been simmering for hours finally finds its release, but it’s more suffocating than freeing.

“You’ve been avoiding me all night,” Abby says, her voice low but sharp, cutting through the quiet like a knife.

You don’t answer right away. You can’t. The words feel stuck in your throat, tangled in the mess of everything you’re feeling. Instead, you cross your arms over your chest, refusing to look at her directly. Your eyes are locked on the rows of canned goods in front of you, as if they hold some kind of answer.

“I’ve been busy, Abby,” you say, your voice a little too defensive, a little too brittle.

Abby lets out a bitter laugh, a sound that’s not at all amused. Her gaze burns into your side, and you can feel the weight of it even without looking. “Busy? Really?” she says sarcastically, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Is that what you’re going with? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve been busy avoiding me, not just the damn chips.”

You wince, the words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. Her voice cuts through you—like she’s reading you, peeling back the layers you’ve been trying to hide behind. She knows. She knows exactly what you’re doing.

“Why are you doing this?” Abby continues, her voice quieter now, but there’s still a sharp edge to it. She takes a step forward, closing the distance between you two, though you don’t move. She doesn’t touch you, but her presence is almost too much to handle. “You can’t keep pretending, Y/N. Not with me, not with yourself.”

Your breath hitches. Her words rattle something deep inside of you, something you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. You know she’s right. You’ve been running from this, from her, for so long. But the world outside this pantry—the world with your husband, the role you’ve played for years feels like a trap you can’t escape from. Not yet.

“I’m not pretending,” you say, though you know it’s a lie. You’re pretending to be someone you’re not. You’re pretending to be someone your husband wants, someone your kids can rely on. Someone perfect. But when Abby looks at you like that, when she makes you feel seen, truly seen, you realize how far from perfect you really are.

“You are, though,” Abby replies, her voice softer now, but the pain in it cuts through you. “You’ve been pretending for so long that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to just be... to just feel.”

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint sound of the party in the other room—the laughter, the chatter, the clinking of glasses. It feels distant, like a world you don’t belong to anymore.

You want to respond, to say something, but the weight of it all crushes your chest. Abby’s still watching you, her gaze never wavering, waiting for you to answer. You feel like you’re standing on the edge of something, and if you move even a little bit, you’ll fall.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you say, your voice trembling. The words feel foreign, like you’re speaking someone else’s truth. You wish you had more to give, more to offer, but all you feel is exhaustion.

“I want you to talk to me and stop avoiding me,” Abby says, her voice quiet yet firm, as she leans in closer, invading the small space between you both. Her eyes lock onto yours, unreadable but full of intent. “You’ve been weird since that kiss at my house.”

The words hit you like a wave. Your heart stutters in your chest, and suddenly, everything feels too much. The kiss, that kiss plays over and over in your mind, but hearing Abby bring it up like this only makes you tense up. You instinctively turn your head away from her, feeling the heat rise in your face.

Abby doesn’t let you off the hook. Without hesitation, she reaches forward, her fingers brushing gently against your chin. She tilts your face back to meet hers, her smirk soft but knowing. “If you’re feeling guilty about it, don’t,” she says, her voice low and almost soothing, like she’s trying to take the weight off your shoulders.

Her words land in the pit of your stomach, and for a brief second, it feels like time stops. You’ve been carrying this guilt, this feeling of what am I doing? for days now, but hearing her say it don’t feel guilty is like a brief moment of release. It’s as if she’s given you permission, even if you’re not entirely sure what that permission means.

You look up at her, your thoughts spinning. Abby’s gaze is steady, unflinching, but soft. She doesn’t look at you with judgment. Just understanding. A part of you wants to pull away, but the other part of you—the part that feels so exhausted from holding everything in—just wants to let go, to let her in.

You stand there, caught between two worlds—one where you're still clinging to the role of the perfect wife, and the other, where Abby's presence pulls you in directions you never thought you'd go. The tension crackles in the air, thick and palpable, and for a moment, you feel paralyzed. You want to speak, to let everything out, but the words are locked behind a wall in your throat. The silence stretches between you, suffocating, and it feels like the longer you stay silent, the harder it becomes to break the stillness.

Abby doesn't let the silence grow too long. She takes a small step closer, the space between you narrowing until you can feel the heat of her body radiating against yours. Her hand hovers near yours, just a breath away, as if she's waiting for you to make the first move, to close the gap, to break down the wall you've put between you two. It's a silent invitation, one that you feel deep in your bones, but you're not sure if you're ready to cross that line.

“I know this is hard,” Abby says, her voice barely a whisper, yet it cuts through the tension. It’s soft, but carries an edge of determination. “But you can’t keep running, Y/N. You don’t have to keep pretending.”

Pretending. The word hits you like a punch to the gut. That's exactly what you’ve been doing—pretending everything is fine, pretending that you can hold everything together while you're suffocating. You want to argue, to tell her that it’s not that simple, that it’s too complicated to walk away from everything you’ve built. But the words don't come. The weight of her words is enough to stop you in your tracks.

“I know it’s not easy,” Abby continues, her voice steady, but the quiet urgency behind it is clear. “But you deserve more. You deserve to be happy. And your kids deserve to see you happy too. They’re gonna grow up seeing the way you are, and they’ll start to think that this—” She gestures between you and  behind her, “—is normal. That this is okay.”

Her words lodge themselves in your heart. The thought of your children growing up, learning from you and believing this chaos is what love is supposed to look like, breaks you open in ways you didn’t think possible. You’ve always tried to protect them from it, tried to shield them from the anger, the cold distance, but Abby’s right. They’re learning from you. They’re watching everything, and if you don’t change, if you don’t do something, they’ll grow up thinking this is how relationships are supposed to be. That thought claws at you, making your chest ache with a mix of guilt and pain you can't escape.

“I don’t know how to leave,” you finally say, the words barely a whisper. Your voice trembles, and your hands begin to shake. “I don’t even know where to start.” The weight of everything presses down on you, suffocating. How do you walk away? How do you leave when you’ve spent so long trying to keep the facade intact?

Abby steps forward, her presence steady and calming. She reaches for your hand, her touch gentle, but firm. Her thumb brushes over your knuckles, and it’s enough to make you pause, enough to make you feel like you’re not completely alone in this. “I’m here,” she says softly, her voice so much more than just words. “I’ll help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her words are a lifeline, but they bring a new kind of fear. What if you do this? What if you let go of everything you’ve known? Everything changes the moment you reach for her, the moment you accept her help. And yet, as much as you’re scared, there’s something inside you that’s telling you this might be the only way to breathe again. That you deserve more than what you've been settling for.

“I... I’ll think about it,” you whisper, your voice wavering, unsure but desperate for change.

The silence hangs in the air, but it’s different this time. It’s not the suffocating kind you’ve come to know; instead, it feels like the world is suspended, waiting for something to happen. There’s a shift between you and Abby, something unspoken but undeniable, and for a brief moment, everything feels still. You can almost hear the beating of your heart in your ears, drowning out the noise of the world outside.

And then, just as you begin to think you’re safe, as if you can breathe again and maybe just keep the world at bay for a little while longer, Abby steps forward. There’s no hesitation, no second guessing. She closes the distance between you with quiet certainty. Her hand reaches out, her fingers brushing your arm lightly, sending a wave of heat through you.

Without a single word, she leans in. The space between you shrinks, and then, her lips are against yours. The kiss starts soft gentle, like she’s testing the waters, unsure of how far you’ll let her go. But it doesn’t stay tentative for long. It deepens almost instantly, as though it was always meant to be this way, as though both of you have been waiting for this moment your whole lives. You can feel it—the raw urgency in the way she pulls you closer, the electricity that builds with every second.

Abby’s hand moves up to cup your face, her touch warm and steady, and suddenly, everything falls away. The walls you’ve built around yourself, the guilt, the fear, all of it crumbles. There’s no room for any of it now. It’s just the two of you in this moment, the weight of everything else fading to nothing. She kisses you with an intensity that steals your breath, a kiss that’s more than just a physical connection. It’s an unspoken promise, an understanding that says, I see you. I’m here.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself go. You let the world outside disappear, and you let Abby pull you deeper into the kiss, into this uncharted territory. The pull between you is magnetic, a force that feels both terrifying and liberating, and you let yourself surrender to it, not caring about the consequences. You feel seen for the first time in forever, like she’s holding you in a way no one else ever has.

When the kiss finally breaks, you’re left breathless, your chest rising and falling quickly as you try to regain some semblance of control. Abby pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes searching yours, her gaze soft but filled with something more, something that makes your heart race all over again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers, her voice low and full of conviction.

You don’t need her to say anything more. At that moment, you know. You know that whatever happens next, whatever the future holds, you don’t have to face it alone. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe.

second part done the third part will be the final part so if you wanna be tagged let me know Ⓒ︎ seulszn

[wlwsoccerfics]

That was scary(LucyBronzeXCatleyReader)

Summary: you have a medical emergency(Appendix) and your girlfriend is freaked out.

You have felt sick all day and had some pain in your stomach. It was just one sided though. The pain was just terrible and that said something cause you have a very high pain tolerance.

You were in the changing room with the team. Trying to tie the laces of your football boots, but the movement almost makes you vomit. Your girlfriend is watching you with worry in her eyes. But doesn't say anything cause you have told her multiple times today that you were fine.

"period cramps?" Keira whispered into lucys ear. Lucy shook her head no. Knowing it wasn't time for that yet.

"i don't know. She keeps telling me how good things are and that she is fine!" Lucy stated and sighed softly.

You could tell that you started to develop a fever, the pain was also getting worse by the Minute but when you tried to walk it off, you didn't go far. Beding over in pain. Groaning softly before going down, hitting the floor, crying out in pain.

"Babe!" Lucy kneeled down in front of you, checking you over. She was panicking but tried to appear calm for your sake.

"what hurts?" She asked.

"stomach." You cry out. She picked you up and carried you to the medics. Who checked you over quickly before putting you into the ambulance that was there for the Game and you got a Ride to the hospital. Lucy never leaving your side. Keira was calling Leah so she could inform your sister Steph about what had just happened.

You were brought into surgery right away. Cause your Appendix had ruptured. Lucy was in the waiting room, pacing around. Sending Updates about you into the Team Chat. Then her Phone went off. It was your sister.

"Lucy, how bad is it?" Your sister asked right away. it was evident in her voice that she had been crying.

"her appendix had ruptured. She is in surgery right now!" Lucy explained. Trying not to tear up. Truth was she felt guilty for not dragging you to a doctor cause you claimed to be fine.

"we will be there in an hour or so. Traffic is crazy! Kyra is driving!" She replied rambling on. It was clear how worried your sister was about you. So was Kyra, who was not just Stephs little pest, but also yours.

"Drive Safe Guys. We don't need another one in the Hospital!" Lucy told them. She probably has never been so scared in her Life.

Kyra and Steph arrived just in time for the doctor to explain to Lucy how the surgery went.

"the surgrey went without any complications. We would like to keep her over night and if things are okay by tomorrow she can leave. But she has to rest. So is there someone that can take care of her?" The doctor looked around.

Lucy, Steph & Kyra all said yes at the same time.

"she has lots of people that can help her!" Lucy stated.

