#with a lover sprinkled in the middle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illyrianbitch · 3 months

Text

And I'm Thinking About Your Lips — Part Two

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: After sleeping together, you and Cassian are wrestling with what it means for your friendship--- leading you both to misreading everything.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT! best friends to lovers. literally just two big dummies in love, lots of miscommunication (tbh lack thereof), awkward moments, a sprinkle of sex! lovey dovey hot sex!

Word Count: 13k

This is part two of this fic, but can be read as a stand-alone :)

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The room was bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of the day, tendrils of morning light peeking through your sheer curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft brightness that now enveloped your room. You smiled to yourself, a heat rising to your cheeks as memories of the night prior began flooding through your mind, melting into you like warm honey. Cassian’s scent clung onto the sheets wrapped around you, evoking a warm, fluttering sensation in your chest. You inhaled deeply, delighting in the comforting smell, in the warmth it brought to your body.

You slept with Cassian. You slept with Cassian. You fucked Cassian.

You pulled your sheets closer to yourself, an anticipation rising in your chest. There was a childlike excitement in your stomach, a giddiness that made your cheeks hurt from your smile. You let out a small breath, preparing yourself to turn over and face Cassian next to you, to revel in the intimacy of the morning after. You two needed to talk, of course, to discuss the new boundaries between you— to discuss what you even were.

But as you shifted your weight, your smile dropped instantly. You stared at the empty spot next to you, the sheets wrinkled with an impression that almost made out Cassian’s form. Your heart sank like a stone in your chest, heavy with a weight of disappointment. You sat up right, scooting backwards to rest your back against the headboard. Your hand held your sheets to your chest, covering your nude form. You let out a deep sigh, a sadness raking through your body in waves. Of course he was gone.

You chastised yourself for feeling so upset, for feeling so bothered. You knew better. This was Cassian, after all. An illyrian known for a good fuck– a great fuck. In fact, the rumors hadn’t done him justice. You always knew, deep down, that Cassian would be great in bed. There were too many females preaching about his skills, too many fawning over him for it all to be lies, to be over exaggerated. At one point, Mor had admitted that it was great– for the standards that she held him at. Sex with females was much more her speed, she had told you, but Cassian wasn’t too bad, even given the circumstances. At the time, the words never bothered you. But now, thinking back on them, you felt an envious irritation prickle at your skin.

A part of you had hoped that this was different– that you were different. When he fell asleep next to you, you took it as a sign. Cassian almost never stayed the night with the women he fucked. You'd caught him before, coming home in the dead of night, a grin on his face, reeking of sex. The next morning he’d make some comment about it, tell you about his recent conquest– how flexible they were, how much they wanted him, how they said his name like he was a God. You always rolled your eyes, called him a pig, made fun of him. But now things were different. You were the female who wanted him so badly, the female that had moaned his name like he was a God.

Had he left in the middle of the night and you’d failed to notice? Escaped your room and went back to his? Or was it early in the morning when he was hit with the sudden realization of what he had done? A sudden feeling of regret that grew arms and hauled him out of bed? He was probably thinking exactly what you were. It was a mistake.

A glorious mistake. Repeated six times. So, six mistakes. Six glorious mistakes. But mistakes nonetheless.

A deep sense of embarrassment filled you as you recalled the things you’d done the night prior, the things you'd said in a lustful haze. The memories were still fresh in your mind– you could feel the trace of Cassian's touch on your skin, the way his mouth felt on you, the way he had rolled his hips while inside you. You felt queasy now– dirty, almost.

You lowered your gaze to where your hand clutched your soft sheets against your body. Instantly, you let out another pained sigh. Scattered across your chest were love bites Cassian had left behind– each dark and loud in their appearance. You stared at them with a frown.

In the heat of the moment, you welcomed his marks, reveled in the passion they showed, enjoyed the idea of being marked as his. But now, in the light of day, they served as something entirely different– marks of bad decisions, reminders you’d have to face until they faded. Considering how prominent they were, how many were spread out around your body, you knew it would be a while until you were free of them.

You slumped further into your bed, a heavy weight settling over your shoulders. With a resigned sigh, you let your head fall back against the headboard, the impact of it against the wood echoing softly in the room.

Fuck.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cassian had forgotten the plans he’d made with Azriel– a meeting to review recent findings, to plan for future missions. He was already running late by the time he had woken up, the sunshine filtering in your room too bright for it to be early morning, the time he had agreed to meet Az. His body was relaxed in a way it had never been before. He supposed that would be expected after having the best sex of his life– with… his best friend? He tried not to overthink it. Instead, he had rolled over, taking in your presence with a smile.

He spent minutes looking at you, admiring the way that you slept, the peaceful rise of your chest as you breathed— he’d done his best to avoid staring at your naked form, the way your nipples perked in the morning air. He failed severely. How could he not appreciate them? Appreciate the rest of your body? The very thing he was lucky enough to touch, lucky enough to have pleasured.

It took every ounce of his will to remove himself from your bed, to keep himself from leaning over and embracing you, waking you up with a kiss. Every bone in his body ached for him to be intertwined with you again. So, in order to leave he had to at least touch you once. Tenderly, he had leaned over your sleeping figure, softly bringing the knuckles of his fingers across your cheek.

He wanted to leave a note, leave something for you to wake up to. He searched for minutes, but your bedroom offered him no options. For a female who collected many things, your ‘trinkets’ as you liked to call them, you failed to own the one thing he needed– a pen.

But he didn’t let him bother him too much. You knew him well enough to assume he’d left with good reason. And he was confident that you’d come find him to talk when you awoke. The thought of it alone made him feel giddy, made him excited in a way that traveled to both his heart and his cock at the same time. Such a strange feeling. He never thought the two would be so connected.

He couldn’t focus all morning, none of Azriel’s words registering in his mind. His thoughts were all surrounding you. The way you smelled, the way you felt, how beautiful you looked when he fucked you, how beautiful you looked when you slept. Azriel had gotten tired of him, irritated at his lack of attention. With an eye roll he had sent Cassian on his way— and Cass had made a beeline for you.

He hadn’t expected to run into you immediately as he entered the hallway. But he accepted the timing gratefully, taking you in with a smile. A warmth fluttered in his chest as he walked towards you.

“Cassian,” you breathed out, a small smile finding its way onto your lips.

Cassian frowned at the use of his full name falling from your lips in a way that felt so stiff, so unnatural. He swiftly recovered, meeting your smile with one of his own. His eyes shamelessly scanned you as you stood before him, causing a heat rise to your cheeks. Your heartbeat quickened, the sound echoing in your ears as you fought to regain your composure. Clearing your throat, you drew his attention back to your face.

"Mornin'," Cassian greeted, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he looked at you. His wings flared out behind him, extended comfortably and proud. You ran your eyes along their outlines.

"Morning," you managed to reply, your voice coming out strained and uneven. You instinctively pulled your hands to the high neckline of your dress, tugging at the material in a nervous attempt to draw it closer to you.

Cassian's grin faltered for just a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find an explanation for your movements, for how you stood before him– uneased, almost awkward. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"How did you slee—"

"—Did you have a good—"

Your voices overlapped, the words tumbling out in a jumble of awkwardness. Cassian's eyebrows lifted in amusement, a small smirk now playing at the corners of his lips. Your laughter bubbled up nervously as you met his gaze with a small, uncertain smile.

"You first," you said, as you gestured towards him with a hesitant hand.

Cassian's smirk softened, a small breath of amusement escaping him in the form of a gentle laugh. He observed you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. “Did you have a good night?”

The images manifested in your mind quicker than you could process, the sound of his voice echoing in your head.

I could feast on this beautiful pussy forever, you know that?

I wish I could be here forever.

Stay buried inside of your cunt. Fuck you like this for the rest of my life.

You blinked away the flurry of thoughts, feeling your stomach clench in an uncomfortable knot. A rush of heat flooded your already tinted cheeks. Hastily, you tried to push the images away– your new feelings of arousal too. You only hoped Cassian couldn’t tell, that he couldn’t smell it.

"Uh, yeah... yeah I did. Did you?"

Cass picked up on the way you stumbled over your words, on the uncertain cadence in which they were spoken. But he decided against acknowledging it. You seemed to be happy last night, content with him. So, perhaps, this was how you always were after sex. He’d never seen this side of you, never seen you right after you’d fucked someone, after someone had fucked you. The thought eased some of his anxiety. This was a natural response for you, he affirmed, all he needed to do was play it cool and casual. You’d set the pace.

"Oh, yeah. I did," Cassian replied, his tone lowering as a gentle smile played at the corners of his lips. His hazel eyes seemed to soften, their usual warmth taking on a golden hue that made them glimmer in the light. You felt a flutter in your chest, an inexplicable pull towards him that made it hard to tear your gaze away.

You nodded awkwardly, managing a small, strained smile. "Cool," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You found yourself now avoiding his gaze, looking anywhere but his face

"Cool," he repeated, his tone lighter than yours, laced with amusement. You could hear the smile in his voice, could picture it without even looking at him. His nonchalant demeanor was almost disarming, and you found yourself glancing up at him, meeting his gaze without intending to.

There he was, looking back at you with an easy smile, his eyes warm and inviting. Your face softened and you felt a flutter in your chest, a warmth spreading throughout your body like a gentle wave.

“Hey, so-” Cassian reached his hand forward, moving to place it on your arm. You quickly deflected the movement, taking a step backwards as you threw a thumb over your shoulder.

“I, uh, I actually have to go,” you stammered, your voice hurried as you searched for an excuse. “I’m meeting Fey and Mor for breakfast. Can't be late.”

You offered a small apologetic smile before turning on your heel and disappearing around the corner, leaving Cassian standing alone in the hallway. Cassian's expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features as he watched you retreat. He felt his wings slump slightly behind him as a frown creased in his brow. You had left– no, fled– in the same direction you were coming from.

His hand hovered in the air for a moment, as if suspended in the space where you had stood. He looked down at his hand, then back to the spot where you had disappeared around the corner before letting it slowly fall back to his side.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Mor was incredibly hung over when you showed up at her apartment, frantically knocking like your life depended on it. She stumbled to the door, her hair disheveled and her eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep.

You rushed inside without a word, looking at her with a face of exasperation. Mor blinked blearily at you, trying to process the world around her, one that was moving faster than her brain could handle. “What's going on?" she asked, her voice muffled by a yawn.

You stared at Mor for a moment. When you opened your mouth to respond, no words came out. You didn’t know where to start– didn’t even know what you wanted to tell her. How do you explain that you’ve completely humiliated yourself? That there's a chance you’ve messed up your friendship with Cassian? With a frustrated groan, you turned away and walked to her couch, slumping down onto it with a defeated sigh.

It took 15 minutes for Feyre to show up, her footsteps echoing as Mor opened the door. She rushed in, concern etched on her face as she peeled off her coat.

"I rushed over as soon as I could. What was the big dea—" Feyre's words trailed off as her eyes fell upon you, sprawled on your back on the couch, your groans muffled by the pillow you clutched tightly to your face. Feyre looked over to the blonde next to her.

"She fucked Cassian," Mor stated blankly, taking a sip of the warm liquid in her cup– tea, from what Feyre could smell. Something to help with Mor’s evident hangover– another thing Feyre could smell.

Feyre's eyes widened in surprise as she let out a small gasp. Then, her face transformed into one of slight amusement. "Took long enough."

Mor swallowed down her tea, nodding in agreement before clearing her throat. "So either it went really good or really bad.” She exchanged a meaningful look with Feyre. "I haven't been able to tell which it is yet.”

Feyre nodded in understanding, her expression softening as she walked over to where you lay, sitting on the ground beside the couch. As Mor settled into a chair across from you, Feyre leaned forward, resting her arms on the cushions to get your attention. "Hey, Y/n," she said, her voice ringing softly in your ears. "Why don’t we move this pillow away."

You slowly lowered the pillow from your face, turning to the side to meet Feyre's gaze as she said, “Well, someone looks extra beautiful today.”

You stared at her with an unamused face. "I'm so absolutely mortified," you mumbled, a frown forming on your lips.

Pushing yourself upright on the couch, you tossed a glance at both Mor and Feyre. They looked at you, quiet and expecting, eyebrows raised slightly. With a deep breath, you let it all spill out. You walked them through the night at Ritas, the conversation when you came home, details about your night with Cass, the sex, and how you had woken up to an empty bed.

"And then when I saw him, he was so casual, so nonchalant about it," you explained, frustration lacing your words. "I half expected him to give me a fist bump and call me dude."��

You didn't miss the way Mor choked on her drink, a small sound escaping her lips that almost resembled a laugh. Feyre did her best to maintain her composure, her lips pressed tightly together. But her eyes, sparkling with suppressed laughter, gave her away. In all fairness, you would be laughing too. In fact, a part of you, deep down, wanted to. It all seemed so absurd. A few months ago, the idea of being intimate with Cassian would have been something so unrealistic.

"Well, this is Cassian," Feyre began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. “He’s….”

She looked towards Mor for help. The blonde held her gaze for a minute, and then spoke, "Oblivious," she supplied, her tone matter-of-fact. "Honestly, I don't understand how he talks to women," Mor continued, "He's horrible at it. Pretty privilege gets you things, I swear-"

Feyre's expression shifted to one of quiet reprimand. "Mor."

“No, she's right," you admitted with a sigh, tapping Feyre’s hand lightly. "He is pretty bad. He gets away with it because he's hot. And he's good in bed... which I now know." Another groan escaped you as you sank back further against the couch.

You understood now why decision making under any drug, under any hazes, was heavily frowned upon. Your eagerness to bed your best friend, the lustful trance you were in, both drunk on your own arousals, it left you in a mess. You cringed at the embarrassment that still filled you. How were you supposed to be normal, now? Cassian’s smell still filled your nose, the mere thought of him made your core clench. Seeing him made you feel feral. And now, you had to face him casually— knowing he had seen you in such a vulnerable position; that he had seen you completely naked, moaning underneath him. The image sent a blush up your neck.

"If he wants to move on from it, okay," you said, "But I don't know how to be normal around him. How do people do this?"

“What?” Mor asked, “Have casual sex?”

“No. I love casual sex,” you said. Even though you’d never finished before Cassian. “But sex with your best friend? Not casual.”

She shrugged. “Depends on the best friend, really.”

You shot her a look.

“Sorry, not helping.” She lifted a hand up in surrender. “Got it.”

Feyre shifted beside you, her gaze gentle as she placed her hand on top of yours. "Look, it doesn't have to be a big deal if you don't want it to be," she reassured you.

You nodded, appreciating her attempt to ease your anxiety. You knew this wasn’t that big of a deal, at least not to everyone around you. But you were stressed. Your friendship with Cassian was something that you treasured dearly. You knew him better than you knew yourself. He was home. The thought that your bond, the relationship you had formed over centuries, could have been changed by one night of flimsy thinking— it made you worry.

"I know,” you replied. “But I don't know how to even look at him..." Your voice trailed off as you cringed inwardly. "Like, I said things..."

Mor and Feyre exchanged a puzzled glance before turning their attention back to you. Feyre furrowed her brow, leaning in closer to you. "What... what things?"

You couldn't help but feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you, your cheeks flushing at the thought of last night. How had you gone from so confident to so shy now, shy at your own memories, at your own words?

Mark me.

I’m yours.

Fuck me like I'm yours.

With a clearing of your throat, you attempted to regain your composure, trying your best to act natural as you avoided meeting their eyes.

“Just things I can't look him in the face knowing that he heard," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your gaze remained fixed on your hands, fidgeting with your nails in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from their gazes.

“Gods, Y/n,” Mor started, “What kinda stuff are you into?"

You snapped your head up to meet her gaze, a mixture of shock and disbelief evident on your face. "Not like that, Mor!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with indignation. The blush on your cheeks deepened. "Just very... intimate things," you clarified quickly.

You watched as Mor and Feyre shared another look.

"Hey, stop that," you interjected, pointing a finger between them.

Feyre raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Hmm? Stop what?"

You narrowed your eyes. “The looks.”

Again, Feyre glanced over at Mor– a movement so swift you nearly missed it.

"That! Stop that," you insisted.

They both let out sighs, small smiles playing on their lips.

"Y/n,” Mor said, “I think you're stressed because it's only been like, what? 12 hours?”

You gave a slight nod. She smiled in response, leaning forward in her chair slightly. “I'm sure it'll go away in a few days.”

Feyre chimed in, her voice equally as comforting. "If that's what you want, of course," she added.

You nodded to yourself, taking in their words. Maybe they were right. You were in a shock system, your emotions were all over the place. Everything would settle soon. You could handle a few days. A few days to let it all leave your system, a few days to fall back into the old rhythm between you and Cassian. Things would be back to normal within a week, you told yourself, nothing to worry about.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cassian had begun to realize that he had misread the situation entirely.

You were distant, more so than he’d ever experienced. At first, he wrote it off as a busy schedule. Even before you two had slept together, your schedules were hectic, causing your time together to be few and far between. But then he started observing you more, started noticing the way that you acted.

Cass was a physical male, he knew this. He loved to be around other people, loved to touch those around him— in both platonic and sexual ways, depending on the audience. So when you started to doge his cheek kisses, started to duck under the hand he’d move to wrap around your shoulder, he’d taken note.

It hit him last night, when everyone was gathered and sitting around the living room, talking about recent events. The plan was to go over any looming threats, collectively share all the information you had. When you arrived, everyone was already seated. You had stilled, your eyes falling on Cassian, and then on the empty space next him. It felt like hours that he watched you stand there, glancing between him and the cushion.

He fixed his position, adjusting his wings to make space for you, for them to fall behind you as you placed your head on his shoulder. But the movement never came, his shoulder remaining cold and untouched. Instead, you sat down timidly, pushing yourself further into the other end of the couch, leaning away from him.

The act, or the lack of it, led him to one conclusion: you regretted that night together. It made so much sense now, in his tired mind. The avoidance, the inability to even touch him, to be in the same room as him. It reeked of regret. How had he not realized sooner?

He felt a sense of guilt wash through him. You were supposed to be best friends– you were best friends. How had he missed such obvious signs? Cassian deflated.

Had he made you uncomfortable? With how open he’d been with you? His mind raced with thoughts. If he was a selfish male– which, often, he could be– he would start the conversation with you. He would confess to you that he thought about that night more often than he’d care to admit, that he wanted to repeat it every night– for the rest of his life, even. But Cassian wasn’t selfish when it came to one thing; he wasn’t selfish when it came to you. So he was faced with a new situation now, one he didn’t know how to navigate, one he couldn’t rely on battle strategies to overcome. And he was stuck. Completely and utterly stuck.

How could he possibly go back to normal? How could he return to the male he was before– the one who had never heard your sounds of ecstasy, one who had never felt you wrapped around him?

Sure, he was a strong male, able to withstand any torture, any battle— but he couldn’t withstand you. Couldn’t ignore the sweetness of your smell, the flutter in his chest that came to life when you laughed. He wanted to ignore it, oh how desperately he wanted to ignore it, but he couldn't. He couldn’t ignore it when images of you overtook his mind, couldn’t ignore it when he saw you everytime he closed his eyes, that he heard your whimpers in his sleep, heard the way you chanted his name like a prayer. He didn’t think he had it in him.

But he supposed he had to try. Because it was you.

And for you, he’d do anything. Even if that meant never speaking of the roaring in his heart.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You usually loved family brunches, as chaotic and loud as they could be.

But you weren’t looking forward to today.

Things with Cassian were still strange. You were willing to admit that they’d gotten slightly better, that now you could look at him without immediately remembering how his tongue felt on you. Before, it was seconds before you’d fall into a dream state, imagining yourself back in your bed with him a week prior. Now, it took a couple of minutes. You considered it progress. You could avoid him throughout the house, tiptoe around his door, keep note of his schedule— but interaction within a family meal was hard to bypass.

It had been a few days now, but if Cassian wasn’t going to mention anything, neither were you.

He hadn’t talked to you, couldn’t even look at you without clearing his throat awkwardly, without looking away. Had it been bad for him? All the thinking you’d done over it, mulling over every aspect, had left you reeling. You were exhausted– and incredibly frustrated. Sexually.

You stared at the table in front of you, eyes scanning each seat. Seating arrangements were never something explicitly discussed in your family, but the positions usually stayed the same, an unspoken order to how everyone naturally found their places around the table.

You always sat with Cassian and Azriel, sandwiched between them as their conversations veered into arguments over the most trivial matters—exchanges you explained as males being males. Big, illyrian babies. You always took the opportunity to bother Cass, siding with whatever Azriel’s view was just to see the mock offense play out on his face. He always gasped in disbelief, accusing you of lying, insisting that you actually agreed with him because you both thought the same about everything. Even though you always dismissed his words with a smile and a wave of your hand, he was always right. You did think the same– about everything. Until now.

Mor usually sat next to Amren, the pair drinking wine together while they traded offhanded comments about the rest of you. And then, of course, there was Rhysand and Feyre. Their chairs were always positioned so close together that it was almost as if they were connected, Rhysand's hand often finding its place intertwined with Feyre's— or when they weren't being subtle, resting possessively on her thigh.

Your eyes scanned over the empty seats at the table. Mor and Cassian had yet to sit down, leaving 3 empty seats: two next to Azriel, and one next to Amren– across the table. You took a deep breath. It was probably in everyone's best interest that you sat away from Cass.

You didn't want to make things awkward, didn't want him to lean in for conversation only to be hit with the overwhelming scent of your arousal. The last thing you wanted was to force him to pretend he didn't notice, to watch him struggle to act normal while you were clearly fawning over him. It would be mortifying– it had been mortifying. You knew Cassian would never want to make you feel uncomfortable, but it would put him in a strange position as someone who didn't see you in that way, someone who was trying to move on.

You decided it was best to wait it out a little longer before you could be around him properly again, give yourself time to regain control over your emotion. Until then, you’d keep your distance, avoiding situations that might intensify your feelings.

With a slight hesitation, you made your way towards the seat next to Amren, oblivious to Cassian's presence as he emerged from the kitchen. His familiar scent washed over you like a tidal wave, enveloping your senses in a way that had you melting– you feared that your legs would turn to jelly, that you would fall to the floor in front of him. Your grip on your plate tightened instinctively.

You looked up at Cass, meeting his gaze directly. Beautiful, beautiful hazel eyes peered down at you. They widened a fraction, his mouth slightly parting. You managed to give him a small smile, slightly breathless as your stomach tied itself into knots. You attempted to sidestep him, but he mirrored your movements, resulting in a clumsy dance of trying to avoid collision. With each step, you found yourselves inadvertently blocking each other's path once more, creating a scene that you knew would be comical had you not been the one stuck in it.

"Oh, sorry, I—" you started, your words interrupted by Cassian's chuckle of amusement. His laughter caused a flutter in your heart, a small smile making its way onto your face as a blush rose to your cheeks

With a casual gesture, he lifted his hand and plate high above, and you quickly ducked underneath, a wave of relief rolling through you. Scrambling over to Amren's side, you felt the weight of eyes on you, but you didn’t dare to look up, didn’t dare to see whose gaze it was. The last thing you wanted was to risk catching Cassian's eyes again.

As you settled into your seat, you focused on maintaining your composure, ensuring that no one else could sense—or The Mother forbid, smell—the emotions you were feeling: arousal, attraction… and something else. Something sweeter.

You turned your head to the side, meeting Amren’s gaze, her expression unreadable save for a raised eyebrow. With a soft murmur, you muttered, "Don't start.”

To your surprise, Amren's lips curved ever so slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. She didn't say anything in response, opting instead to take a leisurely sip from the crimson liquid in her cup.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cassian was surprised when you’d shown up to training, clad in your fighting leathers and a small smile on your face. His heart quickened its pace as his eyes landed on you, the sight of you filling him with a rush of unexpected excitement. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips before he even realized it, a warmth spreading through his body.

Your hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, swaying gently behind you with each purposeful step. As you walked, Cassian felt a surge of desire stirring within him, his eyes tracing your figure, taking in the way the leather clung to your body, how it accentuated every curve. He’d noticed how good you looked in your letters before, of course, but he’d been better at pushing the thoughts away, at refocusing himself. He found it incredibly more difficult now that he knew what you looked like underneath them. He wondered if you were still adorned in his marks, wondered what it would be like to strip you naked right here, take you on the floor.

He didn’t notice you had reached him, that you were standing in front of him with furrowed brows, until you were saying something. He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and hastily cleared his throat. "H-hey, Y/n. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

A small frown creased your brow as you tilted your head. "When have I ever missed a training session of ours?"

"Yeah, right, it's just," Cassian paused for a moment, “You’ve been so busy recently.”

You glanced away briefly, a flicker of guilt—or was it shame?—crossing your features before you turned back to him with a small smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I've been... busy," you admitted, your tone clearly apologetic. "Dealing with some stuff."

Cassian felt a tug on her heart, a sense of guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind. Memories of your night together flooded his head, each vivid and pleasurable. He pictured your face, the way you spoke, the feel of your skin. Was he so engulfed in his affection towards you, so blinded by his lust, that he had missed any sign of your discomfort? Had you not enjoyed yourself?

"Well, uh, is everything okay?"

He watched as a faint smile graced your face, soft and reassuring.

“Yeah," you replied, “Yeah, I think so.”

Cassian felt a tug at his heartstrings, a warmth blooming in his chest like wildfire. His wings fell slightly– a movement of relief, a sense of comfortability filling him. His heart pounded against his ribcage, its steady rhythm echoing in his ears like the pounding of a drum. He wondered how you couldn’t hear it— prayed that you couldn’t.

"Well, good, I'm glad.”

"You ready to get your ass kicked?" you teased, a grin spreading across your face. You playfully punched him on the arm, a mischievous glint in your eyes that he’d missed. He took in every detail of your expression, savoring the way your features softened with amusement.

Despite the lightness of the gesture, so casual, so platonic, he couldn't help the heat that spread through him at the contact. The sensation lingered long after your hand retreated.

He chuckled, pushing his feelings down deeper into his chest. “As if.”

You both fell easily into your normal routine, sweat beginning to pool on your skin as you maneuvered around one another. Cassian paid extra attention to the way you moved, to how your body acted around him.

"You seem a bit distracted today," he remarked, his voice laced with playful amusement as he deftly dodged another one of your attacks, your favorite dagger gripped tightly in your hand. Your actions didn’t seem as fluid as normal, your movements staggered and uncertain.

You shot him a pointed look. Then, a small smirk played on the corners of your lips, your beautiful pink lips. "I could say the same," you countered. "Maybe if you focused more on your body than mine, you could actually beat me."

Cassian blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown off balance by the sudden change in tone. Were you… flirting with him? He felt a rush of excitement course through him, his heart leaping in his chest as blood rushed to both of his heads. Even if it was simply playful, he relished in the feeling, in the reality of you being able to banter with him once more.

"Oh yeah?" Cass replied, matching your playful tone. "I guess I'll just have to try harder, won't I?"

Cassian's eyes followed you intently, tracking every movement with precision. Your steps were lighter now, more agile, more calculated. He almost smirked at the fact that his words were riling you up, causing such observable differences. In one swift movement, you deflected his hand, your body falling closer to him. Instantly, Cassian's senses were overwhelmed by your presence, the scent of you filling his nostrils, sweet and intoxicating. A surge of desire coursed through him. You smelled so damn good. He wanted to grab you then, kiss you, undress yo-

The breath was knocked out of Cassian's chest as you skillfully knocked him off balance, sending him tumbling to the ground with a resounding thud. With a slow blink, he registered the movement, finding himself pinned beneath you, a dagger pressed against his throat.

There was a grin on your lips as you looked down at him triumphantly.

"For such a big male, you sure do go down easy," you teased.

His mind was instantly filled with Images of you sprawled out before him, memories of him falling to his knees at your glistening core. He smirked.

"I seem to recall you loving how easily I went down.”

You let out a small gasp of surprise– barely audible, but Cassian caught it. The sound sent a jolt straight down his core, straight to his cock. He watched as a blush crept onto your cheeks, a beautiful pink color dusting your skin.

He felt the weight of your touch ease, the tension in your fingers relenting against his skin. Your eyes met his for a moment before they drifted downward, lingering momentarily on his lips.

A single strand of your hair had broken free from your ponytail, cascading delicately over him like a silken tendril. Its faint touch tickled his forehead. Slowly, Cassian reached up, his fingers trailing along the curve of your cheek as he tenderly tucked the stray strand behind your ear. He kept his fingers there for a moment, tracing the shell of your ear, the same way he had done a week prior.

A mounting pressure swelled within his chest, something deep inside him pushing him to speak, urging him to confess these new feelings he had begun to realize– feelings for you. But just as he summoned the courage to speak, you shifted slightly, and Cassian’s eyes widened.

Oh fuck. Cassian thought. Oh no.

He was hard. Rock fucking hard.

Panic surged through him like a lightning bolt. Not now, he thought, not here. Not when you’d finally started acting normal around him, flirty even. You were going to be uncomfortable, put off by his weird attraction to you.

As he scrambled to regain his composure, Cassian's movements became hurried and erratic, his muscles tensing as he attempted to push himself upright. When his body shifted abruptly, you instinctively pulled away from him. He missed the frown that made its way onto your face, the hurt that flickered in your eyes. Instead, he was focused on positioning himself in a way that didn’t face you, a way where his evident arousal wasn’t so… evident.

With a hurried nod and a mumbled acknowledgment of your victory, Cassian swiftly made his exit.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Mor upended the wine bottle, allowing the last remnants to cascade into her glass with a satisfying glug. The evening sun casted warm hues through the windows of her apartment, a view that would have left you relaxed had it not been for your wound up mind.

"I didn't even realize I was flirting with him until it came out," you said, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I could've sworn he liked it! I mean, he matched the energy."

Your friends stared at you. A moment of silence passed. Then, Amren's voice cut through the air. "I'm failing to see a problem," she stated bluntly, fixing you with her narrow gaze.

"Yeah, isn't this good?" Feyre chimed in, her voice gentle but firm. "You liked it, right?"

You let out a small sigh.

"Yeah, I liked it," you admitted, leaning back against the couch. "But then, a few moments later, he was practically pushing me off him and leaving."

It was a wrong move on your part— the flirting, that is. You were just beginning to fall into a normal pace with Cass, finally being able to be around him without wanting to rip his clothes off. And now you were back in the same position, a weird tension wrapped around you and your best friend. It wasn’t like you had planned on flirting with him, but it didn’t change the fact that you liked it. You thought he’d liked it too, could have sworn you saw a gleam in his eyes.

You let out another sigh, a sound laced with frustration.

"And you know what else?" you continued, your tone escalating. "He called me baby. Like who calls someone baby when they're inside them and then just leaves in the morning, no mention of it? And now he wants to act all normal? But will flirt with me and then run away? It's cruel."

Feyre's eyes widened slightly, your words registering in her mind as fast as you spilled them. She blinked, turning to exchange a quick glance with Mor– the blonde seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the entertainment, her lips turned up into an amused smile.

You caught the exchanged glance, your eyes fitting onto Mor as she brought her glass to her lips. She raised an eyebrow at you, meeting your gaze.

"Don't even say it,” you said, catching the knowing glint in her eyes.

Mor chuckled.

"Babe, I literally haven’t said a thing since you walked in."

You stilled. She was right. You were rambling, rambling like a horny teenager with a silly crush. You sank further into yourself, running your hands down your face in frustration.

"Are you a mind reader, girl?"

You scrunched your face in confusion as you turned to face Amren.

"No?"

"Exactly," she retorted, "Figure out what you want and then talk to him. No need to be children about it."

You recoiled slightly at the bluntness of her words, feeling a pang of irritation at the implied criticism. But deep down, you knew she was right. But what did you want? You didn’t like the unease that filled moments with him, you didn’t like how you had to overthink everything you did, everything you said. But did you truly want things to go back to how they were before? Or did you want something else?

With a resigned sigh, you allowed yourself to lean into Feyre's comforting presence, feeling the tension in your shoulders begin to dissipate as she placed her head on top of yours. You let your mind spiral as your friends began talking amongst themselves.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Rhys found it funny at first, hilarious even.

Seeing Cassian so riled up, so flustered, was amusing. But it had been hours now, and Rhysand had work to attend to— important court affairs that he couldn't focus on while Cass was spilling his guts out like a common court gossip. What was once entertaining now felt exhausting. Rhysand felt like he had a child. Either that, or an annoyingly vocal pet.

Rhys let out a chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the study. Cassian came to an abrupt halt, shooting a sharp glare at his brother.

"What's so funny about this?" Cassian demanded.

Rhys regarded him with a knowing look, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "All of it," he replied with a small shrug. "You’re one of the most feared males, and here you are, stumbling over one night with Y/n. It's fascinating."

Cassian’s glare only sharpened, his jaw clenched. Cassian was stumbling. After practically running away from you the other day, he’d found it hard to face you again. Embarrassment filled him when he thought of it, when he thought of how easy it was for him to get riled up at the thought of you, how embarrassing it was for him to have to run off and rub himself raw every time you smiled at him. He was a grown male – a terrifying warrior– and he’d almost finished in his damn fighting leathers at the smell of you.

He thought it was rough before, after that first night at Rita’s, that week of lusting after you so hard. But it was much worse now after having experienced it, after knowing how fucking fantastic it was to fuck you, to make you moan.

"Don't judge me," Cassian snapped, his tone defensive. "You weren't the Lord of calm and collected when you and Feyre started moving past friendship."

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "Are you comparing this situation to me and my mate?"

Cassian paused for a moment. The look Rhysand gave him made him feel like a child caught with his pants down. He glanced away for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts, before meeting Rhys's gaze again. He frowned. "Shut up," he growled, his tone still gruff, but with a hint of sheepishness that Rhysand didn’t fail to pick up on.

What was Cassian supposed to do? Should he live with his feelings for you in secret? Pretend they didn't exist in order to return back to normal with you? He supposed he could ignore them, shove them far into a crawlspace in his mind, leave them to collect dust. But it wasn’t realistic. The mere sight of you sent shivers across his body, the thought of you alone made him horny enough to be incapable of rational thought.

Pushing himself off his chair, Rhys walked around his desk to where Cassian stood, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. With a firm touch, he clapped a hand on Cassian’s shoulder.

"Cassian, brother," Rhysand began as he guided them both towards the door. "You know that I love you."

Cassian's brows furrowed at the sudden statement, but his frown softened into a small as he reciprocated the sentiment. "I love you too, man," he replied.

"And that I'd die for you.”

Cassian nodded, his brows furrowing deeper.

"So take this the way that you wish," Rhysand concluded, his voice trailing off as he gave Cassian a final nudge forward.

Cass stumbled forward slightly, face twisted in confusion as he turned to Rhysand– only to find himself met with the sight of the door slamming shut in his face. Cassian’s mouth fell open in offense. A sense of frustration prickling over him, soon turning into a wave of embarrassment.

"You're a prick, Rhysand!" he exclaimed, shooting a glare at the closed door.

Rhysand's laughter echoed from behind the door, a sound that only served to further fuel Cassian’s annoyance. With a shake of his head, Cass turned away, his steps heavy with frustration as he made his way down the hallway.

Fix your mess, brother. Rhysand's voice echoed in his mind. It's leaving you very exposed.

Cassian flinched internally as Rhys emphasized his point with a firm tap against his mental shields.

Fuck you.

No thanks, Rhysand swiftly replied, Wouldn’t want you to finish in your fighting leathers at the smell of me.

Cassian growled as he forcefully shoved Rhys out of his mind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cassian’s stomach clenched as he rounded the corner, catching sight of you standing outside his door, hand poised to knock.

"Y/n?"

You let out a startled sound, a mix between a gasp and a shriek, as your hand flew to your chest, your eyes wide with surprise. "Gods,” you breathed out, looking at Cassian as your heartbeat slowed. “You scared me.”

Cassian smiled at your reaction, a warmth spreading through him as the sound of your sweet voice filled his ears. With a few quick strides, he closed the distance between you, his gaze softening as he took in your presence.

"Sorry," he said softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he approached you with a small smile. “What’re you doing?”

Your cheeks flushed at the sight of his smile, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. How embarrassing. It’s literally only been a minute. You blinked, clearing your head of your thoughts. "Oh, I was looking for you.”

Cassian’s smile turned into a grin as he tilted his head with a small laugh. "Yeah, sweetheart, I gathered that much.”

Your heart fluttered at the sound of the pet name, a wave of longing washing over you as you realized how much you had missed hearing it. It had been over a week since you last heard it, over a week since Cass had been comfortable enough to use it once more. Gods, had you missed him—the way his voice sounded, the warmth of his smile, the comfort of his presence. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian.

He stood before you, his gaze warm and tender as he took in your presence, savoring the moment, tracing the features of your face with his eyes. For a brief instant, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the dimly lit hallway, surrounded by quiet as you took each other in.

"Wanna go in?" he asked, giving a small nod towards the door behind you. "Or we could stand out here. I'm good with either.”

The sound of his teasing wrapped around you, and you gave him a jokingly unamused face, a small laugh escaping your lips. "Loser, " you replied, rolling your eyes with a smile. You turned to open his door, walking into his room.

The smell of him instantly surrounded you– peaceful nights and crackling fires, a warmth that only he caused within you. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as your smile deepended. You heard the sound of the door close softly behind you.

Your mind raced with a million thoughts, each one clamoring for attention as you tried to find the right words to say. You still weren’t sure what you wanted to tell him, what you even wanted from him.

"I want to talk about the other night," you blurted out, turning to face him. Instantly, you felt a rush of nerves flood through you, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you struggled to maintain your composure. "Y’know, when we fucked.”

Cassian's demeanor shifted slightly as he stilled. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that, too.”

“You have?”

Cassian nodded, his movements hesitant as he ran a hand through his hair."Yeah," he admitted, "I wasn't sure how to approach it.”

You felt a flutter of anticipation in your chest, your pulse quickening. His gaze bounced around the room, falling everywhere but your face. You frowned, waiting for his eyes to settle on you, wanting to see the brown hues you’d grown to love so much.

His gaze finally met yours.

"I know you regret it. We can move on and go back to normal. I promise."

You frowned, your face falling at his words.

"Regret it?"

Your tone was a clear indicator that Cassian had said something wrong. But now he was confused, unsure of what he said that warranted your confusion.

"Yeah, it seemed pretty clear.”

You shook your head. "What are you talking about?" you repeated, your voice now tinged with frustration. Had Cassian believed you didn’t enjoy yourself? Had he been thinking that the entire time?

"You won't even touch me," Cassian stated matter-of-factly. There was a sense of frustration in his voice that seeped into his words.

"Because whenever I touch you," you said, your voice now slightly trembling, "I feel this weird warmth that makes me want you to rip my clothes off!"

The confession spilled from your lips before you could stop it, the raw honesty of your feelings washing over you in a wave of embarrassment and frustration. Your eyes widened as you watched Cassian take in your words.

“Well I want to rip your clothes off!”

His admission filled you with a sense of relief that had you releasing a breath. The relief quickly turned into arousal, a fire beginning to simmer underneath your skin, a warmth spreading through your veins. You wanted to pull him into a kiss, to run your hands along his chest.

"You do?"

"Yes!" Cassian replied, his voice deep and guttural, sending a shiver down your spine. The intensity in his tone stirred a primal desire that pulsed with an undeniable heat. He took a few large strides towards you, stopping so he was directly in front of you, looking down at your face.

Your chest tightened, your heart fluttering erratically in its beat. You quickly reined in your impulses, forcing yourself to hold back from making any rash movements. Rushing into things had only led to complications last time– you were not going to repeat the same mistakes.

Amren's words echoed in your mind. You needed to think about what you wanted— what you truly wanted. And deep down, you knew the answer. All you wanted was Cassian. You had always wanted Cassian. But the thought of risking your friendship, of irreparably altering the dynamic between you, filled you with a sense of unease that you wanted to run away from.

Returning to normal seemed like the safest option, the path of least resistance. Keeping your friendship intact, with no risk of crossing boundaries or venturing into uncharted territory, felt like the logical choice. But as Cassian stood before you, his gaze filled with longing, you weren’t so sure if the safest option was what you wanted.

"But that's a problem!" you said, "I don’t want to risk ruining this," you continued, gesturing between the two of you. "This amazing and strong friendship we've built, because we just want to fuck each other."

“Just want to fuck each other? Is that all this is?” He paused for a moment. “Is that what you want?’

You hesitated. “I don’t know," you admitted, your voice soft. "But I've thought about it, and I could do it, for you. Because I am really, really attracted to you."

Cassian's heart skipped a beat at your words. He wanted to grin at the emphasis of his attractiveness, to poke fun at how much you liked him, but he found himself caught up on two words that you had uttered.