It was around 2 hours later and you were fully awake now.

"well this was an experience i could have done without." You replied tiredly. Your sister looked at you.

"us too, y/n! Us too! I mean you scared the crap out of me!" Steph replied and i wasn't even there when you collapsed!" She stated. Sighing softly.

"You scared me too, weirdo!" Kyra answered.

"i was there and honestly it was the scariest Moment of my Life!" Lucy told you and kissed your forehead. You frowned softly.

"i am sorry for scaring you! Wasn't my Intention!" You said and took Lucys Hand in yours. "Honestly i didn't know it was that bad!" You admitted. Squeezing your girlfriends hand gently. She squeezed it back just as gently.

"maybe next time someone ask you If you are okay, answer honestly and don't play it down!" Lucy let you know her thoughts.

"i agree with Lucy. Seriously y/n, it's okay to be honest! You don't have to be strong all the time." Steph said and looked at you with worry in her eyes.

"this was warning enough in hope!" Kyra answered. And you nodded your head softly.

"yes it was! I promise i will ask for help and don't always try to tough it out anymore!" You let them know. Offering them a small smile.

Lucy stayed with you through the night and you got to leave the hospital to go home the next day but had to rest. Lucy made sure you did. But she wasn't alone. No Kyra and Steph also stayed for a few days before going back to Training.

The Team came to visit you for the next two weeks. Then you were allowed to start with doing some light workouts.

It took you a little over a month for you to be fully back on your feet but as soon as you were you proposed to Lucy and she said yes.

So now the two of you had a Wedding to plan.

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Fuck 388.

Warning : death mention

Genre : angst

Synopsis : “Thanos is in a relationship with the reader, but during the game they become very distant, the reader votes for X and moves to another group, maybe he even became close friends with Dae-Ho. How do you think Thanos would respond?” - anon

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : bold is in English // pt.1 420.

Despite your choice, when everyone had voted, you walked back to your boyfriend, ready for him to annoy you for choosing X.

And it didn’t miss.

“I have no problem with you choosing X, we can still play the games together, you’re in my team forever, but why did you choose X ? Huh ?”

“So you’re not totally okay with it.” You pointed out.

“I am !”

“No you’re not, stop lying.” You said in a singsong voice, trying to not show your annoyance.

He sighed.

“You have debts, right ? That’s why you’re here. Does 20 million suffice you ? With another game you could have way more. Debt free and maybe even rich !”

You just hummed, no longer wanting to participate in the conversation.

“What would you do with 45.6 billion ?”

“Get away from you.” You replied without looking at him, searching for 388.

“Ah, don’t say that.” He moved his hand to pat your head but you dodged it. “Stop being so-”

“Being so what ?” You glared at him. “Mad about nearly dying because of someone I trust ?”

He looked at you silently before sighing.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to push you.”

“I know.”

“I never-”

“I know.” You said a bit louder, hoping he’ll get the memo to leave you alone.

He pouted, upset, but didn’t bother you anymore.

Then, a group of circles came in with small boxes of food, asking you to get in line to get your portion.

Thanos was sitting next to you, mixing the yolk of his fried egg with his rice and slices of fish sausages. Namgyu and him were talking back and forth about MG Coin and the money he made them lose until you suddenly stood up and walked away.

“You’re not gonna eat it ?” He asked, taking the small box in his hand to point to your untouched egg. You didn’t reply.

He shrugged, separating the yolk from the white and adding it to his mixture.

On the other side of the room, 388 kept yelling “Ay !” each time 390 hit his arm. You wondered, amused, if they were doing okay, standing a bit to the side, waiting for them to be finished.

That’s when 001 noticed you.

“Can we help you ?” He asked, tilting his head, the group’s focus shifting to you.

“Huh…” You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard, before turning to 388. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Thank you so much !”

You were about to bow but 388 rushed to you, stopping you from properly thanking him.

“Ah, no need to bow, really. I just-” The tip of his fingers gently tapped your arm. “I just did what I had to do- Couldn’t stand there and let it happen…” He added with a light chuckle.

You wanted to argue back but 390 spoke before you.

“You saved him ?” He asked, pointing at you.

“Yeah, my boyfriend pushed me right before a red light. I tripped and he caught me. I wouldn’t be here without him.” You said, smiling at 388. “Thank you.”

“Your boyfriend ?” 390 repeated, surprise evident in his voice.

“Yes.” You replied without thinking, before realizing this place could be far from being a safe space.

Everyone stared at you as you smiled awkwardly.

“Are you two gonna be okay ?” 388 asked quietly after a moment of silence.

You looked over your shoulder, eyeing Thanos and Namgyu still talking.

“Yeah.” You frowned, an evident lie. “Everything’s fine.” You gave him two thumbs up. “Totally doesn’t wanna kill him a little bit.”

“He… pushed you ?” 456 slowly asked. “Voluntarily ?”

You nodded.

“Yeah. Well-” You sighed. “He didn’t know that was me.” You flashed them another awkward smile.

Silence.

“And you’re still calling him your boyfriend ?” 001 finally asked. Both curious and slightly impressed. People generally break up after a situation like this.

You nodded, giving him a shrug.

“I’m alive so… Mh.”

390 scoffed, turning around to look at Thanos as he whispered something about today’s youth.

“Can I stay with you, though ?” You asked, fidgeting with your fingers, smiling weakly. “Don’t really wanna hang with him at the moment. And he voted O, so… I know he’s gonna spend the rest of his time here pressuring me into voting O as well.”

001 and 388 looked down at their chests, and that’s when you noticed their blue patches.

“Well, I mean, like…” You cracked your knuckles, chuckling nervously.

“It’s okay.” Said 388. “We’re not gonna force you to vote O.” He laughed, patting your back. “Right ?”

“No.” Smiled 001, scooting to the side to give you a place to sit.

While you presented yourself to the group, thanking them for accepting to take you in, Thanos was scowling, quickly understanding you wanted to spend time away from him.

Though he knew you loved him and stubbornly kept showing him your affection despite everything, there was now a nagging thought that maybe you could get a change of heart because of 388. Just because he happened to save your life after one little mistake.

That asshole was acting like a prince in shining armor.

Then Namgyu pulled him out of his thoughts, wanting to pay MG Coin a courtesy visit. Thanos quickly hummed, gladly accepting anything that’d take his mind off of you and what happened. He stood up, following him.

“That crypto ruined my life too.” 333 replied to Namgyu. “That’s why I’m here, to make money.”

“That’s right.” Thanos said, facing him. “You better make a lot of money. Because of that damn coin I lost over 500 million won, the money I earned from busting my ass rapping.”

“I lost 300 million.” Added Namgyu.

“You better win the games and make loads of money to pay us back.”

“I get it. Can you go away now ? I’m trying to eat-” Myunggi replied frustrated as Namgyu took his food.

“You little shit, eating like a fucking pig.”

“Give it back.”

“No.”

Thanos took the small box from Namgyu’s hands.

“You want to eat this so badly ?” He asked, smiling. “Then Thanos will feed you.”

He grabbed a handful of rice before slapping it on Myunggi’s face as the man yelped, disgusted.

“Good, isn’t it ?” Thanos laughed before Myunggi threw himself on him, the two falling on the floor loudly as they cursed.

You and the group you were with quickly noticed them. You sighed, rubbing your forehead, too tired to want to deal with it. You closed your eyes, maybe if you ignored it, it would go away ?

“It’s good to be young. They still have the energy to do that.” You heard Daeho say.

“He might get really hurt. Someone should stop them.” Jungbae added.

“I know… me ?”

But right as he said that you felt someone stand up next to you. Youngil.

“Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime ?” He asked. “No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners. And two against one ? Aren’t you embarrassed ?”

You listened as Thanos and Youngil spoke for a brief moment. Then you heard people gasp. You looked through your fingers, seeing Youngil holding Thanos by the throat, Namgyu on the floor holding his leg, visibly in pain.

Oh.

Thanos walked back to him after Youngil had released him, only to be punched in the chest and stomach before grabbing his arm and twisting it. You could hear it crack from where you were.

Oh fuck.

Youngil was now above your boyfriend, strangling him and ready to punch him again. You hated Thanos at the moment but you still didn’t want him to actually die.

“Oh my- God- Damn. Youngil !” You called, quickly standing up to rush to them, nearly tripping on your way down. Shit, shit, shit. “Please, excuse him.” You approached them, rubbing your hands in a begging manner as Thanos looked at you as if to tell you to fucking do something.

“I’m sorry.” He said weakly, struggling to speak as he patted the man’s wrist, looking back at him.

“Please, Youngil. He’s not in his right mind.” You pleaded, falling to your knees. You wanted to grab his hand to stop him but feared it would only make things worse.

“Please…” Thanos squeezed his eyes shut. Was it how he’s gonna die ? “Let me go...”

After a few long seconds, Youngil finally released him, slowly standing back up as people applauded him.

You let out a relieved sigh, Thanos coughing as you placed your hands on him to help him sit up.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, rubbing your boyfriend’s back. “It won’t happen again.”

Youngil gave you a look, visibly not understanding why you were with that manchild.

He walked away as you rested your forehead against Thanos’ shoulder.

“Fucking scared me.” You mumbled.

As Thanos recovered, you gently gave the back of his head a slap.

“Don’t do it again.” You said, helping him stand up. “Don’t want your stupid ass to die.”

Thanos said nothing, rubbing his throat as he looked at Youngil sitting back with 456.

Slowly everyone went back to what they were doing, minding their own business.

Namgyu sighed, head resting against the wall as he quietly cursed Youngil.

Thanos was chewing his cheeks, one hand rubbing where he had been punched, thinking.

“Why were you with them ?” He suddenly asked, pointing toward the group you previously were with.

“Because Daeho saved my life. And I didn’t wanna-”

“Daeho ? So you know his name ?”

You looked at him silently before replying.

“I went to thank him and we exchanged names.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s basic decency to know the name of the one you owe your life to, no ?”

He scoffed, leaning back against the wall.

“Are you jealous ?” You asked, looking at him.

“No.”

That was a lie. Your attention was on another person and he was not a fan of it.

“Good, then.” You replied with a nod, noticing your small bento-like box they had given you earlier. “Did you eat my egg yolk ?”

“I asked you but you didn't reply.” He shrugged.

You sighed slowly. Today really was a long and bad day.

Nighttime came and Namgyu climbed to his bed a few minutes before the lights were off. You stood up to do the same, but Thanos stopped you, grabbing your wrist.

“Where are you going ?”

“My bed.”

“No you’re not.” He replied, pulling on your arm. You sighed. It’s true you haven’t slept alone in a long time and got used to having him next to you. And it was evident Thanos felt the same. But you were still insanely mad at him. “Come on, I said I was sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.”

“I know, you’ve said it a thousand times already.”

“Because it’s true ! How many time will I have to-”

“If I accept to sleep with you will you shut up ?” You cut him off. He smiled, letting go of your wrist with a nod. “Then scoot the fuck away, these bed are small as shit.”

As the lights were off for what seemed a good while, you quietly turned around, facing your boyfriend. You thought he was already out, since he’s usually fast asleep.

He almost made you jump when you heard him whisper.

“Did you tell them I pushed you ?”