"For me?" he repeated, a slight frown on his face. “What do you mean for me?”

You let out a deep breath, a sigh escaping your lips as you glanced to the side before meeting his gaze again. "C’mon, Cass. You don’t do romance.”

Cassian's brows furrowed in surprise, a hint of offense flashing in his eyes. "What are you talking about? I do romance just fine," he protested, his voice defensive.

"You've never had a girlfriend, or any serious relationship for that matter," you pointed out, "And you've been around a long time, you old fuck."

"Wrong. There was that one female that one time."

You stared at him blankly, your mouth slightly parted.

"You know, with the…the hair," he continued, gesturing vaguely to his own body, mimicking the flow of long hair.

The corners of your lips turned up as you let out a small laugh of disbelief. He was an idiot. You had feelings for an idiot.

"Your attention to detail truly astounds me, Cass," you remarked dryly. "I'm surprised Azriel isn't worried about his position as our court's Spymaster. Should I go tell him that his job may be up for grabs?"

Cassian wanted to laugh, but he recognized your attempts to deflect instantly, deciding to place a hand on your arm. His eyes swiftly scanned your features, craning his head down to catch your gaze.

“Y/n,” he said softly, calling your attention back to him. Your eyes met his almost instantly.

"Yes?"

"I don’t want to just fuck you," Cassian said, his hand coming to rest against your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I mean, I do. Real bad. Reaaaal bad," he added with a hint of playful exaggeration. “But it's not just that.”

"Then what is it?"

"I want all of it.”

His other hand moved up to hold your other cheek. He gazed at you intently, his eyes soft with a look of longing that had you melting into his touch. His thumbs brushed your cheeks in tandem. You brought your hands up to hold his wrists, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, and exhaled deeply, your brows furrowing with uncertainty.

"What if we don't work and this turns into something really bad?"

Cassian's gaze softened, his thumbs gently tracing circles on your cheeks as he considered your question. "Or, hear me out," he began, his voice steady and filled with conviction, "What if this is something really good?"

"But what if it’s not?" you repeated, your voice heavy with worry. "I mean, you've already seen me naked and I don’t know how to act.”

Cassian grinned at the comment, his mind drifting off to the images of you buried into his mind. But his expression quickly softened, falling back into the seriousness that you needed. "Hey," he said gently, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. "Give me some credit."

You let out a small sigh and nodded softly. Cassian was always great at reeling you in when he needed to, at calling out your pessimistic tendencies. Maybe he was right. You weren’t giving your best friend enough credit. He wouldn’t let anything ruin your friendship— centuries of your bond had proven this. If he was confident in this, in you, you should be too. You looked at him, still quiet. His eyes softened.

"Life would suck absolute balls without you," Cass said, adding with a small clarifying grin, "In a bad way."

You playfully rolled your eyes at his words, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “How romantic.”

Cassian’s grin only widened, his thumb tracing along the curve of your smile line, a gentle caress that sent a shiver down your spine. You relished in the feeling of his hands on you, on the heat his movements sent through your body.

"Okay, maybe I could stand to work on my romancing," he chuckled, a sound that made your heart swell. "But what I’m trying to say is… I like you," he confessed, his voice brimming with a sincerity that made you breathless. "You’re my best friend, and you’re so beautiful, and so hot. And I like you."

"You like me?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Fuck yeah I do.”

His hazel eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through your veins, an intensity that made you feel exposed before him, as if his gaze had the power to strip away every layer of doubt, of apprehension.

"Loser," you whispered, your voice soft, teasing. You felt a blush on your cheeks, a heat that traveled up your neck. There was something about the way he spoke to you, about the confessions he had made, something that made you feel timid, meek.

Cassian's grip tightened ever so slightly on the base of your neck, slowly pulling you even closer to him. You ran your hands along his wrists, feeling the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

Cassian's voice lowered. "Maybe, for you." he murmured, his gaze holding yours with unwavering intensity. "Do you like me too?"

“Maybe.”

"Maybe?" Cassian repeated, his voice a low rumble. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hunger that made your core clench. Leaning in closer, he closed the distance between you, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered into your ear. "Seemed a bit more than maybe when you were writhing on my cock.”

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You felt his stubble against your cheeks, his hands tightening around the base of your neck.

Your breath hitched, “Cassian.”

"Yeah, baby?"

The name had you practically melting in his touch. Cassian's voice was laced with a husky warmth that sent a shiver down your spine, a neediness pooling at your core. As he spoke, his lips brushed softly against your cheeks, his mouth moving lower, caressing the sensitive skin of your neck with a gentle fervor.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Each kiss sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through you, each hair on your body on end. The kisses were gentle, passionate, and you were already soaked, your breath ragged and heavy. You could smell your own arousal, could smell his even stronger. The scent made your mouth go dry, made you excited at the images that began to form in your mind.

"Kiss me."

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Instantly, Cassian responded to your plea, his lips meeting yours in a heavy kiss that left you breathless. His hands held your face as you reached out to pull him closer, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair, gripping at them as he moaned into your mouth.

His touch was sure, confident, as he began to help you shed your clothes, fingers fumbling with buttons and ties in a hurry. Your hands were frantic as you helped him peel his shirt off, trailing a finger across his wings as he groaned. His pants came off next, the sweats easily pulled down and discarded. You ran your hand along his clothed length, hard and ready underneath this underwear— those quickly came off too, your fingers eagerly helping to rip them off.

There was no time for hesitation, no room for doubt— not now, not anymore. Every touch of his set your skin on fire, igniting a passion that you could feel consuming you with every second, with every gasp you let out. And you welcomed it, eagerly pulling him closer, wanting to be as close to him as possible, wanting to make up for lost time, for the entirety of this week, for the centuries you’d spent missing out on this.

You could feel how ready you were for him, wet and slick between your thighs, legs rubbing together impatiently as he pulled apart to fully scan your naked form before him. It was then that you became aware of the open air on your skin, at how your nipples responded to the chill, peaked, pink, and eager. Your mouth went dry at the sight of Cassian, his body illuminated by the faint faelight in his room, his wings extended out proudly, dominant.

“You’re fucking stunning, sweetheart,” he praised, “I don’t tell you that enough, huh?”

And then he was on you again, wide hands, warm and rough with callouses and scars, ran up the length of you, one pulling you in by the base of your neck, the other grabbing at your breasts. You registered some movement, your steps taking you backwards as Cassian led you to his bed. When the backs of your calves hit the base of his mattress, you fell back onto his bed, pulling him with you.

His hands were all over you again, grabbing at your skin, at your waist, roughly bringing your breasts into his palm. You weaved your fingers through his hair, grabbing at his scalp as he lowered his mouth onto your neck, trailing kisses down your body.

You looked down at him, watching as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking at it while you mewed underneath him. He released it with a small pop, and then he was pulling away slightly, a finger trailing over a small spot on your skin where a previous mark of his was left, now small, almost faded. He glanced up at you, a look in his eyes that made you gasp, made you clench everything below your waist.

“We can’t have these disappearing, now can we?”

He brought his mouth back onto your skin, sucking and biting at the area, his other hand roughly palming at your other breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers. You pulled at his hair even harder, small sounds of ecstasy falling from your lips like gentle rain. Cassian welcomed the sounds, feeling his heart flutter, feeling his cock grow harder with every moan he pulled from you.

“Better,” Cassian said, lifting himself off you with a wolfish grin “Now everyone will know who you belong to.”

The words shouldn’t have made you melt as much as they did, shouldn’t have made your cunt throb at the idea— but it did. Every part of your body was filled with a warmth that spread through you, consuming you in a lustful, vulnerable haze. You couldn’t say anything in response, couldn’t move. All that you could do was whisper his name, chant it over and over again like it was the only word you knew, the only word you needed.

"Fuck," Cass groaned, meeting your gaze as he pushed himself upright. His face was pinker than before, flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, his large fingers wrapping around his cock. He pumped once, then twice. You watched as Cassian lowered himself, shuffling between your spread legs. He wrapped his arms around the tops of your thighs, pulling them apart further to slot himself in between. His wings shivered behind him. He looked up, his hair falling over his forehead, into his brown eyes.

“Been dreamin of this since that night.”

And then he dragged a finger up your core, collecting the wetness that had pooled, glistening and gorgeous before him. You jumped, an immediate response to his touch, and Cass cooed softly in response, continuing his exploration until his finger was resting on your sensitive clit. It was already throbbing beneath his touch, a hot pulse of desire that seemed to radiate throughout your entire body.

“So needy,” he whispered, in awe. “And so damn wet, Cauldron baby, this all for me?”

He circled it carefully, moving slowly and gently, teasing your clit with delicate, little nudges. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and anticipation that left you breathless and craving more. Cassian knew, now, exactly how to drive you wild. You could feel your arousal building, your body responding to his every touch.

“Oh Gods,” you whispered, hands fisting your sheets. “Please.”

You weren’t sure exactly what it was you were begging for, what you wanted more. You wanted him, wanted to feel him, his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

He closed his mouth around you, his tongue pressed firmly against you as he gently sucked. You let out a high-pitched gasp, your jaw hanging open, eyes tightly shut as vibrant colors danced behind your eyelids, sparkling like fireworks, as Cassian continued to lick and suck at you, repeating the same rhythmic pattern. You arched your back, meeting his tongue with eager enthusiasm.

Cassian pulled back slightly and smirked, bringing his middle and pointer fingers to his mouth, getting them wet with his saliva before pushing them into you. Cass groaned at how easily they slid in, at the glistening wetness that pooled around your hole. Your head fell back onto the mattress, overwhelmed with the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Cass.”

Cassian's tongue moved greedily over your clit as your cunt fluttered around the base of his fingers, pulling him in closer, drawing in his touch even more. Cassian swore at the sensation, his lips parting around your cunt as he sucked hard. Your back arched, legs falling away, ass lifted up for his attention. You pushed yourself against his mouth, against his fingers, unrestrained, eyes tightly shut, hands fumbling for something to grab onto.

“That’s it baby, say my name,” Cass groaned, pulling his mouth from your cunt, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you. He increased the speed of his fingers, curling them to massage the inside of your walls.“Touch your tits for me, sweetheart, play w’them.”

And you did. Your hands moved to your breasts, grabbing them roughly, rolling your nipples in between your fingers as he worked his tongue around your clit, fucking you with his fingers.

Then you were gripping him by the base of his neck, hands weaving into his hair as you pulled him up to you, his body frantically crawling over yours, hands braced on the mattress. Your lips met his with urgency, a mix of greed and desperation. You sighed in satisfaction as Cass groaned, opening his mouth for you immediately. You pushed further into him with your tongue, a hand sliding further into his hair and tugging gently. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, a heat rushing through your body at the memory of him merely moments ago, suffocating between your legs, lapping at you like a male dying of dehydration.

When you pulled apart, you were breathless, foreheads leaning against each other. You looked at him through your lashes, lids heavy with lust, with desperation to be filled with him.

“I need you inside me.”

Your voice was quiet, a soft plea that made Cassian feel feral. He felt it straight down to his cock, throbbing and ready, aching to feel you clenching around him, to feel you falling apart.

In a swift movement, he stood up and flipped you over, your breath leaving your lungs. You let out a small squeal as he pulled you onto your knees, following the movement to kneel behind you once more. He roughly spread your legs so that you were spread bare before him, your glistening cunt on full display. He let out an animalistic groan, his hands roughly grabbing your ass, kneading the flesh roughly.

“You’re telling me I could’ve had you like this all week?”

The sound of his voice alone made you moan, made you squirm underneath him as his hands ran up and down your hips, down to your thighs. He ran finger through the wetness at your core, leaving hot, wet, and open kisses on the backs of your thighs. He pulled his mouth away for a moment, his finger still running through your folds. You let out a sigh of protest at the removal of his mouth, but soon you felt his lips down on your ass once more— as he bit the skin, leaving a mark of ownership, a claim to him.

“Cassian!”

He stood up, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of you before him, spread wide and beautiful, slick and wet, shining with anticipation for him, for his cock. You looked over your shoulder, watching as Cass smirked, lifting a hand slowly.

The first smack on your ass was startling, hard enough to warm you, heat blooming over the curve of you keened, eyes slipping shut. Your head fell back forward, resting on the mattress. He stroked his cock, allowing it to glide against your entrance until both of you were slick with your desire.

“You’ve made me wait. I want to hear you beg for it, sweetheart.” You could hear the grin in his voice as he slapped your other ass cheek. “Show me how much you want me."

You sucked in a breath and pushed your ass out further, back arched real pretty, your cheek squished against his mattress, pressing into the soft sheets below you.

“Cass, please, please.”

Cassian let out a pained groan and then pressed against you, his chest melting onto your back as his cock slid in, creating a tight, hot, wet stretch. His body pressed against yours even harder, the warmth of his skin seeping into, what felt like, your very being. You felt the muscles in his thighs against you, working in rhythm of his movements as he fucked you, thrusting into you with a pace that had you writhing underneath him. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix that only heightened the sensations coursing through your body, a smell that made you drool.

“I missed this,” Cassian growled, “Couldn’t stop thinking about fucking this pretty pussy.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, lost in a haze of pure pleasure as you focused on the feeling of Cassian inside you. Each thrust sent cool, electric, shivers down your spine, the sensation of being filled and stretched by his cock causing you to clench around him, begging for more.

His hands gripped your hips with a firm grasp as he drove himself deeper into your body.The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, ragged breaths and incoherent praises falling from both of your lips. With one hand still on your hip, Cassian leaned forward and sunk his other into your hair, tugging you back up with him— a little rough, possessive. He brought your face to his, cheek to cheek as he murmured against you, his breath hot.

“Fuck, Gods, Y/n,” he groaned out, his voice raspy, deep. He sounded breathless, the words stuttering out of him with every hard thrust. All you could do was moan, letting your body emit every sound that formed in your throat. Cassian’s hands were heavy and bruising, exploring every inch of you as he fucked into you harder, faster. Palming at your hips, your stomach, over the column of your throat. A hand settled there, squeezing at the tender flesh on your neck.

“Whose pussy is this? Huh?”

He asked, breath harsh, voice wrecked. The heat of his body against you made you feel like you were on fire, every part of you being filled with him, warm and pliant in his hands. You wanted to sob with it all, at the pleasure that you were feeling, at the flutter in your chest and the coiling in your stomach.

“Yours,” you managed to whisper, moving a hand behind your head to frame his face, to delve your fingers into his soft, messy hair. You felt Cassian twitching inside of you, his grip tightening on your throat, the other hand gripping onto your tits.

“Yeah, baby,” His voice filled your ears as your head fell back into his, his tongue running alongside the side of your neck. He gave you a small bite, quickly sucking to soothe the pain. “Fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart.”

His hand dropped from your breasts, trailing down your body as he rutted into you faster. His fingers found your clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bud. You arched into him, your hand grabbing at his hair tighter, harder, causing him to groan into your neck. His cock slid deep inside you, filling you completely, and you swore you could feel every vein and every ridge as it rubbed against your sensitive walls, as his length stretched you out with every stroke. It was all so overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way, your pleasure building up, coiling deep within your core.

The sounds you were emitting made Cassian feel as if he truly were a God, chasing after your release, every sweet sound of yours fueling him to take you, to make you his.

"Cass, oh gods, Cass, please."

His name on your lips drove him even wilder, thrusting into you harder.

"I know, baby. I can feel it. Come for me, come with me."

You felt Cassian’s heart pounding on your back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you. And with another roll of his hips, you were falling apart, clenching around him, both of your eyes slamming shut as he tumbled over after you, falling into the bed. The sensation of your pussy tightening around him caused his own coil to snap, one final thrust into you before he was filling you with his desire, coating the walls of your cunt with his seed.

He pulled out, cock slightly limp, glistening with your combined fluids— a trail of his cum and your wetness tied you two together, his seed slowly dripping down your core. The sight of it alone had his cock twitching again, stirring at the fact that you were filled with him.

It was beautiful— you were beautiful, breathless before him, body limp with ragged breaths. Cassian was a lucky, lucky man.

That thought also made his cock stir again.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

As you leaned back against Cassian's chest in the warmth of the bath, a sense of peace washed over you, gentle and comforting. You welcomed it with open arms, your tired, achy muscles relaxing in the water. Steam filled the room around you, creating a cozy cocoon of comfort, a quiet air that made your heart hum. Cassian's arms encircled you protectively as you leaned against his chest, feeling each rise and fall of his breaths.

Cassian was gentle when you had finished, his touch soft as you laid on the bed, watching as he brought a warm cloth to your body. He was adamant on being a gentleman, on being tender as he cleaned you up, on running a bath that he had insisted on carrying you to. There was a deeper care, a thoughtfulness in his actions now that touched your heart, made it flutter in a way that had you blushing, cheeks tinged pink with admiration.

With a soft chuckle, you broke the comfortable silence, your voice filled with a soft tone that made Cassian’s heart beat faster.

“You like me,” you whispered, as you ran your hands along his arm.

“Actually,” he breathed, placing a small kiss to the top of your head. “I think I’m in love with you.”

And then, as his words sank in, a wide smile spread across your face. You turned to look at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest as you met his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied, his own smile mirroring yours.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: for everyone who asked for a part 2, i hope you luved this as much as i did. i just luv these two dummies. be on the look out for a lil valentines day inspired blub of them <;3

1K notes · View notes

revasserium · 6 months

Text

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

1K notes · View notes

neoplatinum · 2 months

Text

we meet again | huh 'jennifer' yunjin

summary: yunjin and reader go on their non-refundable anniversary trip...as exes

pairing: ex gf!yunjin x ex!reader

themes: exes to lovers, miscommunication, discussions of needs, angst, fluff, suggestive-ish, paris!, sprinkles of humor here and there

wc: 4.5k

you stare into your cup of coffee as you wait for your plane to be ready to take off, the warm coffee is a nice contrast from the coldness you can feel from the woman next to you: your ex of four months yunjin.

she's been all frowny and defensive ever since you picked her up for the trip. her huffing and puffing and crossed arms and legs as she looks away from you.

you haven't spoken to her in months until you got an email that the trip you planned for your anniversary with yunjin sent a reminder email. you cursed your old self for setting up an auto-email service to notify her of the trip too.

then she texted you:

jennifer huh (ex): did you plan an anniversary trip for us?

you call her immediately, knowing you have to explain what happened.

"hi jen, and yes i did plan this as an anniversary trip." you begin rubbing your forehead as you try and weasel your way out of this awkward conversation.

"okay...it says here it's non-refundable." yunjin has always been quick at reading between the lines and you practically prayed for her to miss that portion.

"ah yes, well it is non-refundable." you fiddle around with a stress ball as she talks.

"so are we going?" yunjin cuts you off.

"what?" you sputter out, the stress ball that's been in your hand turning being smashed as small as possible. you begin pacing back and forth and even end up stubbing your toe. "fuck!"

"are you okay?" yunjin stops in the middle of her explanation when you curse through the phone. you mutter a quick yes and she continues, "well its my ticket, and i want to go. were you planning on going with anyone else?" yunjin goes silent.

"well no, maybe my sister but you would still have to transfer the ticket." you explain and sit back down, damn that pinky toe hurts so much.

"so it is my ticket." yunjin continues and you nod through the phone, "okay, i am going then." you groan out loud and yunjin begins calling you dramatic.

"whatever yunjin, i'll pick you up for the airport, i'll talk to you later."

leading to you both now sitting by the airport benches, both of your luggage separating you by a seat. all around you are families or couples headed for paris, when all you can think about is how soon this will be over.

yunjin is sporting her long leather jacket and her newly dyed red hair, which if you were being honest scared you when you first saw her. now all you can do is stare at how well it works for her, even near cursing her for still making your heartbeat after dumping you.

"stupid red." you mutter to yourself as you swirl your cup.

"what was that?" yunjin takes off one side of her headphones and leans into you.

"oh, just nice red hair." she nods at that and turns back to her music, plugging her headphones in. you scoff at the audacity of her. with that you turn back to watching planes, and hope that this three day trip ends quickly.

you're settling into your seat and ready to plug your earbuds in for this flight when you notice the couple next to you giggling loudly while cuddling each other, rolling your eyes at them two.

the girl looks at you and yunjin who has taken the window seat, "are you guys going to paris for your honeymoon?" she asks you while the guy nods excitedly at you.

"uhh, no we're not." you let out a nervous chuckle as the two begin going on a long conversation (very one-sided by the way) about how in love they are, and how they're going to paris for their honeymoon/anniversary. all you can do is sheepishly smile along and hope their monologue ends soon (it doesn't). yunjin chuckles next to you and you kick her subtly to get her to stop.

while you suffer through the long monologue of how they met, how many cats they raise and even drama about their friends, yunjin finds it hilarious yet sad, because honestly, you two could've been that couple, had you two not broken up.

-- day 1

"gosh! they talked my ear off, you know i downloaded like five different movies and a bunch of playlists for that flight, only to not watch a SINGLE movie." you begin venting about the couple to which yunjin finds amusing and pokes fun at you.

"that's on you for not knowing how to exit a conversation." she smiles as you both get a cab to the hotel.

once you've placed your luggage into the trunk and set off, you continue, "listen, i've always been horrible at exiting those situations, didn't help that they were both so enthusiastic."

"i know, it's how i got your number, remember?" yunjin says and you stop for a second, thinking about the first time you met. It was at a concert where she was next to you, talking your ear off about how much she loved the artist. she came alone because none of her friends listened to the artist. you, being the kind soul you were, let her talk to you through the whole concert, even letting her talk through your favorite song.

"yeah, i guess so." you turn away from yunjin in the cab, with the rest of the ride turning quiet.

"roses on the bed, and a single king bed?" yunjin questions as you enter the hotel suite. you begin to heat up, remembering how you specifically requested rose petals in the shape of a heart and champagne in an ice bath, along with towels folded into swans facing each other and kissing. god, the things you do when you're in love.

"ah! well, it was for our anniversary so i made a special request." you say really hoping she couldn't hear you.

"well, i'm glad i came, now that i can see this, i can make fun of you for being so cheesy," she says as she grabs the champagne from the metal bucket. "damn, champagne's expensive too. how much did you spend on this trip?"

she pops the champagne cork and starts pouring the golden liquid into two champagne flutes. passing one of the flutes to you.

"too much, had to dip into my savings," you say as you think about the credit card bill, a full body shiver running up your spine just at the thought.

she laughs and smiles at you, "well, consider me lucky."

you cough and try not to think about how different this trip would've been had you two not separated.

"i'm going to go wash up." yunjin puts her flute down and starts digging through her suitcase. you nod settle into one of the armchairs and turn on the hotel tv.

the shower turns on and with that you try to quiet your heart, constantly reassuring yourself that you will get through this trip and be able to be back at home away from an ex you're still in love with.

"what did i get myself into?" you groan and close your eyes, letting the sleep overtake you.

"hey...hey wake up." yunjin gently shakes your arm as you wake up from your nap. you groan and mumble incoherent thoughts.

"how long have i been asleep?" the grogginess is still settling into your bones, you open your eyes to the sight of yunjin wearing more casual clothes but still looking effortlessly beautiful with her wavy red hair and adorable glasses perched on her nose.

"long enough, i'm hungry, let's get dinner." she says and you nod, feeling the hunger from not eating on the plane and immediately falling asleep in the hotel.

outside, the sun has started to set, people are chatting and bright lights are adorning the streets. people are lively and there's even buskers playing violin and guitars, enticing the people to spare a few coins for their astounding performance.

you trail behind yunjin, watching the way she absorbs into the parisian night, with her film camera in hand and a smile adorning her face. it makes you yearn, yearn for another universe where you're hers once more. but to also yearn for answers of why she dumped you all those months ago.

"let's go in this one." she turns around and you're snapped out of your thoughts, she points at the restaurant and you follow her in. the smell of delicious food and the warm atmosphere is making you more hungry.

"right this way." your server brings you to your booth. and you seat yourself in front of yunjin, honestly something you haven't done in so long, that it's like you're falling in love all over again. the warm yellow lamp hanging over the booth makes her skin glow, and not to mention just her in general has your knees weak.

instead of staring at her like a fool, you try to focus on the menu in front of you. it works well because after a few glances at the mostly french menu, you're beyond confused with what to order. eyebrows furrowing and biting your nails at the french words.

"are you ready to order?" the waiter stands before you and before you can get out a word asking what these dishes are yunjin is quickly ordering her dinner in french and you sit there anxious.

"and for you?" the waiter turns to you.

"uh, this one?" you point at the menu and show him, he nods taking quick note of the orders before leaving.

you're back to the awkwardness of not having a menu in front of you to distract you from the beauty that is yunjin.

"so....how are you doing? dating anyone?" you start, trying to break the ice. you fiddle with your thumbs and avoid her gaze as she processes the questions you have thrown at her.

"are you kidding me? that's how you are going to start the conversation?" she scoffs at your lame attempt at having a serious conversation.

"what? i think those are reasonable questions." you mumble to yourself, feeling embarrassed you start drinking the water next to you.

"fine. i am doing fine and no, i am not dating anyone." she crosses her arms and glares at you from across the table.

"cool cool...." you trail off, trying to watch other people and feeling a little giddy when yunjin said she wasn't dating anyone.

the waiter returns with a basket of bread and butter, also refilling water cups and smiling at you both before leaving quickly. it doesn't go unnoticed that he keeps eyeing yunjin and smiling at her throughout the interaction.

"what about you?" yunjin starts with a slice of bread in her mouth.

"oh me, no not dating anymore, of course not." you let the words tumble out of your mouth, forgetting how you are trying to keep your walls up around yunjin.

"what do you mean by 'of course not'?" she questions as she spreads more butter onto her baguette.

you also grab a slice of bread and start smearing it with butter, thinking of ways to exit this topic as smoothly as possible, "just you know...not there."

she nods and you can see that she wants to prod more into why, but the waiter shows up with both your dishes in hand.

"for you madam," he places her beef bourguignon in front of her. meanwhile placing your seafood pasta in front of you. "and for you."

"shit..." you mumble as you stare at your dish, yunjin sighs but lets out an amused smile at the sight.

"of course you managed to order a seafood dish because you didn't understand french." she laughs at you, and all you can do is feel even more embarrassed from how this trip is going. "let's switch."

yunjin trades plates with you, your heart warms when she remembers your seafood allergy. you thank her sheepishly and begin digging into your dish. "jen! this is delicious!" you exclaim with a piece of beef in your mouth.

she smiles at you warmly and takes a quick photo of you, making your cheeks warm at the sentiment, remembering her habit of taking photos of you when she found you cute.

the waiter returns this time, but you look at him confused because you haven't ordered anything else.

"hello madam," he starts while leaning on the booth by yunjin's side, showing off his pearly white smile and trying to be suave, "how are you enjoying paris?"

"it's lovely here, thank you for asking." yunjin starts, you can only watch as the two engage in conversation, making you more and more quiet as time passes.

they speak about parisian culture and even share a few phrases in french that you definitely could not understand. you end up only focusing on your dish until he leaves much later. yunjin looks back at you and is confused by the switch in your demeanor.

yunjin goes quiet at the sight of you so down, so she also begins quietly eating her (your) seafood pasta, and as the time dwindles to the end. the waiter returns with the bill and a napkin that he slips to yunjin, it doesn't take a genius to understand what he gave her.

you huff angrily as you pay for the dinner. and yunjin follows you out of the restaurant and disposes of the napkin in front of you. she turns to you with her hand open and waiting for yours. you take it as you both stroll down the streets of paris with full bellies and a noticeably happier mood.

-- day 2

yunjin has managed to convince you (you really don't know how) to go and get caricatures of the both of you for "memories". you groaned at the idea, but there you sat in the small ratty chair in front of the french artist, and waited for this quick drawing. after a few quick minutes, the artist hands you the drawing, showcasing a funny imagery of yunjin stomping your head to the ground as your relationship.

"hey! you can't draw that!" you exclaim as you go over the painting, you can't lie though, the guy was talented.

yunjin just laughs and drops euros into his hand before dragging you away from the chairs. "don't take it too seriously, it's just a drawing." she takes the drawing from your hands before stuffing it into her purse and folding her arms with yours.

"so, what should we do today?" she says to steer you away from thinking about the drawing.

"well actually, i had an itinerary ready for this trip," fishing your phone out of your pocket, you begin listing places that you wanted to take yunjin to. "the louvre?"

she stops her feets and her jaw drops and you can see her happiness just overflowing.

"yes yes yes! you know me too well, lifelong dream to see the mona lisa." she says and you smile, remembering that's why you put it on your itinerary, and soon you're flagging down a cab to head to the louvre.

god, you're never getting over her at this point. you try not to dwell on that thought and instead let things come as they are.

she's busy capturing photos of the mona lisa and other pieces, while you are capturing memories of her in your mind. taking slow steps behind her as she reads through the description of each piece that intrigues her.

she's gorgeous in her dark green leather coat, red hair flowing down her back with her trusty film camera looped around her wrist. she looks like she belongs in an art museum and you're left wondering if you can ask the art curators to put a picture of her as a piece.

once you reach the end of the museum, you begin to realize there really hasn't been any piece that has intrigued you to look at, even when yunjin was admiring the mona lisa, all you could focus on were her gorgeous eyes.

that day, you hope that you can always make her happy, even if she no longer is yours.

"of course we have to go to see the eiffel tower, i don't care that it's cheesy and cliche, we HAVE to go." she explains to you as she's touching up her makeup again. the two of you returned to the hotel after a long day of exploring local attractions, but now yunjin is explaining that you two definitely need to go despite how tired you are.

while she goes on and on about the importance of a paris trip including eiffel tower pictures, you try to keep your eyes open. the warmth of the jacket that you still have on, swallowing you.

"okay okay, we should go." you get up and start rubbing at your eyes, even letting out loud yawns as you put on your shoes. yunjin finally takes a look at you and starts to feel bad for pushing you to do so much today.

"you look tired, we can go another time?" she starts, feeling embarrassed.

you grab a hold of the wall as you tuck the back of the shoe over your sock, "not at all, let's go!"

you look tired, eyes lower than usual. with a stretch and a neck crack, you look more energized and ready to take on the night.

"let's go!" you exclaim, opening your palm for her to hold onto. she can only smile and think about how sweet it is that you are trying to do activities that she wants to do.

"okay, let's go." she responds, your hand wraps around hers tightly as you both get out of the car and walk through the crowd to get closer to the eiffel tower.

while yunjin stares at the little lights adorning the eiffel tower, sparkling like the stars in the sky, you try and take discreet photos of her. thinking about how you are basically in an alternate universe that exists only you and yunjin, and soon reality will return with you alone and single. these photos will remain to remind you that this trip wasn't a dream, what little you have to cling onto.

she's enjoying the night breeze and the liveliness of the people around her, but you're focused on her. she's also capturing photos of the eiffel tower but taking time to snap photos of the people around her. until her camera lands on you, snapping a photo of you, taking a photo of her.

then you both move away from your cameras and look at each other, and time feels like it stops when you both just admire each other. her eyes become glossy and tears are flowing down her cheek.

you make a quick dash to hug her, holding her tightly. you feel her lay her head on your shoulder and you can feel her body wrack into yours, with quiet sobs and she wraps around you like she'll lose you too.

it feels like the world is crashing around you two, with her grabbing onto your jacket and pinching it so hard. you start rubbing her hair in the motion that you know will bring her comfort, as it has done many times before.

you must've been there for a long time, because people are looking at you two in sympathy, a traveling florist even hands you a free rose to cheer you up. you immediately slip the rose into her pocket. and she stops hugging onto you to see the rose in her breast pocket. she smiles a little, and with a shaky voice, "let's go back to the hotel please."

you nod and hold her hand as you two take the long way back. her hand is still very much holding onto yours tightly. and by the time that you two are back in the room, she drops onto the bed and taps the be urging you to join.

you slip off your shoes and jacket and settle on the bed, facing yunjin. she twirls the rose between her fingers and finally looks at you.

"do you know why i broke up with you?" she whispers, and your body has frozen up, yunjin kept the break up very simple. a single 'let's break up.' over coffee and then she left.

"i don't." you whisper back.

"do you want to know?" she whispers back.

"yes, i really do." you sit up and watch her thinking for a while.

"i broke up with you because i didn't feel like you loved me anymore. whenever we hung out it never felt like you cared anymore, you were even inconsiderate at times and i think, no, i believed that you fell out of love with me."

you nod, but each word cracks your heart a little more, thinking about how wrong each word feels. it simply wasn't true, you never stopped loving her and the guilt of making her feel this way makes you want to vomit.

"this whole trip, i feel like i saw the old you again, the you that fell in love with me and showered me with attention." she continues her monologue and breathes harder at the emotions that were being kept at bay. "earlier, when you were taking photos of me and i caught you, it was exactly like our first date, it hurt so bad..." and by now she's sobbing and you're sobbing and it's all just a big mess.

"it hurts so bad that now i know you never fell out of love with me. that i made a mistake by breaking up with you and we've been months apart when we could've had this happy anniversary together." she continues with tears in her eyes and she's holding you close. alternating between crying and talking.

you take in the words openly, understanding the position that you've put her in and how hurt she was by your lack of attention. you can't even deny it either, those last weeks before the breakup felt like a rift between the two of you, neither knowing how to go forward. with yunjin making the final and unfortunate decision of dumping you.

"jen, you mean everything to me, and i'm so beyond sorry if it feels as if i never prioritized you." you are also trembling in her hold as she listens to you, nodding to your words every so often. "i never and mean never fell out of love with you. i'm sorry that it took a vacation to figure this out too."

she stops completely and holds your face in her hands as she completely dives herself into a passionate kiss. searing her lips against yours and pushing you into the bed more.

"you're mine." yunjin speaks in between kisses.

"yours." you move your hands into her hair and pull her close, bodies molding into one as the night goes on.

-- day 3

three quick knocks disturb you from your sleep, you rub your eyes and open them to the harsh rays of the windows.

"cleaning service!" you could hear outside the room, and you examine yourself. naked as ever and clothes all sprawled around, yunjin dead asleep on the other side of the bed.

"shit!" you run to the closet and grab a bathrobe and quickly tie it around yourself as you rush to the door. finally giving one glance at the bird's nest of hair, you pat down the hair as much as you can before opening the door slightly.

"hi! um, we don't need cleaning right now, maybe later?" you ask worriedly, the lady eyes your bathrobe and your hair and gives a smirk before walking away to the next room. you cringe at the idea that she knows exactly what you have been up to and close the door quickly.

"phew." you are relieved that they didn't walk into you and yunjin butt naked for cleaning service. meanwhile, yunjin has approached you from behind and wrapped her arms around you.

"hi, come back to bed." she pulls at your robe and pulls you towards her.

"oh okay..."you're confused but let her pull you back to bed. cuddling with her feels nice and reminds you of the days you spent lounging in each other's place.

"jen! i cannot believe you!" you stand on the far end away from her, backing yourself into a corner.

"what? i didn't do anything wrong." she stalks towards you with a devious smile as she watches you examine yourself in the mirror.

"you mauled my neck!" you exclaim as you claw at your neck looking left and right at the damage she's done. yunjin rather looks proud of her handiwork and instead pulls you onto her lap.

"okay no need to be a big baby about it, let me touch it up." she pulls out her concealer and starts going to town on the many hickeys she's left littered across your neck.

you huff and complain while yunjin lets you drone on while applying concealer until you're satisfied. she doesn't mention the new marks she's dug into your back, quite happy that only she can see them.

you both set out for a much chiller day outside, leisurely walking in parks and chatting while enjoying the parisian weather. you reach a quiet spot in the park, pulling out a blanket and your picnic basket.

yunjin doesn't comment on the humongous scarf that you have wrapped around your neck, but it does make her laugh a bit to see it.

you two are enjoying the nice breeze, when you hear smacking sounds nearby. looking around, you don't spot anything unusual until you notice a couple practically eating each other's mouths off. a closer look and you realize you recognize the two as the couple from the plane into paris.

you immediately turn your head to yunjin, "pss, the couple from the plane is at my six."

she quickly whips her head around and lo and behold the couple is still loudly eating each other's faces off. she laughs at the sight before capturing your lips with hers. "we should beat them."

"jen noooooo." you groan and turn away from her, uninterested at the idea of attracting their attention. she simply laughs and continues to enjoy the picnic. the rest of the trip goes well, often sharing little tidbits of your lives in the past couple months without each other.

after enjoying your "anniversary" trip in paris, you both get ready to go home. holding hands and kissing through the cab ride, plane ride and even through baggage claim.

you spot your sister out front of the pick-up terminal with a big sign "welcome back lovers!" you groan at the sign, of course she would show up with a poster plastering you and yunjin's photos to pick you up.

"she knows we're back together?" yunjin comments in confusion.

"i didn't even tell her, she just kept saying she knew we would get back together when the trip was over." you hold yunjin's luggage as your sister tackles yunjin into a hug, spilling about how much she missed her.

"i'm here too you know...your actual sister." your sister simply swats you away and enthusiastically asks about your trip to yunjin.

you drive off with yunjin's hand in yours and a warm smile as yunjin talks about the trip to your sister.

a/n: i apologize if there's any inaccuracies about paris, i've never been 😭 this post was inspired by a fic i read a longggg time ago. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

#huh yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x you #jennifer huh #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim yunjin #yunjin #yunjin x reader #yunjin x you #neoplatinum

825 notes · View notes

lakefu · 26 days

Text

A Perfect Warmth 🕯️

Summary: Astarion and Tav take a well deserved break away form the chaos of their adventures at an inn inside Baldur's Gate. They need to clean up and get back on the road but they keep getting distracted. Perhaps plans could be delayed for a night of passion...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Tags: 18+, Explicit, fluffy smut, brief Astarion trauma response, PIV, erogenous elf ears, scent kink, blood + biting, a bit of praise, a bit of edging... a sprinkle of cockwarming...., these guys are in love...

Word count: 3.5k Note: This was my first fic originally uploaded on Ao3 on 11/27/23, inspired by the patch #4 dev note mentioning adding sponges to clean your companions. I've made edits from the Ao3 post.

“Remind me to sell this junk next time we pass by a merchant, would you dear?” Astarion was seated at the edge of the bed and rummaging through his traveler’s pack, placing various items on the nightstand for further examination. Two silver forks, an old necklace, and a handful of various polished stones ended up on the table before he plucked out an intricate sapphire ring and held it up to the sunlight peeking through the window.

“Good taste,” he muttered to himself. He placed the ring on his pinky finger in amusement and resumed the scavenge.

“It’s going to get difficult sneaking up on people if I have to lug this heavy thing around you know.” He threw over a glance at Tav, who was preoccupied with gathering laundry together in preparation for the next day.

“It wouldn’t be so heavy if you didn’t pocket nearly every shiny thing we came across,” she teased, without even looking over at him.

He gasped dramatically. “Framed by my own lover? Quite the scandal. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the near dozen times you’ve asked me to hold onto your things because your own pack was too full.”

“Hmm. Maybe. I guess that might sound sort of familiar…” She giggled to herself and walked into the bedroom to catch his eye, meeting him with a mischievous grin.

“Why are you such a- oh! Now, what’s this you’re wearing?” Astarion blinked and scanned her up and down, clearly enthralled by the wardrobe change. She stood there in an old linen robe that was yellowed with age, definitely unlike anything he had ever seen her in before.

“Just some old thing I found in the dresser here, isn’t it just fabulous?” Tav's words were dripping in sarcasm and yet she smiled, performing a grandiose little spin in the middle of the room as if she was wearing the most beautiful ball gown in the world.

“I… it’s just so different from your usual armor or that drow nightwear you fancy so much. You look so… domestic.” His eyes were locked onto Tav intensely, with brow furrowed as he seemed to be confused by his own words.

She felt her heart skip a beat and a flush run to her face.

“And you think that’s a good look for me?”

His eyes softened and he paused a moment before quietly answering.

“Yes… I do.”

Tav watched as his smile faded and the gaze of his eyes became increasingly more distant. The atmosphere seemed to shift and a slight panic ran through her body. Did she do something wrong? No... and it didn’t require a tadpole connection to get an understanding for what had brought down his spirits.

Astarion hadn’t considered a comfortable domestic life was possible for someone like him. Even the slightest concept of such a thing had been buried for over a hundred years, and he never expected it to resurface. Was he worthy of such a thing, and was it even possible?

Oh, it was possible. The evidence was standing right in front of him, spinning circles in an ugly bathrobe. He could see glimpses of a happy future that was so close to being a reality he nearly felt nauseous. Not because he was unsure of himself, but because there were still too many unresolved matters they had a duty to attend to. Too many missions and stupid little quests that could now go wrong and threaten this idea of a happy ending he never even knew was possible.