“Daeho’s team ? Yeah.”

“Why ?!” He whisper-yelled. “Are you really that mad to send someone after me ?”

“What ?” You said a bit too loudly before lowering your voice again. “Yes I’m that mad but no he didn’t go after you because of me. The topic came up because they wondered why I was thanking Daeho. You got your ass handed to you because of your own damn self. You really know how to piss people off.”

There was silence. You could tell Thanos was scowling.

“Are you gonna sleep now or piss me off ?” You asked.

“Why didn’t you try to stop your friend harder than that ? I could’ve died. It’s fine when I almost meet death but not when it’s you ?”

Enough.

“Fuck you.” You stood up, and walked away before climbing to your bed, ignoring Thanos calling you.

Morning came way too soon, music playing through the speakers as a voice announced the imminent start of the second game.

You all followed each other until you reached a large room, two colored circles on the ground as a voice welcomed you for the game.

“This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes.” Said the voice before repeating itself.

You walked around, searching for people to team up with until you felt hands on your shoulders.

“Babe, you’re gonna team up with us, right ? Team Thanos. ” He asked, making you turn around. He had Namgyu and some other guy with them.

“Are you serious ?” You looked at him, unamused. “No.”

“Ah, come on, stop being so mad at me ! You’re not gonna find 4 people to play with you.”

“Fucking watch me, then.” You replied, walking away. You already knew who you could join. But when you found them, it seemed like you were too late.

There was a young girl with them, anxiously holding her belly. Daeho noticed you quickly.

“Ah, we’re sorry [Name]. I thought- we thought you were gonna team up with your boyfriend.” He said, looking at you with an apologetical face, visibly upset to see you still didn’t have a team.

“Oh. Yeah. Well.” You shrugged, unsure of what to reply. “It’s fine, not gonna fight her over it. I’ll find another team.” You said with a nod, already walking away.

“Good luck !” You heard him say, you smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

“You too !”

Now you were beginning to stress. You refused to play with Thanos and the team you could’ve been with had already found their fifth partner.

Thanos eyed you from time to time, wanting to make sure you’d find a team by the end of the 10 minutes.

“So are you accepting us or not ?” Asked 380.

He nodded, making a sign with his hands.

“Of course.”

Slowly, you managed to find yourself a team. Though you found it a little bit funny as you were in the same group as Myunggi.

“I’m sorry for his behavior.” You had told him, lowering your head. “Can’t promise he’ll be off your back.”

He scoffed. Of course, he already knew it.

You watched anxiously as the first two teams got called, and got their feet handcuffed together.

You swallowed thickly, eyeing the timer every ten seconds. They could make it. They could make it. They could make it.

They didn’t make it.

You grimaced as the 10 of them got shot, fearing for your life once more. You rubbed the X on your chest, trying to get some luck out of it and hoping that next time, more people would vote X and you’d go home.

The following teams succeeded together, reassuring you just a bit. This was possible. You sighed, grabbing the person’s arm next to you for a small celebration as he clapped and cheered for the winning teams.

Later came yours and Thanos’ turn, each team going at the start of the circle.

Though you knew it was possible to win, you were anxious. You didn’t know your team members except one, vaguely. You had to trust them and their ability in succeeding each game.

You tried to calm yourself, not wanting to stress about yours and Thanos’ life. He could make it, he seemed confident, or more accurately, not worried about it, not caring about what was at stake. You hoped this mindset would help him.

You focused on remembering how you played gonggi, trying to wake up your muscle memory.

You cracked your wrists and knuckles, focusing, relaxing. No one was here but you and your friends. No one would die.

You squatted down, sighing slowly to exhale all anxiety inducing thoughts.

Swiftly you threw the rocks, no longer breathing, too focused on them to do both.

“Breathe, idiot ! Do you want us to die ?!” Yelled Myunggi, noticing your red face as the five rocks rested on the back of your hand. You were so close, you couldn’t fail now.

“Shut up.” You replied, breathing shakily again.

You threw your hand up, the rocks flying in the air before quickly grabbing them all. You froze, not daring to look up at the masked man who made an O with his arms.

“Success.”

You nearly fell back in shock, your teammates stopping you from doing so by pulling you up to walk to the next game.

You blacked out while the man to your right played spinning top, your mind fuzzing like a static TV screen. It’s on your way down the corridors that you came back to your senses, Thanos talking your ears off about how cool his team was.

“Minsu was so good at gonggi, like-” He said, making whooshing sounds and moving his hand in the air as if he was playing the game right now. “And Namsu’s knee kept hitting mine like a metronome.” He added, laughing, his legs now shaking to imitate Namgyu.

“Huh ?”

“It was so fun, wasn’t it ?”

You didn’t reply. Fun wasn’t really how you had perceived it.

“What game did you play ?”

“Gonggi.”

“Ah !” He exclaimed as he hit your arm “I remember you used to play harder variants than the one we just did, right ? Must’ve been easy peasy.”

“Mh.”

“Are you still mad at me ? Is that why you’re being so dry ?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, I am still mad. But no, I’m dry because I don’t like being held at gunpoint.” You replied, feeling your anger build up again.

“What do I have to do to make you forgive me ?” He whined with a sigh.

“I don’t know !” You began to walk faster to put some distance between you two. “Maybe vote X that’ll help a bit ? Just an idea.”

“No way, I’m not leaving with only 20 million.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with angry ol’ me.” You heard him groan. “Or we could still break up. You won’t have to worry about my forgiveness.” You added with a wry smile. Tired of constantly having to explain your anger.

He froze, shocked. You wanted to break up ? He panicked for a second, before rushing back to your side.

“What ?! No way ! You’re stuck with me ! My boyfriend !” He said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, scared you would actually act on your words.

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away before speeding again.

“Is it because of that guy ?!” He asked, speeding as well.

“Who ?”

“Daeho. Or whatever. You kept mentioning him.”

You turned around to look at him with a confused look.

“I only did when you asked me about him ? What the fuck are you on about ?”

“Because he saved your life !”

“Yeah, because you nearly ended it. Did you forget ?”

He said nothing, scowling, scratching the back of his neck.

“I told you I didn’t mean to.”

“And yet it happened.” You sighed. “I really think we should break up.” You added, walking away. “I’m tired.”

Thanos stared at you, unable to process what you just said. Break up ? With him ?

When you reached the lobby, you didn’t go straight to your bed like Thanos had thought you would, but instead went where 456 and his group were the day before. Waiting for them.

Time passed, leaving you time to think. Were you too harsh ? Should you have forgiven him ? Were you too resentful ? You still loved him but right now all you wanted was to be away from him. Put more space between you two than what the lobby allowed. And at the same time, you were glad he was still in the same room.

You heard the door open, Daeho and his team entering.

You smiled weakly at him, glad he had survived. You wouldn’t have to stay alone in a room full of already made up groups.

He sat next to you, sighing, exhausted.

“What did you play ?” You asked quietly as the others sat down as well.

“Gonggi.” He replied, wiggling his right hand.

“Oh, me too !” You both smiled, giggling together. “I’m glad you made it. I promise I’ll find a way to repay you when we get out of here.”

“Ah, no way.” He patted your back. “Just, sort things out with your boyfriend then maybe we’ll be even.”

“I uh, broke up with him.”

Daeho looked at you with a shocked expression, his smile dropping.

“Are you okay ?”

“Yeah.” You replied with a nervous laugh before looking down. You kinda felt sick.

Daeho rubbed your back, trying to comfort you, as Thanos watched with a sour face.

Fucking prick. Stealing his boyfriend.

He wanted to have a chat with him, but he was in 001’s team. He could definitely beat him up but not 001, but if that man came to die in a game, it’s on sight.

[koiiiji]

Hiiii

Can you do a senrio where Busan crew heads babysit jinrang's daughter? 😶

Also I love your writings

little boss

author's note ; hiiii! thank u hun <3 HELL YES I CANNNNN!! i bet uncle Baek gonna be best nanny to Jinrang's kid, and since whole busan highly respect him, they would melt if they find out about daddys lil princess🥺🥺

summary ; dad have some busy time after long absence in prison, but thankfully you have a lot of uncles who are happy to look after their boss kid.

Baek Sang had never been more honored in his life.

Jinrang had barely stepped out of prison, but he was already back to work, making up for lost time. and while he handled things, he left his most precious treasure in Baek’s care.

his daughter.

he stood in Jinrang’s office, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. across from him, the king of Busan was watching him with sharp, expectant eyes.

“she’s six, Baek. six.” Jinrang’s tone was calm, but there was an undeniable weight behind his words.

Baek straightened his posture slightly. “of course, hyungnim. i understand.”

“do you?” Jinrang narrowed his eyes. “because i’m trusting you with her for the day, and i swear, if she so much as scrapes her knee, i’m taking yours in return.”

Baek swallowed. “i totally understand the weight of this task, boss.”

Jinrang glanced down at you. you were standing beside him, tiny hands gripping his pant leg, eyes peeking up at Baek with caution.

“she’s a little shy,” Jinrang muttered, ruffling your hair gently. “give her some time. she’ll warm up to you.”

you blinked at your father, hesitated, then nodded ever so slightly.

Baek Sang prided himself on being a lot of things: Jinrang’s right-hand man, a formidable force in Busan, and an expert in handling business matters. but now he gonna be something far more important.

Jinrang sighed. “be good, kid. i’ll be back soon.”

and with that, Baek was officially on babysitting duty.

he gonna be an uncle. the best uncle. in the world.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Baek practically vibrated with excitement as he held your tiny hand, like a proud father, while driving down the streets of Busan.

“i promise, little lady,” he declared, grinning ear to ear, imagining how good he gonna spoil you, “you’re gonna have the best day ever. uncle Baek has a whole plan — candy, arcade, more candy, maybe some ice cream...”

you blinked up at him. “dad said no too much sugar.”

Baek scoffed. “yeah, yeah. but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

and before he could continue spoiling you, his phone buzzed. a meeting. with other affiliates heads in Busan.

Baek’s face fell. but… this was his work too. and Jinrang trusted him to handle both.

which meant… he was bringing you along.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

the second Baek stepped into the meeting room with you in his arms, the entire room froze.

men who were feared across Busan — leaders of other affiliates, powerful men who could end someone’s life with a snap of their fingers — suddenly looked like they had forgotten how to breathe.

you peeked out cautiously from Baek’s shoulder, tiny fingers gripping his jacket. the number of unfamiliar faces was overwhelming, and you instinctively curled in closer to him, pressing your cheek to his chest.

Baek smiled warmly. “aww, what happened to all that confidence, huh?”

silence.

then, a cough..

then —

“who’s this?” one of them finally asked, staring at the child in disbelief.

Baek rolled his eyes, on the one who asked such stupid question. “this is the boss’s kid.” puffed up his chest with pride, “i’m babysitting.”

a pause. then another.

the fearsome, battle-hardened leaders of Busan’s underworld stared at you, the little girl, who hid behind Baek’s leg, peeking out at them with wide eyes.

a pause. and in a second atmosphere changed at 180 degrees.

“oh my god, she’s adorable.”

“she looks just like little princess.”

“does she like sweets? i have candy.”

Baek watched in utter satisfaction as the meeting room transformed from a den of criminals into a daycare full of cooing uncles.