Everything was different now that he realized what was possible, and he suddenly felt an unknown and uncomfortable pressure. All he knew was that he couldn’t afford to lose in the upcoming battles. Battles that some would say were impossible, suicidal even. The thought of loss at this point was beyond unbearable. It was sickening just to think about.

“Hey!!” Tav ran up to where he was sitting on the bed and took his head in her hands. She placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, knowing she had to get him focused on something else.

“Why don’t we go to the shop right now and get rid of that stuff,” she motioned to the collection of items that had been gathered on the nightstand.

“Wouldn’t hurt to get some more coin in our pockets, right?” She looked at him expectantly and felt a huge relief as a light seemed to return to his eye and meet her view.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that horrid robe to see the merchant,” he sighed and looked up at her pleadingly.

“Of course not!! I’ll change and- oh gods!!! We’ve got to get this blood off your face, the merchant is going to think we are trying to kill him!” Tav exclaimed as she lightly shook his shoulders, and quickly began examining his body to see how much cleaning would have to get done before they could leave.

“Blood… on my face?” He raised an eyebrow and brought a finger to his cheek.

“Yeah!! Well, it’s all over you really, dontcha remember earlier today, fighting those cultists?? You sneaked up behind one of ‘em and BAM!!! Just obliterated with a single strike, it was amazing!! You’re so strong…you know.” Her pulse was racing at the mere memory of the event as she delicately traced the side of his face with her fingers and ventured down to his chest.

“Ah of course. That was all so terribly easy I’d nearly forgotten,” he said proudly, adjusting his posture and keeping his eyes on Tav’s hand movements sliding across his chest. Her soft touch was becoming more firm as her fingers made their way toward his arms, giving his biceps a teasing squeeze before leaning her face into his and teasing a kiss.

Before their lips could touch, Astarion wags a finger in between their faces as if to remind Tav of the task at hand.

“Alright my sweet, let’s clean up shall we? You’re my mirror after all. So, go on then.” He took her hands into his own and gave them a kiss before placing them back at her side, encouraging her to go and gather whatever it was she needed to get him cleaned up.

Right, the supplies. It was nearly impossible to remain focused after moments of intimacy with him, no matter how brief they were. She quickly moved into the other room to acquire the washcloths and bucket of soapy water that she was using for herself not too long ago. Hands full, she scurried back to the bedroom to meet her lover, who hadn’t moved an inch.

As she approached him, Tav could feel the tie on her robe becoming increasingly more loose with each step that was taken across the floor. The embarrassment hit her as she realized she didn't have any hands free to do anything about it. She quickly tried to put the bucket down by the bedside, but the bending movement only resulted in the robe slipping off one of her shoulders, exposing a bare breast.

“Oh? You haven’t got anything on underneath?” Astarion cocked his head in amusement, eyes unmoving from the newly exposed skin.

“Ye-yeah that’s the whole point of robes isn’t it? I was doing laundry earlier ya know and umm,” She laughed nervously and started to fix the wardrobe malfunction but was quickly stopped by a hand over her own. Astarion reached out toward her until both hands were around her waist and pulled her in close to his body. Fangs were peeking through his devious smile while determined eyes looked her up and down. With a singular finger he crept over to the loose knot of the robe’s tie and flicked it completely undone with one swift movement.

Tav shuddered and felt her body starting to run warm despite now being suddenly exposed to the cool air of the inn. She was completely revealed to him now, the robe only just clinging to her arms and draped across her backside.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he sighed and began kissing her stomach and caressing the curves of her waist. “Come here.”

Tav gasped as she felt his cold grip around her waist tighten as he expertly lifted her up onto his lap with ease. Pleased at the new angle, Astarion shifted his attention to kissing the crook of her neck and started moving down her chest. He delightfully found her nipple with his mouth in no time, and teased it in circles with his tongue just as he knew she liked it. His gentle sucking continued for only a few brief moments before he suddenly withdrew and cleared his throat.

“Ah, well. You can reach my face better up here I’m sure. For the cleaning of course,” he said smugly. The elf leaned back and admired the view of his lover, nude and flustered, perched oh-so perfectly on top of him.

“The cleaning…” Tav nodded and remembered she still had a warm and soapy washcloth in her hand. The urge to throw the stupid cloth into some unknown corner of the room was nearly undeniable. All she wanted in this moment was for him to take her completely, in any way he wanted, it didn’t matter as long as she ended up getting fucked into oblivion. So fine. On with the cleaning.

She raised the washcloth to his temple and slowly began to wipe away the dried blood by working down his face. His cheeks were a bit sunken as usual but flushed adorably in this moment, clearly enjoying the tender rubs of cloth on his skin. She continued rubbing down toward his chiseled jawline, across to his lips, and back up the other side to repeat the process once more. She ran her fingers through his silver curls and noticed his ears would need cleaning too.

One hand caressed the pointy ear to keep it in place and the other brought the washcloth in for a gentle scrub. A quiet moan suddenly escaped the vampire’s lips.

Oh? She had seemingly discovered a sensitive spot and noted that she would have to continue her work carefully. The scrubbing continued but Tav couldn’t keep her eyes off his face now. His eyes were closed but still noticeably moving behind their lids, and his lips were slightly parted with his breathing becoming increasingly heavier and more noticeable.

Astarion was in his own world of pleasure. What in the hells had he been doing these past weeks, aimlessly scrubbing himself clean alone in the river when they could have been doing this the whole time instead?

He opened his eyes just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. She was still there of course, diligently and lovingly taking such good care of his body. A wave of maddening lust rushed through his core and he needed her closer. He needed her as close as physically possible and even more so after that.

Their eyes met, revealing intense desires. Tav lowered her hands and she spoke slowly, “Can you take your shirt off? There’s a spot I can’t get to with it on…”

She wasn’t fooling anybody, but he obeyed without hesitation. The shirt was gone in seconds, revealing his pale and perfectly sculpted chest. It was a sight that Tav never tired of admiring, and was in fact the subject of distracting daydreams on the daily. She shifted her body closer to his and continued scrubbing his neck and chest, despite it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus. Deep breaths.

She had always been fond of his cologne that he was quite proud of concocting himself. The scent of aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary was now forever an Astarion specialty that she could never forget. Even during times of battle or travel, a gust of wind could carry his essence to her and bring along with it a sense of reassuring familiarity. As she continued to wipe him down, however, a different scent began to come to the forefront.

It was something that did not seem completely foreign, but it wasn't immediately identifiable either. There was something about taking it all in that felt forbidden. Tav tried to pinpoint what she was experiencing. He smelled earthy… raw… unnatural… it was without a doubt, the undeath.

An undeniable heat rose through her body as she engulfed herself with this pure scent from her lover. The washcloth, the bed, the entire room seemed miles away, and nothing felt coherent except for a craving to be even closer to him. Nothing else existed except their bodies and her overwhelming desire to-

“Eager, are we?” A sultry voice snapped her back into reality, where piercing red eyes amusingly greeted her return. She suddenly became aware of a presence between her thighs and glanced down, realizing she was sitting atop a clothed bulge. His hands had a firm grip on her backside and his encouraging movements made it clear she had been absentmindedly grinding on him during her trance.

“Shit, I got carried away…” She hadn’t taken her eyes off his crotch and began to notice that her excitement had left a dampness on his clothes. Embarrassment nearly overtook her, but a gentle yet confident hand grabbed her chin and brought it up to meet his gaze. He leaned into her with a grinning open mouth and kissed her passionately, tongues intertwining.

She felt his fangs briefly scrape against her tongue every so often until a metallic taste became increasingly noticeable. She didn't mind the blood, especially since it seemed to enhance his arousal as noted by his hips continuously jolting faster up into her exposed crotch. Tav was soon pleasantly overwhelmed between his deep kisses and desperate hands groping her at every curve of her body. She longed to give him everything; her blood for his hunger, her body for his pleasure.

Tav released herself from the kiss they had been locked into and tilted her head so that her neck became exposed as an undeniable gift. His mouth lunged at the presented spot as soon as it was noticed, fangs immediately sinking in deep. Tav cried out at the initial impact but soon was reveling in the experience. It was a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure that she was only capable of experiencing from him.

He remained on her neck for a while, still tightly holding on to her body and keeping one hand free to reassuringly caress the back of her head. It was only after the blood flow slowed to a near stop did he cease his medley of licking and sucking at the wound. Blood dripped down his chin and onto his exposed chest, but he was ultimately unfazed. He leaned back, clearly happy and mostly satisfied, but there was still a different type of satisfaction he had left to chase.

Astarion's throbbing erection was begging to be released from its clothed restraints. He quickly untied his pants and shifted his underwear to finally free it. He moaned a few incomprehensible words of relief and stroked himself a few times before looking up at Tav for approval.

Tav had been staring at his length from the moment it was exposed, an impressive size for an elf, no doubt. Her eyes fixated on his perfectly pink tip, glistening with precum just for her. She immediately fantasized of shoving him down her throat until she choked and cried, but that was a fantasy for another day. In their current position, they both knew there was only one simple way of how to continue.

“Astarion,” she whimpered. “Fuck me.”

Tav sat up on her knees and positioned herself so that her entrance was just nearly grazing the head of his dick, ready to take him in completely at any moment. She grabbed ahold of his shaft and guided the tip back and forth through her folds until he was covered in her slick. The new sensation of the friction between them left them both gasping and desperate for more.

Suddenly, finally, his arms wrapped around her body as he pulled her down onto him with one firm motion. Astarion grunted through his teeth while Tav moaned unapologetically, focusing on relaxing enough to allow her body to adjust to his length inside of her.

The temperature differences between their bodies only heightened the feelings of pleasure whenever they became one. Her warmness was intoxicating to him, granting a sense of safety and bliss that was impossible to achieve anywhere else. He was already so close to the edge in this moment, but was not ready to give in just yet. He wanted this moment of heaven to last as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Tav was having the time of her life riding her man like there was no tomorrow. She had no intent to slow down until a pair of large hands suddenly gripped her hips in a way that prevented any further movement.

“I’m not done with you yet, love. Didn’t you notice the mess I’ve made after feasting on you?” Astarion took a finger to his chin and smeared a bit of Tav’s fresh blood down his neck.

It was true, he had made a mess. Quite uncharacteristically of him in fact. Tav had assumed he had simply gotten careless in his horny and feral craze but no- it was clearly all calculated.

“Just be still and sit nice and pretty on my cock. Finish the cleaning, then I’ll take care of you myself. How does that sound?”

How does that sound? His words echoed in her head, which was already spinning plenty enough as it was. She was unsure if it was from the blood loss or her seemingly never ending carnal desires, but perhaps it was both. One thing was certain, however, he could convince her to do damn near anything speaking in that low and lustful tone of his. Without uttering a word she slowly brought the washcloth up to his chest.

“Good girl,” he whispered. He felt her body twitch around him in response to the praise, and he leaned back to relax and enjoy these final few moments of intimacy.

It had taken everything in Tav's power to remain still while she worked. It wasn't exactly easy to focus- she was being split in half by a whimpering vampire beneath her after all. Astarion’s skilled fingers had been dancing around her swollen clit the whole time, just enough to keep her stimulated but never enough to let her come.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the blood was all cleaned up. She hadn't even realized when it happened or how he did it, but his pants were completely gone now. She reached over to place the cloth down and awaited her reward of sweet release.

Astarion’s hands moved to the knees that were straddling him and slowly pushed them farther apart, spreading Tav’s legs open bit by bit. She inhaled sharply as she took him in deeper. He opened her up more and more until she lost her balance and fell backwards onto his expectant embrace.

“Relax darling, I’ve got you,” He purred in reassurance.

Astarion took her entire weight in his arms with ease and laid her down amongst the soft pillows of the bed. He nestled himself comfortably between her legs, making sure their bodies were flush with one another. Nearly smothered by his body now, all Tav could do was claw at his back and arch her hips into his powerful thrusts. His mouth frantically traveled across her lips and neck with desperately wet kisses until he settled near her ear with a playful nibble.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispered tenderly, while the rhythm of his lovemaking became increasingly sporadic. “So fucking perfect… Gods…just for me… I love you… so much...”

“Star, I- ah!” Her words cut short as she felt something snap within her. Pure ecstasy- she was falling and flying somewhere a million galaxies away and never wanted to come back. Obscene noises and curses filled the room as they rode out each other’s high in tight embrace. The smell of sex lingered in the air as their bodies heaved with labored breaths, finally collapsing on each other in exhaustion.

They laid together a while longer, exchanging soft kisses and enjoying the short moment in time where nothing else in the world mattered. Eventually, Astarion rolled out of the bed and stood up to stretch.

“Tsk, looks like it’s my turn to clean you up my dear,” He said with an accomplished grin, eying how her thighs were dripping with his sticky mess.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move an inch. Actually, I doubt you can move at all after that, ahaha!” He laughed and leaned over to brush aside a strand of Tav’s sweaty hair that was stuck to her forehead before walking over to the other room.

“Shut up… dummy…” she smiled to herself and rolled over, feeling at ease enough that the weight of sleep was starting to overtake her.

“I love you too, Astarion.” Her eyes closed as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that her lover would soon come back to her side like he always did, and always would.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #bg3 astarion #astarion fluff #bg3 #astarion fanfiction #vampire fanfiction #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #bg3 smut

641 notes · View notes

hongcherry · 5 months

Text

you're my tomorrow | j.ww

At first, you didn't think anything of it. Jeon Wonwoo was just a customer. However, his daily visits to your bookstore café started to become the highlight of your days. The little conversations here and there made you happy. It's because of him that you always look forward to tomorrow.

☕️ Pairing: customer!Wonwoo x cafeOwner!Reader

☕️ Rating/Genres/AUs: PG; Fluff with a sprinkle of angst, slice of life; Strangers to lovers, cafe au, non!idol au

☕️ Warnings: Reader is smaller than Wonu, ultra soft boi and supportive wonu *swoons*... can't think of anything else but ofc lmk otherwise

☕️ Word Count: 5k

☕️ Author's Note: Thank you to @justsomekpopstuff for giving me this plot idea! I def got carried away and wrote way more than I thought I would lol. I hope you enjoy it! Everyone thank JJ for the storyline ✨ Also, thank you Jess (@the-boy-meets-evil) for beta'ing and giving me amazing suggestions for some edits! 💗

Happy holidays to all (if you celebrate)! Stay safe and have a nice time 💖

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Monday

When the door chimes a little after eight at night, you know it’s him.

He strolls in, usual glasses perched on his nose and jacket layered with a few specks of snow. His hair isn’t styled, soft waves adorning his head. He looks like the average person who’s winding down from a long day at work. From the two and a half months you’ve known him, this is his usual state on Monday nights.

Wonwoo entered your cozy bookstore café nearly three months ago. His order rarely varies, and sometimes he orders a drink he could get anywhere else. Yet, for some reason, he always comes here.

And throughout those months, you’ve realized you always look forward to his presence.

“Busy evening?” he asks while stepping up to the counter.

You’re in the middle of packing a pastry for another customer and quickly hand off the bag to your coworker.

“More so than usual; it’s finals week,” you reply with a small smile.

Wonwoo glances around, nodding as he takes in the sight of many tables occupied by people with textbooks, laptops, and notes scattered around them.

“I don’t miss those days,” he chuckles.

“I don’t either,” you agree. “So, what can I get you today?”

Wonwoo peers up at the menu behind you. You wonder why he does so since he usually rotates between three drinks.

“A hot chocolate,” he replies.

“Oh?” You can’t hide your surprise.

He grins, tilting his head slightly. “Should I have ordered something else?”

“No!” you hastily say. “You can order whatever you want.”

He pulls out a bill that exceeds the cost of the order and slides it to your side of the counter.

“Just thought I’d try something new for the holidays,” he explains, then leaves to find a seat.

“Wait!” you call out, bill in your hand. “You paid too much!”

If Wonwoo can hear you, he pretends he doesn’t. He continues his journey and ends up in the corner next to a window by the bookshelves. He retrieves a book from his bag, opening it where his bookmark rests.

Your hand falls to the counter with a heavy sigh. You guess you’ll give him his change when you give him his order. Normally, you’d call customer’s names or numbers for pick-up. But Wonwoo is different.

Wonwoo’s one of the rare customers who gets his order hand-delivered.

After completing the transaction in the system and making his drink, you grab his change from the register and walk to his table.

“One hot chocolate,” you announce and set the cup down along with his change.

“I’ll take the drink,” he says and brings it closer, blatantly ignoring the cash next to it.

“Wonwoo,” you say.

“Yn,” he answers, eyes flickering up.

There’s a small smirk on his lips that makes your insides churn.

“You overpaid,” you simply state.

“So?”

You move his money closer. “So, take it back.”

Wonwoo slides the money back to you. “Consider it a tip.”

“You know we don’t take tips here,” you say, moving it again.

“You should. You all work hard.”

“People are already struggling as is. If they can find solace in a little place like this, that’s all that matters.”

Wonwoo rests his hands on top of yours, which is still on the money, and slides it back to you.

“Then consider it a holiday present. From me to you,” he smiles.

His hand feels warm on yours. Your eyes move down, but you wish you hadn’t.

His large hand nearly covers yours, making you feel small yet protected. You can tell from his build that he’s strong and fit. You wonder what it’d be like to get a hug from him.

“I—” you struggle to speak.

“It’d make me happy.”

You sigh, nodding hesitantly.

He slowly removes his hand. “Thank you.”

“N-No problem,” you say, gathering the change and pocketing it. “Enjoy your book and drink.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo replies and picks up his book. He holds it up with one hand and uses the other to sip his hot chocolate.

You make your way back to the front, trying to ignore the lingering warmth on your hand and the feeling in your chest.

Tuesday

Wonwoo shows up at the same time but orders one of his usual drinks. It's a different book than yesterday and judging by the similar cover, it's probably the next one in the series.

Ever since Wonwoo “gifted” you money, you’ve been trying to think of something to get him. It’s a little tough considering you don’t actually know him. You know he works a duty-heavy job and that he lives nearby. You know he has a lot of friends despite him being so quiet. Although you’ve never seen Wonwoo and his friends in the same room, they often come with him to the café in duos or trios.

You also learned he’s an avid cat and gaming lover.

You were surprised about the latter.

“Is he also a student?” one of your new coworkers, Sebastian, asks thirty minutes after Wonwoo’s arrival.

You wipe off the cup in your hand and set it on the counter, calling the number associated with it.

“No, he graduated already,” you reply and watch him practice making a drink.

“You seem to know him. Are you two friends?” he wonders.

You lean against the counter. “I don’t think so. He’s just a regular here, so I’ve learned a few things here and there.”

“Ah,” he replies and hands you the finished drink.

You take the drink and start taking a sip to see how well he did.

“You should ask him out.”

You choke on the drink, eyes wide as you reach for a napkin to wipe your chin.

“T-That wouldn’t be appropriate,” you stammer.

He laughs and takes the drink from you. “He’s not working here, and it’s not like you’re paying for him to come by. I don’t see how it’s inappropriate.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. It’s not that you’re not attracted to Wonwoo, but it feels almost out of line. Plus, you’re not sure if you like Wonwoo, or just like the thought of him. You haven’t been in a relationship in years and would be lying to say you don’t miss having a partner.

You miss being able to share life memories with someone.

Wonwoo’s handsome. He’s kind, funny, caring, and fit—not that that’s a big deciding factor, but it sure is a bonus. Though, do you just want someone with those attributes, or do you want him?

“Just think about it,” Sebastian suggests and greets a new customer.

Your eyes drop to your feet in thought.

Part of you worries you’d make it awkward if he says no. It’s not like you are friends, so you won’t be ruining a friendship, but you enjoy seeing his face every day. His simple presence is one of the highlights of your days.

Plus, you don’t even know if he has a partner already!

You groan, putting a hand over your forehead as you try to organize your thoughts.

“Bad night?” a familiar voice asks from over the counter.

You drop your hand to see who it is.

Wonwoo stands with his empty cup and saucer, book tucked under his arm.

“Ah, uh, not really,” you reply sheepishly. You can’t disclose the true reason for your state; you’ve never been the best liar either.

“Well, I hope whatever is troubling you passes soon,” he says and holds out his dirty dishes.

“You could’ve left them on the table,” you say, grabbing them from his grasp. Your fingers touch his, and it’s difficult not to feel like a silly teenager in the movies, especially with your current predicament.

“I know,” he smiles, “but I wanted to tell you bye, and you seem busy.”

You set the items in the sink before addressing him again. “Still… But thank you anyway.”

“The drink was great, as always.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says, slowly stepping away from the counter.

You smile, nodding. “See you.”

His eyes linger on you before he turns and exits your café.

Wednesday

Wonwoo comes and goes as usual. It’s a busy night and you’re unable to speak to him much. It’s not the first time that has happened, so he doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of interaction. Regardless, you wish you could’ve spoken to him more.

That night was spent browsing the internet for the perfect gift for Wonwoo.

From gaming headsets to the top-rated books on Goodreads, you felt like you scoured every possible present for him. But none of them satisfied you.

It wasn’t until you came across bookmarks in your recommended section that you decided what to get him.

Maybe a bookmark was too boring, but you figured it was the safer option.

You spend over an hour searching for the right bookmark, but again, you come up short. They’re either too flowery, too plain, or too cliché.

In the end, you opt for making your own.

You find some DIY bookmark kits online and place an order. Trying not to second guess your decision, you call it a night—going to sleep as you brainstorm what to put on the item.

Thursday

“Do people actually read these books?” Wonwoo asks during your break, which you decided to spend with him.

Your gaze follows his to the wall lined with several bookshelves.

You chuckle, “Sometimes.”

“You said you got these books donated?” he asks, recalling an earlier conversation you had when he was a newcomer.

“Most of them,” you hum.

“Does your offer still stand?” he asks.

You turn to him with puzzlement.

He smiles. “You said I could take a book if I left one.”

“Oh,” you laugh out of embarrassment for forgetting. “Of course.”

Wonwoo nods and then stands up. He takes two steps to his right, then carefully plucks a book from a high shelf. He replaces the empty space with his own book.

Something about the simple act has your heartwarming. Or maybe it’s the way he’s so gentle with the books as if they’ll cry if moved too aggressively. You wonder if he’d touch you as carefully, if given the chance. Would you find comfort in his caresses the way you think the books would if they were personified?

Wonwoo sits in his seat again, perching his glasses higher after they slide down.

“Have you read this?” he asks, twisting the book so the cover faces you.

You analyze it for a moment, but the title doesn’t ring a bell.

Shaking your head, “Unfortunately not. I haven’t had the chance to read in a long while.”

“I guess running a business is time-consuming,” he teases lightly.

“How do you find the time? Didn’t you say your work is hard, too?” you ask.

He leans back in his seat, book resting in his lap.

“I make time,” he simply says. “I found it’s important to make time for things I care about.”

He’s staring at you in a way that makes you think there’s more to his words than he lets on.

“T-That’s a good habit, I suppose,” you say.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself, and not the café?” he questions.

Your brows furrow in deep thought. You thought the answer would come easily, but it doesn’t.

“I—I can’t remember,” you answer with your gaze down, a little dejected at the self-reflection.

Wonwoo sits up and leans toward you. He lowers himself until he can snag eye contact.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” he reassures. “I know what it’s like to bury myself in my work.”

“You probably think I’m pathetic, huh?” you laugh awkwardly.

Wonwoo shakes his head.

“It’s good to be dedicated to something. Your efforts are clearly visible,” he gestures to your crowded café. “But at the same time, it’s also good to not burn yourself out.”

You nod in agreement. “I’ll try to be better.”

“Not for me though. For you,” he says.

You offer him a kind smile that he returns. “For me.”

Friday

Wonwoo doesn’t come at his usual time.

You finally finished his gift last night and are eager to show it to him. You try to suppress your excitement, but it’s difficult to calm your mix of emotions.

As you made it, you realized it was the first time doing something non-work related. Usually, you’d be researching new recipes, doing finances, or simply sleeping. Last night, however, you were doing something personal.

Wonwoo’s words from yesterday ring loudly in your ears.

It felt good to take a break from work.

It felt good to feel like an actual person and not some workaholic machine.

Some say people come into your life for a reason. Maybe you’d still be stuck in your cycle, if not for him.

You wish he were here.

Wonwoo’s usually a punctual man, so being this late sends uneasy nerves coursing through you. But, the idea of him not showing up at all is even more worrisome.

Perhaps he’s working overtime and will be here soon. He’s never missed a day.

Yet, as minutes turn into hours, you begin losing hope.

Excitement transitions into worry. This isn’t his typical behavior. You don’t have a way to contact him either.

Is he hurt? Does he need help? Did you say something wrong yesterday? Did he finally decide he doesn’t like your café anymore?

Perhaps you’re too caught up with giving him your gift that you’re overreacting. It could simply be a late, late night at work for him.

He’ll be here.

Even if he just grabs his drink to go, which he’s done in the past, he’ll be here.

The bell chimes as your last coworker leaves for the night.

Wonwoo’s present sat abandoned in your locker throughout your shift. There’s an odd discomfort in your chest as you stare at it now.

You’re not sure if it originates from being unable to gift it and see Wonwoo’s reaction, or if it’s because he never showed up.

Probably a combination of both, but more so the latter.

It’s uncanny to not see Wonwoo every day.

You had never thought about how you’d feel if you didn’t see him constantly. He was just always there. Always so reliable that you didn’t feel the need to consider what if.

What if he stopped showing up? What if you never saw him again? What if he no longer was a constant in your life?

You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

It’s a harsh reality to know he’s not required to visit. He can leave any time he wants. He can stop visiting your bookstore café at any moment.

There’s a strange thought about you not being good enough for him. Though, you’re not sure what that has anything to do with his absence.

Why would it matter if you weren’t good enough for him? He didn’t come to the café for you.

Did he?

If it was you he wanted, couldn’t he ask you out? Perhaps not as a romantic date, but as friends?

He never has, so he must not want to know you beyond the café. Meaning, he doesn’t come to it solely for you.

But, what changed for him not to show up tonight?

Unsettled with your thoughts, you decide to distract yourself with the final tasks you have to do before you leave.

However, the ride home is filled with more endless thoughts about Wonwoo.

Saturday

You come to work with less bounce in your step than usual.

The world outside seems dimmer. It feels as if the skies are going to be consumed with clouds and rain is going to fall. However, a storm was not in the weather’s forecast.

“Are you getting sick?” Sebastian asks.

You force a smile onto your face for the customer in front of you, handing them their order before looking at your coworker.

“No, why?” you wonder.

“You don’t seem well. Did you not sleep well last night?”

You wish you had, but you tossed and turned constantly. You didn’t think Wonwoo’s absence would affect you so much, but your mind kept wandering to every possibility for his no-show. In the end, you just gave yourself a headache.

“No,” you sigh, “but don’t worry about me.”

You try to smile again, but you’re sure Sebastian can see through it.

“Want me to close up tonight?” he offers.

“Don’t you have a big essay due tomorrow?” you question, remembering how stressed he sounded a few days ago.

“Yeah, but—”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist.

Huffing, he nods and grabs the cup from your hand. “Then go rest for a bit while I finish these orders.”

You purse your lips, contemplating arguing. In the end, you relent, moving to the backroom’s couch and plopping down.

You’ve been scrolling through your phone for ten minutes when you hear a familiar voice.

“Is Yn not here today?”

“Oh, she’s not feeling well, so she’s taking a break. Is there something wrong with our service?” Sebastian answers politely.

You shove your phone in your pocket and head to the door. There’s a small window that you peep out of.

You catch a glimpse of Wonwoo’s frown before he speaks again.

“No, everything’s fine. Will you tell her I hope she feels better?” he asks.

Sebastian nods slowly. Although you can’t see his face, you can see the cogs turn in his head.

“Oh! Ooh! You’re that guy.”

Wonwoo looks confused.

“I’m sorry?” Wonwoo replies.

“The guy that always comes in—”

Not trusting Sebastian to keep his matchmaking attempts at bay, you push through the door.

“Wonwoo,” you greet, trying not to seem too eager that he's here today even though you are.

Wonwoo’s eyes drift past Sebastian to see you. Instantly, his mouth begins to lift.

“Hey, you,” he says lightly, sweetly. “I heard you’re not feeling well.”

“Ah, I’m fine. Seb’s just overreacting.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at you in a glare.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds.

“I’ve rested enough,” you shoo with a hand.

“Ten minutes isn’t long enou—”

“Seb, do you mind attending to the customers behind Wonwoo?” you interject.

Sebastian eyes you before grumbling under his breath—something about you being stubborn—then greets the next customer.

You move down the counter to an empty space.

“What can I get you?” you ask Wonwoo.

He shakes his head. “Actually, I just wanted to talk today, if that’s okay. I won’t be long.”

You want to say he can take as much time as he wants, but you hold back.

Concern creeps from the shadows around you.

Is he going to tell you he’s leaving forever? Does he not like your drinks anymore? Did he find somewhere better? Someone better?

“O-Oh, yeah, okay,” you mumble and maneuver around the counter.

You lead Wonwoo to his usual corner, next to the window and the bookshelves. It’s a little quieter here.

You both take a seat from across each other.

You fidget in your seat, nerves making you angsty.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” he asks.

“Just tired, nothing to be worried about,” you smile.

Something in your chest warms at knowing he cares about your well-being.

“Hm. Alright,” he replies a little skeptically.

“Is everything okay with you?” You try to change the subject. “You didn’t come in yesterday.”

Your voice trails off, not wanting to show how concerned you were about his absence. However, Wonwoo can sense it regardless.

He smiles, though the small lift at the corner of his mouth tells you he’s amused with your attempt to hide your worry.

“Did you miss me?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen a bit. “I—Well. I just noticed you didn’t come because you always come, you know?”

He nods with a subtle smirk still on his lips, yet it fades after a few seconds.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come,” he apologizes sincerely. “One of my friends was in the hospital.”

Your heart drops and guilt kicks in. It’s not that you didn’t consider the possibility, but you had been more focused on him not liking you or the café.

“Goodness, I’m sorry to hear that. Are they okay?” you ask, frowning.

“He had to get surgery, but he’s fine. Just a little grumpy and whiny,” he chuckles.

You feel better hearing his small laughter.

“That’s better than being in pain, I guess,” you reply.

“Yes,” he concurs. He waits for a beat then continues, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

You tilt your head.

A question. That sounds better than some statement about not seeing you again.

“Okay,” you say.

“When we last spoke, it was about you not having enough time for stuff outside of work,” he begins.

You nod to show you’re following but don’t cut in.

“Well, there’s this small event tomorrow. It’s nothing fancy, just some walking around. I wanted to know if you’d like to go with me?”

Your heart races as he speaks. You’re stumped for words. It’s as if you’ve subconsciously been waiting for this, but now that the time has come, you’re too nervous to answer.

“You can decline,” Wonwoo assures.

Although you’re anxious about the idea of meeting outside of the café, you don’t want to miss the opportunity.

“N-No! I mean, no, I don’t want to decline. What time? Where?” you hurriedly say before he can take back his offer.

He grins and holds out a small piece of paper.

You take it, turning it over to see scribbled numbers. You guess it’s his phone number.

“I can pick you up after work. You close early tomorrow, right?” he asks.

You nod, trying to hide your smile at him remembering your café hours. Though, since he visits frequently, you guess it shouldn’t be that surprising.

“Dress warm, okay?” he adds.

“Okay.”

Wonwoo stands from his seat, and you follow.

“Get some more rest tonight, Yn,” he says softly.

“Y-Yeah. I will,” you reply.

Although you’re no longer fretting over reasons for his no-show yesterday, you’ll be worrying about tomorrow now. Still, you’ll try to sleep—maybe even drink some tea or warm milk. You’ll try for him.

Sunday

Wonwoo comes to the café a few minutes before you close. He’s dressed in a fluffy hoodie layered with a light brown trench coat. He looks so…soft and warm.

Before you depart, you make a drink for each of you. He tries to pay but you profusely veto his offer.

The ride to the event is quiet except for the random music being played from his stereo. You’re unsure how long the ride is, but you don’t care. Even if you’re not speaking, it’s nice being with him in a new environment. It’s nice to see a different side of Wonwoo. And part of you hopes he likes seeing a different side of you too.

The event is free, but since donations are strongly encouraged, you and Wonwoo slip a few bills into the plastic reindeer before stepping onto the lit-up walkway.

People of all ages are enjoying the event. The walkway is wide enough to accommodate a couple of people at a time, but it’s still crowded. It forces you and Wonwoo to bump shoulders several times, and each time, you both apologize.

You notice a few minutes into the walk that he seems tenser than usual. You’re not sure of the reason, and he doesn’t seem inclined to disclose the answer.

You try to distract him by pointing out different features—from big blown-up Santas to mechanical reindeer moving up and down. However, it doesn’t seem too effective.

Wonwoo’s steps eventually begin to slow. He never comes to a complete stop, but with his slow speed, a lot of people pass by. Eventually, there’s a gap in the crowd and his body relaxes.

He must not be a fan of crowds.

“Can we sit for a bit?” you ask, not really needing to rest but there are picnic tables with fake candles on them nearby that are less crowded.

“Sure,” he says.

You guide him to an empty table and sit across from each other.

“Thank you for taking me here,” you smile while glancing around. “It’s so pretty.”

The area is filled with multitudes of holiday decor. There are so many lights strung that you don’t need streetlamps to see. It’s rather magical to see it all. It’s a shame you can’t see this all year round. But then again, it might lose its effect if you see it constantly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies.

His eyes drop to your hands clasped on the table. There’s a slight shiver in them.

Suddenly, his hands are covering yours—warmth instantly shooting up your arms from his touch. He says nothing as he rubs his thumbs along your cool skin.

You want to say something; however, it doesn’t feel like you have to, so you just stare at him, a small smile on your face while you bask in the warmth he’s providing.

“How does it feel?” he questions after a few minutes.

You open your mouth to say “good” and to thank him for taking away your coldness, but before you can, he speaks again.

“Getting out, I mean. How does it feel to get out of the café?”

“Oh.” Your face heats rapidly. Thank goodness for your slow reaction. “It’s refreshing.”

Wonwoo hums, nodding.

“Should we walk around again, or should we go? I don’t want you catching a cold,” he says.

“I’d like to see more if that’s okay,” you admit.

“It’s more than okay,” he reassures.

He starts to stand, but you grip his hands to stop him. He stares down at you bemused.

“I have something for you,” you explain.

He sits back down, hands leaving yours when you pull away to retrieve something from your bag.

It’s a small black box with a purple bow on it, albeit the decor is a little squished from being confined to your small bag.

“What’s this?” he asks and carefully brings the box nearby.

“Since you gave me a gift this week,” you say, referring to his tip on Monday, “I got you one as well.”

“You didn’t—”

“Need to? I know. But, I wanted to. And I worked hard on it, so accept it, please?” you say lightly so as to not sound too serious.

He smiles and nods, lifting the lid.

Inside is the bookmark you made him. On the bookmark’s center is a cat with a game controller. It’s simple, but that’s the best you could do with your lack of drawing skills. Attached to the bookmark is a purple tassel.

“You made this?” Wonwoo asks in amazement.

“I’ll only admit to that if you like it,” you say out of nervousness.

Wonwoo laughs and glances at you. “I like it a lot.”

“Then yes, I made it.”

His gaze shifts to the item again, examining it closely for a bit. Then, he sets it back carefully in the box and puts it in his pocket.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly.

“Of course,” you smile.

You and Wonwoo walk around for twenty more minutes before you call it a night. Throughout the entire walk, he held your hand in his free pocket. The warmth from his body combined with his sheltered pocket made your hand clammy. You felt embarrassed at the fact, but Wonwoo refused to release his hold. Truthfully, you didn’t want to let go, but you also didn’t want him to be disgusted at the feeling.

Wonwoo drove you back to your café where your car was.

You tried to demand he stay in your car since he parked next to yours, but he still climbed out.

You stare at his eyes which are framed by his glasses; his cheeks are slightly rosy from the temperature. His dark hair dances softly in the wind. He looks so handsome.

Wonwoo leans forward and connects his lips ever so softly against your cheek. You have the urge to turn your face and capture his lips with yours, but you don’t.

There’s something romantic about going slow.

Wonwoo pulls back with a kind smile.

“You look beautiful tonight, Yn,” he whispers, breath ghosting your face.

You can’t stop the smile forming on your face even if you tried.

“And you look handsome,” you reply.

Wonwoo mirrors your grin.

“Get home safely, alright?” he instructs.

You nod. “You too.”

You unlock your car and climb inside.

Wonwoo lingers outside, watching with his hands in his pockets.

After starting your car and rolling down your window, you lean out and prop your head on your arm that’s resting on the edge.

He bends slightly to see you better, a small grin on his mouth. His face isn’t too close, but it’s closer than it should be for an average person. But, Wonwoo isn’t average.

He’s quiet for a while, and you take the time to observe his features again. Your heart is thumping loudly in your ears. The desire to kiss him resurfaces.

Maybe you’re starting to like Wonwoo. Not just because he’s attractive, kind, funny, and caring, but because he’s Wonwoo.

Wonwoo, who’s been a frequent customer at your café for months.

Wonwoo, who’s always been supportive and kind.

Wonwoo, who’s slowly capturing your heart.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks with a smile still on his face.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Because of Wonwoo, you’re always looking forward to the next day.

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui

In story divider credit

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#kvanity #kdiarynet #svt fluff #svt #svt fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo fluff #wonu fluff #wonu fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #svt wonwoo #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen oneshots #svt oneshots #seventeen fanfic fluff #svt fanfic fluff

507 notes · View notes

krystalcat · 4 months

Text

Keep It To Myself

ღ Pairing: Jeong Yunho x fem!Reader

ღ Genre: Smut, angst

ღ Word count: 5,4k

ღ Warnings: cheating, toxic relantionship, voyeurism, reader is Yunho's lover,fwb with Mingi, unprotected sex (big no), creampie, fingering, oral (giving and receiving), dom!Yunho, sub!reader, yunho is massive, pet names(bunny), repressed feelings, praise kink, dacryphilia, rough sex?, lots of teasing, a sprinkle of degradation?, lmk if I forgot anything

ღ Summary: It's hard to keep your hands to yourself when someone like him crossed paths with you. Too bad he wasn't yours to begin with, but it's not like he cared anyways.

ღ Notes: This is the first time I'm writing smut fanfics. It's also been a long time since I've written anything. I hope you like it and I'm very open to (constructive) criticism! Also, English is not my first language and I haven't proofread this, so it's very possible to have grammatical mistakes or sentences that don't make much sense in English. I also got inspired by Elise's Keep It To Myself, so check that out! I'm also not entirely happy with how this turned out, but I figured it was best to post it before rewriting the plot for the 3rd or 4th time lol

ღ Disclaimer: This is only fiction, by writing this I am not trying to represent the member(s) in any way.

You tried studying in peace, but it was difficult when your roommate and his girlfriend were arguing for what it felt like the fiftieth time that week. After months, you still didn’t get used to it.

Despite not being close friends, you didn't think Yunho was the problem, since there was never gossip in your group of him being a toxic person, and the more passionate fights you heard, it was confirmed.

You saw his girlfriend’s behaviour regarding their relationship and Yunho: restricting who he spoke to, deleting his girl friends’ contacts on his phone, getting angry if he doesn’t answer quickly. You’d sometimes even laugh to yourself, saying she was another roommate - the only difference between her and you being the unpaid rent - so those atitudes weren’t hard to miss.

Hell, sometimes you even wondered how she never made a fuss of him having another woman as his roommate, at least you never heard an argument about that.

What bugged you the most was why the hell he wouldn’t break up with her, because he does recognize she’s not a good girlfriend, his screams coming from the kitchen confirm that. Their arguments have just gotten more frequent and boorish over time.

But now it wasn't only their fights that made you distracted. You would be lying if you said you didn't have a slight crush on Yunho when you first became roommates, always so polite and gentle whenever you both were in your home. But that's just him being nice and a good person, and after he had gotten a girlfriend you knew your feelings had to go away, which wasn't particularly easy since you both shared a house, but you still managed to do it.

The problem now? They came back stronger than ever. You knew that if you spent more than five minutes in the same room as him, you’d leap onto his arms and his girlfriend would literally kill you. Why? For the past two weeks or so right after they fight, they have some sort of angry-make-up sex, making you unable to control your fantasies.

Hearing Yunho’s groans and moans for the past days made you start having a sexual attraction towards him, and pleasuring yourself to them has been your guilty pleasure. You knew it was wrong, no amount of problems with her would make it okay for him to cheat, but God, the things you would do to switch places with her on that bed.