“Baek hyungnim,” one of the heads cleared his throat and whispered on Baek ear. “with all due respect, it’s kinda hard to focus on business when the boss’s kid is staring at us like that.”

he glanced at you. you were indeed surrounded and you were staring — big, hesitant eyes watching men bustling around you from behind Baek's jacket.

Baek had barely opened his mouth when one of the older gangsters jerked his chin toward five young figures.

“you guys. babysitting duty.”

all five froze and exclaimed in unison, clearly unsatisfied with such tasks, “WHAT??!!”

“keep the little boss entertained. that’s an order.”

Hyunjin Jin sighed. “this is not in my job description.”

Shin Arim groaned. “we’re crew heads too, not daycare workers.”

Min Jihoon shrugged, as if it was not a big deal at all.

“it’s just for a while,” Kang Jinchan added

Park Hyukjin decided to just stay silent.

Baek sighed and shot a murderous glance in the direction of the young guys.“if she cries, all of you are dead.”

the disciples saluted in unison. “yes, sir!”

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

at first, you were quiet.

the five young men sat around you, unsure of how to make you comfortable. you sat stiffly, glancing at them with hesitant eyes, still gripping your plushie like a shield.

Jinchan, grinned cheerfully. “so, kid, your dad’s the boss, huh?”

you nodded.

“that means you’re kinda the boss, too.”

your grip loosened just slightly. “…really?”

“of course,” Shin, who sat before you in lotus pose, chimed in. “you’re the little boss.”

that made you smile a little. the guys all exchanged looks — they were getting somewhere.

Min Jihoon leaned forward, “hey, young lady, do you wanna draw?”

you hesitated, but when he held out a small notepad and some pens, you slowly reached out and took them.

the ice had been broken.

from that moment on, your shyness began to fade.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

and of course what started as quiet babysitting quickly turned into chaos. boys shouldn't have pampered you way too much.

Shin let you do his hair, sitting patiently as you carefully tied tiny ponytails all over his head.

“i’m making you pretty,” you declared. the others died laughing while Shin sighed and smiled in defeat. “of course you are.”

Jihoon, meanwhile, made the mistake of letting you have a pen. he was next victim.

“ooh, you don’t have a mustache!” you realized.

“…y-yeah?” Min already understood where you getting, slowly rising up his hands, in weak attempts to stop you... or at least hide his face.

“yeah!! but my daddy have!! so let’s fix that.”

before he could hide his face in hands, you had already drawn a curly mustache on his face.

Kang Jinchan, thought he’d impress you, by flashing his champion’s belt, because you definitely going to tell your father about what cool guys you met today, so the very next day, Jinrang-hyungnim may notice him or even commend him!!

“check this out, little boss. i earned this.”

you tilted your head. “what is it for?”

“for being the toughest guy in the ring.” Jinchan even started flexing his arm muscles.

you nodded thoughtfully. immediately a lot of questions were arisen and spinning through your head. wasn't your daddy the strongest? in Busan? no! in the whole world!! and then, without second thought, out of nowhere — WHAM! — you kicked guy with belt right in the knee.

“OW—! Shit!” muffled curses left his lips, but he was loud enough that you and whole room could hear him.

and the room fell into silence.

you gasped. “shit?”

from across the room Baek’s soul left his body.

Jinchan, still clutching his knee, looked horrified. “i didn’t mean to say that —”

but it was too late. you were now testing the word.

“shit. shit? shiiit.”

with two big steps Baek crossed the room and grabbed Jinchan by the collar, quietly hissing each word right in his face. “you. absolute. fucking. moron.”

and now others scrambled to distract you. Shin let you add more ponytails. Min let you give him eyebrows to go with his fake mustache. Hyunjin Jin even let you color in his tattoos. Jinchan, desperate for redemption, let you climb onto his back for a piggyback ride.

even Hyukjin, who left for a moment, returned, and now he had three massive plushies in his arms. “bribery successful.” he muttered to Baek.

your eyes lit up. “WOW!”

and just like that, the curse word was completely and successfully forgotten. the disciples collapsed in relief.

Baek exhaled. crisis averted.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

bonus ;

when Jinrang came to pick you up, he was exhausted but happy to finally see his little princess.

“she is safe and happy,” he said, exhaling. “thank you Baek, don't know what i would do without you…” Jinrang's eyes never left your sleeping figure, stroking your hair softly.

Baek smiled confidently and came closer to his boss, patting on his shoulder.. “hyungnim, i told you. best uncle.”

Jinrang huffed, scooping you into his arms. “alright, young lady. let’s get you home.”

you sleepily curled up against him, plushies still clutched in your hands.

and then, just as Jinrang was about to leave, you mumbled drowsily —

“…shit.”

Jinrang turned back slowly, eyes glowing with danger.

Baek paled. “i can explai —”

cracking knuckles were the last thing Baek heard that night...

[whizzing-fizzbee]

I have a doozy of a work week coming up, so I don't anticipate having much time to write. So enjoy this little Valentine's Day angst-fluff-smut combo I’ve been sitting on for a while. Thank you for reading and have a splendid Valentine's Day if you celebrate - regardless, you are loved! ❤️

XOXO, Anonymous

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, profanity); all characters are 18+ Words: 6,323 Tags: friends to lovers, Valentine's Day, love letters, misunderstandings, mutual pining, angst, fluff, Seb is extra stupid in this one

Summary: Sebastian Sallow has been hopelessly in love with Annalisa Lark since the day they met during fifth year. So when he discovers a love letter to Ominis seemingly sent from her, he begins a downward spiral. Once the truth comes out, he'll realize actions sometimes speak louder than words.

Notes: This one's split into two parts in case you want to skip the smut. Part I is angst and fluff. Part II is smut. All characters are 18-year-old seventh years. MC in this one is a Ravenclaw named Annalisa Lark.

Read on AO3 or both parts below the cut.

Part I

Sebastian Sallow trudged into his dormitory, exhausted after a particularly grueling quidditch practice. The room was empty, presumably because all his roommates were already elbow-deep in their dinners. 

Sebastian would have gone straight to the Great Hall to join them, but he’d been neglecting a Potions essay that was due in the morning. He just needed to grab a book and he’d head to the library for a few hours of writing.

Except Sebastian’s Potions book was nowhere to be found. He cursed under his breath as he realized he’d left it in the locker room. With no desire to make the trek all the way back to the quidditch pitch, Sebastian decided he’d merely borrow Ominis’ book. Surely Ominis had completed the essay ages ago.

The book sat on the desk next to Ominis’ bed, resting on its back atop a neat stack of parchment. Sebastian picked it up and moved to gather some parchment and quills of his own when a folded sheet slipped from the book’s pages. It fluttered to the floor and landed face-up, open, as if its contents were meant to be seen.

Typically, Sebastian wouldn’t dare read his friend’s mail. He would never willingly violate Ominis’ trust, not after it had taken him two years to regain it after the events of fifth year. But a few choice words scrawled on the parchment caught Sebastian’s eye as he bent down to retrieve it. He paused, his hand hovering above the letter until he finally gathered the nerve to pick it up and read it.

His tired pout morphed into a full-fledged frown.

Dearest Ominis,

Your last letter made me smile. You have such a way with words that I always find myself re-reading your letters over and over again. I hope they never stop, even if we can one day be together.

Speaking of, have you given any further thought to discussing our potential relationship with Sebastian? I know you’re worried it could sever your friendship, but please don’t. He cares about both of us far too much, and I truly believe he merely wants to see us happy.

I love you, Ominis. I love you, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. After everything that happened to me during fifth year, I’ve realized life is far too short to be separated from the ones we love.

Please give what I said some more consideration. See you soon.

XOXO, A.

It took a moment for Sebastian to realize his hands were shaking. His palms were sweating and his stomach churned. He couldn’t even pinpoint which emotion had taken charge of his body – disbelief, surely, but what about the betrayal? And the pain… my god, the pain. It slammed through Sebastian’s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.

He read it again. Call him a masochist, but he had to be sure he understood correctly. He prayed his eyes had somehow managed to trick him, that it had all been a projection of his own deepest fears, or perhaps some cruel prank Ominis cooked up.

But Ominis wasn’t a prankster. And he would never joke about something as complex as Sebastian’s feelings – not when it came to her. Or so he thought. 

Sebastian had loved Annalisa Lark since the day she absolutely dismantled him during a duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She was stunning to him in every sense of the word, and while their friendship was sometimes turbulent, Sebastian flocked to her like children to candy. He’d never admit to it, though. The only person who seemed to understand was Ominis.

But now, it seemed Ominis understood more than he’d let on. Sebastian stilled himself, the letter still in his hand. Had his best friend really stolen the love of his life? Perhaps that was a bit dramatic. She wasn’t Sebastian’s to steal. He was certain she didn’t even have those kinds of feelings for him. Still, surely Ominis knew about that unspoken gentlemen’s rule about not romancing your best friend’s love interest.

Sebastian’s shock shifted to fury. His conniption swelled as he mulled the situation over. His best friend had swooped in on her. The one and only girl he couldn’t bear to lose. 

He had to toss the letter aside to stop himself from crumpling it into a ball. Knives clouded his vision. He could choke Ominis until the life left his eyes. She said she loved him. She told Ominis the only words that could likely save Sebastian from a tragic demise.

And worst of all, they’d kept their romance a secret from him. They didn’t deem him worthy of sharing their secret. They thought it’d be easier to keep him out of their equation. He wasn’t meant to be a part of their secret society. 

Sebastian sank onto his bed, his gaze wavering in and out of focus. He didn’t know what to do. Should he storm down to the Great Hall and demand answers from them? Should he keep quiet and pretend he didn’t know? Should he make a last-ditch effort love declaration in hopes of stealing Annalisa back to her rightful place?

All of those options made sense in Sebastian’s mind, but Sebastian Sallow rarely made sense when it came to the most important matters of the heart.

Dinner and Potions essays be damned, Sebastian decided to retreat to the Undercroft.

---

“Sebastian! There you are.” 

For the first time in nearly three years, Sebastian was dismayed to find Annalisa in the Undercroft. She was curled up on a sofa she’d conjured during their fifth year, a book open across her lap.

Even from where he stood, Sebastian could see it was a romance novel. She was always reading those, as if she enjoyed the escapism into a world of longing stares and declarations of desire. She didn’t know she was living inside one of those novels; though this one was currently creeping toward an angst-ridden, tragic ending as far as Sebastian was concerned. The trope of his life was morphing from secret pining to the one that got away.

“There you are,” Sebastian replied. It was their routine greeting, a symbol of their bond since they were fifteen. Even in crisis, he wouldn’t stray from it. He needed its familiarity. 

“Where’ve you been?” Annalisa asked curiously as she shifted to one side of the sofa to make room for him.

“Quidditch practice.”

“Did you eat? I didn’t see you at dinner. I have some apples in my bag.”

Sebastian shook his head as he took the other half of the sofa. His posture betrayed him. He typically slouched into his seat, his knees parted while his hands absentmindedly twirled his wand. But tonight, he was rigid, his spine far too stiff and straight to fool her. “I’m not hungry.”

Annalisa frowned, her book now forgotten as she set it aside. “Since when have you ever turned down a meal?” she demanded with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sebastian lied.

Annalisa scowled at him. “Sebastian Edward Sallow, do not play with me.”

Sebastian nearly barked a laugh at the irony of it all. If anything, she was the one playing with him; sneaking around behind his back with his own best friend, penning him passionate love letters while Sebastian had been none the wiser. 

He wanted to be disgusted with her, to lash out and demand answers. He wanted her to know how hurt he was by her decision to omit him from such a significant portion of her life. Even if she didn’t choose him, she could have at least filled him in on her stirring new romance – especially since it involved their mutual best friend.

But Sebastian could never be repulsed by her, even if he felt slighted. She was too much of all the good things Sebastian admired in life – a stunning little spitfire compressed into five feet of fearless conviction. She was compassionate and complex; she didn’t view the world in black and white the way so many others preferred to. She understood the frayed seams between good and evil and light and darkness. 

That realization was the moment Sebastian was certain he loved her. She stood by him after Solomon’s death and offered him unwavering support, because she knew the nuances of right and wrong. She had blood on her hands, too. The difference in their bloodshed was hers was an effort to quell darkness; Sebastian’s bloodshed had embraced it.

Still, Annalisa understood Sebastian at a level that transcended mere friendship, and because of that, Sebastian had grown certain she was his soulmate. But now, he wasn’t sure he knew her at all.

“Sebastian…” Annalisa was still peering at him expectantly. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he insisted, his tense posture still exposing his discomfort. “I’m just exhausted, is all. 

Annalisa opened her mouth, fully prepared to interrogate him into a confession, but the entrance to the Undercroft clanged open again, revealing Ominis’ arrival. Sebastian stiffened even more.

“Ominis!” Annalisa greeted. “Sebastian here was just about to tell me why he’s so moody.”

“Sebastian, moody? I can’t imagine,” came Ominis’ dry reply.

Sebastian was in no mood for teasing remarks. Not when he was the third wheel to the two people he thought he trusted most. His irritation surged, and before he could suppress it, he was on his feet.

“I’ll just leave you two to it then, yeah?” he snapped. 

“Sebastian, what-” 

Sebastian brushed past a stunned Ominis and sulked from the Undercroft.

---

Sebastian hated Valentine’s Day. What a stupid, sordid excuse of a holiday, he thought. He slouched over his corner of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall as he watched his classmates exchange jovial greetings and giggles over romantic gifts. It was positively nauseating. The arrival of Ominis taking the seat across from him didn’t sweeten the day.

“Brooding in the corner on Valentine’s Day,” Ominis mused. “How very cliche of you.” Sebastian didn’t reply. Ominis sighed and set his stack of books on the table between them. “Going to share with the class what’s had you so bent out of shape?”

Again, no reply. Ominis was no stranger to Sebastian’s tempestuous moods. They always became particularly stormy when Annalisa was inundated with attention from their classmates. Today, she sat at the Ravenclaw table with a short stack of valentines and an assortment of sweets surrounding her. Truthfully, Sebastian could cope with that – he’d witnessed their classmates’ attempts to court Annalisa on countless occasions. He was used to that. He wasn’t used to the nauseating knowledge that his own best friend was the one who had secured her heart, and in secret nonetheless. 

“Alright, mate,” Ominis sighed as he gathered his books again and stood. “But Cupid’s arrow isn’t going to find you while you’re commiserating by your lonesome self in a corner.”

As he retreated toward the doors of the Great Hall, Sebastian considered chucking a potato at his head. But something else stole his attention.

Another letter. Ominis must have left it accidentally in his haste to flee Sebastian’s orbit of agony. Sebastian snatched it off the table immediately, took a quick glance around the Great Hall, and read.

Dearest Ominis,

Happy Valentine’s Day, love! Thank you for the gorgeous flowers. They look positively stunning at my bedside. I look forward to gazing at them as the last thing I’ll see before I fall asleep. You are always the last thing on my mind at night anyway.

I am so looking forward to seeing you tonight. I hope it will be just as special for you as it is for me. See you at 7:00.

XOXO, A.

The edges of the parchment curled inward as Sebastian’s hands shook. They had a secret date planned for the night. They were going to have a romantic night together and neither of them felt any obligation to tell him. Their friendship was no longer a trio. They were a pair, plus one, single fool.

Sebastian crumpled the letter and stashed it in his pocket. He prayed Cupid would choke on a pumpkin pasty.

---

Sebastian’s sour mood didn’t stop there. It devolved by the afternoon, until all who crossed his path were at risk of a terrible lashing. 

Finally, Annalisa found him pouting beneath the Transfiguration Courtyard fountain.

“Sebastian,” she said sternly, her green eyes drilling him with impatience. “What is the matter with you? Ominis says you’re positively insufferable. What has happened?”

Of course Ominis called him that. Ominis was a treasonous, back-stabbing traitor who was too cowardly to even admit he was in love. If Sebastian had Annalisa, he’d tell the whole world, and would burn it down if anyone dared to question him.

“Ominis knows exactly what he’s done,” Sebastian snapped. 

“Clearly not,” Annalisa challenged him. “All we know is something has you upset. Stop isolating yourself and tell us. Tell me, at the very least.”

How rich. She was begging him to tell her, when she hadn’t bothered to tell him about her new little love affair.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian said, rising to his feet as he gazed at her with a pointed stare. “I’ll tell you my secret when you tell me yours.”

Annalisa blinked at him. “Secret? Sebastian, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Sebastian slipped past her to head inside the castle in search of someplace more secluded. “Then neither do I.”

He wasn’t proud of his prickly behavior. It was reminiscent of his fifth year, when his obsession with curing Anne’s curse pushed him into a manic state, void of any logic. He wasn’t that far gone now, but he certainly was allowing his emotions to control him.

Fine. If Ominis and Annalisa were so into writing silly little love letters, he’d do the same.

Sebastian retreated to his dormitory, where he was relieved to find himself alone. He sat at his desk with two blank sheets of parchment in front of him.

Ominis,

It has come to my attention that you have entered into a romantic partnership with Annalisa. To say that I feel betrayed and slighted is an understatement. I thought you were aware of my feelings regarding our mutual friend and would use better judgment. It’s clear the two of you have chosen each other over me, so consider this my resignation from our friendship.

Sebastian E. Sallow

He snatched the parchment up and crushed it in his hand. This was meant to be a deeply personal declaration of deception and distress, not a polite invitation for afternoon tea.

He tried again.

Ominis– 

I know your secret. Consider this the final fallen pillar of our friendship.

See you in hell, Sebastian

Much better. One down, one to go. But the second one wasn’t as simple. 

Sebastian was certain he could be romantic, right? He’d been on his fair share of dates, had plenty of experience with girls. In truth, he had his pick of most girls at Hogwarts. Sure, he didn’t have the family name and wealth that Ominis had to offer, but he had a bright future as an early acceptance into the Ministry of Magic’s Auror program. He was charming and intelligent, charismatic enough to sway most people he encountered to his side.

Surely he could pen one simple love letter. But for as silver-tongued as he was when it came to getting himself out of trouble or convincing his classmates to help him with various endeavors, Sebastian had no idea how to tell a girl he loved her.

He sat glued to that spot for a good hour until the reject pile of letters not good enough for Annalisa’s eyes had formed a small stack on the desktop. No words could convey what he felt for her. No words were pretty or poignant enough. 

Annalisa,

I know you’re in love with Ominis and I don’t want to stand in the way of the happiness you deserve. But if there’s any chance I could ever compete for your heart, please know that I won’t go down without a fight.

I’ve loved you since that first day in Hecat’s class. I know I haven’t made life easy on you, but loving you’s been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. 

Tell me I have even the slightest shot at being yours and I promise you’ll always have my full effort.

Forever yours, Sebastian

It wasn’t good enough, but it was the best he could manage. He wasn’t meant to craft eloquent prose like Annalisa’s favorite romance novels. Because this was real, not a fictional work intended to entertain the masses, and Sebastian wanted to be sure she knew that. This was his brutal honesty, raw and real.

He sighed as he decided these two letters would have to do. He pocketed Annalisa’s and placed the other on Ominis’ nightstand before slinking off to the kitchens to eat dinner in solitude.

By the time he was finished, his pocket watch indicated it was 6:30. Ominis and Annalisa would be heading off to their date soon, likely at some romantic restaurant where they could cozy up to one another away from prying eyes. Sebastian couldn’t stand to picture it.

He had originally planned to send Annalisa’s letter via owl, but impulse control was never Sebastian’s strength. So in an act of desperation, he trekked up to Ravenclaw Tower and lingered outside the common room.

In a serendipitous act of fate, Samantha Dale was just returning from dinner.

“Samantha,” Sebastian breathed in relief. The Ravenclaw stopped in her tracks and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here? Meeting Annalisa?”

“Oh, er, yes. Except I was hoping to surprise her,” Sebastian said, hoping he was convincing.

“Ooh, are you finally taking her on a date?” Samantha squealed. “It’s about time.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, but it’s a surprise. Can you let me into the common room?”

“Of course, right this way.” Samantha led Sebastian inside and gestured toward the girls’ dormitories. “Pretty sure you’ve been up here before, yes? You remember the way?”

Sebastian nodded and thanked Samantha, who continued into the common room. He strode hastily toward Annalisa’s dorm, praying she’d still be there. He knocked gently and felt his stomach contort at the sound of her voice inviting the visitor inside.

“Sebastian?” Annalisa blinked as he creaked the door open. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Sebastian was more confused than her. She was wearing pajamas and she sat up in bed, cozied beneath the covers with a book open. She certainly did not appear to be preparing for a romantic date.

“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked stupidly. Annalisa snorted.

“Sebastian, I live here.”

“But… you have a date.”

“I do? That’s news to me.”

That’s when Sebastian also realized there were no flowers on her nightstand. What was going on? Was this some sort of prank? A bizarre dream – perhaps an astral projection? He felt sick.

“But… but you and Ominis…”

Annalisa tilted her head, perplexed by the entire interaction as her eyes narrowed in concern. “Ominis? What does he have to do with this? Sebastian, what is going on? You’ve been acting so strange lately.”

“I…” Sebastian’s entire frame deflated, his shoulders slumping forward and his knees threatening to buckle. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Annalisa motioned for him to sit on the side of the bed. She watched him carefully as he did so, his hands resting atop his knees. He looked exhausted. 

“What’s this date you were talking about?” Annalisa asked as she tossed her book aside.

Sebastian sighed. There was no recovering from this. Even if he wanted to get out of this, to sweet talk her with some excuse, he knew he’d only leave with despair in his heart. “I thought you and Ominis had a date,” he said.

Annalisa looked like he’d slapped her. “You’re not serious.”

“I saw the letters. Your letters.”

“What letters?”

“The ones you wrote to Ominis.”

Annalisa felt dizzy, which was alarming because she was certain Sebastian was the one who’d gone loopy. “I didn’t write Ominis any letters,” she said. “Why would I? I see him every day. I don’t need to write him.”

Sebastian’s chest constricted. A flush crept from his neck into his cheeks. His lungs screamed for air. He didn’t understand.

“You’re not dating Ominis?”

“What?!”