In the middle of the day, you would suddenly imagine the most filthy and nasty scenarios that made you crave those hands on your cunt, those lips on your breasts and his cock pounding deep inside you. You were addicted to something you hadn’t even try before.

You put down the pencil you were holding when you heard moans coming from Yunho’s room - his moans. Quietly making your way to your bed, you took your shorts and panties off, then laying on your bed.

“F-Fuck, Jiyeon” His faint deep groans sent a shiver down your spine. You suppressed your moans as you rubbed circles on your clit, adjusting your pace to the volume of Yunho’s moans, imagining it was you who made him feel that good and all the indecent things you would let him do to you.

Despite everything, you swore to yourself you’d keep this desire to yourself, that you would never flirt or makes moves on Yunho while was on a relationship.

But that is so fucking hard when he didn’t help you to repress your yearnings at all.

«---- ღ ----»

While binge watching your favorite show, you see Yunho walking out from his room, completely dressed up: white buttoned-up shirt adorned with a black tie, black oxfords and pants that matched his dark blue suit. He checked himself out on the mirror in the living room, “I’m going out and probably won’t come back until tomorrow noon”.

“Got it” Your attention returned to the screen in front of you, hearing his shoes clicking on the floor and the front door shutting.

After maybe a episode or two, you heard the front door opening, hearing Yunho knocking his shoes on the entrance. You turned your head around to be met with a pissed Yunho.

“Didn’t realize it was tomorrow already” You snorted as he entered his room, gaining a grunt from him.

He went back to the living room, standing in front of the tv. You’d probably roll your eyes, if he wasn’t with the first four buttons unbuttoned. My God were you really malfunctioning just because of a little cleavage? You had no shame at all, “Yn I’m not in the mood for jokes right now”.

Quickly admiring his figure, you tried your best to not look affected by his looks, “Do you want to vent or need advice? If not, let me watch my show” His fingers massaged his temples, making him sigh.

“It’s nothing much, but would you really listen to me?” He sat next to you, positioning his elbows on his knees and turning his head to you, you paused you show and sat in a more comfortable position, your body facing his. Now this was unexpected, Yunho was always a reserved person who didn’t want to bother other people with his problems.

“She was supposed to meet me almost two hours ago for dinner and she’s not answering my texts or calls. We aren’t in the best terms lately and I’m scared, for us and her as well”

“Do you know were she might have gone?” He shook his head lightly, “Look, I don’t want to be rude, you don’t have to answer me, but why are you even with her?” He gazed into your eyes, opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again and divert his gaze from yours.

“I’ll have some drinks” He got up, “I’m not mad at you for asking that, I just need to clear my thoughts” He grabbed the keys he had previously left on the kitchen table, heading to his way out.

The butterflies in your stomach meant you should leave him alone, that you shouldn’t spend any sort of quality time together with him, it would melt your mind, making you bound to do something stupid. At the same time, you were worried Yunho would get himself in trouble, that he would let’s his emotions get the best of him, and you couldn’t bear something happening to him.

“Absolutely not” You got up from the couch heading towards his direction.

“I just want to be alone”

“Yeah but I’m not letting you go through that door”You crossed your arms as he stared back at you, “We don’t need to talk further, but stay here for a moment to collect your thoughts, I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret tomorrow, ok?”

He looked at you, to his feet, then getting up and going to his room. You sat back down, diverted your gaze and resumed the show, thinking he would disregard your words and go on with his life.

“What are you watching?” You jolted a little when he sat next to you - maybe a little too close for your liking, stomach doing flips and cheeks heating up - now dressed in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

And that’s how you two got closer, dangerously too close, because if being in the same room with him before was hard, now it was arduous. You both would now steal little glances at each other, he would flash you little smiles. When Jiyeon wasn’t there, you’d both tease each other while doing mundane tasks, which was mostly borderline flirting.

Also by some miracle the huge fights stopped, only small arguments here and there. Maybe Yunho did it out of respect for you and the conversation you both had that day, maybe Jiyeon just happened to be in a good temper, who knows. Everything seemed perfect: their relationship was great, no more angry sex, so that attraction towards Yunho disappeared and you had no more guilt looming over your head.

However, after that step forward, you took 100 steps back, because you were now having actual feelings towards Yunho. His smile brightens the room, his touch sends waves down your spine, his presence makes you feel giddy, his teases and flirts make your heart flutter. You had no idea how you got yourself in this situation, perhaps getting closer to him was the last thing you should’ve done to the greater of your sanity.

Your heart spoke louder than your mind, since you couldn’t distance from him once again, not now when you both are friends, and you know what a gentleman and nice person he is, you loved having him around.

What was your next move then? Getting someone else to replace your attraction towards Yunho, which you found quite hard, since you didn’t know many guys, let alone the ones that are both single and decent. Maybe that was a shitty move from you, but it’s still way better than playing around with someone who’s committed.

Lucky you, a few days later Yunho’s friends - who you already knew - came over to play some video games with him, and one of them ditched the hangout to make some moves on you.

“Sooo, are you single?” He asked, leaning on the wall as you made some noodles for dinner.

You laughed at his question, “You know I am Mingi” The tall guy approached you, “Just making sure, I find it hard that a beautiful woman like you is all alone”

“You sure know how to flatter someone” You giggled, turning your head to him with a smirk on your face “What do you want Mingi?” His confident attitude dropped as he widened his eyes, making you laugh lightly “Cat got your tongue? I know you want something, I just want to know what it is”

He cleared his throat, then asking “I-If I asked you if you want to go out with me, would you say yes?” without looking at you. You did not expect him to say something like that, and thought about it for a little: while you wanted to forget Yunho, you couldn’t use one of his friends as a toy, even you had limits.

“L-Look Mingi I think you’re cute, but I’m not ready for something serious and-” He interrupted you, “I thought about something more casual, if you know what I mean.” You let out a ‘oh’ “I-It’s totally okay if you don’t want, but since we’re both single and as I imagine frustrated, I thought why not...?” He clarified, still not making eye contact with you.

“Why not try?” He shot his head up at you, eyes wide and a slight smile on his face, “Really?” You nodded, “Do you want to go out tomorrow or do you think it’s too quick?” He asked. You approached him, gluing your body on his and wrapping your arms around his neck, “Tomorrow seems good”

He snaked his arms around your waist, kissing you slowly as his hands roamed your ass, sometimes tugging at it. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, you hands also made their way to his clothed crotch, making him separate the kiss and grunt silently. “Go back to your friends, I’ll make up for you tomorrow” You whispered, making him roll his eyes as he let go of you to go back to Yunho’s room.

Your little relationship with Mingi - if you could it even call it that - was doing you wonders, for some time your feelings for Yunho faded, specially when Mingi was balls deep into your cunt, all you could do was scream and whimper his name, brain turned into mush. Still, from time to time you would think it was Yunho instead of Mingi fucking you dumb, but you tried your best to repress those desires.

But one day you slip up, you moaned Yunho’s name out loud, and to say you were embarrassed was an understatement.

Mingi halted all movements. “I-I’m so sorry” You muttered under your breath, only loud enough for him to hear, voice cracking as tears filled your eyes. Mingi removed himself from you, “Yn look at me”

You refused to, continuing to stare at the pillow as Mingi caressed your hips, waiting for your response, “Yn I’m not mad, we’re not together, I’m just confused,” He heard your sniffs, making him turn you around and hug you.

“Do you want to stop?” You nodded, making him hold you tighter until he calmed you down enough so that he could bring your and his clothes.

After explaining the whole situation to him, he said he wouldn’t mind to keep your little ‘friends-with-benefits’ thing going on if you still wanted it and assured you he didn’t care about the slip-up. At the end, you knew he understood the mess you were in and took pity in your situation.

«---- ღ ----»

You were awaken from a loud thud coming from the living room, heart racing as your mind thought about the most far-fetched and terrifying scenarios that it could. Slowly getting out of the bed and tiptoeing towards the bedroom door, you heard some mumbles coming from the other room.

You put your ear on the door to hear better. Knock knock knock. You jolted and gasped silently, backing away from the door, “Yn?” A female voice called from the other side, making you realize who it was. Opening the door you saw Jiyeon, smeared lipstick and smokey eyes adorning her delicate face as she reeked from alcohol.

“You scared the living shit out of me!” You whisper-yelled.

“Sorry, um... Yunho and I were at the club with some friends and he is pretty wasted, can I ask a favor?”

“Go on”

“So tomorrow I will be leaving town to meet my family, and I can’t be here looking after Yunho until he falls asleep, could you do that?”

“Jiyeon, I’m sorry but-”

“Please! I know it’s late and that I should have managed my time better, but it’s just this time and I trust you more than his friends to take good care of him”

Now, that was odd. Out of all the people in his life, you were the one she trusted the most? When you literally have feelings for him, have touched yourself while thinking of him and while she was the one on his bed. But Yunho is still your friend after all, surely nothing will go wrong while you care after him and tidy him, right?

“Okay, I'll try and do my best”

“Thank you so much, he's in the couch, probably half-awake” You both went to see him, he was laying on his back, hooded eyes staring through the ceiling, “I'll go now, thank you once again”.

With the door closing, it was just you and a drunk Yunho, who seemed to have a staring contest with the white ceiling.

“Yunho, are you feeling nauseous?” He kept facing the ceiling as you called his name from afar, “Yunho?" You spoke louder this time, getting closer, the smell of cheap liquor invading your nostrils.

“Uh... Whaaat?” His slurred speech would have almost made you laugh if you weren't worried sick for him.

“Do you wanna puke?” He shook his head. “Okay, let's go to your room, can you get up?” He slowly shifted in his seat and stood up, losing his balance immediately, falling on the couch.

“Great” You massaged your temples, “How am I supposed to carry you to your room?” You sat on his side, putting one of his arms around your neck and holding it as your left arm wrapped around his torso.

With a little difficulty, you stood up. Despite managing to support him, his weight still made you bump on the hallway. Reaching his room felt like minutes.

You sat him on the bed, then unlacing and taking off his shoes as he watched you silently. Then helping him getting rid of the black leather jacket, leaving him in a white tee and black jeans.

“Look, you stink, I need to run you a shower” You explained, “This will be weird, because I need you to take off your pants”

He nodded, complying to your task slowly as you looked away to not make this any more embarrassing.

“You can turn” He said, making you turn around and trying to help him get up from the bed, avoiding looking down at his bare thighs and crotch area, cheeks burning up at the thought of it.

With a blink of an eye, Yunho's left hand was behind your head as his right propped him up, making you freeze on his hold. “Can I kiss you?” After what felt like an eternity, he asked, making you widen your eyes, no answer leaving your mouth.

You wondered if it was the booze or him talking, but his red cheeks, messy hair, somewhat slurred speech and daze gave you the answer.

“You're drunk Yunho, you don't know what you're talking about” You explained after a long staring contest, failing to cover the disappointment in your voice.

“I really want to kiss you” His grip on your neck softened a little, starting to caress it, “You look better with me, not with Mingi” Silence fell in the room, you looked away from him and bit your lip, sighing. Sure it wasn’t a secret you two were together, although it was just fun and games between you two, but it shouldn’t bother him that you’re with someone else.

“Yunho” You started with an hoarse voice, holding the tears threatening to leave your eyes, “You're speaking nonsense, let's go, I'll turn the water on for you”

The grip on your neck strengthened once again and before you knew it your lips crashed.

Different from Yunho, you kept your eyes open and wide, a million thoughts raced through your head, before finally giving into the kiss as Yunho urged you to become closer.

He bit your lower lip, taking the opportunity to insert his tongue in your mouth as you let out a silent whimper, deepening the kiss.

Getting drunk on his tongue, you threw yourself onto Yunho, both falling onto the bed without letting go of each other. Rolling on top of you, he started caressing your cheek with his thumb.

After the probably best moment of your life, you let go of him, finally allowing you both to breathe. As you stared into each other's eyes, Yunho's thumb and index fingers (hooked) into your chin, closing the small distance between you.

You don't know what it was, maybe it was the drunken state leaving your body, the guilt of taking advantage of Yunho or Jiyeon's words resurfacing your mind. But it probably was a mix of the three. You stopped Yunho, taking his hands off of you, making him frown.

“This is a mistake, you’ll regret it tomorrow, probably you won’t even remember this once you’re sober” You stood up “I’m turning on the water” You said as you walked towards the bathroom to do it, hiding the tears that threatened to leave your eyes, but for the sake of appearances and the possibility of him remembering these events tomorrow, you hid it.

You didn’t speak to each other as you gave him a bath, he sat on the shower as you shampooed his hair and rinsed it. You gave up on scrubbing his body in the middle of it due to your heartbroken state. After drying him quickly, you gave his some boxers and pajamas, waiting for him to go to bed to make sure he wouldn’t hit is head or fall down.

After putting him to bed, you crawled back to yours, crying yourself to sleep while thinking about what happened and how you fucked your friendship up, wishing all of this was just a dream.

The next few days were awkward, Yunho kept talking with you as if nothing had happened, probably because he didn’t remember, but you still couldn’t forget his kiss and his (slurred) words that night. He sometimes would ask if everything was alright, but you lied saying the last days have been tiring and you just needed to rest well.

«---- ღ ----»

You grabbed your keys, trying your best to make the least amount of silence possible since it was almost 1am. You had gone out with Mingi to a club, but before that, stopping at his house for some action.

The door opened, revealing your pitch dark apartment, just like you thought, Yunho was already asleep. You then shut it behind you and took off your heels to tiptoe towards your room. As you walked towards it, you saw the door from Yunho’s room wasn’t completely closed, a dim yellow light illuminating the hallway.

Since you didn’t hear a sound, you thought he had forgotten to turn off the light on his bedside, still trying to silently get into your room, slowly turning the door knob to open it.

“Yn...” Hearing your name coming in a low grunt from the other room made you shot your head up. You were pretty sure it was a moan coming from Yunho’s room, your cheeks flustered at the thought of him jerking off thinking of you.

Interest and curiosity took the best of you, making you silently spy Yunho through the door crack. He sat on the bed, no pants on, boxers still hanging on his feet as he slowly jerked himself off. Your mouth opened wide at the sight of his cock’s size. It was probably the biggest you have ever seen in real life.

After admiring his show for a few more moments, you realized you should leave before he catches you looking and make everything between you two even more awkward. As you made the way to your room, the wooden floor creaked, making you internally cursing yourself, hoping he didn’t notice it.

“Yn?” Yunho asked, opening his room’s door wide. Lucky for you, you were already at the front of your bedroom door.

“S-Sorry did I wake you up?” You gave him a slight smile, trying to be as convincing as possible.

“For someone who insists that kissing me was a mistake you sure were enjoying the view” Your face dropped, making you look like a deer in the headlights. Silence filled the whole apartment as Yunho waited for an answer.

“I-I’m sorry” Was all you said before looking away from him and heading to your room, but Yunho’s wasn’t accepting that so easily. He grabbed your arm and trapped you between the wall and himself.

“I can see it in your eyes, why are you lying to yourself?”

“Because you’re with someone else, that’s why. Just because she’s a poor excuse of a girlfriend that doesn’t make it right for you to cheat on her ”

“I don’t care about her”

“Liar!” Tears slowly streamed down your face “If you didn’t care you would’ve ended things a long time ago!”

“It’s complicated, and you know that! If you liked me so much you wouldn’t have started a relationship with Mingi either!” You took his hands off of you.

“We’re not together!” You tried to get away from him, only for Yunho to grab you once again and planting a kiss on your lips, making you relax on him.

He deepened the kiss, making you snake your arms behind his neck, tongue and teeth crashing together as lust and passion dominated you both. Still not letting go of each other, Yunho guided you to your room, closing the door behind him.

He let go of you, leaning a bit back to check you out “Fuck I can’t believe Mingi had all this to himself, you’re so fucking pretty” He attacked your neck with light kisses and bites, making you a whimpering mess as you got wetter.

“I love hearing your little whimpers, you’re so cute, Bunny” A shiver went down you spine “Do you like the nickname, Bunny?” He whispered in your ear, taunting you “These clothes look good on you, but I bet you look better without them” He sat in your bed as you stood in front of him.

You slowly took your clothes, Yunho’s eyes not leaving your body as he licked his lips. Only in your undergarments, you straddled his lap, his hands touching and grabbing every inch of your body. With a loud huff, he took off his t-shirt to reveal his chest and abs.

He pulled you to another kiss, this time a more passionate one, caressing your face as he unclasped your bra in one go, letting the straps fall on your arms. You pulled away from him to take it off, him grabbing and kissing them as light whimpers left your mouth.

He grabbed your hand, positioning it on his tent, “Fuck baby, I need to feel you right now”, you got on your knees, pulling his pants down to his feet, revealing his boxers already with a wet spot on his clothed tip. Touching him through his boxers made him throw his head back with a loud whimper, “Please for the love of God don’t tease me y/n”

You smirked, pulling his boxers down, revealing a leaking and angry tip. As you had already suspected, Yunho was big, you had no idea how it would fit you, but that was something to worry about later.

You started by stroking him and giving him kitty licks, his noises soon encouraged you to try and take him. “Oh fuck...” Yunho moaned and dropped himself on the bed as you sucked his tip, trying to suck more every time your head bobbed up and down.

Tears filled the corners of your eyes as his length hit the back of your throat, loving the stinging sensation it left behind. You felt a hand grabbing your hair lightly, making you look up, locking eyes with Yunho, his filled with lust, “You’re taking me so well bunny” his compliments only made you wetter and more eager to swallow more of his cock.

“Let me help you out b-bunny” He grabbed your hair in a ponytail to then force your throat down his shaft, tears streaming down your face as he wrecked your mouth. You moved your panties aside, making circles around your clit as he kept controlling your head movements.

He let out a deep chuckle, “Is my bunny horny just by sucking me off?” You let out a moan at his words, throat vibrating around his cock, making him moan as well. His movements faltered as his groans got louder and louder, soon him releasing in your mouth and his grip on your head.

You quickly moved back, coughing from the lack of air in your lungs, your throat stinging a but from the workout. Yunho grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. He kissed your tears away, loving how wrecked you looked when he had done barely anything to you.

“Are you okay?” You nodded at his answer “I’m sorry for being so harsh, if I ever do anything you don’t like please warn me” You laughed slightly at his concerns, “Use me however you want” You whispered to his ear, noticing how his lips curved in a menacing grin.

“Is that so? Lay on the bed for me then, love” Hearing Yunho calling you love made you dizzy, by this time you had forgotten he had another woman he could call ‘love’, not a single once of guilt tainting your heart and making you doubt this moment.

You laid on the bed, it was Yunho’s turn to get on his knees. He pulled you closer towards him, giving you kisses along your thighs as you begged him to stop teasing you. He dragged your panties along your legs, throwing it somewhere on the room.

“Holy fuck...” You moaned out loud when he licked your folds, burying his head on your cunt, eating you out like there’s no tomorrow. You tried your best to contain your moans, which only riled Yunho up even more.

“Y-Yunho- Fuck, calm down” You whined, feeling overstimulated from his mouth alone, without even coming once, feeling him smirk as the kept tongue-fucking you. He backed away from your dripping cunt, arousal dripping down his chin.

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to tease you”

“Fuck yes I did, but if you keep going on I’m not lasting long”

“Great that’s my intention” He pushed one finger with ease inside you, making you whimper slightly “More” He chuckled at your reaction, complying to your wishes and adding another one. He thrust his fingers in and out of you, eliciting moans from you. You loved how deep his fingers went inside your cunt, still, it wasn’t enough for you.

“Y-Yunho” You moaned out loud, incapable of forming a full sentence.

“Hmm?” He looked up to you, watching your fucked out face contort with please, “Does my bunny want more?” You nodded your head quickly, making him chuckle, “You’re such a whore for me” and how right he was, you would let him do anything to you in this moment,

He added one more, stretching your cunt out as he lowered his head to your cunt. You combination of his fingers inside you and his tongue flickering your bud turned you into a moaning mess. You quickly felt your high approaching, and Yunho knew that by the way your pussy tightened around his fingers.

“Cum for me bunny, I know you want to” His words were enough to drive you to your edge, making you cream around his fingers as he kept lapping your clit, riding out your orgasm.

He took of his fingers and put them in front of you, making you clean them up and taste yourself.

“Do you want me to grab a condom?”

“Forget that, just go raw” He widened his eyes, “A-Are you sure?” you nodded your head. He got up on the bed, positioning himself between your thighs and his length in your entrance.

“I’m going slow, tell me when it’s okay to move” He slowly inserted his head in you, making moan and wrap your legs around his waist. As he kept pushing himself inside you, your moans grew louder until he bottomed out.

“F-Fuck, you’re huge” You groaned, he stilled inside you as he caressed your face and thighs to relax you. “You can move” He started slowly, you bit your lips to suppress the moans from leaving your mouth, clawing at the sheets.

Yunho tested the waters by speeding up the pace, drawing more moans from you, which gave him the green light to fuck you dumb. He placed your legs on his shoulders and lowered down to meet your lips, giving a short peck.

“Fuck Yn, you’re driving me crazy” He moaned out loud, making you smile, to which he asked “Why are you smiling?” His pace never faltering, his tip brushing your g-spot every time.

“T-The name you’re moaning is mine” You managed to speak between moans, “My bunny is so dirty” He laughed, his thrusts getting sloppier and his moans getting louder.

“Come inside me, please” You locked gazes, he gave you a taunting smirk as he used one of his hands to draw circles around your clit. You felt like your mind was breaking apart from the amount of pleasure, soon feeling a knot on your stomach.

“Do you like being full of me? Fuck, baby I’m so close” He announced, before bursting inside you, your walls sucking him dry. You loved the feeling of being full to the brim by him. Still inside you, he kept drawing circles on your bud and sucking on your breasts. Soon, you came as well, moaning his name out loud.

He removed himself from you, feeling his cum drip down onto the sheets, making a mess, “I’m grabbing a towel, don’t move” He grabbed it quickly, you barely noticing his absence.

He cleaned you up, giving you kisses. Still, a question lingered on your mind.

“What about us Yunho?”

“I’m ending things with Jiyeon, I love you yn”

#ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

254 notes · View notes

hannie-dul-set · 7 months

Text

the breakup soup [preview].

SYNOPSIS. you and jeonghan get into an argument in the middle of the meeting. the rest of your organization’s officers slowly start to realize that this isn’t just about whether the mountains or the sea would be the better venue for your event.

PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x female! reader. GENRE. lovers to exes to lovers, humor, romance, mild angst, orgmate! jeonghan, college! au, a whole lot of forced proximity, there is only one bed trope will be sprinkled in there somewhere. WARNINGS. written breakup (obviously), so much swearing, sex jokes, will add more as i move forward. WORD COUNT. preview: 2.8k | full fic: est. 15k.

RELEASE DATE. november to december. TAGLST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. had a bathroom thought. wondered "wouldn't it be funny if a couple breaks up during an org meeting" and it has led me to this dumpster fire. i think it's funny. i hope you think it's funny. i understand that there might be some unfamiliar org jargon here and there, so please feel free to ask me for clarifications if some things are unclear so i can fix them in the final fic!

preview under the cut.

“TODAY IS SEPTEMBER 7, 20XX. THE MEETING WILL NOW PLEASE COME TO ORDER. Mr. Secretary, please call the roll.”

The words robotically fall out of Seungcheol’s mouth as he turns over the pages of his clipboard, marking a precise, red dot next to the word ‘agenda’ on the page. Another day, another meeting. He can’t wait for the moment he can finally retire from this god damned position. Every single time he repeats his presiding officer script, it feels like a digit gets added to his age.

“Yes, Mr. Chair. Please say ‘present and voting’ once your name is called to be acknowledged.”

Wonwoo starts the roll call, and Seungcheol is desperately trying to cover his yawn with the clipboard, else Seungkwan is gonna grate at him again for dozing off in his own meeting— the aforementioned straightening himself in his seat when his position is called.

“Public Information Officer 1?”

“Present and voting.”

“PIO 2?

“Present—” says Joshua, flicking a paper clip across the table and into Vernon’s nth latte of the day. “—and voting.”

“Next. Assistant Business Manager.”

“Prese—”

“Okay, got it.” Chan brandishes a look of offense when Wonwoo cuts him off. “Business Manager?”

“Present and voting. Do we really have to keep doing this one by one?”

Mingyu has a point, Seungcheol mentally agrees. But his god damned seniors wrote in the damned constitution and bylaws that every meeting of SVT (Society of Virtuous Timetravellers. He’s in the process of renaming it because your organization that’s supposed to be for history and culture is attracting weirdos instead— and two of them are Soonyoung and Seokmin) must abide by strict parliamentary procedures, so he has no choice but to suck it up and listen as Wonwoo continues to read out the succeeding positions on the attendance list, and it’s starting to sound a lot like a lullaby.

“Secretary, yours truly, present and voting.” The scratch from Wonwoo’s throat signals Seungcheol that it’s to zone back in. “Vice Chairperson-External?”

“Present and voting.”

Your voice draws Seungcheol's attention. He turns his head towards you and he notices the sheets of binded up papers you have in your hands, straightened with a few taps on the table surface before you settle them back down, a swell of pride when he sees what’s printed on the topmost page.

It’s impeccably organized, the task he assigned to you only three days prior. Hell, you even have page tabs sticking out of the sides of every page. Your work ethic never fails to impress him. On top of that, you’re always so professional— able to separate your personal and org life with strict barriers in between because even though you and Junhui have been friends for ten years, your sharp glare holds no reservations when you catch him folding paper turtles with sticky notes right next to you when inside the meeting room.

“Sorry,” Jun breathes out. You retract your leg from under the table after giving him a discreet kick.

Anyway, Seungcheol has high hopes for you, and he’s eyeing you to replace him as SVT’s Chairperson next year (he’s already in the process of manipulating you into taking the job: the compliments he gives away aren’t for free). You’re perfect. You’re flawless. There’s no one else fit for the position but you.

Which is why the next course of events comes as nothing less than a shock to him.

“Vice Chairperson-Internal?” Wonwoo calls out but is met with silence. He looks around. “VCI?”

No answer. You scoff.

“Alright, moving on. Mr. Chair?”

Seungcheol stiffens, second-guessing what he’d just heard, but the near-invisible crooked twitch of the corner of your mouth proves that no, that wasn’t just his imagination. You just scoffed. A sharp noise laced with derision and contempt. That should’ve been the first sign that something is off.

“Present,” he coughs out, resigning his attention back to the meeting he has to preside over. It must be nothing. Even you can get annoyed sometimes. Maybe Jun is fucking around again and you’ve just had about enough.

“There are thirteen out of fourteen officers present, Mr. Chair. We are in quorum.”

“Thank you. Seeing that we are in quorum, it is now legal for us to conduct business. Mr. Secretary, will you please read to us the agenda for today’s—”

The office door swings open.

“Sorry, I’m late!”

And Mr. VCI rushes in with his white coat still hanging off his shoulders. The meeting is put to an abrupt pause as Jeonghan hastily walks up to his assigned seat, trying to explain the reason for his tardiness. “Our lab session took longer than expected,” Jeonghan huffs out, dragging out the chair next to him. “Dr. Han wouldn’t let us—”

“It’s common decency to enter the room and sit down quietly when you’re late so as to not disturb the ongoing meeting. Especially when you haven’t informed the body beforehand.”

Seungcheol flinches when he hears the interruption of your sharp tone. His head quickly snaps to your direction before gleaning Jeonghan’s reaction. His friend’s jaw tightens but he says nothing. That should’ve been the second sign.

“Mr. Chair, may we proceed with the reading of today’s agenda?”

He eyes you carefully and, with a hesitant drawl anchoring his tongue, proceeds with the meeting while Jeonghan quietly settles into his seat. “Mr. VCI, you may send your excuse letter later for record keeping. Anyhow, Mr. Secretary, please read to us the agenda for today’s meeting.” Wonwoo does as instructed. The problem is, Seungcheol can’t hear anything that he’s saying. Not when his seat is exceedingly uncomfortable at the moment.

It’s not his seat. It’s the two people cornering his seat that’s the problem.

Cold sweat breaks out from his forehead. The air is stuffy. You and Jeonghan lock eyes for zero-point-five seconds and there’s a chill in the atmosphere that only Seungcheol can feel. What the fuck is going on?

“Thank you Mr. Secretary. We’ll begin with the first agenda— SVT’s Orientation and Membership Training. Alright. As you all may know, this will be our organization’s first event for the academic year, thus I am expecting everyone’s undivided cooperation in making sure that this event will be a success. We have already discussed the initial details of the event during the previous meeting, and we also distributed the tasks to the officers and committees.” He flips through a page and clears his throat. “I believe our Vice Chair External was tasked to scout for the venue. Ms. VCE, have you prepared your presentation?”

You nod, rising from your seat. “Yes, Mr. Chair. I’ve prepared a comprehensive list of all our options.” Okay, Seungcheol breathes in through nose. You seem normal now. Maybe he was just overthinking things. “I ask for everyone’s assistance in distributing the copies.”

Seungcheol looks at the text written in bold when you pass a copy to him— SVT ORYE & MT 20XX: VENUE PROPOSAL. While everyone is passing the paperclip-bound photocopies to each other, you take the liberty start speaking. “If you look at the second page, you can see the overview of the entire document. I’ve listed five possible venues and compiled their respective addresses, rates, inclusions, menus, and of course, pictures for your reference. We’ll look at each of them one by one, starting with—”

You pause. Jeonghan is raising his hand. Your eyebrow twitches. Seungcheol gets a bad feeling. “Yes, Mr. VCI?”

“Thank you for the acknowledgement,” he says. “I’d like to ask why exactly are all of these venues located in the mountains? Don’t we have other options? It would be fine if it were just us officers, but I believe holding the event in such terrains would be far too inconvenient for more or less a hundred people.”

A very bad feeling.

“I appreciate your insight,” you respond. Uh oh. Your smile is strained and Seungcheol knows it. That’s the smile you wear when you’re about to pulverize a representative for a disadvantageous partnership to the ground. “However, I’d like to bring to your recollection that the theme of this year’s Orye is traditional South Korean folklore. That considered, I came up with the judgment that the mountainous and forested areas would be the most appropriate and immersive venue if we wish to bring this concept to life. I hope that is clear, Mr. VCI. Anyway—”

“It’s still impractical, Ms. VCE.”

Your face stiffens.

Jeonghan just cut you off.

Shit, he just cut you off.

He stands up, leveling you from across the table. “What about our members with asthma? Heart problems? What if it rains on the day of the event? Do you expect everyone to climb up a mountain trail in all these conditions?”

“If you read through my document before inadvertently interrupting me, Mr. VCI, you’d know that three out of the five venues offer uphill transportation in order to get to the accommodations. And although I understand your reservations about the possibility of inclement weather, may I remind you that it’s also the driest season of the year. You’re being unreasonable.”

Fuck. Seungcheol thinks he needs to butt in but he can’t find the timing when there’s literally an invisible fucking electric fence deterring him from reaching the both you. He catches a glimpse of Joshua’s concerned eyebrows. ‘Do something,’ his friend’s eyes say. He’s about to until you drop a sentence that shoots the tension off the roof.

“Furthermore, I’ve surveyed all of the officers through text if they agree with my venue proposal and I was met with no objections. You’d know if you opened any of my messages last night, Jeonghan.”

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck, you called him by his first name.

You never call anyone by their first name. At least not during meetings and it’s very clear that this is a reason for alarm because everyone else’s eyes fly wide open. Except Jeonghan’s. He just looks pissed— mirroring your very own expression. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong and Seungcheol is slowly starting to realize that this argument isn’t just about the venue conflict.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat for the nth time, a wound might break open. “We will take our VCI’s concern into consideration. If you believe holding our Orye in the mountains is impractical, where do you suggest we should hold it instead?”

Jeonghan’s shoulders relax. He gives you a momentary look before settling back into his seat. “Thank you, Mr. Chair.” You do the same. Seungcheol breathes out a sigh of relief. “I’d like to suggest that we hold it by the beach and sea. Not only would it be more accessible, it would also be considerably cheaper considering there’d be no extra expenses for transportation up the hiking trail. There are also more options if we hold it on the beach. I already have contacts from last year’s set of events. We don’t have to worry about negotiations.”

Seungcheol nods in response. He’s about to say something but once again, he hears an unmistakable scoff from your direction. “Of course, you’d go for the low effort option.”

Oh no. Oh god, no.

Jeonghan’s eyes dart towards you. “What was that?”

Seungcheol doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.

“I’m just saying that it’s so like you to go for the easy way out.”

He doesn’t get paid for this at all.

“What are you trying to tell me here, Ms. VCE?” Jeonghan’s tone is getting more pointed, and the rest of the table are starting to pick up on what’s going on. Mingyu is slowly inching off of his seat and finding the right time to book it. Chan and Seokmin are nervously flitting their eyes back and forth between Jeonghan and you. Minghao hao stopped paying attention. He’s got his airpods on and scrolling through his phone.

“The sea is not theme-appropriate for our event, Mr. VCI,” you firmly press on. “There are myths and folklore that reference the sea and ocean, however as an introductory event for our organization we should defer from making far too uncommon references since most of our members are beginners to our advocacy.”

Vernon is about to be swallowed by his chair. Seungkwan has his face in his hands. Seungcheol’s phone vibrates and it’s a message from Wonwoo. Should I include all of this in the minutes? he asks. Seungcheol isn’t even sure if this argument is still about the venue.

“May I also add that beach events are overused. Everyone holds acquaintance parties, Christmas parties, sensitivity trainings at beaches and beach resorts. Should we follow that template, I doubt our event would be memorable enough for our members to remember.”

“Then it’d be the obligation of the program committee to make it memorable.” The said committee flinches upon hearing Jeonghan’s words. Joshua and Junhui don’t look like they agree with the additional burden. Jihoon’s forehead is wrinkling from secondhand stress. “We don’t need to sacrifice the affordability and accessibility of our location in order to hold a note-worthy event. And, may I also reiterate that we should consider our members with health problems, Ms. VCE.”

This is enough. This is probably enough. Maybe it’s time for Seungcheol to intervene.

“However, I understand,” Jeonghan continues. “I understand that it’s not easy for you to be considerate.”

But how the fuck is he supposed to do that when you two fucks won’t stop provoking each other?

“Oh, for god’s sake!” It’s hopeless. It’s gone out of control. Your voice has bordered on yelling ang Seungcheol himself is afraid of being caught in between. “Are you still mad about the cat thing?!”

What is the cat thing? What in the hell is actually going on?

“This is not about the cat thing and you know that.” There’s a ruffle in Jeonghan’s voice. He lets out a groan and throws his head back with his fingers digging into his hair. “Fuck. Let’s talk later.”

Yes. Yes, please just talk later so we can move on with the meeting.

“Did you just swear at me?”

Nevermind.

There’s a second silence. One second— until the corner of Jeonghan’s mouth twitches and he expels a huff of incredulity. It’s ominous. It’s a harbinger of uncomfortable destruction. “So swearing is crossing the line, but refusing to let me meet your parents and forcing us to keep this relationship a secret is completely justifiable?”

Well shit.

This meeting is done for.

Silence washes over the office once again. Wide eyes are being exchanged and not even Wonwoo is filling the tension with his incessant typing on the laptop. Chair, I don’t think I should include this part in the minutes, Seungcheol receives another message from him. Of course he shouldn’t. A relationship reveal isn’t part of the agenda. Neither is a breakup but he fears it’s teetering to that outcome.

It’s uncomfortable. It’s suffocatingly uncomfortable and Seokmin looks like he’s about to cry at any moment.

“Well,” you simmer. “I guess it’s not much of a secret anymore, isn’t it?”

“Damn.” Soonyoung receives an elbow from Jihoon. He gets hushed down very quickly to make room for another agonizing exchange between you and Jeonghan.

“Is that literally all you have to say? You’re so insensitive, it drives me fucking nuts. This is why it’s so hard to keep seeing you—”

“Oh, so you think I’m not having a hard time? If you can’t understand why I had to do that, then let’s just stop seeing each other!”

“Fine, I’m glad we’re on the same page this time.”

“Great!”

“Great.”

“Your clothes better be out of my closet by tomorrow.”

“Throw them away, I don’t need them.”

“I will! Thanks for the suggestion!”

Things have now gone beyond the point of salvation and he can’t even interject to formally end this disaster of a meeting.

“Mr. Chair, I apologize, but I’m afraid I will be leaving early today.” Oh, so now you remember his existence. You’re fuming, slinging over your shoulder bag and haphazardly collecting your things from the table, and Seungcheol simply massages his temples and nods in acknowledgement to your sudden leave. “Please go through the document at your discretion and I’ll be respecting whatever decision the body makes. Thank you and have a good day.”

Just like that, you’re gone. Jeonghan also starts collecting his things. “My phone lines are open in case you need anything. Goodbye.” With that, he also disappears with the harsh swing and slam of the door, leaving behind another blanket of uncomfortable silence for everyone else to drown in.

Seungcheol sighs. He feels a headache kicking in.

“So...are we having the event in the mountains or by the sea?”

He groans.

Is it too late to file a resignation?

THE BREAKUP SOUP. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#seventeen x reader #svt x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #svt #svt scenarios #yoon jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen x you #svt x you #yoon jeonghan x you #jeonghan x you #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #yoon jeonghan fanfic #seventeen college au

457 notes · View notes

coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

do not disturb

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

warnings- 18+ only minors DNI, what's a plot never met her, explicit protected piv sex, lil corruption/innocence kink, choking (pls look up the correct way before doing it), hangman's dirty mouth, size kink (if jake doesn't have a big dick I'm staging a revolt), brat tamer hangman if you squint, inexperienced ish reader (tried but I'm a hoe so idk if I managed it), no kink negotiation here (talk to your partners first irl), safewords not explicitly stated but I promise this is consensual af, excessive pet names, exasperated sleepy friends to lovers

length- 4k this was supposed to be like 1k I don't know blame hangman

an- this is just smut w lil fluff sprinkles. i'm a hangman girl (read: I'm obsessed with glen powell) so I felt some type of way about being mean to him in tailspin & that's why this now exists. also idfk what this even is sorry! hope it's not terrible ok ily bye

Technically, it’s the middle of the night.

That’s why you’re burying homicidal urges when you hear knocking on your hotel room door.

Urges that increase tenfold when you open it to see Jake Seresin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in an old Navy shirt that looks way too soft for your sleep addled brain to deal with right now.

“Hangman,” you greet drily. “Why the fuck.”

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re not unhappy to see him, per se, but it’s well past acceptable social hours. He’ll have to forgive your less than enthusiastic welcome. Part of you thinks you might still be sleeping.

He at least has the decency to look sheepish for waking you up. Well, about as sheepish as Hangman is capable of looking. “Coyote said he was bringing someone back to our room. Can I crash with you tonight? Everyone else is either hooking up or dead asleep.”

Fucking weddings.

You narrow your eyes. “What if I have someone here?”

He smirks and you kind of want to slap him.

A testament to your willpower, you sigh instead, briefly wondering if it’s really that bad to force him to sleep in the hallway, before opening the door and stepping to the side.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawls, letting you feel the heat of his body as he passes by you, just a touch too close for comfort.

“Cool pjs.” He smirks again, raking his eyes up and down your colorful matching shorts and shirt set.

“Bite me.”

Hangman smiles good-naturedly causing you to idly wonder if anything has ever bothered him in his entire life.

“You’re real cute when you’re tired,” he says instead of being offended and now you’re debating if you actually should slap him, or maybe yourself for the way his compliment brings heat to your cheeks.

“Where’s Phoenix? Thought you were sharing a room with her this weekend.”

Your stomach drops as you consider that Phoenix might be why he came to crash in your room, and you try not to make a face at its betrayal.

“She’s probably in your room with Coyote,” you deadpan to cover up your discomfort, and then relish in the way his mouth drops open in surprise. “Christ, aren’t you supposed to be smart, Hangman? I’m kidding, she met someone at the reception.”

You know you’re being a little more abrasive with him than normal, but you can’t quite help the jabs that come out when you’re feeling uneasy.

And Hangman does nothing, if not make you very, very uneasy. Especially like this, with his blonde hair soft and flopping all over his forehead, that old t-shirt clearly having been shrunk in the wash over the years straining across his chest, riding up a little high above his sweatpants.

The gears are clearly turning in his head, no doubt forming something witty to gain back the slight upper hand you’ve gained in this verbal sparring.

You should be preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say that’s sure to make you lose your footing. But he looks like a goddamn sleepwear model like this, mellow and soft and cuddly, eyes drooping a little from tiredness and the whiskey he was sipping on all night, clothes begging to have someone’s hands fisted in them and…okay. Stopping that train of thought right the fuck now.

Nothing but danger lies down that road with a girl like you and a guy like Hangman.

You’re contemplating if you could get away with taking a cold shower when he finally looks around your room, its distinct lack of two beds apparently killing whatever comeback he had on the tip of his tongue.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again and his uncharacteristic awkwardness is starting to make your skin itch.

Message received, Hangman. We both know I’m not your type.

You’ve seen the girls he usually goes home with. Even if every single one of them wasn’t annoyingly beautiful, you already know where you stand with him. For all intents and purposes, you’re just another one of the guys. Sure, you don’t take a different conquest home every other night like the rest of them, but you banter and compete with them like buddies.

And since you and Hangman are just buddies, you roll your eyes for appearances. “Just get in the bed, Seresin. It’s huge, I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.”

He shrugs, like he’s giving himself credit for his half-assed offer and goes to pull his sweatpants off. You give him a withering look of disbelief, studiously avoiding looking at the way his boxers stretch over his muscular thighs.

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

He just gives you a dazzling smile in response, and you spin away from him before everything inside you melts.

Turning the thermostat down, you shoot an evident you’re welcome stare in his direction, but his sweatpants remain in their place on the floor. He’s laid out on the bed, all tanned skin and muscle, arms crossed behind his head in a way that’s surely meant to draw your attention straight to his biceps.

Deep breath, you tell yourself. You can do this, just lay down on the other side and don’t be weird.

You get in and pull the covers tight, hoping the shiver that runs through you as the air conditioning kicks on isn’t noticeable.

“And I’m dramatic,” Jake huffs, getting under the blanket and rolling closer to you. You tense, merely out of reflex and a frown creases his eyebrows almost imperceptibly before he gets comfortable on his side, pulls you into his arms. “Relax, sugar. Just trying to keep you warm, since you’re always so cold. Been told I’m like a furnace.”

By who? You want to snap at him, but instead you swallow the words and lean into his chest. He really is warm.

“Would never do anything you don’t want me to,” he mumbles, but there’s a trace of a chuckle in his voice that feels like he’s making fun of you.

Mocking aside, that's definitely true.

You'd never expect him to do any of the things you want him to, either. There's a reason your apprehension stems from you crossing some sort of invisible line with him in your bed and not vice versa.

"I know," you whisper, not trusting yourself to say much else without divulging all the thoughts about him you've buried deep under your comforter at home.

“How come you didn’t ask anyone else to come up and keep you warm?” Jake teases, after a few moments of silence where you were busy focusing on the whirr of the air conditioner and trying to ignore your pounding heart.

You squint, still kind of wondering if he can feel your pulse racing.

“The curly haired guy, from the wedding,” he supplies helpfully to answer your confused expression.

Oh. You’re surprised Jake noticed you talking to him at all. “It’s not like I wanted to sleep with him. We were just chatting.”

“Well, he definitely wanted to.” You’d love to imagine there’s a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you know that’s just wishful thinking.

“That’s not really my thing,” you say quietly, as if he doesn’t already know. He knew enough to know you wouldn’t have anyone up here with you, after all.

It’s so much easier, laying here in the dark, not having to meet his beautiful green eyes, to be honest. All your jabs having melted into smooth, silky edges at the warmth of his body.

There’s a playful lilt to Jake’s voice again. “Sex?”

You smack him lightly on the chest. “One-night stands. I can never get comfortable enough with a stranger to have a good time, things are just better for me when it’s more involved.”

When there’s feelings, you don’t say, because you’re pretty sure he can put two and two together without you having to spell it out.

You still kind of wish you hadn’t said anything, are kicking yourself for admitting that out loud when he cuts through the anxiety of your internal monologue.

“Nothing wrong with knowing what you want, darlin’.”

“It sucks sometimes,” you admit. “It can be a little lonely.”

“Better than being with the wrong person if it’s just going to make you feel bad.”

Part of you wants to roll your eyes and scoff at him, as if Casanova Jake Seresin has any idea what that feels like, but he’s rubbing small, comforting circles in between your shoulder blades and it’s short-circuiting your brain. You find yourself running your fingers up his spine instead, playing with the soft threads of his t-shirt like you’ve wanted to since the moment you saw him at your door tonight.

“Feels nice,” he comments, pulling you in closer.

Spurred on by his praise you keep going, wandering down his back to where his shirt rides up. You look down and see that little strip of blonde hair that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, slung low enough that you can see that stupid Adonis belt on his abs. Your hand moves to the front of him of its own accord, tracing the ridges there, brushing dangerously close to the strip of elastic at the top.

Jake’s arm pops up so he can support his head with his hand, looking down at you imploringly. “What’re you playing at, sugar?”

You take your hand back like it’s been burned, cheeks suddenly hot as you realize you’d gotten carried away. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t think about what I was doing. Got distracted.”

He’s definitely smirking, you can practically feel it in the air above you, but you’re sure as hell not going to look up and see that self-important grin for yourself.

He pulls your fingers back to his stomach, and you can’t help but immediately brush them over his happy trail. The dusting of blonde hair surprises you a little, having expected Hangman to be too vain to leave any hair around that might distract from his physique.

You’re silently wondering if he has any hair on his chest when he catches a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You see his green eyes darkened, studying your face for something. You’re not entirely sure what.

Apparently finding what they’re looking for his expression softens, the hand supporting his head going to brush hair away from your face and you break eye contact, feeling small under his undivided attention. His fingers hover for a second, like he wants to do something more, but go to rest on your pillow instead.

“Thought that I had you pegged wrong all along for a second there, using lines to get in my pants. That’s not really my thing,” he mimics, smile twitching at the edges of his lips.

“Oh, I’m—Jake, I’m not—” you stutter, certain you must be bright red now. Your fingers are playing with the hem of his t-shirt, nervous and fidgety energy working to get released.

I’m not like this, you want to say. I’m not like you.

He exhales audibly, looking down at you, at the cherry blooming on your cheeks, at where your dainty fingers pluck at his shirt. His hand clenches once in the pillow above your head, knuckles practically white, before releasing.

“I know, sweets, was only joking. Fuck, I get that you’re a good girl,” he breathes, strained like he’s barely holding it together. “S’why I always want to ruin you.”

What.

Everything inside your mind shuts off.

All you can hear is the humming of the air conditioner, the slow intake of air into his lungs. Something inside you clenches.

You’re fairly certain a sound that closely resembles a whimper breaks from your throat, but you can’t know for sure, since all thoughts have been erased from your brain.

You hear him suck in a sharp breath, breathing in and out evenly for a couple seconds, regaining control, before he speaks again. “Sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have said that. I won’t, told you I’d never do anything you don’t want.”

You already know that. That’s not the problem. The problem is how many nights you’ve already spent wishing his fingers were on you instead of your own. How many nights you've spent biting back his name, too embarrassed to let your lips form the syllables of someone who you were certain didn’t want you.

Now, though, those walls of certainty seem to be crumbling at every edge.

“What if I want you to?” You ask quietly, barely above a whisper. It almost gets stuck in your throat, but you force your lips to form those words and let them leave your lungs.

Jake’s entire body goes tense.

But then he rolls over, putting you on your back and caging you in with his arms.

“You mean that?” He’s looking at you intensely, so intensely you might be frightened if you weren’t distracted by the weight of him on top of you, by every single scorching point of contact between you.

All you can manage is a nod, eyes starting to glaze over as he fills every inch of your vision.

He chuckles. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Jake ducks his head to kiss you, it’s sweet, sweeter than you ever would’ve expected from him. Sweeter than you thought it would be when you were hiding beneath the sheets in your bed, with your fingers on your clit, choking back his name.

But then he slides his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss as he tangles a hand in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you moan straight into his mouth. His lips move down to ghost over your neck, across your jaw.

And suddenly his words are hot in your ear. “What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to ruin you? Tell you about all the times I’ve thought about taking you apart?”

Your thighs clench together, heat blooming in your stomach and you notice, all at once, how wet you really are, slick pooling between your thighs under the wispy material of your sleep shorts.

You open your mouth to say yes, desperately trying to find your voice, to find your familiar jabs so you can go toe to toe with him like normal, but all that comes out is a squeak.

His hand stops at your neck, just briefly, thumb rubbing on your pulse point. And it turns every last bit of you in you to sweet, sticky, melting caramel. Your breath hitches, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a whimper.

He’s not even doing anything, not really, but your mind immediately latches onto what he could be.

Jake’s eyes go wide for just a second before something wicked glints in the thin ring of green left.

“Thought you were so fucking innocent,” he grunts, running his thumb from your pulse point to your jaw and back again. You bring your hands to his, pulling him closer, silently asking him to press down.

You open your mouth to respond, but you don’t know how to explain. You may not do this kind of thing a lot, but you know what you like. Your imagination has certainly run wild enough times.

But any words that might’ve been readying themselves to leave your lips wither into nothing the moment he squeezes your neck.

“Jake,” you gasp, words breathy underneath the fingers around your throat. “Jake, I…”

“Hmm, what’s that, sweetheart?” His hand relents a little so you can answer, but you immediately wish he’d tighten his hold again.

“Yes, Jake,” you whine. “I want you to ruin me.”

And you don’t know what’s come over you, if you were even an ounce more present in your own body you’d probably be embarrassed.

But Jake’s head drops next to his hand at the crook of your neck, and he makes a strangled noise, the moan reverberating through your skin.

“Jesus,” he mutters against you. “Trying to kill me, sugar?”

You don’t have an answer for that because you’re not trying to do anything, you just want more.

Your fingers are still grasping his hand, the one still around your neck, tightly, like you’re scared he’ll pull it away, leave you to drift without his grip to ground you, to remind you this moment is real. It’s actually happening.

He lifts his head up to latch his mouth onto yours again and it’s heavier, so much more desperate than before. You whine into him as he slides his hands down your body, pushing up your shirt and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it, that you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your entire life and you’re both still fully clothed.

He peels your shirt up and over your head, letting out another obscene groan at the sight of your bare chest.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs.

You fist your hands in his shirt in answer, tugging upwards, figuring fair is fair. You’re trying hard not to blush, not to show how his approval makes you light and fuzzy. He grins and sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt up and over his head, ruffling his floppy hair in the process.

Lips parting unconsciously, your tongue flicks out to wet them. You knew he was built, but it’s overwhelming, really, to have all that tan skin on display just inches from your face. You get to run your hands up the length of his entire chest now though, leaning up so your fingers can dance through the tuft of blonde hair near the top.

Jake pushes you down on your back, firm, into the pillows. Smiling deviously when you pout and immediately clench your fingers in the sheets beside you, when your thighs press together, seeking some sort of relief to the ache between them. The seam of your shorts presses just right against your center, and you let your head fall back with a soft moan.

Something akin to dangerous flashes in Jake’s eyes, as he hooks his fingers in your shorts, pulling down in one swift motion and tossing them off the bed before you can gain any more pleasure from the thin material. He pushes your legs apart and groans at the sight of you, glistening wet for him. “God, sweetheart, look at you.”

Just when you think you might die if he doesn’t put his hands on you, if he doesn’t touch you, if he just keeps looking at you like that, like he wants to devour you; he swipes a finger up your slit, tip pressing lightly, teasingly against your bundle of nerves. It’s too much, but not enough all at the same time. He slides a finger in, curling it exactly right on the first try and you can’t help but keen, throwing your head back into the pillows.

He sucks in a sharp breath at your reaction, eyelids going heavy as he presses rough figure eights on your clit. “Want to get my mouth on you, get my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy, but I can’t wait, darlin’, been thinking about this for too long.”

Warmth blooms in your chest at the realization he might’ve imagined this even half as much as you have. You’re sure you’re smiling like an idiot.

Reaching down to the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet, and you want to tease him, presumptuous much? But any semblance of thought goes out the window when he pulls his boxers down, hard cock slapping against his stomach. Your mouth is suddenly, immediately sandpaper dry.

Fuck.

Of course he’s huge. No one with an ego as colossal as his doesn’t have a reason, or several to back it up.

You don’t even hear yourself saying it out loud, don’t even realize the curses forming on your tongue, until he grins, eyebrow raised, chest puffed out in pride. “Think you can handle me, sweetheart?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, to figure out that you should answer, since you’re transfixed on him, on the strong fingers rolling the condom onto his length. If you had any sense of self-preservation at all you might be genuinely worried about his question, about not being able to walk tomorrow.

Hopefully you don’t sound as winded as you feel when you tell him to shut the fuck up.

Before you can bother with any stupid survival instincts, you’re pulling him down on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist, savoring the grunt it draws from him as his tip reaches your folds.

“Love it when you’re mouthy, darlin’, nice little challenge for me,” he promises, before pushing himself inside of you.

He goes slow, tortuously slow, and you screw your eyes shut tight as your walls flutter trying to adjust to him. You don’t notice you’re on the verge of a sob until he brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “Just a little more, sweetheart, you can take it.”

The stretch of him seems to go on forever, just on this side of agonizing, but way too good for you to care about the pain, too good to be real and you can barely focus on anything else. Can barely hear Jake’s molten honey voice repeating a slew of continuous praises in your ear, can barely register the weight of his body covering every inch of you.

Any moment now you’ll wake up in your bed at home, covered in sweat, grinding into your bed, achingly alone. You’re almost certain of it.

But then you feel his lips on yours again, hand holding your cheek, gentle, affectionate as he bottoms out. When he finally moves, the heavy, slick pull of him in and out of you reminds you that you’re here.

You don’t even recognize yourself, mewling, long string of unintelligible noises tumbling from your lips.

Jake practically preens. “Where’d my feisty little brat go? That all it takes to shut you up, sugar?”

You can only hope those were rhetorical questions because he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, picking up the pace, new angle hitting that spot deep inside you again and again, and you can’t form a single thought, let alone words.

Jake’s fingers find your center again and press against your clit in heavy, decisive circles, winding that coil in you tighter and tighter.

“So close,” you whimper, fingers tearing at the bedsheets.

He smirks.

“Did I say you could come, sweetheart?”

Your jaw drops in surprise, eyes rolling back and ears ringing, mind engulfed in the heat burning in your belly.

He’s still grinning smugly as one of those large hands comes back to your neck.

You whine, high-pitched and breathless, eyes fluttering closed, gripping the hand around your neck as he applies pressure, desperate for something to hold onto, and you think you’re trying to form words, some of them may even be making it out of your mouth, something along the lines of please please please, let me come, Jake, I can’t, JakeJakeJakeJake…

“So pretty all fucked out like this, stretched around my cock.” His gaze is fixed on where he’s plunging in and out of you, tone almost reverent. “It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me, wanna feel you, want…”

You don’t hear the rest because you’re focused on where his fingers dig into the sides of your neck, tipping over the edge, string of lights inside of you tangled and blowing a fuse. Everything bursts all at once and you’re clutching Jake’s arms so hard you’re positive you’re leaving marks, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t care because you’re in a free fall, toes curling in bliss.

When you come to, you’re just barely aware of his pace growing erratic, hand on your throat loosening as it goes to brush your sweaty hair back from your forehead. His thrusts are getting shallower, mouth spewing a litany of jumbled praises so tight, so wet, so perfect baby, when suddenly he’s arching over you, hands tight on your hips as he empties into the condom.

You’re not sure you’re still functioning. You’re not sure you’ll ever move again. You’re pretty sure you’ll ever have a coherent thought again.

Distantly you can hear his heavy breathing, feel his weight on top of you but you don’t fully register it.

“Sweetheart?” He asks when you’ve been silent for minutes, or maybe hours, who knows.

You look up at him, blinking slowly, eyelids made of lead, vision unfocused.

Jake grins, and it's almost boyish. It's annoyingly cute. “That good?”

That cuts through the haze enough that you kind of want to slap him, for the arrogance littering those three little words. Or yourself, for helping his ego grow any bigger.

As it stands, you’re too dazed to actually do either. You nod, silently burrowing your face into his neck. He chuckles again, and you decide maybe you don’t hate that teasing sound that much, maybe you’ll spend your days trying to elicit it from him as often as possible. You’re still thinking about it when he peels himself off you to clean you both up.

When he settles back down, he pulls you in tight, curls around you in a way that should be uncomfortable, like he’d crawl inside your skin if he could.

Jake is still glued to you when you wake up in the morning, and your heart clenches too affectionately to be irritated by the fact that you can’t really move. Or breathe.

But you take one look at the smirk on his face, the mischievous glimmer that seems to linger even in his sleep and the butterflies in your stomach turn to stone.

You don’t think he’s that much of an asshole, you’re pretty sure the bravado is all a front. That he wouldn’t do something like this, knowing how you operate, without any intention of moving forward, but the anxiety still thrums incessantly beneath your ribcage.

You’re lost inside your own head, fighting the panic rising in your chest when he yawns, rubbing his eyes before tucking himself back into your side, impossibly closer.

“Guess that fifty bucks I gave Phoenix to find somewhere else to stay was a steal,” he mumbles, fingers dancing across your bare skin.

It’s his turn to pat himself on the back as your mouth drops open in shock.

Jake grins, eyes sparkling as he presses a kiss into your hair. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

#jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #hangman smut #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic

4K notes · View notes

misted-dream · 4 months

Text

♟️ between heaven and hell ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ bodyguard!winwin x fem!reader ➛ part of the mad city series | go to district V

content | smut, sprinkle of angst, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love but not really, forced proximity, a little bit of miscommunication, yn is mentioned to be shorter than winwin, slow burn?, winwin is kinda a dick at first

warnings | fingering, profanity, mentions of food, mentions of a shooting

word count | 18k

synopsis | being born into a repulsive fortune, your life is threatened more often than not. you’ve grown less and less affected by it throughout the years. however, as the day where you take on your father’s much coveted title looms nearer and nearer, more frequent and dangerous threats draw in. with all the money in the world, is it enough to buy trust?

note | ln stands for last name since yn is addressed by her last name quite a bit in this. the ending is a little bit rushed, pls excuse that and ignore the fact that this basically takes place in a week. what is pacing, idk.

tags @90s-belladonna thank you for supporting me!

a smattering of rain hits against the arched window pane of the library, filling the room with a soft pitter-patter. usually, from where you are seated, you can look directly into the well-kept and always blossoming garden. now, it’s too dark for you to make out anything but the slightest silhouette of your father’s treasured magnolia tree.

“miss ln?”

you direct your attention away from the book in your hands, and towards the library entrance that you had your back to.

“your father would like to speak with you.”

this late? you thought.

“thank you, priscilla,” you smile and your housemaid dismisses herself with a gentle nod. you glide your extended legs off of the couch and set down your book next to you on the velvet material of the sofa. sliding on your slippers, you make your way out of the library, softly close the door behind you, and amble along the long hallways and down the staircase leading to your father’s office.

you knock twice on the thick wooden doors painted in a pristine white. "come in," your father calls out. you apply pressure to the metal handle, cold to the touch, and the hinges creak slightly.

you greet your father, sat in his usual spot in the middle of the office with a floor-to-ceiling window to his back. then, something else catches your attention. a tall, backlit figure stands broadly next to your father. the room is illuminated by the moonlight and a gold accented lamp in the far corner, barely enough light to see 3 feet out in front of you clearly.

“yn,” your father addresses you faintly. you instinctively go to pull out one of the two leather seats tucked under the large, hand-carved wooden desk, its’ surface littered with documents and fountain pens. as you take a seat, your father begins, “as you know, your succession is planned for a little over a week, if all goes well. taking into account the latest incident, i have decided to take preventative measures to ensure no more dangers come to you during the lead-up.” your father pauses, his palm opens to gesture towards the man standing beside him. “this will be your new personal guard,” the man steps forward, “dong sicheng.”

confusion evidently sits upon your face. you want to flat out ask, ‘why do i need a bodyguard?’ but you bite back your tongue, trying to come up with a more eloquent and precise prod.

the man doesn’t reach his hand out, as you would expect, to introduce himself. he simply voices, “miss ln,” with a curt nod of his head.

you pull your eyes away from your new bodyguard, you still can’t make out too much of what he looks like. “father, i already have personal guards,” you state matter of factly.

“of course,” your father leans back into his chair. “but none of them are with you 24/7. sicheng will be, ensuring no harm comes your way.”

unbelievable. on the surface, it seems like he truly wants you under protection, but you understand your father’s schemes; you understand your father more than anyone else. what he’s really saying is that he has hired this man—dong sicheng—so that you will be put on his watchlist.

your father smiles a gentle smile. “but,” at the very first sound of a protest, the corners of his mouth begins to droop, “if this is about last time—”

with a firm shake of his head, your father cuts you off. “this isn’t negotiable, yn.”

normally, when you would argue things to be your way, your father would at least hear what you have to say. so, to be cut off so bluntly... a pang of helplessness strikes you square in the chest, and your eyes divert towards your new guard.

“i recommend you use your time to get adjusted to this change,” with that, your father dismisses the both of you out of his office.

you shuffle out into the cold, sterile hallways. marble pillars line the walls with ornate sconces attached upon them, each bearing a flickering candle. besides just hearing the firm footsteps of someone else tailing right behind you, you can also feel an almost omniscient presence shadowing you. swiftly, you spin around on your heels only to be met eye level with someone's chest. your guard's. you have to angle your head upwards so that you can look into his eyes; he seems to purposefully ignore your gaze, staring straight at one of the pillars opposite him.

he's undeniably gorgeous. the hallways are more lit up than your father's study, allowing you to examine every detail of your guard's face.

you wait a few seconds before breaking the silence, "are you not going to say anything?"

he drops his focus onto you. coldly, he replies, "that's not what i'm paid to do, miss." he lets his eyes linger on you for a moment longer, before returning to look at nothing.

he can tell that you're clearly annoyed by his response, but he makes no show of it. you continue, "if you're not even going to look at me, how are you going to protect me?"

"is there something i need to protect you from in your own home, miss ln?"

he knows. at least he's alluding to knowing about your last little incident. you curse yourself for being careless in your head. if you hadn't caused a ruckus when you snuck home a few nights ago, you wouldn't have this bizarrely handsome, yet callous man looming over you until your father sees a reason to think otherwise.

"no, i suppose not."

you turn around once more, facing the rest of the hallway. an archway leads to a stately staircase at the end of the corridor. you walk down the hall, trying to dismiss the delayed footsteps behind you, and enter through the archway. the staircase spirals upwards into the corridor connecting the bedrooms; yours and your father's. of course, there are other rooms upstairs, such as the library, the games room, other rooms that you don't concern yourself with too much. a grand piano sits in the centre of the spiralling staircase, its' glossy surface lit up by the moonshine flooding inside through the domed skylight.

you proceed up the stairs, not expecting your bodyguard to follow you up, but he does.

you pause, and look back around for the second time now in the span of less than 10 minutes.

"there aren't guest rooms upstairs," you point out flatly.

he responds, meeting your coldness with his own but only 10 times more intensified, "i won't be requiring one."

puzzled, you ask, "you're not going to be sleeping in my room, are you?" half jokingly, half serious.

"miss ln," he takes one step up on the staircase so that he's at the same level as you, forcing you to tilt your head upwards at him. the heels of his shoes echo loudly on impact against the quartz steps. "there are boundaries i must follow in my duties. so whilst i won't be requiring my own room, i also know not to overstep into your privacy." he scans your face, looking for any hint of understanding. then, he adds plainly, "i will be guarding your bedroom door outside. you can rest assured."

you can feel a sly smirk creeping up onto your face, "shame. here i was thinking that you would follow me everywhere. speaking of," you make an exaggerated movement out of looking down at the watch on your wrist. "i should better shower; it's getting late."

sicheng's face is unfazed but still, you simper, looking pleased with yourself.

he stalks behind you wordlessly as you make the rest of your way up to your bedroom. and sure enough, he stops and stands outside to the right of your door.

"you can't be serious," the thought in your head slips out through your lips.

he doesn't look back. "i'm afraid your father is a vey serious man, miss ln."

how does father expect this man to stand outside of your room all night long? assuming he doesn't sleep, given the 24/7 hour-ness as mentioned in your father's spiel, how will he even have to energy to do his job?

you study the profile of his back for a few seconds before pushing your door closer to the frame, not completely shutting it.

your bedroom connects to an en suite bathroom. to say it's grand is underplaying the extent of luxury which you live in. the room is unnecessarily spacious with marble counters and a tall ceiling with intricately moulded details. a round bathtub sits in the centre, integrated directly into a gazebo-like fixture. a golden chandelier hangs overhead the bathtub, softly lighting up the room, creating a warm atmosphere. to the right side of the tub, facing across from the mirror and the sink, stands a shower area enclosed by frosted glass doors.

you reach for your zipper on the nape of your neck. you slide your thumb underneath the metal tab and begin to pull it down between your fingers. it budges an inch or two before it gets caught onto the fabric of your dress. "ugh," you vocalise. forcibly, you attempt to get the zipper unstuck, tugging and tugging but it won't shift.

you can only think of one solution.

"uh," you call out loud enough so that your bodyguard outside is sure to hear you. you're not quite sure how you should address him; calling him by his name feels weirdly a bit too intimate.

putting you out of your misery, he responds, "yes?" from outside in the halls.

"could you... come in?"

there's a break before he answers back to you. "i'm afraid that's unbecoming of me unless there's an emergency, miss ln."

you roll your eyes, despite knowing he's not there to see. "there is an emergency. will you come in now?"

"...are you decent?" he seems to contemplate his words carefully.

"god, you're frustrating," you blurt out, "yes, i'm decent- who do you think i am?"

there's a brief pause in time before you hear footsteps step into your bedroom. you can see him stop in front of your bathroom doorway in your peripheral.

you look over at him, standing tall and poised with his hands clasped in front of him. "what's the emergency, miss?"

turning your back against him, you sweep your hair over your shoulders, baring your zipper. "i can't get this unstuck."

he doesn't take any steps towards you, "and you needed me to come in for this?"

your patience grows thinner and thinner by the second. "if i could've got it myself, i wouldn't have called for you, would i?"

with this, he takes one... two... and three steps. just three steps before he's in reach of you. you can feel a warmth draw closer to you. turning your head towards your shoulder, you can see him standing behind you in the mirror. without knowing, you hold your breath. he goes to pull gingerly with one hand on the back neckline of your dress, the other trying to unwedge the fabric jammed underneath the zipper. he frees the tab and smoothly, he unzips you down to the middle of your back, stopping himself from releasing the zip all the way down. immediately, he drops his head and removes his hands from your dress while simultaneously taking a large step back from you.

"if that's all, i will leave you to rest for tonight, miss ln." his head is still angled downwards, eyes glued to the bathroom tiling.

you mutter, "thank you," finally taking in a breath again.

he nods, and begins to step backwards out of the bathroom. before he disappears completely from your field of vision, he is stopped by your expulsion of an 'um.'

without a word, he waits for what you have next to say. turning around to face him, he lifts his head and meets your eyes, still as emotionless as they were when you two were on the stairs.

"goodnight, sicheng."

you can see his chest rise, and fall before he speaks again. "goodnight, miss ln."

there's gentle thumping at the door but you can't be sure. your head and senses are foggy from sleep. your eyelids remain shut, trying to phase out the knocking.

"miss ln?"

for a brief moment, you don't recognise the voice calling out for your name. it is much deeper than the normal voice of your housemaid. your eyes open to a squint to see the morning sun rays surging into your room through the mesh veil of your curtains. another part of the garden can be seen through the windows to the right of your bed.

"miss ln?" sicheng calls out again.

"yes?" groggily, you answer as you push yourself up, propping your back against the cushioned headboard.

"your housemaid informs me that you have errands to run today."

your head snaps, remembering what today is. the gala.

he continues speaking, "i tried to send some of my men to help carry out your errands for you instead, but i was told to get your permission."

you manoeuvre out of your bed, tossing the throw blanket off of you. heading directly for the double doors, you swing them open to find dong sicheng standing right outside with his arms behind him, his head bowed. the sudden movement causes him to jolt his head upwards.

"no, i'll go," you scan him quickly up and down. he's dressed in the exact same outfit as last night, hair still combed over only a bit more disheveled. you want to ask if he really stood outside of your room while you slept throughout the whole night, but you know what he will say. your father never made promises he can't follow up on, mainly because it was never him personally who fulfilled his promises.

sicheng, looking caught offguard for the first time quickly steels his face back again into his trademark stoicness. "then, i shall accompany you." he gives your get-up one swift look down, then back up. "i'm ready whenever you are."

feeling only slightly annoyed at his gesture, you close the door on him and go to get dressed.

...

sicheng sits next to you in the car. the driver in front seems to pay no attention to his presence. you glance over, trying to make your staring not as conspicuous, but to no avail. his posture is perfectly upright and his hair looks more groomed than when he was stood outside your bedroom door.

"do i look to your standard, miss ln?" it's only when he finishes asking his question that he meets your gaze. it's clear in that moment that he didn't expect an answer to his rhetorical question.

feeling only slightly embarrassed, you lower you eyebrows at him, "do you remember last night when you said you don't get paid to talk?" feigning curiosity with your head tilted to the side.

the slightest smile breaks on his face. "very well," eyes diverting away from you and onto the road out in front through the windshield.

the rest of the ride is silent, which your chauffeur took as a sign to turn on the radio. the first piece that blares out ever so softly is liebestraum no. 3.

the car then comes to a halt in front of a private wine bar. sicheng opens his door and holds onto the handle as he waits for you to shuffle out behind him. then, he shuts it and waves the driver off to a direction. you readjust your outfit from having been sat down.

carefully, you traipse your way towards the entrance of the wine bar, being deliberate to not place a heel down in between the crevices of the cobblestone that lined the courtyard.

"i'm surprised you haven't voiced your displeasure for me going out of the house, yet," you remark, "surely, my father told you i was not to be let out."

for having been against the idea of having a bodyguard just yesterday, you seem to have grown rather used to having sicheng around you rather quickly. you can only hope that he doesn't pick up on this.

"not to be let out without protection, yes."

he's quick on the draw. you pause right in front of the heavy mahogany door, the top of it curved inwards to a sharp point. your eyes gloss over the coffee brown grain pattern before you place a palm onto it and push inwards.

...

it's been a few hours since you've arrived back home from the wine bar, having picked out the perfect gift for the gala host tonight. sunset falls upon the horizon and that's your cue to start getting ready.

you've always had a habit of putting on your makeup by yourself as opposed to having someone else do it for you. however, that habit doesn't carry over to styling your hair.

you're sat in front of a full length mirror, a baroque style detailing frames the entirety of it. priscilla, one of the housemaids who's similar in age to you, stands behind you, attentively pinning the hair in the back of your head into a detailed updo. you look at your dress in the mirror. the square neckline makes space for your freshwater pearl necklace that glows softly against your skin.

"and... all done," priscilla announces.

you turn your head in the mirror to get a better view of her work, "it's a beautiful job." you stand from your seat, catching her eyes in the reflection, "thank you."

she smiles brightly, her youth glints in her eyes. "here," she looks to the side to grab a pair of long silk gloves, holding it out to you. you pull them over your left hand all the way up to your elbow, then your right, struggling a little over the bandage wrapped around your palm.

after tucking your purse in between your arm and your ribs, you're ready to head out.

sicheng is already in the foyer, waiting for you. when your heels first click against the quartz stairs, his eyes darts toward you at the top of the spiralled staircase. you delicately place a hand on the iron banister and as you make your way down the steps, you glide your gloved palm along the railing.

sicheng watches your every action.

when you reach the bottom of the staircase, you shake your head gently to push back the strands of hairs that had fell in front of your face.

"how do i look?" you ask with a teasing smile.

you can see sicheng's lips part faintly, only for him to clear his throat right after. "as you do normally, miss ln." he subtly straightens his posture and pushes his shoulders back. "after you," he gestures towards the front door.

...

sicheng pulls open the door closest to you. he extends his palm towards you, with his other hand cradling a small, rectangular wooden box. you take his hand as you lift one foot out of the vehicle and onto the tiled courtyard of the xiao family house.

the butler comes to greet you. you've known him and the family that he works for for as long as you can remember, and seeing him again tonight struck a chord within you. a certain spark of gloom settles inside your stomach when you see him smile, his wrinkles deeper and his hair greyer than you remember.

the butler leads you down the main entrance hall towards the gala that's already well under way behind the closed doors. you've been down these halls more than a handful of time, the same paintings have been hung up on the walls for at least a decade, but the air of elegance and grandeur that the xiao family home exudes never fails to knock your breath out of you.

sicheng notices you seemingly lost in a thought, and before the trio of you reaches the superfluously tall double doors, he quietly utters, "is everything alright?" being mindful and not wanting the butler to overhear if something was amiss.

you glance over your shoulder, out of your trance, "yes."

he doesn't press, anymore. even if he did want to ask more, ask if you were sure, he knew his place, and so he didn't pry further.

the butler pushes open the double doors and a gentle puff of wind blows against you, travelling along with the music to your ears. "enjoy the gala," he smiles, and you return his display of friendliness.

as he walks back down the other direction, sicheng inches ever so slightly closer to you.

the cold and eerily too refined hallway is starkly contrasted by the lively atmosphere of the gala ballroom. attendees are chatting, networking, dancing. they all look extremely distinguished; pearls and diamonds and crystals draped all over them. the chandelier hanging in the middle of the ballroom is glistening, and a small orchestra is performing at one end of the hall.

you pause on top of the stairs for a moment, taking in the scene in front of you, and simultaneously searching for a face. then, you find it.

you begin to make your way down to where everyone else was on the dance floor, and sicheng follows closely behind you. as you weave your way in between the attendees, your senses are hit and overwhelmed with notes upon notes of fragrances. it transitions from roses to vanilla, cedarwood to bergamot. individually, these aromas would typically be more than pleasant, but combined together along with the heat emanating off everyone, it muddled your senses so much that a headache began to creep its way into your temples. it's clear as you manoeuvre your way across the dance floor, that sicheng stood out to everyone as an unusual date of yours. they would flash a faint smile at you then take one, or two glances at the man trailing behind you. guards weren't uncommon, yes, but to bring a personal guard to a gala hosted by a well respected member of the upper echelon? that was uncommon.

finally, you're face to face with the person you've been looking for: the host.

"mrs. xiao."

"yn!" she enthusiastically greets you, a beaming smile on her face. her arms open up and pull you into a warm embrace. "goodness, i haven't seen you in so long!" she expresses as she begins to pull away.

"i know, it's been way too long," you politely respond.

if you were talking to anyone else in this room, you'd be dead before you were caught speaking so casually to them. but you grew up next to mrs. xiao and her family. her son, dejun, was practically your childhood best friend. well, it's hard to tell if a best friend really is a best friend when that was your only option, but nonetheless, your two families were close.

"oh!" you voice as you turn around to sicheng. you stretch your hands towards the wooden box that he was carrying and he places it gently into your palms. "here, i got you some merlot," you turn back around, "i asked barnie at the winery to give me your favourite," a curl stretched your lips taut.

a wave of gratitude washes over mrs. xiao's face. "you're still as thoughtful as ever, yn." she takes the box into her arms, and as if on cue, someone dressed in a neat uniform comes towards mrs. xiao and takes the box away so that she doesn't have to carry it herself for more than a couple of seconds.

and right at the moment, dejun approaches where you are stood in the centre of the ballroom, walking alongside some other guests, one you know, the other you don't.

mrs. xiao turns to him, trying to contain some of her agitation as she mutters, "where have you been this whole night?"

"i've been in here, ma," he responds equally as quiet, but more passive aggressively, disguised with that bright smile of his.

mrs. xiao turns her head away from him with her nose up, trying to swallow down her irritation. "anyway," she breathes out. "dejun, aren't you going to introduce your friends?"

he took that as a sign to do as his mother asked, but not before sighing a shallow breath first. in an instant, he puts on a charming smile. you know he's not doing it for you, he couldn't care less about being charming towards you; both of you knew you would see right through it anyway. "yn, this is rin. rin, yn. and hendery's here as well, i guess," he mutters the last part of his sentence.

you stifle back a smirk at dejun's attempt at humour and extend your palm for a handshake with rin. "it's a pleasure to meet you." she doesn't say anything but shakes your hand gently and mirrors your smile back to you, except hers looks very practiced and unnatural.

mrs. xiao tuts her teeth, so subtly that it's barely audible. she turns her body into you ever so slightly, leaning forward and muttering under her breath into your ear, "i really wish you were here to stop my jun兒 from falling into these circles. look at them, no manners at all."

dejun watches almost awkwardly, then he switches the attention onto you. "what about you, yn? aren't you going to introduce us to your little armpiece?" he cocks his head in sicheng's direction.

mrs. xiao shoots dejun a stern look, one that carries the weight of a thousand words. but in front of such a crowd, the extent of her reprimanding ends at, "don't speak so crass."

dejun only shoots up his eyebrows in response, and sucks in a quiet breath.

"this is dong sicheng," on instinct, your hand sweeps out to the side of you and sicheng nods. "he's the... bodyguard, that my father hired."

"bodyguard, huh?"

"don't start, xiaojun," you try your best to make it seem subtle enough, but dejun chuckles at the sight of you rolling your eyes.

mrs. xiao cuts through the brief pause in conversation, "well, we would love to stay and chat more but i should go greet some of my other guests. you don't mind, yn?"

"no, of course, not."

mrs. xiao gives you one last squeeze before she's off again waving halfway across the room to somebody else, and dejun and his friends trail behind her.

you're about to turn around when a waiter passes by you and sicheng, one hand balancing a tray full of glasses of champagne.

"a drink, miss?"

you pinch the stem of the glass in between your fingers and your thumb. when the waiter offers one to sicheng, he declines.

as you bring your champagne up to your lips, sicheng slips his fingers around the bowl of your glass and forcibly pulls it away from you. "he offered you one," you look at him in disbelief, but he acts as if you didn't say anything.

he hovers the rim of the glass under his nose, swirling the champagne around as he does so. you watch, still half incredulous and half in puzzlement. he brings the rim up against his lips, tipping the glass towards him as he takes the tiniest sip of champagne that you’ve ever seen. as he swallows, he smacks his lips together lightly, then he passes the glass back to you.

“what was that for?” hesitantly, you sit the bowl of the glass back into your palm. you’re not sure if you should sip from the same cup as he did—is that even appropriate in this setting?

“not laced,” he states nonchalantly, eyes darting around the room.

it takes your brain a few seconds to fully process what he just did, and said. “and why would it be laced?” a confusion intertwined with your voice.

sicheng stares at you, not blankly, but not aggressively either. it’s like you can read what he’s doing in his head, going down winding paths to find you an answer, but you can’t read exactly what it is that he’s thinking.

he finally responds after a good few moments of him turning your question over in his head. “you are my responsibility,” he can sense that you are about to object this statement, so he quickly continues. “regardless of what you may think, you are. whatever i do, i do in your best interest. do you understand now?”

truthfully, you want to reply, ‘not quite.’ how does that explain why your drink at a gala held by people you know, people you trust, would be laced?

sicheng leans in close enough so that you can hear him at a whisper, but not so close that people will see and start to speculate. "miss ln, may i remind you you're a successor. i know you've already lived through some threats, but if they were willing to threaten you when you arguably held no power, imagine what they would do if they knew you were taking over your father's position as mayor."

he backs away; face still as cold as steel, not letting anything that he's thinking or feeling show. you can't help but feel a bit shaken at his words. yes, you've received threats before, but they were mostly empty-handed words scribbled on a note. you never thought anything of them, until sicheng said something just now.

"there's no reason people here of all places would want to do anything to me; you're too paranoid." as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your doubt coating your tongue, but you wash it down with some sparkling wine. just a little bit.

sicheng studies your expression for a second, his head tilting slightly to the side. "have you ever heard of a wolf in sheep's clothing, miss ln? maybe you're not paranoid enough," his last word drags off and almost becomes inaudible.

you blink your lashes a couple of times looking up at him, and then an echoing voice pierces right through the ballroom.