Oh no. Had he really gotten it all wrong? How? He’d seen the letters with his own eyes. It all added up in his head. Had he really let himself spiral into an episode of assumptions and self-doubt? 

“Sebastian,” Annalisa continued, her voice a breath of laughter and perplexion. “What the fuck are you on about? Who told you I was dating Ominis?”

“No one told me. I accidentally saw letters written to him – love letters.”

Annalisa was clearly intrigued, another indication that she had nothing to do with said letters. “Love letters? To Ominis? From whom? And what made you think they were from me?”

“I only saw two of them, but they were both signed by the initial A,” Sebastian explained. “And one of them talked about a date tonight.”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t me,” Annalisa laughed. “This book is my hot date for the night.”

“But then, who…” 

Annalisa giggled, her eyes glinting with a facetious, knowing smile. “Sebastian, come on,” she said. “Think.”

“But I don’t-”

“Anne!” Annalisa continued.

“Anne?”

Sebastian froze as all the mental pieces shifted in his brain. Merlin. It made perfect sense – more sense than Ominis and Annalisa.

“You mean Ominis and Anne are in love?”

“Yes, silly,” Annalisa snorted. “Anyone with two eyes can see it.”

“But Ominis has two eyes and can’t s-”

“Sebastian, that’s beside the point.”

“Right, sorry. But… you knew? About them?”

“Not for sure,” Annalisa said. “But it’s always been pretty obvious that those two love each other. They share everything and they really only trust each other… they’d do anything for each other. Of course they’re in love.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa stared at him with exasperated eyes. “You really thought I’d date Ominis?”

“I mean, the two of you adore each other.”

“Yes, because we’re great friends. Surely you know we’d never consider each other romantically.”

“I didn’t think so, but then I saw those letters and… I just thought maybe I’d overlooked something between you two,” Sebastian explained.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Annalisa said. “Obviously I’m not on a hot date with our mutual friend. I didn’t have a date tonight, so I’m enjoying a cozy night in.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa’s brow furrowed as her gaze locked in on the folded parchment in Sebastian’s hand. “What’s that?”

Sebastian swallowed. There was no going back, he reminded himself. But this wasn’t how he wanted to tell her. He wanted to woo her with melodic words and grand gestures symbolic of his feelings. He wanted to make a case for himself she couldn’t refuse.

But if he had to convince her to love him, it wasn’t the right kind of reciprocation anyway. Still, his nerves were getting the best of him. 

“It’s nothing, spare bit of parchment,” he tried to say with a shrug. Annalisa shot him a look. 

“What is it?” she demanded. 

Sebastian frantically scanned his brain for the right words. He only had one shot at this. He had to get it right. 

“It’s a letter.”

“One of Anne’s letters to Ominis?”

“No. A letter from me to you.”

Annalisa tilted her head quizzically. “What do you mean? Why? What does it say?”

Sebastian averted his gaze, his eyes on the parchment in his hands. “Before I hand this to you, before I allow you to read it,” he started. “I want you to know that it was a result of a severe misunderstanding. When I thought you were in love with Ominis… I felt like I was going mental.”

“Is that why you stormed out of the Undercroft and have been sulking so much?”

“Yes.”

“Sebastian, why didn’t you just say something to us?”

“Because I thought you were trying to keep it a secret from me.”

“Why would we do that?”

“To avoid my wrath, apparently. Judging from the letters, it sounds like Anne wants me to know but Ominis is afraid to tell me.”

Annalisa’s lips curved in another knowing smile. “To be fair, I can’t say I blame him,” she said. “This is your sister we’re talking about here.”

“I know, but if there’s anyone I do trust to date my sister, it’s Ominis. He’s the only person I’d trust with her.”

“Well then, it sounds like you both have been making some inaccurate assumptions,” Annalisa mused. 

“I suppose so.” Sebastian raked a hand through his hair. “Look, when I thought you and Ominis were together, I didn’t handle it well, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Sebastian,” Annalisa laughed. “I just don’t understand why it had you so upset.”

“Because I don’t handle jealousy well,” Sebastian answered.

“Jealousy? Sebastian, don’t tell me you’re struggling to find a girlfriend. You-”

It was a good thing Sebastian was absolutely smitten with Annalisa, because for as brilliant as she truly was, she could be quite dense when it came to personal matters of the heart. “I thought Ominis had taken the only person I’m interested in,” Sebastian cut in. He maintained his gaze on the parchment, terrified to watch as the understanding settled within Annalisa. 

“Sebastian,” she breathed.

“Here,” Sebastian said as he extended his arm to offer her the letter. “Now you can have this.”

Annalisa reached tentatively for the letter, as if she knew reading it would change everything. Sebastian didn’t look as he listened to her unfold it. The room fell silent as her eyes scanned his penmanship. When he heard her inhale sharply, Sebastian considered flinging himself out the window.

He wasn’t prepared for her reaction. He had long accepted the reality that she could never possibly love him mutually. She might love him as a close friend, but she’d never understand the magnitude of her presence in his life. She was more than his shoulder to lean on and partner in crime; she was the gravity that grounded Sebastian to this world. If he lost her, he’d lose the anchor that kept the sea of dysphoria from sweeping him away again.

Sebastian decided he’d start by apologizing. He’d tell her he never meant to jeopardize their bond. He hadn’t even meant to fall for her. But he wasn’t sorry for loving her. It was the most genuine emotion he had. 

Then he’d assure Annalisa that their friendship didn’t have to change. He was determined to maintain it. He’d fight every one of his emotions tooth and nail for her. She had to understand that he’d never expect anything more from her than the privilege to merely be a part of her life.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa breathed. He finally turned to look at her and was stunned to see tears welling in her eyes. “Sebastian, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not really a casual topic for dinner discussion.”

“Sebastian, really.” Annalisa sniffed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian averted his gaze again, riddled by guilt and fear. He fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket while both seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa repeated. She slipped from beneath the covers to sit next to him. Sebastian fought desperately to think about anything other than the way her silk pajamas clung to her body. “Sebastian, look at me.”

He exhaled slowly as he turned to face her, awaiting his fateful sentence. He assumed she’d let him down gently, tell him they were better off as friends. She was far too kind to raise her voice at him, though she was also fiery enough that she might slap him.

Instead, she threw her arms around him. Sebastian’s lungs deflated as he stilled, stunned by her sudden embrace. 

“Sebastian, you fool. You know I love you too,” she mumbled, her words muffled against his neck. It ignited a new heat that coursed through his limbs. He swallowed as her words clashed with the feeling of her soft lips against his skin. It was a staggering juxtaposition of sweet relief and untamed desire.

She loved him? Had he really managed to overlook that major detail in his life? Had there been signs? Sebastian blinked in disbelief. He'd orchestrated his fair share of stupid events, but this one took first place.

Annalisa closed her eyes as she continued to cling to Sebastian. “You really thought I was in love with Ominis?”

“Ominis is brilliant,” Sebastian offered with a shrug. “Girls seem to like that whole polished and proper thing he has going on.”

Annalisa snorted against his neck and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile in spite of his nerves. “Sebastian, when have I ever been the prim and proper type?” she murmured. The more she spoke and the more her lips buzzed vibrations across his skin, the more Sebastian squirmed.

“That’s true,” he answered, forcing his words until they sounded steady. “You do seem to have a proclivity for chaos and dramatics.”

Annalisa drew away just far enough to peer upward at him with a pointed gaze. Her green eyes gleamed with coquetry. “It’s not like I go looking for chaos,” she huffed. “It just seems to find me… sort of way you found me. Sometimes it’s good to attract chaos.”

“Are you calling me chaotic?”

“Are you denying it?”

Sebastian chuckled. “No. Can’t deny that.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you so tense?”

“Because I just confessed to being in love with you and now you’re pressed up against me.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Oh. Oh.

“I… don’t know.” 

Annalisa offered him a bemused smirk. “Boy, Seb, between that letter and all of this, you sure have a way with words,” she teased. “Lucky for you, you won me over years ago.”

“Years?”

Annalisa rolled her eyes, her impatience evident. “Yes, years,” she said matter-of-factly. “Which is why you should have told me.”

“You could have told me!”

“And ruin the absolute spectacle of you making a fool of yourself because of a couple love letters to Ominis? Never.”

That was enough talking, enough words for one day. Sebastian had spelled it all out, albeit rather awkwardly, but the swell inside his chest made it all worth it. He finally kissed her, which told her more than any stupid letter ever could.

Part II (Smut warning)

“Sebastian,” Annalisa whimpered. “Sebastian, please.”

Her hands were presently tangled in Sebastian’s hair as her legs were tossed over his shoulders. 

Annalisa was quickly learning that Sebastian may not always have a way with words, but he was certainly skilled with his tongue. His letter to her lay on the floor, having fluttered off the bed amid the frenzy of hungry hands and greedy kisses.

“Sebastian, don’t stop,” Annalisa begged as his tongue pressed patterns over her clit. He hummed in response, certain he’d go mad by the way she begged him for more. Her whimpering pleas, the taste of her arousal and the aftermath of their declarations of love had Sebastian teetering on the edge of an insanity that could only be stoked by adoration.

Sebastian’s tongue traced tiny heart shapes across her clit until Annalisa’s thighs tensed and the pitch of her moans spiked. “Oh fuck, Sebastian!” she cried as her nerve endings seared with pleasure. Her back arched off the bed and her fingers tugged at Sebastian’s hair until her orgasm subsided, leaving her chest heaving and her entrance soaked.

Sebastian, still stunned by the day’s revelations, sat back on his heels to admire her. She wasn’t in love with Ominis – his own sister was. But he’d wrap his mind around that part of the story later. The part that mattered now was Annalisa had been his the entire time, and she was eager to prove it to him. After he kissed her for that first time, she had practically climbed into his lap until they were tearing their clothes off.

Once she had caught her breath, Annalisa sat up to pull Sebastian into a long kiss. “Stand up,” she ordered. 

Sebastian blinked. He was enthralled by this bossy new side of her. Of course, one doesn’t save the world from a goblin rebellion by being a timid pushover, but Sebastian hadn’t anticipated this level of dominance from her. It made his cock twitch desperately.

He obliged and scrambled to his feet, holding his breath as he watched Annalisa fall to her knees on the floor in front of him. She took him into her mouth and tightened her lips around his shaft. Sebastian had to lean one hand on the back of her desk chair to support his weight. The suction pulling against his cock was dizzying.

“My god,” he groaned as he gazed downward to watch her work. Her hands snaked their way to the backs of his thighs, fingers pressing into his flesh as she used only her mouth to make him moan. 

Annalisa’s lips released their vice grip to make way for her tongue. She dragged it from the base of Sebastian’s cock upward, over and around the tip, leaving it slick with saliva. Sebastian whimpered at the sight of it. 

“Annalisa, please,” he begged. “Let me have you.”

Annalisa nodded in understanding and rose to her feet to pull Sebastian into a kiss. She nudged him backward to guide him toward the desk chair. 

“Sit,” she commanded. Sebastian obeyed and dropped into a seated position. Annalisa climbed over him, hands clutching his shoulders as she lowered herself. She held her breath, astounded that her quiet Valentine’s Day was ending in such a way. Much better than any of her romance novels.