"hello everyone! thank you all for attending my little gathering."

both you and sicheng turn your heads to the origin of the sound. mrs. xiao is stood on the little stage that the orchestra has been performing on.

a pleasant smile drawing on her face as she addresses her guests, "it is so great to see so many of you. as you all know, my husband and i-"

the lights cut. the chandelier that was hanging above the dance floor flickers off.

mrs. xiao's voice can be heard again, but this time loudly proclaiming without the help of her microphone over the gasps and murmurs of confusion. "everyone please remain calm—i'm sure the lights will be back on soon."

a sudden pang of fear hits you. your heart thumps faster in your chest, and your breathing becomes shallower and shallower. there's darkness all around you. you try your best to look for, or rather, feel around for sicheng but you remain quiet, knowing it will only add to the chaos. people all around you are shuffling, nudging everyone else. whispers and mumbles all fade into a singular stream of white noise around you. then, you feel a hand grasp on your upper arm. a sense of relief washes over your mind, sicheng. but then, the grasp feels begins to dig deeper and deeper into you, and it becomes clear to you that whatever grasping you isn't a hand. at least, it's not a hand coming into direct contact with you. the fingers digging into your arm are clothed by a silk or sorts; sicheng didn't wear gloves.

you try to free your arm by wrangling it away from whoever it is that has a hold on you. then, in an instant, you feel the hand drop from you so forcibly that it tugged your arm downwards along with it. a new hand has made its way onto you, this time just slightly below your shoulder. you hear a whisper in your ear, "come on, let's go," and the relief you felt earlier resurfaces. this time, it's definitely sicheng's voice.

he takes hold of your wrist, not too tight but just enough to guide you to the exit. as you two are about to head up the stairs to the double doors, the lights flicker back on and mrs. xiao is on stage again.

"there we are. i apologise profusely for that disruption," her hands grip onto the mic stand tightly.

sicheng leads you up the stairs and out the doors without second guessing; everyone else seemed too caught up in the middle of the chaos to notice.

...

back at your home, you and sicheng enter through your foyer and he's spluttering out orders and demands over the phone. as you pass by the large circular mirror hanging in one of the walls of the foyer, you catch a glimpse of your reflection. you double take. one of your ears are still adorned by the beautiful pearl earring that your father had got you, but your other one is missing.

sicheng gets off of the phone that he's been on since the beginning of the car ride home. then, he notices you staring at your reflection in the mirror. "what's the matter?"

you give a gentle shake of your head, fingers drawing at your bare earlobe, "nothing, just one of my earrings is gone."

"i'll have my men try to find it for you," he responds without missing a beat. "miss ln, are you sure that nothing else happened whilst the lights went out?" his eyebrows curve in a slight s-shape.

"yes, i already told you. someone grabbed me by the arm, but that was it. maybe they just thought i was someone they knew."

sicheng shows no reaction to your theory, "i will have this investigated, miss ln. i advise you to get some rest," he says with a bow of his head.

your nightly routine goes by like a blur. priscilla has been dismissed for the night, so you undo your hair, your gown, and clean off your makeup all by yourself, but your mind isn't fully in the present.

sicheng went off after telling you to get some rest, presumably to inform your father about what'd happened. you don't know for certain if he's still speaking to your father, or if he's standing outside your door right now.

it's not that your mind is dwelling on what happened; in fact, you are precisely thinking of nothing. everything in your vision passes by you like you're watching someone else lead their life. even as you get changed, crawl into bed, and try to drift to sleep.

suddenly, you hear a creak from outside your window. your eyes shoot open. trying your best to calm yourself, you reason that it's probably just mice who'd made their way into your garden. a strong gust of wind blows past. then, silence.

and another creak. all logic and rationale flys out of your mind. the only thing you can think of to do is...

"sicheng!"

you tried your best to hold your own earlier, down in the foyer, but right now the sense of urgency in your voice betrays you. sicheng bursts into your room, the buttons of the collar of his shirt undone.

"yes, miss ln?"

his eyes are solely focused on you, despite you looking out towards the windows.

"there's... i heard some weird noises," you gesture with your head pointing at the garden.

sicheng follows your gaze, then he looks back at you. he could tell you that you're in your own home, that you're safe, but instead, he walks over to your windows and draws open your curtains. "there's nothing here, miss ln." hoping that he can provide you with some reassurance, he looks back at you, "we've already done a perimeter check, you're safe here, i assure you."

you drop your eyes, responding with a gentle nod of the head.

"i'll be outside," he says as he begins to make his way back to the door.

before he can reach the handle, you stop him, "wait." he looks at you with an expectant expression. "can't you just stay here?"

even though he's a distance away, you notice a flinch in his brows as he registered your words. "i'm afraid that's not appropriate, miss ln." he says this, but he doesn't take another step.

"there," you point towards the sofa chair to the right side of your bed, "at least just stay there." you wanted to add a 'please,' maybe plead with him, but your dignity had to be kept even if you were fearful.

he doesn't protest as much as you thought he would. quietly, he shuts your door and makes his way to the chair.

your fingers hop from one note to another, pressing down with force and lifting again at the flick of your wrist. a familiar tune emanates throughout the room, rising up to the skylight, then sinking back down again.

your hands dance along the keys of the grand piano at the bottom of your staircase. a bittersweet melody fills your ears, and as you come to a decrescendo in the piece, the faint sound of footsteps through the marble halls overtake your playing. you swiftly turn your head around.

sicheng is stood behind you. under the bright morning light, his cheekbones stand out prominently. "i've been looking for you, miss ln," his chest falls as he says this.

"you dozed off," you turn your attention back to the piano, "i didn't want to wake you."

"i apologise; it won't happen again."

"you need to rest, too," you raise your hands and gently set them on top of the keys, "do you even sleep?"

there's a slight break in between your asking of the question and his answer. "occasionally, but not when i'm supposed to be on duty."

you turn back around, "well, like you said: i'm safe here." you scan him up and down, he's changed out of the outfit he wore to the gala last night, but all his outfits resemble each other. a black button up shirt, a fitted black blazer, black suit paints, a black tie, and a small white brooch on the lapels of his blazer. "do you play?"

he looks to be slightly caught offguard, "no. well, yes but-"

"play something for me."

you shuffle yourself to one side of the bench, making room for sicheng next to you. he slowly walks around and slides into the spot you've made for him. for the first time, you can visibly see that every one of his actions are carried out with hesitation.

his posture is perfect, head slightly tilted downwards and a curve at his wrist as his fingertips lay upon the whites of the piano keys. he clears his throat. then, a single note as he presses down with his index finger. the beginning is slow, slower than the piece was intended to be, but you know what he's playing regardless. nocturne op. 9 no. 1. there's a certain silent agony in the way he punctuates the flow of the melody. the second of the set of nocturnes that chopin had composed has always been regarded as chopin's more famous piece of work over this one. yet, the manner in which sicheng plays this piece makes you wonder why.

the stiffness that was prevalent in his body is now gone, fully immersed in the rhythm. the crescendo comes devastatingly, he leans forward into it, the melody tugging at your chest despite it sounding a bit brighter than the introduction of the piece. you watch in silence as his fingers glide and cross over each other masterfully, a sonorous tone emitting from his movements.

he doesn't finish the piece, but he finds a place to stop after a minute or so of playing.

his fingers linger on the notes as the melody fades out gradually.

"you play beautifully," softly, you remark, "where did you learn?"

he lifts his hands from the keys, clasping them together on his lap. "thank you—my mother taught me."

you watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple dipping slightly. a thought occurs to you. you barely know anything about this man who’s supposed to protect you. maybe that’s for privacy, confidentiality, or security reasons but, there’s a certain yearning in you that wants to find out more about him. after all, trust can’t be built without a foundation. you just don’t know where to prod.

“…and what about your dad?”

sicheng glances over at you, slightly confused at your sudden interest in him. his eyebrows flinch again. “he, uh, used to work for your father. that’s why i’m here. my family owes a lot to your father.”

he gulps again.

you’re not completely sure how to navigate through this conversation. do you ask where his father is now? what if it’s a sensitive spot, why else would sicheng be acting this uncharacteristically. his cold and cool demeanor seemingly melted away. “your father… is he…”

you don’t finish your sentence, but sicheng knows what you’re hinting at. “no, no. he’s just retired. too many injuries on the job.” he clears his throat and stands up from the bench. “sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude on your space, miss ln.” he begins to walk back around the bench.

you can’t help but let out a faint chuckle. “drop the title already. it’s just yn.”

he’s standing tall, hands clasped in front of him, and he purses his lips together. he dips his head rather jerkily, “as you wish.”

then, a ping sounds out.

you pick up your phone that was laid out on the top cover of the piano, and sicheng fishes for his in the inside pockets of his blazer. as he brings out his phone, you begin to hear a vibration sounding out. he holds it in his hand and flashes a quick glance at you, “excuse me,” then he accepts the call. as he brings it up to his ear, he spins on his heel and start to walk off into a distant hallway.

you divert your attention back onto your screen and begin to see messages popping up at the bottom. ones from dejun that read:

"my mum would like to apologise to everyone here about what happened yesterday."

it's sent to the group chat thread that you rarely respond to, though, you do keep up with its messages.

then, another:

"i don't believe in apologies without actions, so you're all cordially invited to come to dreamers' oasis in d119 tomorrow night."

"on me."

the last message was an important detail. you click on the notification bubble and already see others typing in the group chat.

hendery writes, "you are so gonna regret saying that."

a tiny smile creeps its' way onto your face. your thumbs begin moving on the keyboard; hitting send on a message that says, "hendery's going to bankrupt you," which earned you a dislike from dejun.

he ignores your comment, "will you finally be joining us yn? you know, seeing as it's your last week as a free woman."

the last part of his sentence hits you; maybe not to that extreme but it is your last week before you have to take on your father's responsibilities.

every time dejun invites you to a night out, it's most of the time a no brainer and not in a positive way. all the clubs and bars that your friends choose are out of your district's boundaries. and it's not like you didn't have clubs and bars in this district, but the fun ones—as dejun puts it—are only in district 119. you've only taken the risk a couple of times, but now, with especially an extra pair of eagle eyes on you, the possibility of sneaking out is practically 0.

before you can respond, hendery already sent out a message in your place, "have you seen her little boyfriend yesterday? there's no way man."

as much as you want to disagree, you can't. there is no way.

"not my boyfriend," you finally type out.

messages keep popping up on screen, a plan coming together with the people that can go. before you exit out of the thread, you type in "i'll see what i can do," but you stop short of pressing send.

quietly, you head off in the same direction as sicheng, scanning the halls for any sign of him. you're not quite sure what you'll do once you see him. beg him? please let me go out with my friends and get wasted? no. you haven't reached that point, yet; you still have some decorum within you.

you spot him still talking over the phone behind a marble pillar. as silently as possible, you sidle over to where he is, not wanting to disrupt him. once you're close enough, you catch glimpses of his conversation that he's having: "do you understand? whatever you do... we can't let her find out what happened."

your brain made the connect pretty quickly, the 'her' in question had to be you—who else? and what is he keeping from you? he continues speaking but nothing is going through you. all you can think about is, what is he not telling me? as quietly as you came, you retrace your steps back into the piano room.

you'd be lying if you said there wasn't a spark of fury beginning to catch within you. if you are to trust sicheng, why would he purposefully keep something from you? the more you think about it, the more agitated you grew. the fact that he seemed to treat you like a child needing protection every step along the way annoyed you—and what if his intention wasn't to protect you? your head can only spin with theories and speculations.

you unlock your phone again, and hit send on the last message you typed out.

...

your father wanted to have dinner with you tonight, alongside sicheng, of course. and you know now after sitting down to begin your meal, he really wanted to have dinner with sicheng tonight.

"any updates?" your father directed the inquiry towards your bodyguard.

the three of you are sat on a long, oval table. your father sitting at one end, and you and sicheng sitting across from him, sharing the other end. the candelabra stands in between you and your father in the middle.

"no, not yet, sir. we're still trying to investigate the intent behind yesterday's actions."

he finishes his sentence before continuing to cut into his ribeye. you sit adjacent to him, observing every movement he takes. as he stabs into the meat with his fork and brings it up into his mouth. he sets his fork down on the edge of the plate, bringing the napkin laid flat on his lap up as he chews.

"yn, you're not hungry?" your father's voice booms from across the room, breaking your attention away from sicheng.

you look down at your plate, barely touched aside from you swirling the sauce around. "no, i'm afraid not." you set down the fork that you have been toying with flat on the tablecloth. you pull the napkin from your lap and place it on the other side of your plate. standing up, you voice, "i'm a bit weary tonight." you spot sicheng shifting to get up from his seat in your peripheral, "no, no, please finish dinner. father, would you excuse me?"

"well... of course," with your father's approval, sicheng sits back down. you turn around, the heels you're wearing click at a steady pace as you're headed for the doors.

you haven't spoken directly to sicheng since dinner last night. the whole of today you spent cooped up in the library. that's not to say that you were being passive, though.

you haven't forgotten about dejun's invitation for drinks tonight—you just needed the perfect cover.

it's around 8pm, your maids have come and gone bringing you food and tea from time to time. you glance at the grandfather clock propped up against the wall in between all the bookshelves.

you slide the book that you've held in your hands back into its spot on the shelf. rather than actually reading it, your eyes have been skimming the pages and the words scattered throughout absent-mindedly. you turn your plan over around in your mind as you did so, and you have been for the past few hours, at least.

you drag your feet over the wooden floorboards of the library and crack open the doors. you peak your head out into the crack, then the rest of your body follows. oddly enough, sicheng isn't standing right in front of the room.

like a stereotypical action movie, you give the hallways a quick glance in one direction, then the other. you've never felt as much like a thief in your own home. sneaking, tiptoeing around the hallways, caution bubbling in every part of you.

when you reach your bedroom doors, footsteps sound behind you.

the looming presence of someone else doesn't speak, the only indication of them even being there is the shadow of them casted over your own feet.

you turn around, and you're met with the face that you've come to expect these past few days. "i'm... having an early night in."

sicheng's expression is unfaltering. the return of his stoicism makes you feel like a schoolchild being reprimanded by some vague authority figure; desperate to give more and more answers, to keep speaking and reasoning.

he watches your frozen body, as if you'd been caught doing something you're not supposed to, when in reality you're just stood outside of the doors to your own bedroom. "just thought i'd tell you," you add.

"well, don't let me stop you." his torso leans forward ever so slightly, the tone of his voice catching on the edge of a faint whisper.

the handle of the door clicks as you push onto it. when you look back to shut it, sicheng repositions himself with his back to the wall that lines the outside of your room.

once you're completely alone, you strip yourself of the sleeping clothes that you'd been wearing for entirety of today immediately and go over to your closet where you'd already hung up an outfit that you picked out last night.

you slip it on hastily: a tight fitting camisole top with a miniskirt, paired with some knee high leather boots and an oversized jacket for warmth. most of this outfit doesn't even look like it belongs to you. the people in your life knows you for wearing pretty dresses and skirts that reach your knees at least, but if tonight's going to be anything close to fun, then you need to look the part. you can't afford sticking out like a sore thumb, especially in district 119.

you'd texted your friends—or rather xiaojun, and his friends—earlier, asking if they could park right outside the gazebo at the far end of the garden, waiting for you to show up. this plan has worked precisely 2 times before with a 100% success rate, and you're counting on it working for a third time.

you would open the doors to your balcony, climb over the balustrade and scale your way downwards on the water pipe right next to your balcony landing. the garden wasn't fenced in like the front of the house. after all, this house was on private land belonging to your father; anyone who tried to trespass would've been seen by at least one person working on the property. so, it was an easy enough escape from the garden compared to your exit route down from your room.

you walk through the gazebo, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket as you try to shake the cold of the night off of you. dejun's suv is there, headlights off.

they must've seen you even in the dark, because once you're about a step or two away, the passenger door to the suv swings open—dejun himself in the driver's seat.

...

after finding a quick place to park, you and the group walk a block to where the club is, having had a drink or two on the way here.

the streets are anything but quiet. the heavy void of the sky sits atop the city like a dome, the neon signs colouring the deep blue like a palette of dulled paint. the closer and closer you get to the club, the music already begins to boom from within. laughter erupts from the rest of the group from a joke that you missed.

a pair stands right outside the entrance of the club, one of them leaning against the brick wall whilst the other squats; cigarettes in both their hands. you hold your breath as you walk right into a fresh cloud of smoke, courtesy of the man standing up.

on one hand, you want to let loose tonight; have fun. but on the other, you can't help but wonder if you were meticulous enough, or even at all. there's no guarantee that sicheng wouldn't just open your door and find that you are nowhere within the vicinity. but he wouldn't for no reason, you try to calm your racing mind.

you find yourself at the back of the pack, watching everyone in front of you filter into the entrance, disappearing into the darkness surrounded by a rectangular frame.

dejun is right in front of you, he takes note of your hesitation. he comes back down from the steps leading to the entrance stopping right next to you.

lowering his head, he looks at you through his brows, "don't tell me you're gonna pussy out when you're right outside."

you try to dismiss the doubts flaring around in your head. "you wish. drinks still on you, right?" you shoot him a quick wink, then stride up the steps and like others before you, submerge into the darkness.

and immediately, flashing lights take over the darkness. a neon green fog floats just above the floor. a circular platform stands in the middle of the club with a metal pole going through the centre of it. the club itself is a lot bigger than you'd imagined, given what the exterior of it looked like. circle booths surround the platform and smaller ones are peppered all throughout. the ceiling is tall with decorative vines and ivies hanging from it, not low enough for anyone to reach. 2 bartenders stand behind the bar, busying themselves with orders upon orders for a room of, what looks to be about 200 people. a small, spiralled staircase stands to the right of the bar, leading to what resembles a loft platform with people drinking and laughing up on it.

it's as if your feet are stuck to the ground as you take in the scene before you. dejun places a hand on the small of your back. he utters right by your ear, "come on, that way," as he guides you towards one of the bigger booths right in front of the platform.

you plop down on the red leather couch, warmed against the back of your thigh.

remixes of popular songs blast unapologetically out of the speakers that lined every few inches of the walls. you can hardly hear the people in front of you speaking, debating what drinks to get first. you lean forward, wanting to get an in on what they're discussing. shots, shots, shots. after a word or two from dejun, everyone agrees that they should do shots first. melon flavoured, to be exact.

dejun vanishes into the group of people crowding around the bar.

"so, yn, how's leaving your house for the first time ever?" one of dejun's friends sprouts up.

you can feel your breathing pick up its pace. you weren't expecting much conversation seeing as 'friends' isn't exactly the label you'd put on these people, with the exception being dejun, and maybe hendery.

"great actually, thanks." you slide back into your spot on the booth, only slightly cramped with the amount of people sharing one area.

hendery lands a punch on the guy's arm, "watch how you speak to our princess." a smirk picks up on the guy's lips as hendery finishes his sentence, his tongue poking into the crevice of his cheek.

and just as quickly as the attention turned to you, it leaves you even faster. comments are thrown around about the female bartender.

"hendery, i'll give you £100 if you don't ask for her number tonight," someone chimed.

hendery quickly steals a glance at his phone before returning his eyes to the bettor, "i guess we're not leaving until after midnight, then." he sits back, throwing an arm around the girl next to him.

dejun makes his way back, hands holding as many shots as he could—which was 8. not all of them were filled equally, which you can only assume was attributed to dejun's bumping into people as he was on his way back. the small glasses were filled with a somewhat cloudy liquid. everyone picked up a shot as he set them down on the glass table, including you.

"to xiaojun bankrolling us!" a voice chirped up with a glass in the air. everyone else followed with a chorus of cheers, clinking the shots together before tipping their heads back and downing it.

as you swallow, there's a hint of sweetness from the melon flavour but the vodka is inescapable. you can feel it travel all the way with a burn down your oesophagus until it settles in your stomach, a heat spreading from it.

...

the overwhelming boom of the music does not phase you anymore. you are past the point of hazy where the only thing you can comprehend is what is immediately happening in front of you. object permanence? gone.

for the past few hours, you and the rest of the group you came here with downed shot after shot, drank beer after beer. no matter how high your tolerance was, tonight definitely pushed you over that line.

"xiaojun!" you shout across to your friend at the bar. he acknowledges you with a quick wave of his hand.

the others have their arms around each other's shoulders, foundering as they approach the exit. you lean against one of the walls right in front of the fog machine, waiting for dejun.

"come on, yn!" one of the girls shout, grabbing your wrist in her hands and linking you to the rest of the group. dejun finally makes his way back over, and instinctually you fling an arm around him, too.

the bunch of you look ridiculous; grown adults stumbling their way out of a club in the dark. half present smiles seemingly glued onto your faces. all of you count together as one by one, you take the couple of steps down onto the pavement.

once back on the street, you open your eyes to more than just a squint. the road looks the same as before. time has no effect on this district, neon signs still alight with strangers roaming the streets at any hour of the day. you bask in the warm orange glow of the lamp post directly above you, and you scan around for dejun's suv.

and that's when you see something across the road.

a tall, lean figure slanted against the hood of a car. you recognise his posture all too well.

oh shit. shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

you'd gotten so carried away tonight that you completely forgot that you weren't even supposed to be here. the drinks flushed every doubt, every worry out of your mind. it is only when your eyes see sicheng standing right across the road from you, and your mind consciously registers that, that every thing you tried to forget comes rushing back to you.

"xiaojun," you mutter under your breath, but he's not entirely in it, either.

sicheng spots the group of you, head tilted, and that's the moment he recognises you, in an outfit he'd never seen you in before, around people that he has seen before. he pushes himself off of the hood and crosses the road. you have exactly 3 seconds before you're done for.

the night is blustery, gentle, but breezy nonetheless. he's wearing a white button up with his sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. as he's making his way towards you, his hands are tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

sicheng takes 3 steps onto the pavement that you're on, and you are met face to face with the guard that you attempted to escape tonight. he quickly eyes the rest of your group, too drunk to even comprehend what is happening and who he is. a misstep happens and three of them stumble, fall, and stack on top of one another. they laugh it off.

he returns his gaze to you. "miss ln."

it's magical the way you suddenly feel sober. confrontation is one hell of an antidote. "listen," you breathe out. but it's no use, even you know it.

sicheng spares you no pity. "shall we head home?"

you don't know what you prefer: him still being cool and calm and collected, or have him be so seethingly furious with you like your father would be. in that moment, you decide that his reaction is much worse. how can he stand there with the state of you like this and still ask such a question with a steeled face? does he not care?

you look over to dejun, who has now walked around you to help his other friends get up.

trying to make up your mind whether to plead your case in that moment, there is something else that you can decide easier. going home with sicheng. there's no use fighting it, and frankly, you didn't want to. so, you take a step, passing by where sicheng stood in front of you, and then another, and until you're across the road about to get into the car. your friends left on the curb—they'll manage, you figured.

your body can't help but shake as you step into the passenger seat. a jittery feeling overtakes you. do you explain? do you not? what even is the explanation?

sicheng gets into the driver seat. he turns on the engine, back up from the parking spot, and begins to drive off, doing this all without a word.

you steal a glance over at him, not wanting to appear too sheepish. a sudden apologetic sentiment freezes your body, but that same feeling quickly turns sour. you open your mouth to speak, but no noise leaves you. quickly, you snap your head back around and lean against the window. the quietness of the car ride has you feeling all the effects of the events tonight.

"you didn't think i'd know?"

your eyes shift over. sicheng's focus is entirely on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that the veins on his arms are prominent under the moonlight. he might not sound angry, but his body language gives it away.

"no, i thought..." you take a deep breath in. "i don't know what i thought," you finally admit.

if he'd heard your answer, he gave no indication of it. he continues driving, fingers still clenched tightly around the wheel. his silence lingers around for a good few minutes. no music, nothing; just the sound of the friction of the tyres speeding against tarmac.

"if something had happened to you, do you know what that means? for all of us?" he asks, in a tone that's more or less condescending.

you stay quiet—you didn't see a point in arguing your case. or maybe it was just the alcohol taking the fight out of you, the steady rocking of the ride seem to begin to lull you to sleep.

the rest of the car ride home was silent. sicheng's grip never loosened. and you can tell none of his frustration dissipated by the way he slammed the car door shut.

as noiselessly as possible, the two of you slide in through the main doors into the foyer. you pull on the heels of your boots to take them off, struggling with your balance slightly. as you're about to make your way up to your room with your boots in your hands, sicheng stops you with one statement.

"i won't tell your father."

you turn, feeling a disjointed mix of emotions. you're relieved, but confused...? and grateful, but suspicious. "why?" you bluntly ask, questioning his ulterior motives if he has any.

sicheng takes a deep breath in and rolls his head to his left side. he takes a single step towards you. the rest of the house is dark, the only light being from the two sconces on either sides of the foyer. as he looks into your eyes, his irises are two swirling rings of mystery. you can never guess what he's thinking.

"because it won't look good on either one of us," he whispers. "if you wanted to go out, you could've just told me and i would've helped you," he added, now with a certain softness breaking into his gaze.

your focus shifts from one eye to the other. sicheng can read every wrinkle in your brow and every glint of confusion in your stare. what are you supposed to make of the fact that the man your father hired to watch you like a hawk is willing to help you get up to things your father will never approve of?

"but why?"

it's as if the drinks had broken down your every guard, every filter that you're so used to imposing on yourself. the bluntness in your tone is something even you didn't recognise.

"tonight proved that you would sneak out regardless of circumstances. so, why not tell me so i can at least keep you as safe as i can?"

sicheng finds himself exploring every inch of your face with his gaze, studying the smudged eyeliner and lipstick on you, before meeting your eyes again. he continues, "i have a job to do, you know?"

it seems as though you're not the only one with a broken down barrier. the formality in which he normally speaks with is nowhere to be heard.

"and why should i trust you?" there's an edge in your voice that makes the question come out as offensive. "i can't," you quickly add before he even has a chance to reply.

and now it's his turn to be stumped. your sudden change in attitude evokes a return of the wince in his eyebrows. "what do you mean?" he falters.

"i heard you yesterday." your head shakes, the clear of your eyes glisten with a lack of faith. "what am i supposed to think of you when you're actively hiding something from me?"

it's like a wave of realisation hits sicheng. he recalls the phone call that he took yesterday, and realises what you must've overheard. it takes him a few seconds to collect his thoughts together.

"you can't possibly think that i would want to harm you."

"i don't know you!" you exclaim, maybe a bit too loud for this hour. "you waltz into my life and tell me that you're trying to save me, but i don't know you."

sicheng exhales and drops his head. his chest rises slowly as he takes in a deep lungful of air. "i didn't want to tell you because i didn't want you to feel... betrayed."

your body language communicates all there is to say. you urge him to go on with a shake of your head and a furrowing in your eyebrows.

"we have reason to believe that..." his voice is small, and soft, as if he's laying down cushioning for telling a child that santa claus isn't real. "the person threatening you runs in your immediate coterie."

your friends. that's what he's hinting at, that's what he's explicitly telling you right now. that possibly someone you went out with tonight have reason to threaten you. sicheng thought that telling you now would diffuse the situation, but in fact, it does the opposite.

"isn't that all the more reason for me to know? and you hid it from me for w-"

"yn," he corrects his slip of words, "miss ln." he cuts you off ever so calmly, "i understand that emotions are heightened right now. i think it's best we talk in the morning."

a knot works its way up into your own chest. your frustration is fuelled even more by his coolness. you stare at his ridiculously poised expression, and in that moment, you give up trying to argue.

you finally begin to walk up the stairs, with your boots still in your hands, ready to crash and give out onto your bed.

you wake up the next morning, or rather the same morning, with a throbbing pain in your head. one of your ears feels blocked and no matter what you do to try and make it so that noise isn't muffled as it filters into your ear, it doesn't work.

in the bathroom, you stare at your reflection and are in shock over how badly you removed your makeup last night. eyeliner stains the corners of your eyelids, patches of concealer are still on the sides of your face. you turn on the faucet, wait for it to become warmer, and scrub the remainder of the products off of your face.

in the midst of washing your face, you realise that you haven't had a proper meal since yesterday afternoon, as signalled by a grumbling in your stomach.

as discreetly as possible, you try to get out of your room, taking a gentle step out onto the hallway. you're not entirely sure why you needed to be stealthy, perhaps it's just the aftereffects of last night.

however, your plan to be concealed quickly falls to shambles as sicheng is, as always, guarding your door outside and your father is walking down the hallway heading in your direction. your heart starts to beat faster and faster; if sicheng didn't stick by his words last night then you are dead for all you know. that conversation you had in the foyer didn't leave your mind even for a second when you tried to fall asleep earlier, and you plan on following up on that talk he offered you.

your father reaches your room and stops to take one look at you.

"goodmorning, father." you utter. a tinge of sheepishness can't help but crawl onto the apples of your cheeks.

"goodmorning, dear," he stretches a warm smile directed towards you, and gives a simple nod of the head to sicheng.

so he didn't lie. that's the first thought following your relief that your father isn't absolutely furious with you. you glance at sicheng as your father walks past you continuing his way down the hallway. he flashes you an expression, one that says, 'what did i tell you?'

sicheng keeps his eyes on your father and as soon as he's out of earshot, he mutters, "surprised?"

a look of almost disbelief takes over you. the nerve on this guy. your heart almost jumped out of your chest and he has the cockiness to make a remark like that.

"stop fucking with me. you still owe me an explanation."

sicheng says with a simple shrug, "i've told you everything i know."

before you can speak back and challenge him, one of your housemaids yell out your name from the foyer.

you quickly make your way downstairs with sicheng following right behind you.

you spot priscilla kneeling down to pick up a package left right in front of the doors to the house. "what is it, priscilla?" you ask, as she begins to stand up again.

"i'm not sure—but it's addressed to you, miss," she responds, reading the tag tied to the parcel with a thin ribbon.

it's odd enough that a package made its way directly onto your doorsteps since the mail that you and your father receive are usually intercepted and collected at the mail room, or placed into your father's study. it's even more strange that it's directly addressed to you with your name typed and printed out in a sans-serif font.

you hold the box in one hand as your other goes to unravel the ribbon. you pull the knot through, and the box undoes itself. the 4 walls fall down revealing another note with your name on it, this time handwritten in a sparkly, gold paint.

you pick the note up and twirl it around with your fingers. sure enough, there's a message for you on the back. it looks like it was typed out on a traditional typewriter, it reads: "next time, i'll have your pretty head along with it" signed with kisses.

you suck in a sharp breath, a shock dawning on you. you look down at the opened box, under the note was a cushioning of tissue paper along with one earring. it took you a few seconds to study the singular earring, then it hits you: the pearl earring that you lost at the gala. your fingers begin to tremble, and sicheng watches as you're overcome with theories and conclusions.

he snatches the note from your hands, eyes scanning every word hastily and sees the earring in the box. it doesn't take him time to put two and two together.

immediately, he voices, "priscilla, did you see who left this outside?"

"no, uh, i opened the door because there was a knock and as soon as i saw the parcel with miss ln's name on it, i called for her." priscilla is evidently taken aback by the sharpness of sicheng's voice. her gestures are overt as she explains the situation.

sicheng pulls his phone out and his thumbs slide over the bottom part of his screen as he swiftly sends out a message.

he turns to you, "i'll go look over security footage right now. yn, go back up to your room." he motions over at priscilla as if to tell her that you needed to be escorted upstairs.

usually, you wouldn't just blindly listen to what anyone tells you, but your mind is running at 100 miles per hour. you recognise that gold paint, the writing, the flicks and hairline strokes that stylised your name. you've received a note from the same person before. only that last time, it wasn't as explicit a threat as it is this time.

...

you haven't stepped foot out of your room since sicheng told you to go back this morning. your maids have come up with breakfast and lunch earlier, but now it's well past dinner time, and the food outside your door remains untouched. the sky outside is darkening, with some rogue streaks of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

nonstop, you've been thinking it over and over in your head. putting together what sicheng told you and what you know yourself. someone close enough to you is threatening your life—but why? sure, there's the obvious reason that in a matter of days, you may possibly take over your father's title of mayor, but who would risk so much to send you a petty note? and everyone in your circle has a good enough status; what would they have to gain from this? surely, there's a blind spot that you must be missing.

your train of thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a knock at your door.

"come in!"

sicheng walks in to find you curled up in bed, knees tucked against your chest. he glances backwards briefly before closing the door behind him, "you didn't eat?"

"i'm not hungry."

you notice that he's not wearing his usual attire. a thin t-shirt covers his torso, and his regular slack pants are replaced by loose-fitting joggers. his footsteps are muted as he approaches you. there seems to be a debate in his mind whether or not he should be approaching you as he stops with at least 10 feet of space in between you and him.

"did you need me for something?" you mutter, patience thinning out on the edge of your voice.

you watch as he opens his mouth, but a response fails to be conjured up without a pause. "no, i just wanted to check on you."

you throw your blanket off of your feet and push yourself off the bed. the distance that sicheng left between the two of you disappears as you draw nearer to him.

you're not entirely sure what to do, or what to say. you look up at him and he returns your gaze. a breath hitches within you that you try your best to stifle. a knot forms in your throat and you swallow hard, dropping your eyes from sicheng.

"hey," he murmurs airily, bringing his hand up to your face. sicheng stops just short of cupping your face in his palms. you reach for his hand, taking it into your own, and he takes that as a sign to delicately graze your cheek with the side of his thumb. the lightness of his touch floats over your skin. "you're okay," he reassures you with a whisper.

it's hard to pinpoint what it is that you're feeling. there were books and lessons when you were growing up on how to be well-mannered, how to hone in your etiquettes, but there were never any rulebooks to teach you how to feel. especially, in a situation like this. how do we know if there's a right way to process our complexities?

you lean into sicheng's touch. "what can i do for you right now?" his tone coming off as a genuine offer of comfort, rather than him sounding like he is indebted to you.

finally, you lift your head, eyes running up against sicheng until it lands onto his again. "just stay with me tonight," though you meant it as a statement, bordering on an order, it ekes out of you with an uncertainty.

he nods, mouthing a soft 'okay.'

with his hand in your grip, you lead him to the edge of your bed. you can feel the hesitance in him, but he doesn't outright stop in his tracks. sliding into your covers, you shuffle over to make room for sicheng. admittedly, he didn't think this was what you meant when you asked him to stay with you tonight. he thought that he would just spend another night in the chair next to your bed, like he did before, but no.

you sit up against the headboard.

"you're... comfortable with this?" his voice is softer than dusk.

you nod, and with that, he slowly slides into your bed, a respectable distance between the two of you.

sicheng lays on his back, one hand behind his hand as you shift closer to him. though he tries his best to hide it on his face, the beating of his heart gives him away when you lay a hand over on his chest.

he rolls onto the arm closer to you, now face to face with you on the bed, leaving your hand in front of his chest on the mattress. he looks at you with a lustre in his eyes, the strong arches of his brows soften and his eyelids flutter.

you're close enough that you can hear the rhythm of his breathing and feel the warmth of his body against you. your fingers inch back onto his chest, running over the fabric of his shirt delicately, and onto his jawline. the tips of your index finger skim the contour of his chin, and up along his cheekbone. your eyes follow your fleeting touch against his face when it runs back down to the corner of his lips.

there's a few seconds in between you inching closer and closer to sicheng, and him whispering.

"we can't."

you stop—your breathing stops as well.

though you don't voice it out loud, the look in your eyes expresses every ounce of regret that you feel. your hand stiffens on sicheng's face, your fingers resting on the edge of his jaw.

his gaze flickers in between your eyes and your lips. it stays on your lips for a moment longer.

"i can't kiss you like we're lovers, when we're not."

the last three words slip out from his lips breathier than the rest.

you draw your body even closer to sicheng's, until there's only a sliver of empty space in between you.

"then, don't kiss me."

you plant a soft peck on his bare neck, and he can't bite back the tiny hum he lets slip. your lips stick to the warmth of his skin, a saltiness to it mixed with the clean scent of his cologne. simultaneously, he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers laid flat on the nape of your neck as he pulls you in closer.

his hand runs down the side of you, finding a spot on your waist which he grips onto tighter. your teeth grazes against a vein in his neck and a groan catches in his throat.

your hips seem to have a mind of their own as they start swaying forwards, colliding with sicheng's thighs. "what are you doing to me?" he mumbles under his breath, so faintly that you nearly couldn't make it out over your own humming against his neck.

sicheng is overtaken by instinct. his hand find its way between your thighs, sliding up and down over the softness of your skin. you can't help the purrs of approval that tumble out of you involuntarily.

his fingers trace soft, soft rings on the inside of your thighs, stopping just an inch below the hem of your shorts. whatever you've started, you needed to have more of it. you pull your lips away from him and wrap your fingers around his wrist that hovered so close to the heat pooling underneath you. if he wasn't going to touch you, you'd rather have him not tease you at all.

sicheng looks at you through half-lidded eyes with a faint tug on his lips, "put my hand where you want it."

you drag his hand an inch upwards, and almost naturally, sicheng finds his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shorts. "fuck," he breathes out. "you're not wearing anything underneath?" you smirk, unable to say anything because if you did, he would know how insane the raspiness in his voice drove you.

the tips of his fingers trace along the folds of your cunt, smearing your wetness all over. your breath escapes you shakily, and he revels at the sight of you. god. he knew you were pretty but you've never looked prettier than when you're squirming under his touch.

he rubs a loose circle around your clit with his middle finger, eyes steadily watching your every expression. your whole body is electrified. you feel as though you've come alive just from his touch. then, he draws another. you sink your teeth down into your bottom lip, trying to keep your breathing at a constant. the hand that you have wrapped around his wrist untightens itself and it runs up sicheng's arm, nails digging themselves into his bicep as his fingers move faster and faster on you.

then, they slow right back down. your eyelids shutter open fully, looking at him watching you with a gentleness.

he eases one finger inside of you, engulfed into your warmth. a gasp falls upon you quickly followed by a moan, which sicheng muffles with his other hand. he shushes, "you can hold it in, can't you?" you nod your head against his hand covering your lips. so badly, you want to just scream out his name, but you can't.

then, he slides another finger inside. the two of them drag up and down your heated walls, coated in a slickness. you struggle to keep from sounding out noises that ultimately gets caught in your throat. you pull his hand down from your mouth, managing a breathy, "fuck, sicheng."

he continues shushing you, balanced out with a subdued, "i know, i know." the length of his fingers carries on diving deeper and deeper into you, his thumb working small loops on your clit. you can't help but grind down against his hand, meeting him halfway with every stroke. your own fingers replaces his thumb, rubbing so relentlessly that it makes you throw your head back.

you begin to feel a tightening in your core. each moan that comes out of you is strained and muffled, your sealed lips pressing together so hard that it starts to become numb. "i'm so close," you try to voice out but a broken string of whimpers fall out instead.

your knees impulsively push themselves together, trapping sicheng's hand in between your thighs. "yeah, like that, baby. just like that," he picks up the pace in which he plunges his fingers in and out of you, "keep it quiet, though, okay?"

at this point, you've lost focus on what he's saying. the only thing on your mind is how good his fingers feel inside of you, and the violent pressure that your own fingers are exerting isn't helping. your arm is starting to ache when you finally begin to feel the release in your core. the knot tied in your stomach falls apart and so do you. your hand stops and grabs onto sicheng's wrist again. each moan that's knocked out of you quickly transitions into you panting for air. all sicheng can do is caress your cheek as you slowly come down and steady yourself again against his embrace.

you lay there next to him as you're catching your breath. sicheng comforts you with words that you can't quite hear. you take his hand up to your face, fully shutting your legs together, and lick the slickness off of his fingers. he watches you with a groan as you take his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. you pull his hand away slowly, and when your lips close together, he lets go of a deep sigh.

sicheng looks deeply into your eyes, the faintest trace of satisfaction visible on his face. "get some rest now, okay?"

a part of you doesn't want to just stop now, but the other part of you is worn out beyond repair, not just from this. your post-orgasm crash wears over you like a spell putting you to sleep, and you have no will left to fight it. so, before you know it, you drift off to sleep with sicheng's arms wrapped tightly around you and your face pressed up against his chest.

he wasn't supposed to and he wasn't planning to, but sicheng dozed off last night with you cuddled up against him. the only thought running through his head this morning: i fucked up. and that's only taking into account that he literally slept with you next to him.

the chorus of bird chirps sounds aloud from out in the garden. the bright symphonies fill the morning air.

as slowly as he can, he pulls his arm back from underneath you, a tingling feeling spreading from where your head laid upon it. hushedly, he slides his legs off of the edge of the bed, trying not to wake you. he stands up, and his movements are halted by a hum from you.

your eyes peer open, and sicheng is glancing back at you. "morning," he clears his throat, "i didn't want to wake you."

"it's alright," your voice scratches. you push yourself onto your palms and sit up, straightening your back. "um," you stutter out, looking around your bed to avoid any eye contact. there's an unspoken tension between you and sicheng that you can sense right away.

sicheng presses his thumb into the palm of his opposite hand and echoes your filler words.

you want to ask out loud, 'why is it so awkward?' but that will probably do nothing to help ease the atmosphere.

sicheng breaks the silence, "i shouldn't have... came in last night."

your eyes dart towards him, but he's looking down at your sheets. is it bad that you felt a sinking in your chest right as he said that? you didn't think you regretted what happened, but maybe you should given what sicheng's stance on it is.

"i don't..." you trail off, unable to finish the rest of your thought.

"it was my mistake. we don't... have to talk about it."

"is that what it was to you? a mistake?" words take over you before your rational thinking can catch up. if you really slowed down and thought it over, his words probably didn't warrant as much of a reaction, but in the moment, you're hurt and that's all you can focus on.

"no, i mean," sicheng struggles to find the proper words to expand on his point. as he opens his mouth again to speak, he's interrupted by someone else knocking at your door.

the knock is closely followed by a call out of your name, "miss ln!"

it distracts you from the conversation, but sicheng's comment is actively sitting on the back burner of your mind. "yes?" you return.

"your father has arranged some prior engagements for you. your chauffeur is waiting for whenever you're ready."

you can't help but let out your frustration in the form of a quiet 'ugh,' before going back and thanking the messenger, which they then dismiss themselves.

you're not in the mood for whatever errand your father has arranged for you. one, because your body is so physically tired out for some reason that even getting up out of bed will take a substantial amount of effort, and two, sicheng will follow you to whatever activity and there won't be a conclusion to this conversation you're having because there's no way you're willing to discuss this in public.

sicheng speaks up after the footsteps travel away from outside your bedroom door, "i'll leave you to get ready."

"don't-"

but sicheng completely disregards you, and leaves you alone in your room.

...

turns out that the 'errand' your father has planned for you was to pick out a few outfits from the atelier. this past week you've been so preoccupied busying yourself with activities that you haven't fully recognised that your father will officially announce you as his successor in a couple days' time. that means more responsibilities, more problems. you don't know if you're fully prepared for it, but it was never up to you; it never has been.

you posed like a mannequin for the seamstress for a good couple of hours. every blazer and every skirt being tailored to fit you perfectly. sicheng sat in the beige couch in the corner watching patiently as she took in your measurements, held up garment after garment up to you in the mirror, and finally was content with what she had created for you.

by the time you were done, you had a handful of bags in each hand, each containing a new bespoke outfit made just for you.

you're walking out of the studio with your new belongings in your hands, sicheng opening the door for you. the designer bids you an affectionate goodbye and you step out onto the concrete, heading for your ride parked in the middle of the lot.

during the whole of this visit, sicheng hasn't said a word to you. and vice versa. so when he's the first to say something, you try to look at him with an indifference in your expression.

"let me carry the bags," he offers.

"i'm alright, thank you."

you'd be lying if you said you weren't at least a little bit upset with him. although you knew there's nothing to be achieved from petty displays of stubbornness, you wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine: his nonchalance, and frankly apathetic attitude.

he doesn't challenge you, perhaps he knows better than to do exactly that. his footsteps trail behind you as you approach the car. your chauffeur pulls open the door to the backseats for you before returning to the driver's seat. sicheng simply observes as you begin to load in the bags, not wanting to tick you off even more by helping.

he catches a flare in the mirror image of the window panes all the way up on the rooftop of a nearby building. he swivels his head around, looking directly at where the spark was in the reflection. his throat tightens.

"yn, get in the car." the calmness in his voice wasn't something you weren't used to, but as you turn and find him fixated at a spot up on a roof, an alarm starts ringing in your head. "now."

you jump up onto the ledge of the footboard and hop inside with a slight panic. sicheng grabs all the remaining bags and throws it in with you. he hastily slams the back door shut and turns his focus towards that same spot again. you can barely see out of the tinted panes, but you think you hear a distant pop and sicheng's body jerks, curving his spine inwards. he clambers into the front seat, a hint of franticness in his movements. the passenger door shuts with a crash and sicheng flings his head back against the headrest.

"drive. go, now." he tells the chauffeur, clearly in a state of confusion, but he listens to sicheng. his voice is weak and breathy, like he just ran a marathon.

you push your way up to the space in between the front seats. "sicheng... what happened?" apprehension sounding out in your words.

he gives a faint shake of the head, his hand gripping tightly onto the fabric over his shoulder as he swallows a lump in his throat. you mutter a faint, 'oh my god,' under your breath as you go to pull his hand away.

sicheng breathes deeper and deeper. you uncover a small hole in his shirt, the edges splayed out with raw threads hanging off of it.

"sicheng-"

"i'm okay," he exhales. does he know how ridiculous he sounds?

a wave of distress suddenly overtakes you. "you're-"

"don't worry, i'm okay."

half of your mind has gone blank, and the other half is still stuck in 5 minutes ago before whatever happened, happened. words tumble out of you, laced with confusion and unease.

...

as soon as you arrive home, you barge in telling your housemaids to call over your doctor. sicheng has one arm wrapped around the chauffeur as he inches in with his help, his other arm limp by his side.

everything blurs past you.

sicheng is set down on the long leather couch, laying against the arm as he holds his shoulder. someone pushes past you to tend to sicheng's injuries, and all you can do is stand and stare.

...

you sit on the other end of the couch watching as the nurse is wrapping bandage around sicheng's shoulder, his torso completely bare. he grunts as she pulls tighter on the strip looping underneath his arm.

"you're lucky it didn't hit you in the ribs, or it'd be a lot worse."

sicheng mutters a soft, 'i know,' sucking in a steady breath.

the bullet sits in a tray next to the couch, completely clean, the light ricochets off of it and it gleams.

you look back over to sicheng, a deep burgundy already seeping its way underneath his skin. if it weren't for the bulletproof undershirt he was wearing, you'd be looking at admitting him into the ER. still, he's not completely devoid of any injuries.

the nurse said that aside from bruising, he had a fracture to his collarbone. "it should heal on its own anywhere in between 6 to 12 weeks."

you nod, and she gives you a brief smile before she helps fasten the sling around sicheng's neck and begins packing up her kit.

several sets of footsteps approach the doorway to the guest room that sicheng was set down in. you don't look over, eyes fixated on sicheng as he winces at any slight movement that he does affecting his injured collarbone.

the footsteps move in closer and closer to you. sicheng hears them as well and opens his eyes. "sir," he manages gravelly.

you and the nurse simultaneously look up, and there you see your father with his assistant a few steps behind him. he nods towards the nurse.

"the doctor couldn't make it on such short notice, but mr. dong's injuries are mild. i've already informed miss ln of mr. dong's condition," the nurse explains to your father.

"thank you for your help," your father tells the nurse. she picks up the kit that she brought with her and bows her head before leaving the room.

the expression on your father's face is ambiguous to say the least.

sicheng takes your father's silence as an opportunity, "i should've been more careful. i'm sorry..."

your father inhales shakily, "it was too close, yes." he looks over at you sitting on the couch, then back at sicheng, "but yn wasn't injured, and i have you to thank for that."

"it's my duty," sicheng simply responds.

your father gives him a satisfied smile. "take some time to rest, i'll have someone else look over your responsibilities for now."

with that, your father and his assistant leaves you and sicheng alone in the guest room, now allocated for his recovery.

you haven't said a word to him since the car ride back.

you sit on the edge of the couch, palms planted flat on either side of you. "does it hurt?" you look over, and sicheng leans on the sofa back, his injured arm suspended in a black mesh sling. his eyes are closed as he takes in a heavy breath after another.

he opens his eyes up to a squint, glancing over at you. "a bit," you think he's gone insane when you see a slight tug at the corner of his mouth.

you shift over towards sicheng, his unwounded shoulder being closer to you. the bandages the nurse had wrapped him up in doesn't entirely cover up his bruising. a gradient of pink, red, and purple spreads over atop his pecs. your fingers trace over his abdomen, hovering when you draw near his injury. "you scared me," you whisper.

"i know," sicheng says, "i'm sorry."

"why would you do that?"

he looks at you, a dazedness in his eyes, "do what?"

"take a bullet like that." you gulp, feeling the coarseness in your throat.

sicheng expels a weak chuckle. "to be honest, i didn't think i would." you peer at him with a tilt of your head. "i was so focused on you not getting hurt, but now that i think about it..."

he trails off.

"what?" you prompt gently.

"i don't think they were aiming at you."

your eyebrows raise themselves gingerly.

"i mean, they had every opportunity to... shoot you, but they didn't. with the time it took me to even notice them, they could've gotten the job done and vanished."

you realise what sicheng's implying. and you suppose he is right. thinking it over in your head, your reaction wasn't the fastest, given the state of shock and confusion that you were in. so, that means they were gunning for sicheng. but why?

he carries on, "and with where the bullet hit me—it was nowhere even near where you were stood." he shakes his head, "it just doesn't make sense."

"so, why?"

"i mean, i don't-"

"no. why would you ever risk yourself like this? a job like this; it surely isn't the first time you got injured."

sicheng looks at your face, so painstakingly close to his. he runs his good hand through your hair, twirling the ends of a strand in between his fingers. "it's not," he smiles weakly, but falls short of an answer to give to you.

you swallow hard. "you know, you've made it clear to me countless times that you're supposed to keep me safe... but who looks after you?"

"i can manage myself."

"i know—you're more than capable. but..." the words you're speaking has to be dragged out of you, a broken intonation. "that's not the same as looking after yourself."

he drops his gaze from yours, fingers now fidgeting and cracking his knuckles as a means of escape from this conversation.

"you don't let me kiss you, you want to forget whatever we did and dismiss it as a mistake. that's fine, but is that what you want, or is it just your guard?"

he turns his head towards yours, but still avoiding eye contact with you. for a moment, you thought he would say something, but he doesn't.

you sigh.

"just let me take care of you while your shoulder heals, okay? i'm here."

you're about to push yourself off of the couch, you lean back, but sicheng holds onto your hand. he draws you in to the spot you were at before. your faces inches apart from each other.

he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, "kiss me."

your heartbeat drums against your lungs. you slide your fingers up onto his face, pulling him in closer. and gently, you oblige.

his lips fit yours perfectly, as if you were both individually sculpted for each other. you try not to lean onto sicheng given his injury, so the most pressure you put on him is through your hands pulling him closer into you. you press your mouth against the softness of his lips, a tenderness to his movements. he breathes your scent in, and it's like it completely soothes the sharpness in his shoulder. you take him in deeper and deeper. his lips had a hint of peppermint to them, but sweeter. he let you utterly devour him against your own lips, fuelling a desire you didn't know you had in you. god, you didn't want to pull away, but your stupid, stupid lungs had to regather some air within them. and you part from him with a gentle smack.

sicheng's eyelids flutter open, like you'd just woken him from a dream. "if your father ever finds out-"

you shush him with a finger up to his mouth. and you attach your lips onto his again.

you're deep into your sleep when you hear alerts coming in nonstop on your phone. you stayed in sicheng's room with him; he's asleep on the bed and you've decided to give him more room by taking the couch. you open your eyes groggily, the sky outside doesn't make it clear to you what time it is. reaching out onto the coffee table, your phone doesn't stop buzzing in your hand.

the brightness of the screen causes you to squint. messages roll in, from dejun. without reading the notifications first, you click onto the grey bubbles. a litter of text threads open up on your phone. ones reading, "are you okay?" and "i heard what happened," and of the like.

stiffly, you go to type in a response. you tell dejun that you're fine, briefly glossing over the situation.

...

the second time you wake up this morning is when you hear sicheng talking to someone just outside of his room, the conversation muffled. he shuffles back in and you're more or less glaring at him, unintentionally.

"who was that?" you strain.

"um," he lightly massages the back of his neck. "they... found the shooter. and he talked."

that instantly catches your attention. you sit up straight, and signal to sicheng to take a seat next to you on the couch.

he slowly paces himself over, his back kept upright the entire time as he sits down next to you.

"the shooter is no one special, but," he begins, an almost sheepish look on him, "he told us who sent him. and we think that it's the same person who sent you that note, with your earring."

"who?" you jump in, impatient for him to tell you.

sicheng looks into your eyes for a split second. the sky outside is still dark. half of your face is lit by the orange ember that glows out from the fireplace.

"who?" you repeated, this time a little bit louder.

"i don't know how close you are to her. rin? full name, rina lee. her dad... owed some debts to your father."

your brows furrow. rin? you've only met her once, and that was at mrs. xiao's gala. what would prompt her to threaten you to such an extreme?

"i'm sorry, it must be-"

"no- what else do you know?"

sicheng sucks in a quick breath. "well, it's rumoured that her father, mr. lee, took a loan from your father. it was never paid back... and let's say your father didn't like that."

you didn't know what to make of your emotions—what to make of yourself. did you deserve this?

subconsciously, you start shaking your head lightly. you were in denial, but of what, you didn't know.

"i'm sorry," is all sicheng can say to provide you with some semblance of solace.

"i just..." you breathe out a heavy breath, "i can't believe it."

"i know, but it'll be over, soon. you'll take on your father's role tomorrow, isn't that something to look forward to?" sicheng tries his best to divert your focus away from the news.

you scoff. and then a sigh.

"i guess."

sicheng runs a hand over your head, smoothing over your hair, "let's go back to sleep, it's still early."

the whole of yesterday you spent getting ready, signing agreements, and attending meeting after meeting with your father. you'd spent the night before tossing and turning, unsure of if you'd be happy with this route that you're headed in.

last night, you were doing the same. tossing, turning, thinking. you never really had a choice, and it's weird how you feel apathetic towards that.

you've always lived comfortably and maybe you're just not ready for that to change yet, that's what you thought to yourself.

you woke up this morning, still a bit shaken up, mind still fuzzied from how your life has spiralled seemingly out of your control over the last week.

and now you're standing behind the drawn back curtain to the balcony, where your father's speech is being broadcasted live.

"serving as mayor to this beautiful district has been one of my greatest prides. but i'm afraid people grow old, and i am experiencing that for myself first hand."

your father's voice wavers, and it stings your cheeks a little.

"nonetheless, i know there has been rumours going around surrounding my retirement. i would like to keep this concise. today, i am officially stepping down as the mayor of district V, and appointing my daughter to serve the rest of my term." he turns towards you, hand stretching out in your direction, and you step out onto the landing.

your father steps aside to grant you some space on the podium. you take a deep breath in, before crouching down slightly to speak into the microphone.

"it is my honour to be appointed the role of mayor for a district as notable and celebrated as district V." you recite the script that your father's assistant had written for you, the syllables drilled into your brain throughout all the practices yesterday.

you remember the words that the assistant had said to you, 'this district's citizens don't care much for politics. they just want to know if they can continue living in their merry way as they did before.'

"i will see to it that this transition is as seamless as possible, and i will do my best to humbly serve each and every citizen to the best of my ability. thank you."

you back away from the podium and disappear off where it is visible on the landing. your father continues on delivering the rest of his spiel.

it's been less than a minute since you've officially accepted your new position, but you can already feel a tightening around your chest. you plop down on a chair all the way on the opposite end of the balcony, thinking it over again. is this what you want?

that's when you catch sicheng peering into the room from the hallway.

"what are you doing here? you should be resting," you jump up onto your feet.

"i didn't get to see you yesterday, so i thought i should at least congratulate you today."

you sigh, and plaster a grin onto your face, "thank you."

sicheng takes one step closer to you. "so, miss mayor, i suppose i'm no longer at your service?"

slowly, you can feel a genuine smile twinging at your lips, "you wish." you swiftly glance over at where your father is, back still facing you. you steal a quick peck from sicheng. he looks at you with his eyes wild.

"what?" you tease.

even though you're not sure the path given to you is what you want, you know that as long as sicheng is by your side, you'll manage to find joy in the little moments. the stolen kisses. and the fleeting glances.

and it's not for ever, anyway. just until this term ends.

"you are now under me," you whisper with a smirk.

humming, he raises his eyebrows with interest. "so, what's the first order of business?"

you roll your eyes. "focus on healing your shoulder up, and then we'll talk."

he leans in closer to your face, a cheeky spark in his eyes. "yes, ma'am."

thank you for reading between heaven and hell ! this fic is a part of a series which you can learn more about here ! hope you enjoyed :)

334 notes · View notes

lewdangelsou · 9 months

Text

cats don't speak

sypnosis || scaramouche ordered some gifts for his lover to try out.

warnings: lower case intentional, mean scaramouche, afab gn! reader (using she/her), filming, fingers down your throat, saliva/spit/drool, choking, dacryphilia, mention of butt plug, heavy degrading, sprinkle of praise. getting called kitty. humiliation.

minors dni

·˚ ༘ not proofread hehe

the pads of his fingers caress the texture of the leather that wrap around her neck, the bell dangling with soft dings. scaramouche smirks, gazing down at herㅡ on her knees on the floor, looking up at him through those pretty long lashes with a hint of shame within her eyes.

"see? it's perfect." his smile was condescending, a type of malice that made her heart pound against her ribcage. scaramouche traces the artificial ears that clipped to her soft hair, he's starting to treat her just like a small pet; delicate and needy.

his lover puckers her lips into a slight pout, the plug nestled deep into that tight cavern of her rear, an uncomfortable yet sensational feeling, the fluffy tail resting in between her thighs. "it feels weird..." she confesses, resting her cheek upon the rough denim of his lap.

the entire ordeal of getting dragged to his bedroom with a nicely wrapped package on his sheets piqued her curiosity greatly, only to reveal that they're merely toys for his entertainment. for his model, his muse, his loverㅡ she's the perfect candidate for his sore eyes. scaramouche doesn't listen to her complaints in the beginning, her sentences falling to deaf ears as each article of clothing strips off of her body just for this act of power.

he tips her head back, "i don't understand you, kitty" a derisive grin spread across his handsome face, causing her very core to tighten from the voltage of adrenaline.

"come on, meow for the camera."

a thick clump of saliva dries her throat as she swallows, a whole weight of shame lay heavy within her head as her pupils gloss towards the camera. she hesitates, ".. me.. mew..?"

despite her best attempt, scaramouche isn't pleased. he pulls at her bottom lip to part them, eyeing the pink interior of her mouth as strings of saliva thread loosely. "i know you look so pathetic but at least try."

".. scaramouche, come onㅡ"

her eyes gape immediately at the flavorless taste of his fingers pushing past her teeth, pressing down on her tongue to silence her protests. as if on an instant, she clicked right back to her place, kneeling before the man who has spoiled her with his morbid affection.

"if you can't meow, why not lick, hm?"

he drags his fingers across the surface of her pink tongue, gently moving in and out of her mouth, suggesting that she puts in the effort for him. through her muddled vision she submits, suckling on his fingers until a rhythm builds that satisfies them both. with each bob of her her head, the bell attached to her collar jingles, only adding to the throb that aches scaramouche's cock.

his indigo eyes watching every detail of the way her pretty lips wrap around his middle and ring finger, glazing them with spit each time she parts from it for a single second before drawing in once more. he groans, voice mixing with the followed slurping noise of her continuous sucking.

"hah.. finally, something you're good for."

her heart quelled, urging herself to go faster, deeper. thus, scaramouche muses at the way she gags at the tips of his digits hitting the back of her throat, feeling his dull nails hit the flesh. tears form to sear her vision and pearl down her flushed cheeks, the thickened tension between them making it difficult to breathe. and through all of this, she doesn't take her eyes away from the lenses of scaramouche's phone as he fails to keep it steady.

she even puts on a show, opening her mouth enough to swirl her tongue around his fingers like an obedient pet, before shoving them deep down her throat once more. drool dribbles down her chin and dripping down to the surface of her cleavage, adding to the pornographic-like feel that is presented to him.

"fuck that's it."

#genshin smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche smut

466 notes · View notes

the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 10 months

Text

Rain-Soaked Kisses

Ship: Steve Harrington x fem!Mayfield!reader

Summary: Steve hates storms but loves the rain—just another oxymoron of his life, like the secret the kids are trying so very hard to dig up.

Word Count: 6,582 words

Warnings: fluff!!!, sappy & romantic Steve, scheming Dustin & Max, healthy Mayfield sibling relationship, Billy mention, lumax sprinkles, secret relationship, friends to lovers, byler sprinkles, jancy sprinkles

Note: Told in part from the perspective of the kids! Written because it's storming where I am, and I love this weather so much.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

"Who could he possibly be dating? There's not a girl in Hawkins that wants to go out with him!"

"Well, clearly one of them does!"

Dustin sighed, taking in Max's exclamation. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Steve had stopped complaining about bad dates and girls who left quickly; Robin reported he'd completely stopped talking about Leah and Heidi and Helen and the five other girls he'd been on-and-off again with; he walked around with a dopey, happy smile on his face all the time; and he was less and less reliable for rides, instead going on dates with a girl who's name he always pretended to forget.

As impossible as the idea seemed, Dustin had to admit it was a logical conclusion.

But who?

"Robin?" Max suggested.

Dustin shook his head. "Impossible. Steve steadfastedly refuses to date her. It's not Nancy again, is it?"

"Nope—saw her with Jonathan yesterday." Max huffed a sigh. "Maybe we have to...think outside the box more?"

"Who's outside the box? Who hasn't he already tried to date and failed miserably at dating?" Dustin demanded.

Max was silent for a moment too long. Then she said, "Alright, I don't know. I can't think of anyone who would actually go out with him."

"Exactly, neither can I," Dustin said. "We've got to watch him. We need to know who this is."

~❊~

But tracking Steve and his mystery girl down was much, much harder than either Dustin or Max had anticipated.

Without Steve driving them around, getting around town took twice as long as it needed, either in the attempts to find someone to drive them or in walking themselves everywhere. Nancy was either busy or with Jonathan most of the time, which ruled out Jonathan as well, and Robin still didn't have her license.

During yet another slow afternoon of trying and failing to put together the pieces of where Steve was going and with who, the phone rang. Dustin and Max both looked up quickly, scrambling over furniture and Dustin's new cat to beat each other to the phone.

Dustin got to it first. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dustin? It's Robin."

"Yeah, I know it's you, Robin, I can recognize your voice."

"Now's your chance."

"What?"

"Steve just left work—he said he's going on a date. Now's your chance to go find out who he's going out with!"

"Oh, shit!" Dustin turned to Max. "Steve's going on a—"

"I heard," she said. "Does she know where he's going?"

"Where's he going, Robin, did he say?"

"A restaurant, and he changed into a really nice outfit before he left here. And by nice, I mean really nice. Like fanciest restaurant in town kind of nice. Whoever this girl is, he really wants to impress her. And he's obsessed with her, too, he's been smiling all day from excitement."

Dustin scoffed. "And you didn't call us before he left?! Now we have to find out where he's going and how to get there!"

"Well, it's not like I could call you talk about him in front of him! Besides, we do know where he's going. What's the fanciest restaurant in town?"

"Enzo's," Dustin realized. "That's where he's taking her."

"I can guarantee it. If you go to Enzo's, he's going to be there. I'd go myself, but Steve and I'll both get fired if at least one of us isn't at the store right now."

"Thanks, Robin!"

"Good luck, guys!"

Dustin turned around to give Max the details, but she cut him off. "I heard. Enzo's."

"All we have to do is catch them in the middle of their date, and we know exactly who Steve's dating," Dustin said with a grin. "Easy!"

"Yeah, easy," Max snarked. "How are we supposed to get there?"

Dustin paused before he sighed. "Start calling everyone we know with a car, I guess."

Max rolled her eyes. "Like that'll ever work. Nobody's been willing to drive us around so far!"

"Can't hurt to try," Dustin insisted.

"No, Dustin, we'll be wasting time! We should just start walking now!"

But Dustin was already dialing the number to the Wheelers' house. It was answered by Mrs. Wheeler.

"Hello, Karen Wheeler speaking!"

"Hi, Mrs. Wheeler, could I talk to—"

"MIKE!" Dustin flinched at the volume from the other end. Max cringed, hearing the shout from where she stood. "Dustin's on the phone!"

A few seconds later, Dustin heard Mike's voice. "Yeah?"

"Is Nancy there?"

Dustin could see Mike's frown. "What do you want Nancy for?"

"Mike, I don't have time for this—"

"What. For? If this is Keith trying to get a date with her again, I swear that I'll—"

"Oh my God, Mike, no! Steve's going on a date and we need to catch him to figure out who he's going out with! We need Nancy to drive us there."

"Dustin, do you realize how idiotic that sounds? Nancy's not gonna drive you to go spy on her ex and his new girlfriend!" Mike hung up without another word.

Groaning, Dustin tried to call again, but he was met only with the dial tone.

Max rolled her eyes. "I told you it wouldn't work."

"I'm calling the Byers," Dustin grumbled. He dialed the number, but when Joyce picked up, she was talking to someone else in the house and by the time Dustin had gotten out "Is Jonathan there?" he heard the click of the receiver being put back.

"Try my sister," Max said.

Dustin dialed the number to Max's trailer, but no one answered. He shook his head.

"She's probably out running," Max sighed.

"Another run? Isn't that all she does now?" Dustin asked with a frown.

Max shrugged. "She says it helps her...deal with things."

Dustin sensed a can of worms—the kind that most people would avoid, the kind that Max clearly wanted to talk about anyway. So he asked it, when most people wouldn't. "Things?"

Max nodded slowly. "Yeah. You know...the Upside Down, Eddie..." She hesitated. "Billy."

Dustin glanced down at his feet. There was blood associated with all of those memories. He knew they plagued all of them, those who'd survived Vecna and his creatures, and he knew that they all had different ways of coping. Dustin's was research, Max's was music, yours was running.

"She's more like him than she wants to admit," Max said. "At least, she is with the running. Billy, he...he used to exercise to distract himself. She runs."

"Is that a bad thing?" Dustin asked.

"No, it's just... She needs someone in her corner is all. And I don't...I don't think that person is me anymore."

Dustin's heart squeezed in his chest. "Max..."

She shook off his concern. "Come on—we'd better start walking, or we're never going to make it to Enzo's on time!"

~❊~

It started to rain halfway through their walk to Enzo's.

The storm didn't start gently. There was no warning before it started to pour, no flash of lightning or boom of thunder. Just a steady downpour, hard and fast and painful against the skin.

Dustin and Max hid from the weather as much as they could, ducking under store awnings and hiding under outdoor umbrellas as they came across them.

After getting turned around at least twice, they spotted the restaurant's glowing sign. They ran toward it, stopping at the bay windows peering in. They scanned the tables inside. From the parking lot behind them, there was laughter and the slamming of car doors.

"Do you see them?" Dustin hissed. He looked at every face he saw, overanalyzing the back of every head that looked like it might be Steve.

"Are we sure they're still there?" Max said. "It's been, what, almost an hour and a half? Who eats for that long?"

Dustin shrugged. "Enzo's is a fancy place, they've got designated courses and shit. They could still be there."

A car engine revved. "Are you sure?" Max took Dustin by the shoulders and spun him around. "Is it just me, or does that look like—"

"Steve's car!" Dustin hissed. "Shit!"

They raced after it in the rain, Dustin catching sight of Steve through the driver's side window, his hair perfect and a huge grin on his face.

"Is he wearing a suit jacket?" Max asked.

"Did you see who was in the passenger's seat?" Dustin demanded.

Max didn't answer, still staring after the car, her face fixed into confusion.

"Max?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I...I couldn't tell who it was."

Dustin groaned. "Shit! That was our one chance!"

"We'll get another one," Max snapped. "He's been going on dates a lot, right? Robin said so, and he's always gone because he's been on a date. He'll go on another one with her soon."

Dustin sighed. "Good point. Now we just have to wait. Come on—we should call Robin."

~❊~

Max walked home in the rain by herself, hearing her mother fuss that she would get a cold if she kept walking around in the rain without a jacket, but not caring. Louder than her mother's voice was El's: friends don't lie.

Should Max have told Dustin what—who—she saw in Steve's car? Or the fact that she'd seen them going into Steve's burgundy BMW in the parking lot while he'd been focused on the store?

No.

Yes?

It was too late now. Besides, was she absolutely sure of who she'd seen?

Well, yes, she knew you better than anyone. You'd been by her side her entire life. There were pictures hanging in the trailer of Mom in the hospital bed after she'd given birth to Max, but it was you who was holding her, sitting in the plastic chair next to the bed.

The lights of the trailer were on when Max reached it, but only your car was in the driveway.

She pushed the door open. "Hey, I'm home!"

You poked your head out of the door to your bedroom. Your hair was just as drenched and stringy as her own. "Max! There you are, I was worried— Why are you soaking wet?"

"I walked home," she said, shrugging.

You hurried out of your room. "Come on, we need to get you out of those clothes. Mom will kill us both if she finds out we've both been out in the rain in the wrong kind of clothes."

"Where were you?" Max asked as you brought her into the bathroom.

You glanced up at her but didn't meet her eyes. "You couldn't get a ride home?" You left her in the bathroom, running into her room to grab her some dry clothes.

"No—Steve's the only one who will drive us anywhere, and he's unavailable most of the time."

Guilt flashed over your face. Max narrowed her eyes, watching you closely. You didn't seem to notice. "We'll tell Mom we took showers if she gets back before our hair dries." You paused. "You could have called me, you know."

"I did," she said. "You didn't answer."

Your face fell. "Max, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Are you dating Steve?"

The question stopped you in your tracks. "Max, I..."

"Are you?"

You sighed, wiping a a hand over your face. You sighed. "Yeah."

Max sighed. "Hand me a towel, please." You did so silently, taking one of your own to towel-dry your hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You shrugged. "At first, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. I mean... I knew I liked Steve, but his track record with girls hasn't been good lately, and I..." You sighed. "I wanted reassurance he wouldn't be gone after a week."

"And after that?"

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. "This is...gonna sound stupid, but... Steve has been everything for you guys. For you, for Dustin, for El, everybody. He's saved you countless times, I watched him stand up to our brother to protect us, even though Billy beat him bloody for it. I didn't...I didn't want to feel like I was taking him away from you all, but I also...kind of wanted him to myself sometimes. And he seemed to want time alone for the two of us, too, so..." You looked up at Max. "And I didn't...want you to feel like I was taking away from you. After Billy..." Your voice caught in your throat.

There it was again. The silence that surrounded death.

"Died," Max whispered. "After he died."

You nodded. "After he died, I know Steve kind of...stepped up for you. I didn't want you to feel like he cared less about you just because I was in the picture now." You laughed shakily. "I know that kind of, uh, backfired. I'm sorry to keep him away from you guys for so long."

Max shook her head. "Stop apologizing for wanting someone that's yours." She breathed out a laugh. "I was just telling Dustin that you needed someone in your corner. I should have known it would be Steve. I mean, he's always been there for the rest of us, why wouldn't he be there for you?"

You looked over at Max. "Just how mad is Dustin that I'm dating Steve?"

"He doesn't know," Max said. "We've been trying to figure out who Steve's mystery girl is for months. He won't tell anybody, so Dustin wanted to try and see if we could figure it out ourselves." She glanced at you. "We saw you guys last night. At Enzo's. Or rather, I saw you. Dustin was too busy trying to peer inside the restaurant to even notice Steve's car."

You made a face. "How can you not notice Steve's car? It's a burgundy BMW for Christ's sake."

"I know!" Max giggled.

You laughed with her for a minute. The lightness in her voice—it had been a while since you'd heard her laugh like that.

After a moment, you said, "So...nobody else knows that it's me Steve is dating?"

Max shook her head. "Not even Robin."

You whistled. "I'm surprised Steve's capable of keeping a secret from her. It's gotta be killing him, I just know it." You giggled. "However...we could have some fun with this."

Max raised her eyebrows.

"If Dustin wants to know who's Steve's dating, he can keep digging as much as he wants." You grinned. "That's gotta be amusing, surely?"

~❊~

The storm that had swept in over a week ago had lasted the whole week, turning Hawkins into a mud patch and its roads into rivers. It let up briefly, leaving behind perfect spring days, only to return with a vengeance the next week—randomly on a Thursday afternoon.

Thursdays had become movie nights at Steve's house, and Dustin had concocted a plan to trick Steve into telling him who he was dating.

Max knew it wasn't gonna work. She had been present when you told Steve about Dustin's snooping and the both of you had decided to continue yanking Dustin's chain. Steve had seemed more excited about it than even you had.

While Steve set up his house for the group of rambunctious teenagers for movie night, Dustin explained his plan to Max in whispers.

"So, I'm going to try talking about Suzie for the first few hours," Dustin started, watching Steve like a hawk while he moved about in the kitchen, making popcorn for the group. "Get him thinking about his own relationship, you know? And then you know how he gets—" He cut himself off abruptly when Steve came into the living room with bowls of popcorn, setting them on the coffee table.

"Any idea when your sister's supposed to be here, Max?" Steve asked. "I thought she was driving you."

Max shook her head. "She said she'd come after she got out of work, but I don't remember when her shift ended."

Steve nodded. He disappeared up the stairs in the next moment.

"You know how he gets when it gets late into the movie and its dark and he's focused?" Dustin continued, picking up immediately.

Max frowned. "Like when he's so focused on something you can ask him a question and he'll either go 'huh?' and make you repeat it or he'll just answer without thinking?"

"Exactly like that," Dustin said. "That's when I'm—"

Steve returned with a stack of blankets. "How many of us are there, again? Twelve?"

"Thirteen," Dustin and Max both said.

Steve tossed the blankets onto the couch. "Go grab five more. Up the stairs, closet on the left."

They went up the stairs, Dustin whispering again before they'd even reached the landing. "I'm gonna ask him who he's going out with when he's like that."

Max rolled her eyes. "You don't know that'll work. He could say 'huh?' and make you repeat the question, like I just said."

Dustin shrugged. "Then I'll ask him something different, wait a little bit longer, and then ask again. He can't do that the whole night. Can he?"

"How should I know?" Max picked up the blankets and started back downstairs. Steve was whistling in the kitchen. "This whole plan is so stupid, Dustin. It's hardly a plan!"

"Do you have a better idea?" he hissed.

Max stayed silent. Of course she had better ideas, but those might make Steve actually tell Dustin.

"That's what I thought," Dustin said, clearly on the wrong path. "We'll stick with my plan." He glanced at Steve's back in the kitchen. "Unless your sister knows who he's dating? They're pretty much best friends now, right?"

Max nodded. "Blame Robin for that," she said, praying her poker face held. "I don't think she knows. I can't see Steve telling her if he hasn't told Robin."

"Fair point," Dustin decided. "Even more reason to rely on my plan."

She rolled her eyes. "Your plan is just going to annoy him until he kicks you out of his house."

"He likes me too much," Dustin said, with confidence Max wasn't sure he should possess—not about this, at least.

When they reached the first floor again, Steve was pacing around the living room, double checking he had everything set up. Max had to admit she liked the set up he had for movie night: the coffee table was set up with bowls of popcorn and a drink tray, there was a cooler next to filled with water bottles and soda cans, he had dragged every pillow in the house to the couch and floor, a fluffy winter comforter spread out on the carpet to make the floor more comfortable, and an egregious number of bagged snacks in a wicker basket.

"I think we're all set, guys," Steve said, surveying the room with his hands on his hips.

As if cued by Steve's motherly behavior, the rain outside grew louder, falling fast against the AC unit in the window. Steve winced.

"Looks like we're going to have to have the volume up high to hear the movie over the storm," he said.

"What are we watching?" Dustin asked.

Steve shrugged. "I dunno. We've got a couple choices in that cabinet over there, plus the stuff Robin's bringing. I think Nance had a movie she wanted to suggest, too, but I can't remember what it was..." His eye caught on the stack of blankets, leaning down to count them.

Dustin dug through the movie cabinet. "Come on, Steve, what are these movies? Why are they all romantic comedies?"

"Because they're my mom's favorite, dipshit," Steve said with an affectionate roll of his eyes.

"There's nothing of value here!"

"Well, I'm not watching Star Wars again, so—"

"It was Star Trek last week!"

"Even worse." Steve looked up at Max and waved her over. She glanced at Dustin, but he was too busy judging Mrs. Harrington's taste in rom-coms to notice her get up.

"Would it be too obvious if I gave your sister my blanket? I miscounted and we're short one."

Max bit back a laugh. "I think Nancy might notice, Robin would definitely notice, but Dustin's still a little too oblivious for that."

Steve huffed a sigh. "Can't have one of them letting it slip. Alright, fine, I'll use mine and give her a different one." He glanced at his watch. "Her shift ended almost an hour ago, she should be here any minute."

Max frowned. "Why do you know her work schedule better than I do?"

He shrugged. "In case she needs a ride to or from work. Can't leave her stranded if her car breaks down again."

A knock sounded at the door. Steve grinned at Max, both of them knowing you had arrived. He rushed to the door, slowing down only when he was within Dustin's sightline again.

You were hugging your arms when he opened the door, your hair wet and stringy, your clothes soaked through. "What took you so long, Stevie?!" you demanded, hurrying through the door. Max pointed to Dustin before you could kiss Steve's cheek.

"Jesus, you're soaked," Steve said, taking in your more than damp appearance. "Did you walk here?"

"No," you said, pointing out the still-open door to your car. "It's just raining hard enough that I got drenched on the run from my car to your door."

Steve slammed the door shut before more water could get inside. "Uh, okay, come on, I think I've got something for you to change into."

You blinked at him, gaze flicking briefly to Dustin. "Oh, no, that's alright, I'll just—"

"I'm not letting you stay uncomfortable and catch a cold in these clothes," Steve insisted. You nodded, all too ready to curl up in one of Steve's sweaters. "Come on—you two, we'll only be a minute. Answer the door if anyone else comes while we're gone."

Steve ushered you upstairs. Max waited a few minutes before telling Dustin she'd be right back, using the bathroom as her excuse, wanting to keep an eye on the two of you and stop you from any funny business. She followed the damp footprints you'd left behind, slipping into the bathroom across from Steve's room and peering around the door. She smiled at what she saw.

You had ditched your wet pants and shirt and were pulling on a pair of Steve's jeans. Steve had his back turned as he dug through his dresser.

"Um...do you need a different bra? I'm pretty sure you left one here last time..." Steve glanced back at you and smiled. "God, you look cute."

You looked up at him, cheeks pink. "You're just saying that because I'm half-naked in your bedroom and the clothes I'm wearing are yours."

Steve shook his head, still smiling. "I'm sayin' it 'cause you're cute." He walked over to you, sweater in hand, and kissed your nose. "You are beautiful, Miss Mayfield." He brushed your wet hair out of your face. "Arms up, honey."

You lifted your arms for him and he tugged his sweater over your head. He pulled you to his chest as soon as it was on, holding you like it was the last time he ever would. Max watched your hand go into his hair, pulling a soft sigh from him.

"Kiss me, Stevie," you whispered, coaxing his head toward your own with your hand.

Eyes closed, Steve obeyed, kissing you softly, chastely. Max heard the movie-perfect sound of your lips parting before you tugged him back down for a second kiss, deeper than the first.

"I love you," he whispered.

"And I love you," you said back. The two of you smiled at each other, sickeningly sweet, and Max wondered if the look on your face was the same one on hers whenever she was with Lucas.

Steve adjusted his sweater on your body one more time. "We should get back downstairs," he said. "Dustin might get suspicious."

You fell back into his arms for another hug. "Okay."

Steve took your hand and slowly lead you out of his bedroom, though he seemed just as reluctant as you to have to let go and pretend to just be friends. "Your sister thought it would be too much to give you my blanket during the movie, but I think I like having you in my clothes more."

You smiled. "If it's anything scary, I'll jump a lot and cling to you and we can blame it on the movie."

Steve grinned. "Let's hope Robin brings a good scary movie, and that Eddie wins the vote tonight, then."

Max shut the door before you could see it was open, making sure it closed quietly, quickly flushed the toilet, and turned on the sink and made a show of opening the door to see the two of you. She glanced pointedly at your hands.

"I thought we were still making Dustin guess," she said.

Steve sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He brought your joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of your hand before letting you go. "Alright, I'm done now."

The three of you headed back downstairs, Max at the lead and you just behind. Max knew Steve had let you go down the stairs first just so he could watch you prance around in his clothes and run his gaze over you again, but she'd give him a pass, just this once. You did look rather at home in his clothes.

Max watched you while you made yourself at home in your usual spot, in the middle cushion on the Harringtons' couch. In fact, she realized, you looked more like yourself, the happiest you'd been, since Billy had died—maybe even since you'd left California.

Credit where credit was due, Max would have to thank Steve somehow (without it seeming like she was thanking him for bringing you back).

"You want anything?" Steve asked you, tossing you one of the blankets. He set his down on the cushion next to you, then the blanket Robin had claimed on your other side.

"I'm all set," you promised. "Anyone else here yet, Dusty?"

Dustin rolled over onto his back from the place on the floor he'd claimed as his several months back, which he said was the best place to watch the movie from, but Max knew was his spot because it was still close enough to Steve, too. The middle, which was hers, was definitely a better view than Dustin's righthand side.

"Not yet," he said. "Hi."

You smiled. "Hi. Find a good movie?"