Sebastian’s fingers dug into her waist as he felt his cock make contact with her entrance. He tensed as she sank slowly, a low whine escaping her throat as she stretched around him. “Sebastian, you’re big,” she whimpered.

“Take it easy,” Sebastian said gently, though every nerve ending in his body was electrified. The scorching heat surrounding his cock was surreal.

Annalisa lifted herself and dipped downward again. The friction made both of their breaths hitch. Sebastian fought to control his body’s response while Annalisa found a steady pace, her cunt gliding over his cock until the room echoed with the sounds of their slick union.

“I love you,” Annalisa whispered, her eyes meeting Sebastian’s as she studied his expression to ensure he was content. 

“I love you too,” Sebastian growled, his hands still pressing into her sides. He marveled at her; the way her full breasts bounced, her cheeks flushed, and her tight walls embraced him. He was desperate to feel her release. He had to know how she’d feel when she collapsed on top of him, her thighs shaking and cunt swollen from the intrusion of his cock.

Annalisa’s eyes fell shut as she worked, her hips rising and grinding as she rested her palms flat against Sebastian’s chest. The chair creaked beneath them. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Sebastian breathed.

She rocked her hips and let out a sharp moan as Sebastian’s cock speared her soft, sensitive spot. “Oh, right there,” she groaned. She repeated the motion, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she lost herself in the sensation stimulating her core. “Sebastian, I’m close.”

Poor Sebastian was hanging on for dear life. His mind was presently reviewing spell patterns he’d learned in Charms class to divert his attention. He didn’t find himself in such a drastic dilemma very often, but this was pure desperation.

Annalisa slammed herself hard down onto him, driving the depths of her walls around Sebastian’s cock until she could feel the familiar flutters. She squeezed and rocked until her walls gave way to her climax, throbbing with relief as she wailed and threw her head back. She collapsed her full weight into Sebastian’s lap, allowing the tip of his cock to settle deep inside her until the final twitches of her cunt evoked his orgasm. He swore as he gripped her hips and spilled within her, earning one final moan from her.

The room’s erotic echoes were replaced with their recovering breaths. Annalisa slumped against Sebastian, her body exhausted from bouncing on top of him, and her head hazy.

Sebastian was utterly spent. His forehead rested against Annalisa’s bare shoulder as the weight of the day’s overwhelming epiphanies settled within him.

Things had taken a turn for the better; a monumental shift in events that he never could have predicted. He felt foolish and guilty for his presumptive behavior, but elated that, finally, for once, things had worked in his favor.

Annalisa was watching him with soft eyes. “Alright?” she asked. Sebastian grinned, his hands tracing light lines up and down the small of her back.

“Alright,” he answered. “Just… thinking about how mental this day was.”

“Only because you’re mental,” Annalisa said as she climbed off him and began fetching her pajamas from the floor.

“Sorry,” Sebastian said with a sheepish smile. “I guess I owe you and Ominis an apol-” He froze, his eyes widening until Annalisa drew back in alarm.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Ominis,” Sebastian said hastily as he scrambled to his feet and began redressing. “I- I wrote him a letter too. I have to go. I have to get rid of it before he sees it.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad.”

Sebastian flashed her an apologetic grin as he buttoned his shirt. “I might have told him we were no longer friends and to go to hell.”

“Sebastian!”

“In my defense, it was all for you, love.”

“It was downright foolish.”

“I know. Apologies, love. I’ll just go fetch and destroy it and then I’ll come right back, yeah?”

Annalisa sighed and crawled back into bed. “Yes, alright. I’ll be here.” 

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her forehead and sprinted back to the Slytherin dungeons.

[bluespinksyellows]

Derek: *very drugged up with a giant grin on his face* Hi

Stiles: *giggles* hi

Derek: *with an even bigger and sappier smile* hi

Stiles: *trying not to laugh while also looking so hopelessly in love* hi

Derek: You're pretty... You're so pretty. Your eyes are pretty, your nose is pretty, your mouth is pretty, everything about you is so pretty. I love everything about you. Your whiskey-colored eyes are so beautiful that I still get lost in them no matter how many times I see them. Your upturned nose is so cute that every time you scrunch your nose in concentration I can feel my own heartbeat accelerate. Your mouth is the most perfect little cupids bow it's hard not to stare at it every time you talk. You are just so pretty you're like an angel. A sassy sarcastic angel but an angel. My angel. It's fitting. That you're my angel. You saved me. In every way possible you saved me. Before you, it was hard to be awake. Hard not just to stay alive but to want to stay alive. Hard to live. Hard to just.... breathe. But then you happened. You stumbled straight into my life and made it so much better. Not immediately. No. Not at all. But gradually. Slowly. So slowly, I didn't realize it was happening. But you taught me hope. And trust. And you taught me love. Not just how to give it but to receive it. You taught me how to live. Not just to survive but to live a life I would enjoy. When we met I thought you would be the death of me. Ironic to think you're the reason I'm alive. You've saved my life literally many times but you saved it again and again without even knowing. Like an angel. I don't know what I would do without you now and I don't want to. You are my home. And my hope. You are my happiness. And my heart. And I love you for that. I love you with everything I am. With my body and my soul and my mind. I love you.

Stiles: *on the verge of tears* And I love you

Derek: I know. I know you love me. I've never doubted it. You've never let me doubt it. Because it's in everything you do. When you hug me after a long day. When you pepper my face with kisses when you know I'm in a bad mood. When you brash my shoulder after you pass by me in the kitchen when we're cooking. When you run your fingers through my hair while we listen to music on the couch. When you hold my hand whenever we go somewhere, and there are too many people... When you get defensive of me anytime I'm made uncomfortable by anyone. When you scold the pack for pushing me too far. When you scold me for doing or thinking something stupid. When you encourage me to try. When you praise me for doing something good. When you understand when I make mistakes. When you push me to be better but still love me when I can't. I've never doubted your love. It's one of the only guarantees I know. Because you love me. I gave you my whole heart and it's never once been hurt by you. Only healed.

Stiles: *actually crying*

Derek: *still with a goofy smile* I'm gonna marry you one day. I will.

Stiles: *can barely talk* Lucky me

Derek: *fervently shaking his head* Nope. Trust me I'm the lucky one.

[doodle-pops]

Married Life With Feanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin Would Include…

Request: Hi, can I request some group fluffy headcanons for Feanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin with asexual!reader? Like about their domestic life. I like to imagine they would give reader some extra care and make them feel valid and loved, and when someone tries to stick their nose into their relationship, they just be like: "Yeah, me and my partner don't have bodily union, but we're bonded by stars, so get lost". Thanks in advance (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

A/N: Always a pleasure to answer your requests. Enjoy!

Synopsis: What your married life with them as an asexual person would entail.

Masterlist | Navigation

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Fëanor

➽ Fëanor, being Fëanor, does not give a damn about what others think of your relationship. In fact, he thrives on the scandal it causes amongst the more traditional elves.

➽ If anyone so much as dares to comment on the lack of physical intimacy between you two, he scoffs, waves a dismissive hand, and says something like, “What, you thought I, Curufinwë Fëanáro, needed to do what every other lovesick fool does? I am bonded beyond flesh. And if you don’t understand that, I won’t waste my breath explaining it to you.”

➽ He is extremely protective of your comfort. If someone is prying or making you feel invalid, he will eviscerate them with words alone. “Your ignorance wounds me,” he’d say in a tone so dry that it leaves the offender squirming. “And here I thought the Eldar were supposed to be enlightened.”

➽ You are the only one allowed to touch his hair without protest. The sight of you braiding it is enough to make his sons do double takes because their father, the very Fëanor, sits still and lets you work without a single complaint. If you ever want yours braided in return, he takes to the task with precision—his fingers work like a master jeweller, and he will not accept anything less than perfection.

➽ If you’re feeling insecure about your identity, he brings you into his forge and makes you something to remind you of your worth. A Silmaril of your own, set with a stone that captures the first light of Telperion and Laurelin. “No one questions the worth of the Silmarils,” he murmurs as he fastens it around your neck. “And you are far rarer, far more precious. So do not let lesser minds make you doubt.”

➽ When the two of you sit together, he always ends up with an arm slung around your shoulders or your fingers intertwined with his. It’s never possessive—just a quiet reminder that you belong to each other. He likes to rest his forehead against yours sometimes, eyes closed, breathing in your presence. “This,” he says softly, “is enough.”

➽ Maedhros and Maglor have learned not to comment on your relationship because every time they do, Fëanor launches into a dramatic speech about how the two of you share a connection beyond mere physicality, an eternal bond forged in the core of Arda itself, something that transcends mere bodily desires. Eventually, his sons stop bringing it up because he won’t shut up.

➽ If he catches anyone looking down on you for your sexuality, he leans in and murmurs in a deceptively friendly tone, “If you insult my beloved, you insult me. And you would not dare to insult me, would you?” Cue the offending party quickly finding somewhere else to be.

➽ He has a terrible habit of stealing your clothes when they’re left unattended. You’ll come into your shared space to find him wearing your outer robe like a lordly cloak, completely unbothered by the fact that it’s clearly not his. “It smells like you,” he says with a shrug. “And I happen to like that.”

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Fingolfin

➽ Unwavering in his devotion, and when he loves, he loves with his whole being. He understands you, accepts you, and never lets you feel less than cherished. Whenever someone questions your relationship, he just raises an eyebrow and says in his calm, unshakable voice, “What I have with my beloved is eternal. It does not need to be explained.”

➽ He is an incredibly attentive partner. He notices when you’re overwhelmed, when you need space, when you need reassurance. If you ever doubt your worth, he takes your hands in his and presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “You are enough,” he tells you. “Always.”

➽ If someone tries to insist that your love is somehow ‘incomplete’ without physical intimacy, Fingolfin gives them a look so cold that they immediately regret opening their mouth. “And who,” he asks, voice laced with steel, “gave you the authority to define love?”

➽ He enjoys quiet domestic moments. Sitting beside you as he polishes his armour, reading together beneath the trees, walking hand in hand through the city—these are the things he treasures. Sometimes, he just gazes at you with a small, private smile, as if he still cannot quite believe you chose him.

➽ His siblings have very different reactions to your relationship. Fëanor, predictably, scoffs at the idea of his half-brother finding happiness but secretly respects how fiercely Fingolfin defends your bond. Finarfin, ever the peacekeeper, is simply delighted to see you both happy. “True love is rare,” he tells you one day with a warm smile. “Never let anyone tell you it must look a certain way.”

➽ Whenever you sit in court beside him, he unconsciously seeks you out, his hand resting lightly on yours, a subtle anchor in the storm of politics. Even in the most heated debates, his touch remains grounding and comforting.

➽ When he prepares for battle, he always ensures you have something of his—perhaps a finely wrought bracelet, a token of his love. “I will return to you,” he vows, fingers brushing against yours. “And should I fall, know that I have loved you beyond all reckoning.”

➽ He is a surprisingly good cook, but only for you. If one of his soldiers asks for a meal, they get standard fare. If you ask? He’s suddenly making a feast fit for a king. “Favouritism?” he echoes, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Finarfin

➽ He is utterly devoted to making sure you always feel loved and validated. He is patient, understanding, and the first to shut down any nonsense about what a relationship should look like. “Love is not measured by the expectations of others,” he says simply. “It is measured by what we build together.”

➽ He is incredibly gentle with you. If you ever feel overwhelmed, he simply pulls you into his arms and lets you lean against him, no words needed. His presence alone is a comfort, warm and steadfast.

➽ He enjoys creating things for you—whether it’s intricate jewellery, embroidered garments, or even composing a song that captures the depths of your bond. “It is not the work of a great minstrel,” he says with a soft smile, “but it is yours, and that is enough.”

➽ Whenever someone pries into your relationship, he doesn’t get angry. He just tilts his head, gives them a polite but firm look, and says, “I fail to see how this is your concern.” Somehow, that is more effective than any argument.

➽ If you ever feel insecure about your identity, he reassures you with quiet conviction. “You are as the Valar made you,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “And who am I to question their wisdom?”

➽ He enjoys domestic routines with you—sharing meals, walking through the gardens, reading together in companionable silence. These small moments mean everything to him.

➽ His children adore you. Even if they don’t always understand your perspective at first, they respect you deeply. Galadriel and Finrod in particular are protective of you, and anyone who dares to mock your relationship will find themselves on the receiving end of Galadriel’s sharp tongue.

➽ When he speaks about you, there is always warmth in his voice, a quiet reverence. “My love,” he says one evening as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “the world may not always understand us, but I need only your understanding. That is all that matters.

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[shuenkio]

Secret Secret — ࣪𖤐 승민 .ᐟ

۫ ꣑ৎ Synopsis: They say, as a gay, never fall for the straight guy who’s affectionate and kind. But what happens when the straight guy finds himself falling for you instead?

۫ ꣑ৎ Paring: Seungmin x m!reader

۫ ꣑ৎ Genre: Fluff. ۫ ꣑ৎ Cw: none.

۫ ꣑ৎ non proof read ۫ ꣑ৎ Eng is not my 1st

۫ ꣑ৎ This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

"Here!" He grabs your palm, place a chocolate bar all of the sudden. Causing you to furrow your brows, bewildered the scene.

"But what for?" You asked, still not recognizing his intentions yet. Today was Valentine's day, where everyone gave gifts or received them, and also the day of confessing their feelings to their loved ones you get it. But one thing that was odd was, Seungmin, the excellent and attractive employee in the company was the one who gave you, out all of the other girls, who had a big fat crush on him yet he chose you instead? Should you be happy or sad?

"idiot, it's Valentine day aigoo" the taller scoffed a heavy sigh before walk off, shove his hands back into his pocket act as if this never happened. You scratch the back of your head, unable to react to such a situation since never in your life receive gifts on Valentine's day.

"....what?" Once Seungmin is gone, all your co-workers beside you suddenly circling around like flies, some scream while some are even more excited than you. Who wouldn't when is THE Kim Seungmin, the nonchalantly blunted guy, out of the blue giving you a gift out of everyone, this should be displayed in the museum for real.

"Yaaaa M/N aren't you so lucky to get such gift??" Once say.

"UGH what did you do last live to live in my dream right now!!" Twice say.

"Gosh I better not hear you reject him, or Imma drowning you in this can" thrice say.

"reject? What reject, this is just a small gift right?" Keeping it low, there's no way he was y'know... Into guy? How is it possible if that was such an outright way to ask you out. Groaning was heard once you responded. Ever since you've been working here for god knows how long together with Seungmin, the latter will always find his way to take care of m/n secretly, giving rides home, act of service, helping m/n when he's struggling and gosh, there's so many. However, you don't think that kind of way, as a hopeless romantic guy from all the way childhood to this age now, you realized that you'll never find love since you're a homosexual. Never experience the high school love nor any kind of relationship ever. So when somebody is acting this way, you thought it was normal, isn't it?

"how dumb are you, Don't you notice how he acts when it comes to you ? You're the favoritesm" once say.

"true true, we get nothing during the new years eve but you got a fucking Rolex watch from him" twice say.

"m/n listen to us alright? If you're not certain about him, go ask him if it was worth the try, that man is not the straight forward one— we know how you feel when this happened but think Abt it, it has been a year now— but if you don't do anything, don't say we don't spare mercy, anything is possible just to make you say one word" thrice say.

Their advice lingers on your head. Face resting on your palm, pouting. Tskk it's actually a pretty serious thing for them and you tho, looking back to all the memories it sounds like you are his favorite indeed, as the time goes on it's far more than his favorite person.

"fine okay... I'll ask him this evening, I have dinner with him though" you stated, and focus on finishing your work. While your co-workers went back to their place with a happy grin spread across their face.

"kiss me~ don't say no—"

A sleek, jet-black luxury car rolled to a stop right outside the building, its polished body reflecting the dim lights in a way that made it look almost too perfect to be real. The engine gave a soft hum, like a low purr, almost too smooth to be true.

Then, the door opened—wide, welcoming. Like it was waiting for you.

For a second, you stood there, blinking. Was this really happening? This was getting a little too real, like something straight out of a movie.

You snapped out of it, stepping into the car with a mix of hesitation and something else—you weren’t entirely sure. The leather seat felt too soft, the smell of clean luxury wrapping around you. It was like you were in a different world, one where all of this was normal, and you weren’t still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

You reached for the seatbelt, your fingers a little more unsteady than they should’ve been. As you finally settled in, you glanced at Seungmin.

His face was relaxed, eyes forward, fingers steady on the steering wheel—but there was that smirk at the corner of his mouth. That little smirk that made everything too damn real.

"All set?" he asked, his voice smooth and casual, like this wasn’t completely out of place.

Before you could even answer, the engine roared to life beneath you. The car glided forward, the world outside blurring as you were pulled deeper into whatever this was—whatever he was.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at Seungmin, his eyes just flicking toward you for a second, that smirk still there, as if he knew exactly what was running through your mind.Yeah. You were definitely in trouble now.

( in third pov )

The soft hum of conversation filled the air as M/N and Seungmin stepped into the restaurant. The warm glow of fairy lights draped across the ceiling cast a golden hue over the Valentine’s-themed decor—roses in crystal vases, flickering candles, and a breathtaking view of the ocean stretching beyond the glass windows. The faint scent of saltwater mixed with the aroma of fresh pasta and wine. It was undeniably romantic. Too romantic.

M/N swallowed, eyes darting around. It wasn’t that he minded being here with Seungmin, but something about the atmosphere made his chest feel a little tight, his heart just a little too aware. And maybe—just maybe—it had to do with the nagging feeling creeping up on him lately.

Seungmin strolled up to the reception desk, hands in pockets, his usual composed demeanor unreadable. The receptionist, a cheerful woman with a clipboard, greeted them with a bright smile.

"Ah, welcome! Table for two? Are you a couple?"

M/N immediately parted his lips to say No, but before the word could form, Seungmin, ever so casual, nodded and replied, "Yes."

The receptionist beamed.

"Oh, wonderful! Happy Valentine’s Day! You’ll be getting our couple’s discount!"

M/N blinked, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. Excuse me?

Seungmin, on the other hand, remained perfectly unbothered, only lifting a brow at M/N as if to say, What? It’s a discount.

M/N’s mind spiraled in a dozen different directions. Was it just for the sake of the discount? Or was this something else? Something that confirmed that inkling feeling he’d been trying to ignore for weeks?

Still slightly dazed, he followed Seungmin to their table near the floor-to-ceiling window. The restaurant was nestled on a cliffside, giving them an uninterrupted view of the sea. The waves shimmered under the soft glow of the moon, the distant city lights twinkling against the horizon. It was the kind of place lovers would dine at, whispering sweet nothings over candlelit dinners.

And here M/N was, sitting across from Seungmin—Seungmin, who was all nonchalance, leaning back against the seat, sipping water like he hadn’t just thrown M/N’s entire world off its axis.

The meal went by in a blur, M/N hyper-aware of every brush of movement, every fleeting glance. Seungmin, of course, was the same as always, his aloof expression unreadable, his voice carrying that low, effortless ease. And M/N? M/N felt like he was malfunctioning internally.

Then, just as M/N thought he was in the clear, Seungmin casually slid something across the table.

A box. Wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

M/N stared at it. Then at Seungmin. Then back at the box.

"...What’s this?" His voice came out quieter than intended.

Seungmin tilted his head slightly. "A gift."

M/N hesitated. He could already feel the heat creeping up his neck, fingers trembling slightly as he tugged at the ribbon. The box opened with a soft click—inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate silver bracelet. The charm attached to it was subtle, but M/N recognized the design instantly. It was something he had offhandedly admired months ago while window shopping—something he hadn’t even realized Seungmin had noticed.

M/N’s breath hitched.

His chest felt tight again, but for an entirely different reason.

"...Do you like it?" Seungmin asked, tone as indifferent as ever, but his eyes—those deep, steady eyes—held something softer. Something patient.

M/N swallowed hard, nodding, his voice refusing to work.

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. And maybe it was the dim lighting, maybe it was the leftover adrenaline from earlier, or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that everything was finally making sense.

M/N clenched his fists under the table, gathering every ounce of courage he had.

"...Do you," he exhaled slowly, pulse hammering, "like me?"

Seungmin didn’t blink. Didn’t even hesitate.

He leaned back, exuding that same effortless calm, and said, "I thought that was obvious."

M/N’s heart stopped.

And just like that, everything he had been trying to ignore crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Seungmin watched as M/N sat there, frozen, his fingers twitching slightly against the table. His lips parted like he wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came out. His wide eyes, the way his breath hitched, the sheer disaster of emotions playing out on his face—Seungmin almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

With a sigh, Seungmin leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. "You know," he started, voice even, "I figured you’d be like this."

M/N finally blinked, snapping out of whatever internal meltdown he was going through. "...Like what?"

Seungmin tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Hopeless," he said bluntly. "A hopeless romantic who’s spent his whole life thinking love was something out of reach just because you’ve never had it before." He exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against the table. "And yeah, I knew you’d overthink this. But honestly? I don’t care."

M/N stiffened, his breath caught in his throat. "You—"

"I don’t care," Seungmin repeated, this time with a slow, deliberate shrug. "Because I already like you." His gaze was steady, unwavering. "And there’s nothing you can do about that."

M/N’s chest tightened.

Seungmin watched him, as if waiting, as if knowing exactly what was running through his mind. Then, with that same lazy, deadpan tone, he added, "So? What now? You gonna run away? Or are you finally gonna admit you like me back?"

M/N felt his heart lurch. He swallowed thickly, mind racing.

And then, finally, finally, he let out a breath and muttered, "...Fine." His voice was quiet, but firm. "Yes."

Seungmin smirked, like he had just won some long-awaited game. He lifted his glass, taking a sip of water, before setting it down with a soft clink.

"Yeah," he said, exhaling like this was nothing new. "Thought so."

M/N groaned, slumping against the table. He was so done for.

A/n: Guy guess what? I'm doing this experiment with Seungmin y'all!! I'm kicking my feet, giggling, & ate some wall while writing this 😋 my favorite so far— I'd love some comments, like really!!! Should I continue or whatever.

Funtalk: I can't help but to post this in advance, because valentines are 4 more days and I can't wait to see y'all reaction, so yeah...