"No," Dustin said. "Steve's taste sucks."

Steve narrowed his eyes, picking up a piece of popcorn and throwing it at him. "For the last time, it's my mom's rom-com collection!"

~❊~

Max lay in her spot between Lucas and Dustin, Erica on the other side of Lucas, only half-paying attention to the movie while she braided El's hair, Will and Mike snuggling on the opposite side of Dustin. Max was sure Dustin felt singled out, being boarded by two couples, plus Nancy and Jonathan sharing a blanket and a lounge chair just behind him. Eddie had curled himself up on the chair on Steve's opposite side, covering himself in his blanket to protect himself from the blow of the AC unit.

Robin had managed to snag a new release that had just arrived at Family Video—Tim Burton's Beetlejuice, a movie that had only been out for a few months in the theaters. The kids on the floor had propped themselves up on their elbows, drinks and half-eaten bowls of popcorn in front of them.

Every so often, Max faked a yawn to duck her head back to glance at her sister and Steve. Robin was stretched out across both your laps, and the two of you had leaned together to share both of your blankets after Steve had muttered something about the AC being too cold, only for the others to shout for him not to touch it.

And judging from the way you and Steve occasionally exchanged a look, Max guessed you were holding hands beneath the blanket.

Max turned her attention back to the movie, lifting a small handful of popcorn to her mouth. Not so subtly, Lucas fake-stretched and laid his arm over her shoulders. Giggling quietly, Max snuggled into his side. She heard your amused hum behind from behind her, followed by a small chuckle of Steve's.

As it had the entire movie, thunder crashed outside. While the rain had lightened up enough not to be distracting, the flash of lightning visible through the curtains and the boom of thunder had been frequent and often made the room's occupants jump in fear.

Another boom of thunder announced the power flickering.

Dustin looked back at Steve. "Uh, Steve?"

"We've got a generator," Steve said, but he had sat up straighter and had pulled away from you, his face uneasy.

With the next flicker of lightning and crash of thunder, the power went out.

The group of thirteen sat in the pitch-black room in silence. Lightning illuminated faces briefly, showing Max that Robin had sat up, and that you, Steve, and Eddie were all on your feet.

"There are candles in the study," Steve said, breaking the silence. His voice was wavering, and Max remembered you saying something about cutting a date short due to the storm earlier that week. Was Steve...afraid of storms?

"I'll get them," you said.

"Matches in the drawer next to the sink and lanterns in the sunroom storage cabinet," he continued. "Eds, come on, let's go see if we can get the power back to the fridge and a few lights, yeah?"

"After you," Eddie said and followed Steve out the front door. The pattering rain grew louder as the door opened, revealing a world in grey scale, but still lighter than the inside of the house.

Dustin sat up. "Candles? Why not just use flashlights?"

"Steve only has two flashlights," Robin said. "Working ones, at least. But candles? The Harringtons have plenty of those."

Max followed you around the house, lighting the lanterns as you found them and helping you carry the candles back to the living room.

With the room now illuminated by flickering flame, it was easy to see the worry on people's faces.

"Do you think the whole town's out?" Mike asked.

"No, it can't be," Nancy said, but she didn't sound sure.

Will wriggled out from under his blanket. The look he exchanged with Jonathan was concerned.

"Everybody keep calm," you said, setting a lantern down on the floor at the center of the group. "Steve and Eddie will get the generator running in no time."

Silence fell, still and eerie. You sat beside Max and Lucas, and Max laid her head in your lap, trying to smile up at you. It only took a look for her to know you were lost in your head, in memories of the night Billy went AWOL and had been controlled by the Mind Flayer.

Max took your hand in hers. "It's okay," she promised.

"Mmm," you hummed, but your gaze was fixed on the door; you wouldn't relax until you saw Steve walk back in, unscathed.

The AC kicked back on. A few lights flickered to life and the low hum of the refrigerator filled the room.

Relief filled the room with the sound of an audible sigh. Moments later, the door opened and a waterlogged Steve and Eddie stepped back in.

"Did it work?" Steve asked. Then he heard the AC. "Alright, good." He looked around. "Turn the lights back off—the candles will do until power really comes back."

"Steve, you're drenched," Nancy said, "you're going to catch—"

"A cold, I know," he sighed, glancing over at you. You fought a smile. "Sorry about movie night, guys."

Dustin shrugged. "It was only a matter of time before we lost power. The size of the storm—"

"Oh, shut up, nerd," Erica said, rolling her eyes.

Dustin leaned around Lucas. "Do I need to remind you of the vents?" he hissed.

Erica narrowed her eyes at him.

"Children, children," Eddie admonished with a shit-eating grin that said he knew his chiding was only going to rile them up more.

"Eds," Steve warned, opening the curtains to look outside.

Eleven craned her neck to peer outside. In a small voice, she asked, "Can...can we dance in the rain?"

Nancy hesitated, then said, "I'm not sure that's the best idea, the weather isn't exactly kind at the moment."

Steve looked back outside again. "It's not raining too heavily right now."

El wrung her hands. "Joyce says it's...fun and romantic to dance in the rain."

Robin leaned forward, gasping. "You've never danced in the rain before?"

El shook her head. "Only biked in it."

"We have to go dance in the rain!" Robin insisted, jumping to her feet and pulling Eleven up with her. "It's a...a...a cognitive milestone!"

"I don't think that's the right phrase, Robin," you laughed, but you were also getting up. "Still, I think it's a good idea. Good way to pass the time until the power comes back."

"Come on, Nancy," Jonathan said softly. "Let her have fun. Mom's right. It's fun in the rain."

You took one of Robin's hands and one of Steve's and dragged them into the rain. Robin created a chain by grabbing El, who grabbed Max, who grabbed Lucas. The small group raced out into the street, running through puddles and spinning through the falling rain.

Dustin appeared at Max's side, his hair matted to his face. "It's like the time they were drugged by the Russians," he said, staring at Steve and Robin, the latter of whom was trying to taste the rain.

Max did a doubletake. "When they were what?"

"Don't ask," Erica suggested.

Laughter filled the air as the group danced around each other, twirling each other and splashing through the current of water at the side of the road. Steve tripped through puddles with Robin; Jonathan convinced Nancy to dance in the driveway; Will and Mike splashed each other in the puddles.

"May I have this dance?" Lucas asked, holding his hand out to Max and trying his best to look gentlemanly, which was ruined by the water running into his eyes and making him squint.

"You dork," Max laughed, but she took his hand anyway and let him pull her close, guiding her in a slow dance through the rain. She rested her head on his shoulder and watched as you went over to Steve and Robin.

Steve stopped his fooling around, watching you approach with a dopey, lovesick smile. He held out his hands to you and you took them; he twirled you in the rain, catching you and pulling you close before you could fall in the wet road.

"Careful there," he laughed. Even with his hair plastered to his head, his clothes heavy and hanging off him, you were still looking at him like he was the most beautiful creature you'd ever seen.

Max watched the time slow around the pair of you. She knew you were both completely oblivious, cut off from the company around you, even from Robin's stare as she took in the way the two of you gazed at each other.

Steve swayed you, getting himself lost in your eyes. He cupped your face with one hand, running his thumb over your cheekbone.

Lost in your bubble, neither of you noticed that the others had all stopped to watch, unable to speak and break the spell—not even Dustin, whose mouth hung agape.

You were lost in Steve, Max could tell. Close enough to the pair of you now, she could see you drinking in every detail: the water droplets hanging off Steve's hair and eyelashes, the amazed curve of his open mouth, the gentle swipe of his thumb, the lovestruck look in his eyes, his rosy cheeks so stark against his otherwise pale, cold, and wet skin, the reassuring hold of his arm around your waist.

Max knew what Steve was going to do before it happened, before even you had caught up. He bent his head, slotting your lips together.

Like some magic, divine will, the rain fell a little faster, distant thunder boomed, and lightning splintered through the sky, lighting up the clouds above you and Steve, a dramatic backdrop to a kiss so similar to a first kiss.

Robin whooped first. You and Steve smiled into each other, but neither pulled away, and Max realized you had been aware of your audience the entire time; but keeping it a secret hadn't been worth skipping out on a spectacular rain-soaked kiss.

Mixed in with the cheering was Dustin's incredulous cries of "What?! Max, did you know?!" that she pointedly ignored.

Steve swayed you while the kiss continued, embarrassingly long but adorably sweet. When it finally broke, Steve pressed his forehead against yours.

"I love you," he said, loud enough to be heard over the storm. (Robin shrieked.)

"I love you, too," you giggled. (Robin shrieked louder.)

Steve pushed your wet hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead, then shoved his hand through his own hair to get it out of his face.

"Not what you were expecting, huh, Henderson?" he said with a cheeky grin.

Dustin looked flabbergasted. "How did you know I was— MAX!"

You and Steve burst into a fit of giggles. You snuggled into his chest.

"How is that comfortable? I'm soaked!" Steve asked you.

"Yeah, but it's you," you said. A soft, sweet smile pulled at his lips, barely distracting you from his quiet moan of relief. He squeezed you tight.

"You're going to need to borrow more of my clothes," he said.

You grinned up at him. "I'll happily live in your clothes, Stevie."

A few feet away, Mike sneezed violently.

"Alright, back inside," Steve decided. "That's enough rain for today. I don't need you all getting sick and still needing me to drive you everywhere."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Are you actually gonna drive us again?"

"If you give my girl the front seat and behave when she's in the car with us," Steve said. "Inside, come on. Go, shoo."

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, watching the others flee to the safety of his house, then following them in with you. You kissed his cheek as you walked. Max hung back with Lucas, wanting to know what you said about the sudden rain kiss.

"You are perfect, Steve Harrington," you whispered. His cheeks darkened.

"Says you," he said, nuzzling his nose into your hair. "Hey, um... You wanna stay the night?"

"Gotta take Max home," you said. "But...I can come back?"

"I...I'd like that," Steve said. Max wondered if he'd ever been this shy with a girl before.

"Me too," you whispered. Steve squeezed your hip.

Dustin rolled his eyes from the doorway. "Get a room," he groaned.

"Oh, shut up," Max teased. "You're just annoyed you couldn't figure it out!"

Dustin scowled. "You knew! You knew and you were hiding it from me!"

Max shrugged, fighting a giggle.

Steve passed out towels with a warning not to let them get close to an open flame. Halfway through his warning, the power flickered back on—and so did the movie.

The group cheered, but Max watched you and Steve sneak upstairs and come down a few minutes later in dry clothes, hand in hand. She smiled before shaking her head and turning back to the ending of the movie.

And if—no, when—Steve asked her for advice on how to propose to you, Max was going to tell him to do it in the rain.

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life

541 notes · View notes

prettynice8 · 5 months

Text

Kinkmas Day 1: Rimming

Paring: Kakashi Hatake x male reader

This guy

Warnings: Rimming DUH, anal fingering, teasing, slight begging, little bottom twinky fuck me daddy feminine male reader, no actual sex, enemies to lovers? I think that's it

Word Count: 1,307

Fuck him. Fuck his pretty silver hair that I just want to run my hands through while he eats my ass, his muscular form that must have been crafted by the sage of six paths himself, his beautiful attention catching eye, his mysterious mask, his (what I hope is) insanely large dick. Just fuck the whole thing (I wish).

Of course, the only person you could be thinking of is the one and only Kakashi Hatake, copy ninja of the leaf, and the hottest mother fucker to ever exist. Oh god did you have an obsession with him. Having wet dream after wet dream about him, screaming his name while masturbating, and it doesn't help that you catch him staring at you all the time almost as much as he catches you staring at him.

This whole obsession started a month ago when you saw him reading one of his goddamn sex books in the middle of the street. You walked over to him and asked why he was reading erotica in a VERY public place, and he just looked at you "Because it's hot." he stated matter-of-factly. The nerve of some people, from then on you two would see each other walking around, say hi, go your respective ways. It's been that way ever since; stolen glances and fuck me eyes since.

Until now. You were done with man after man not fulfilling you like you think he may be able to, maybe, it's a complete guess but he just gives off the vibe. Anyway, you saw him reading his demented sex shit again when you decided to make your fantasies a reality once and for all. You walk behind the bench he was sitting on and read the words on the page and HOLY SHIT IT'S GAY RIMMING. You mentally scream into the pillow like a 15-year-old girl who just found out her crush is available, which is kind of like what's going on.

"Uhm, can I help you?" Kakashi questions in his horny inducing voice, with a little annoyance sprinkled in through all the underwear wetting.

"Oh sorry, am I disturbing a public jack off sesh." You coldly state with a smirk on your face, hand doing a little masturbation gesture.

"Do you mind." he says rhetorically, the twinge of annoyance from earlier much more noticeable now.

"If you didn't want someone to talk to you then why are you reading 'that' on a public bench in the middle of the street again?" you sassily question.

"Because I wanted to read outside, privately." He answers, you look at him like he's the dumbest man in the whole world.

"Then why, in the absolute fuck, are you reading in the street you attention whore." you rhetorically ask, the previous sass now developed into genuine frustration as you walk around the bench to be right in front of him.

"That's cute coming from you." he chuckles.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" you ask.

"Don't act dumb, you have been trying to get into my pants for weeks now." he exclaims, you start to blush, ensuring that what he said is true.

"Don't act so high and mighty with me. I've seen you look at me too bitch." you state. He stands up, his large frame completely dwarfing you, his eyes almost angry. You do a cartoonish and audible gulp, the fear enhancing the horniness.

It's quiet for a while until he leans down,

"And what of it" he whispers in your ear and grabs you ass tightly, not caring if anyone sees. You let out a soft yelp at the sudden sign of attraction. You're completely stunned, not knowing what to do. He realizes this and before you can think any more, he holds you close and grabs your ass tighter and whispers,

"My place." It wasn't even a question or a request, it was a demand. One that even given the choice you wouldn't say no to.

Before you know it you're already on your way to Kakashi's place. He's giving you a piggyback ride to save time, and because he wants that juicy cake as quickly as possible, his mind is going crazy with your legs wrapping around him.

Finally, you make it to his place and immediately you both rush into his room. Right when you both enter you get off his back and onto the bed. Your legs spread as he takes off both your pants and underwear and tosses them both to the side.

"Now, turn around and bend over." already making demands and he hasn't even bought you dinner yet, not that you care because without a single moment of hesitation you are already on your hands and knees.

Without warning he immediately put his long skilled digit into your readily awaiting hole. He moves slowly as he starts to open you up. All the while you let out quiet moans.

"Your little moans are so cute." he said. Suddenly you feel a second finger enter you. He stays at the same excruciatingly slow pace. While he's pumping his fingers, he starts to feel the rest of your ass, rubbing it sensually and squeezing at the sensitive skin.

He puts in the third finger and his speed starts to pick up. Now your moans start to get louder as his three fingers stay at a steady and quick speed. He pumps them in and out over and over with precise repetition.

his fingers start to curl inside you, twisting and turning inside you perfectly. It's at this point that you are officially a moaning mess. The all too familiar feeling churns into your stomach. His fingers start turning and hitting your sweet spot consistently.

Then the feeling of relief washes over you as his fingers twist and hit your spot for the final time. You let out a loud moan and crash into the bed, cumming without even him putting his dick in you.

But he wasn't satisfied with just feeling inside you as he picked you up and brought you to your hands and knees again.

"Not yet sweetheart." he says as he starts to rub and massage your ass cheeks, caressing them to his desire. He gives you a quick and sharp spank, you cry out in pleasure from the surprise as he watches you ass jiggle in awe.

He puts his mask down and licks your ass, putting small and harmless love bites from time to time. Each lick and bite getting closer and closer to your hole. You start begging him to just devour you already. "Please, god I've fantasized about this please." you cry out, wanting, no, craving for his tongue.

"Well since you asked so nicely." he calmly states, though you can tell the excitement in his voice, aware that he wants this too. He licks lines on your cheek until FINALLY taking small licks on your entrance. Your spine chills in anticipation and pleasure and your breathing becomes shaky.

He licks languid circles on your entrance slowly. His hands are still caressing the rest of your ass. Your legs are shaking due to the stimulation and your cock is as hard as can be. He stops his simple licking and finally puts his tongue in your ass.

It starts off slowly but develops quickly into a fast pace, his tongue going in and out of you. You are now officially a moaning mess as his tongue is assaulting your hole. He continues this and then starts to put his fingers back in your hole while his mouth is still doing its job.

The familiar feeling in your stomach starts to build up again as his talented hands and mouth works on your asshole. Your moans crescendo until finally you climax for the second time of the night.

And you're not done yet.

THE END

#naruto #naruto x reader smut #naruto x reader #naruto x male reader #naruto x male reader smut #x reader #x male reader #anime x reader #x male reader smut #x reader smut #anime x reader smut #anime x male reader smut #kakashi #kakashi smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi x male reader smut #kakashi x male reader #kakashi x reader smut

225 notes · View notes

soaringthroughthegalaxy · 5 months

Note

Hello. It's Talita from Ao3 here, I said I would come. 🤭😂 So I'd like to request Hunter x shy fem reader with the last smutty prompt: ❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜ Maybe the reader's inexperience might come to the surface when they're all in 79s and a drunken Crosshair suggests she get someone to f*c*? But reader waits for the right partner. ♥️

Hey Talita! Thanks for the request and all the love you’ve been sharing 🥰

Shy readers seem to be the flavour of the moment, as I just went out with one for Crosshair!

This one ran away with me. It’s my longest to date. Hope it's okay 😊

Waiting for You

A night out at 79’s leads to a revelation that surprises the whole batch, and with feelings becoming increasingly more difficult to hide, it was only a matter of time before you and Hunter reached a crossroads. (Pre Echo)

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.8k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: friends to lovers (🤌), Cross is a shit stirrer (what else is new?), alcohol consumption (but both parties are sober for spicy time), sibling teasing/banter, sweet sweet tension and yearning, sexually shy!reader, virgin!reader, first kiss, first time together, oral (f!receiving), light fingering, unprotected PiV, reassurance and comfort, pet names, praise, sprinkle of dirty talk, soft aftercare.

Translation: (Mando'a) Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh. – You could have her.

The thump of the music wasn’t so heavy, tucked away in a back booth of 79’s. It wasn’t often you visited, preferring to frequent other bars and clubs whenever you and the boys had shore leave - there were perks to them not looking like Regs. However, 79’s was close to where you were all staying and cheap enough that the few credits you’d all managed to save would go much further than they would anywhere else.

Wedged between Wrecker and Hunter, with Tech and Crosshair taking up the seats on the opposite side of the booth, you watched as Wrecker pried a well-worn card from the pile in the middle of the table. During your last Venator stop, you’d made a few trades with some of the Regs and had walked away with a small pile of loot, including a set of ‘drink or do’ cards. They were common amongst the clones during downtime, providing distraction and intoxication.

Wrecker flipped the card over, huffing as his eyes skipped over the text. “Let the group message anyone on ya datapad or take two shots.” He read the card aloud.

Crosshair’s hand immediately extended for the datapad, fingers curling in a ‘give it here’ gesture. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and you laughed as Wrecker huffed, handing over his device to his younger brother.

“You are aware this is a group effort, yes?” Tech asked, leaning in towards his twin to look at the screen. Out of all of you, Tech had elected to stay sober, hating the way his mind went fuzzy with the effects of alcohol. One of you needed to ensure you all returned to the hotel in one piece.

The deadpan look Crosshair gave him pulled a giggle from you. You were several drinks deep by now – some of the cards you’d drawn had been wholly inappropriate, so shots had been the only option. Everything felt good, your inhibitions lowered, and you knew you were safe. Your men would look after you.

A year you’d been with them, traversing the galaxy, trying desperately to keep them alive. Nat-born medics were a rarity in the GAR, but sometimes they were called in. You’d been head-hunted from Coruscant Medical after the Batch had been out in the field for a few months –they hadn’t gotten on well with the Reg medics initially assigned to them.

“Please pick Fox.” You insisted, leaning a little across the table. Gasping, you had a new idea. “Wait, no! Wolffe.” You leaned back with a wide grin, enjoying Wrecker’s groan. Knowing Crosshair, the message would be salacious, and you knew a few of the men in the Wolfpack who would absolutely fill you in on their Commander’s reaction in the morning.

Crosshair lifted a finger, pointing it at you. “I like the way you think, doll.” He complimented. Only when he was several drinks in did his tongue loosen and compliments flow more freely.

“That’s why you keep me around.” You tease, watching as the sharpshooter taps out a quick message. A gentle hand on your knee has you turning your attention to Hunter, your smile widening at his touch and how he pushes a glass of water closer to you, encouraging you to hydrate properly to stave off a hangover in the morning. Warmth seeps through you at his care, and you’re grateful for the cacophony of sounds and stimuli in 79’s that mask the way your heart rate spikes a little.

Although Hunter indulged a little this evening, he knew his limits. He’d been nursing a Tsiraki for most of the night. If he wasn’t careful, it didn’t take much to frazzle his senses and cause a two-day migraine. Keeping his wits about him also meant he could look after you.

Nestled between Wrecker and himself, the laugh lines on your face and the glint in your eyes told Hunter that you cherished these moments despite the chaotic nature of their lives. He appreciated how you fit into their world, understanding their quirks and unspoken communication. You navigated the challenges of their unique existence with a grace that fascinated him. To him, you weren’t just their medic; you were their companion, their confidant, a source of solace in a gritty galaxy.

Hunter’s gaze lingered on you as Crosshair added the final touches to the message. The playful banter and easy camaraderie were the moments he adored the most. Yet, beneath it all, there was a yearning, a quiet ache that he couldn’t quite put into words.

He saw the weariness that sometimes lingered in your eyes – chased away this evening by liquor and laughter – and wished he could erase the shadows that sometimes clouded your gaze. It fuelled his desire to protect and shield you from the harsh realities that had become their norm.

Taking a sip of his Tsiraki, Hunter let his gaze linger on the curve of your profile. The way your hair fell, and your fingers traced absentminded patterns on the table while you chatted with his brothers stirred something within him. Something that he wanted to grab with both hands and hold close.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the moment you turned to him, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that sent a shiver down his spine. “What do you think?” You asked. “Suitable enough?”

Hunter blinks once, twice, and then nods. “Sure, sounds good.” He answers, having no idea what you’d been asking about. As you turned back to face the others at the table, Hunter caught the knowing look Tech sent him. Try as he might to hide that ache in his chest, his brother was too smart to miss it.

“Ya can’t send that!” Wrecker protests, mild panic in his eyes as Crosshair, eternal torturer of his siblings, grins at his brother as he pushes the send button. “Ahh, I don’t wanna know if he responds.” Wrecker shakes his head, though a smile also tugs at the corners of his lips. He turns his head towards you. “You’re next.”

Reaching for the stack of cards in the middle of the table, you pry the top one free and pull it towards you. You scan over the instructions, grimacing. “Name five different places you’ve had sex or take three shots.” You read it aloud, tossing the card down onto the table.

Beside you, you feel Hunter shift, Wrecker and Crosshair break into laughter, and Tech offers you a sympathetic smile. With a resigned sigh, you reach for your glass. But before you can grasp it, it’s snatched away from you.

“Cross!” You gasp, jaw slackening as you watch mischief dance in the sniper’s hawkish eyes.

“You’ve skipped out on nearly every ‘do’ task tonight. But you’re not skipping this one.” Crosshair insists, dragging your drink away so you can’t take it back. His motives were two-fold. One, he was nosey. And two, he wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the way Hunter had been looking at you for months now, and watching his older brother squirm as you shared your sex life would be fantastic.

With a huff, you cross your arms over your chest, resting your elbows on the table. “Is your sex life so bland you have to live vicariously through mine?” You tease, arching an eyebrow. Boisterous laughter erupts at the table, and you can’t help but giggle along.

Crosshair scowls. “Please. I could have any woman in this place.” He snorts, leaning in and lifting a hand with his five fingers up. “Five places. I’ll count them off for you.” He challenges.

“Nu-uh.” You refute, unfurling an arm to wag a finger at him.

“Only kriff in a bed then. How boring.” He can’t help but bite back, turning the tide onto you.

Rolling your eyes, you huff, used to this song and dance with him. “No.”

“Out with it, then.” He pushes.

Worry curls through you. You trusted these men with your life, knew that their teasing was all light-hearted and they’d never genuinely mock you, but some things were private. “Cross…” You mumble, fingers finding the neckline of your shirt to play with the fabric nervously.

“Pretty little thing like you probably has many stories to tell!” Wrecker laughs, giving your shoulder a light nudge.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to make up some stories on the spot, ones you can quickly sell, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Curiosity painted itself on Tech’s face – he’d spent long enough studying your body language to aid him in understanding nat-born social cues, to pick up on the subtleties. “You do not have any stories.” He states, with no judgement in his tone.

The certainty of Tech’s comment captures Hunter’s attention, and he tilts his head in your direction, brown eyes taking in the nervousness and mild panic that’s now on your face.

“Don’t tell me you’re a kriffing virgin…” Crosshair is equal parts horrified and amused. There was no way in hell you – you – hadn’t been with anyone.

Embarrassment seeps through you, and you drop your gaze to the table, fingers going back to trace the patterns of the wooden surface.

Crosshair couldn’t believe it; this was wilder than any other confession they had shared during the night. “You’re kidding me…even Tech’s been laid a handful of times, and you haven’t?”

Tech sighs at his twin’s barb, though he’s used to them by now and doesn’t take it to heart.

At your silence, the boys share a glance, trying to hide their surprise at the situation.

Mulling it over, Crosshair looks around the bar. “Plenty of pickings in here. Then again…Regs.” He sneers.

“I don’t want a random hookup. I want the right one.” You admit quietly, shyness taking a front-row seat.

Crosshair baulks. “Oh, hell. You want romance and love.” The idea horrifies him even more. He goes to speak again, but Hunter interjects.

“Crosshair…” Hunter warns, voice low. He’d picked up on your discomfort and wanted to end it.

A smirk tilts Crosshair’s lips at the reprimand. He’d opted not to say anything or show his hand in the past, keeping his knowledge about Hunter’s affection for you quiet. “Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh.” He teases with a toothy grin, unleashing that hand.

Tech and Wrecker can’t hide their snorts of laughter at his words. Hunter’s lips press together, and he huffs, reaching for a card to bring the focus back to the game and off you. Crosshair’s dark chuckle seeps into the air, delighted at getting a small rise from his older brother.

The Mando’a catches you off guard – you didn’t know enough to understand what had been said, but the laughter and Hunter’s reaction had you frowning. The boys had only taught you the odd word or two as they didn’t use it as much anymore. As Hunter pries his card from the pile and flips it over, he places his hand back on your knee under the table, reassuringly squeezing it. Reaching down, you give his wrist a light squeeze, appreciating that he’d taken the heat off you. His hand stays in place as he reads the card aloud, and the game continues.

Your shore leave had been a welcome reprieve, especially as six back-to-back missions had followed it. You’d wrapped up the latest hours ago, and the Senator you’d helped had been exceptionally grateful for the assistance. He’d offered for you all to stay on the planet for a little while to rest in one of his many hotels. A quick comm to Command had seen it okayed for two days, so here you were, hanging out on the balcony of Hunter’s suite.

You’d accidentally discovered that you had connecting rooms, having knocked on a random door in your suite and been amused to find Hunter on the other side when it had opened. He’d immediately invited you in, and you’d headed for the balcony to watch the city go by while he finished the last report. Crosshair and Wrecker had gone off searching for food, while Tech had decided to tinker with his latest project.

Leaning against the railing, laughter from down below captures your attention. Eyes falling to where the sound was coming from, you watch a couple embrace on the side of the street, sharing lingering kisses. From your vantage point, you can make out their broad smiles.

An ache settles in your chest, that old pesky feeling of yearning tugging at you. Unconsciously, you tug your cardigan around you a little tighter – whether to keep out the chill in the wind or offer some comfort, you don’t know.

In the suite, and with the reports finished, Hunter pauses at the doorway, unable to pry his eyes off you. Something about how you’re standing, the expression on your beautiful face, makes unease sink into his gut. He wants to chase away whatever is making you look so sad.

It was becoming harder and harder for him to ignore his feelings, to tamper them down, especially as he knew his brothers were all aware. How long would it be before you picked up on it, too? That blasted night at 79’s kept replaying in his mind, his fingers itching to reach for you at every opportunity and to make a move before someone else snapped you up and took you from him. Hunter knows he doesn’t have much he can give you and can’t promise a safe or long life together – anything can happen in a war – but he knows he can provide you with romance. He knows he can make you the centre of his galaxy, and you’ll never have to question his devotion.

But would you want that from him, though? It was the one thought that stopped him.

Realising he’d been watching for a while, Hunter joins you on the balcony, moving to your side. You don’t startle; you’re used to him and his brothers silently approaching by now. He follows your focused gaze, watching a couple on the street share kisses before flagging down a taxi. “They look happy.” He comments quietly, wondering if that was the cause of your sadness.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, wondering for a moment longer what it would be like to be so carefree and in love. Before falling too far down the ash-rabbit hole, you focus on the man at your side. “Plans for the evening?” You ask, changing the subject while hoping to lighten your mood.

Not wanting to push, Hunter lets it go and instead lifts a hand to count off each element of his plan on his fingers. “Room service, a holodrama, and sleep.”

“Okay there, Grandpa.” You tease, the wind whipping around you a little more as you break out into a smile.

Hunter’s pretty sure your smile could end this war if you turned it on the right people. With a fond shake of his head, he chuckles. Unable to help himself just this once, he reaches out and gently tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

The action makes you pause, smile faltering, lips parting slightly in surprise. For a moment, you look at one another, the air seeming to crackle with something. Hunter had always been soft with you, but he’d been even more attentive since the night at 79’s.

“Join me?” He asks, not willing to let you go just yet.

“Sure.” You reply with a soft smile, not even needing a moment to think about it, and Hunter leads the way back into the suite. The balcony door closes behind you, muffling the sounds of the bustling city outside.

You settle onto the couch and Hunter orders room service. As you wait for the food to arrive, you fall into easy conversation, discussing missions, the state of the galaxy, and anything else that comes to mind.

The food doesn’t take long to arrive, the aroma filling the room, and you both enjoy a quiet dinner. Between you, you select a holodrama that turns out to be surprisingly entertaining. But as it progresses, you find yourself drawn to Hunter’s presence. His arm casually rests against the back of the couch, not quite touching you but close enough to send a shiver down your spine. A fluttery feeling erupts in your belly as your brain helpfully supplies that this kind of thing always happens in the trashy romance novels that clog up your datapad.

Nearing the end of the holodrama, a feather-light touch brushes against the nape of your neck and you instinctively lean into it. Hunter’s fingers trace gentle circles, and you feel a warmth spreading through you. Glancing towards him, you find his gaze fixed on you.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand slightly.

“No, it’s... nice.” You respond, surprising yourself with the admission. Hunter’s hand returns and the soft touch continues.

Hunter is at war with himself – if there was ever a time to make a move, it would be now. His senses are on overdrive, homed in on you, picking up every errant breath you take, the heavy thud of your heart, and your soft swallows.

The weight of the moment sits, the holodrama becoming background noise as you witness the conflict in Hunter’s gaze. It doesn’t last long, though, and the subtle touch on your neck becomes bolder, his hand shifting around to cup your cheek as his thumb brushes against your lower lip.

Inexperience makes you nervous, heart thumping wildly. You go to dip your head to break the eye contact, but Hunter’s pointer finger hooks under your chin to stop the movement.

He leans in slowly, closing the distance between you, giving you time to pull away if you’re uncomfortable. But you don’t. You remain still, those pretty eyes of yours focused on him even as your heart rate spikes and your breaths turn a little shallower with anticipation. “Cyar’ika…” He murmurs, a hair’s breadth away from you, gaze dropping momentarily to your lips.

The flood of feelings instead of you is overwhelming - excitement and nervousness, worry and anticipation. It’s hard to single each one out. You’d been telling the truth in 79’s - you were indeed waiting for the right man - but you’d omitted that you were sure it was the man now sat at your side, letting you decide whether to push your friendship into something more.

You lean in ever so slightly, and finally, his lips brush against yours in a tentative, exploratory kiss. It’s soft and sweet, testing the waters. Your eyes flutter closed, savouring the warmth that spreads through you.

The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, and you respond eagerly. The taste of him, the feel of his hand on your cheek, it’s much more than you expected.

Hunter’s other hand moves between you and the couch, resting on the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers intertwining with the fabric of his shirt as he draws you onto his lap.

Breaking the kiss, Hunter pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he finds his desire mirrored. “You okay?” He double-checks quietly, his breath mingling with yours.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “More than okay.”

Hunter grins, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Good.” He whispers before capturing your lips in another kiss, the intensity growing between you. The holodrama plays on, completely forgotten, as you lose yourselves in the moment.

The touch of his lips and the warmth of his embrace all feel right. Hunter’s hands explore your back, and you feel the gentle press of his fingers as they slide under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine. Eventually, you both pull back, foreheads resting against each other as you catch your breath. The air is charged with electric energy, and the room feels warm.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Hunter admits, his voice a low, smoky murmur, but conflict shines in his eyes. “I can’t give you the things any other man could. There’s no guarantee of tomorrow. I know it’s not right an-“

You meet his gaze, feeling warmth in your cheeks. “It is right.” You cut him off softly, breaking eye contact, focusing instead on the slight hollow of his throat as nervousness sweeps through you. “This... with you, it feels right.” You confess quietly.

Delight simmers in Hunter’s veins, and his fingers trace patterns on your back. He still feels guilty, but if this is what you want, and you’re sure it’s right, then who is he to protest? Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he smiles. “Then I’ll do everything I can to ensure you always feel that way.”

Your fingers find his chest, the buttery softness of his shirt doing nothing to conceal the firm muscles beneath it. A slight hum of contentment slides from him as you brush your fingers up and down his sternum. The nerves are back, your eyes flitting up to gaze at him, noting how his own are closed and contentment is painted across his face.

On your next stroke down, your fingers dip slightly lower, catching the first few ridges of his abs. A deep rumble vibrates his chest, giving you courage. Head tilting down to watch your actions, your heart pounds as your fingers skirt close to the hem of his shirt – and the waistband of his pants. A tattooed hand wraps around your wrist, stilling your motions, and you look up from under your lashes.

Meeting your gaze, Hunter’s thumb rubs small circles on your pulse point. “Feels good, cyar’ika. But there’s no rush.”

“I know, but…” You trail off for a moment, averting your gaze. “I want this. I want you.” You confess quietly, feeling warmth return to your cheeks as you chance a glance at him. “I’m tired of waiting, and I-I want you to be my first…”

Hunter was a good man, a strong man, but hell if he didn’t crumble at your confession. His fingers find your face, tilting your head upwards so he can look at you properly. He was touched by your admittance but didn’t want you to regret anything. “Promise me?” He asks gently, knowing how much value you placed on promises.

Meeting warm brown eyes, you couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed your lips. You were nervous, yes, but this felt right. “I promise.”

Leaning in, Hunter’s lips capture yours in a heated kiss. His hands shift, moving to cup your ass, and he lifts you up as he stands. The small noise of surprise you let out and how you grasp at him for stability draws a deep chuckle from him, though the sound is muffled by the kiss. It’s only a few steps over to the bed, and as he lowers you down gently onto the plush surface, he follows, hands smoothing across your hips as he rests a little of his weight against you.

Lips trailing from yours, he drags kisses across your cheek and down to your jawline, following the curve of your throat, giving a light nip as he reaches the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet. How your hips buck at the contact, breath catching, clues him in to how much you enjoy it. Your hands shift down Hunter’s body, and he can feel the nervousness rolling off you. Propping himself up above you with one hand, he uses the other to guide your hands towards his body, encouraging you to touch him in return. “There’s no reason to be nervous. We only do what you’re comfortable with.” He tells you, wanting to make that abundantly clear. “And we can stop anytime.”

You nod, chest rising and falling with each quick breath as your hands meet Hunter’s body. Encouraged, you explore the ridges and planes of him, fingers smoothing over him before gripping his narrow waist. His mouth is back on you, dragging across your throat, pulling soft noises from your lips as you familiarise yourself with the man above you. As your hands shift, a flash of courage rips through you, and you reach down, one hand landing squarely on his ass, giving the firm muscle a soft squeeze.

Hunter startles, not expecting the action, and warm puffs of his breath fan across your neck as he chuckles. “Cheeky.” He murmurs against your skin, the vibration of his laughter sending pleasant shivers down your spine. The atmosphere in the room is charged with a mix of desire and nervous excitement as you continue to explore each other.

Hands pull at clothes, material discarded, fluttering to the hotel room floor as acres of skin are revealed. You’re warm to the touch, the earlier chill from the balcony chased away by Hunter’s hands. Self-consciousness creeps through you as your underwear is cast aside, thighs pressing together to try and hide yourself.

“Cyar’ika…” Hunter tuts, strong hands moving down your body until he can rub and squeeze at your thighs. “Don’t hide from me. Wanna see all of you.” He murmurs, kisses trailing down your body. Tongue gliding across your breasts, he draws a nipple into his mouth, the corners of his lips curling upward as you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Pleasure rolls through you as you tug gently at Hunter’s brown curls, back arching to press more of yourself against him. He’s warm against you, bronze skin and dark ink pressed as close as possible, and it’s difficult to ignore the weight of his half-hard cock against your thigh.

Switching his focus to your other nipple, Hunter lavishes it with the same attention before he starts to creep back down your body. “Wanna taste you.” He breathes against your stomach, lips drawing across soft skin, fingers teasing your thighs. “Make you feel good.” He adds, pausing to glance up the length of you, finding your eyes focused on him. He can see your trepidation but also your burning curiosity and desire. “No one’s done that for you, have they?” He asks with no judgement.

Embarrassment burns through you, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you shake your head.

Hunter’s heart aches. How had no one loved on you before? Their loss was his gain, he supposed. “That’s okay.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to the juncture where your thigh and hip meet. “Only if you want.” The reminder is gentle, fingers skirting back up your body to not put pressure on your decision.

You know you could say no, and that would be the end of it, but you’d seen many women enjoying it on the holonet, and they certainly seemed to like it in the novels you vicariously consumed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. “Please.” You push out the word, embarrassment still sitting in your chest, though it evaporates when you meet Hunter’s hungry gaze.

He hadn’t been expecting your agreement, content to work you up in other ways, but that soft little plea from your lips sent fire through his veins. Hands finding your thighs once more, Hunter slowly pushes them apart. “A little wider, baby.” He encourages, a deep groan vibrating in his chest as you follow his order, and he shifts to lay between your thighs, greeted with the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen. Dropping soft kisses to your inner thigh, his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Eyes flitting up to gauge how you’re faring, his cock twitches where it’s trapped between his body and the mattress as he catches you watching him. Holding your gaze, he leans forward, nose pressing against you as he inhales, committing the intimate scent of you to memory.

He starts slow, a gentle press of his tongue against your entrance, dragging it up through your folds until his tongue flicks over your clit. You jolt, letting out a small keening noise that he’s desperate to hear again.

Spurred on, kitten licks accompany broad, sweeping tastes, soft open-mouthed kisses dropped against heated flesh as Hunter closes his eyes and focuses on bringing you pleasure. His tongue drags across your clit again, and he grunts as your fingers, tangled in his hair, try to drag his face impossibly closer.

You’d watched for as long as you could, engraving the sight of Hunter between your thighs into your mind. Head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut, warmth coils through you. Letting out low whimpers and quiet gasps, your hips rock, chasing the pleasure he’s so beautifully giving you. Now you understood the fuss, why all those women on the holonet and in the novels adored this.

Lips wrap around your clit, and your grip on Hunter’s hair tightens as the pleasure curling through your body climbs, the light suction and the rapid flick of his tongue across the sensitive bud pushing you ever closer to the edge. The warm wetness of his mouth was better than anything you’d ever been able to achieve with your fingers.

“Hunter.” You moan out his name, enjoying the groan he lets out in response. One of his hands slides up the bed, fingers interlacing with those on your free hand as he doubles-down his efforts.

Most of the time, Hunter considers his heightened senses a curse rather than a blessing, but right now, with the scent of you in his lungs, the taste of you on his tongue, and his name falling from your lips like a prayer, he’s never been more grateful for them. Tuning into your body, to every thud of your heart, every sharp inhale, and the little whines you let out, he uses them to guide him until you’re close, teetering on the edge.

Two fingers enter the mix, pressing against your entrance, slipping in with ease as Hunter laves kisses and licks across your folds. His lips find your clit again, applying light suction as he crooks his fingers right against that sweet little spot.

Caught off guard, you come with a cry, the noise echoing in the room as the pleasure that had been building crashes into you. Thigh’s quivering, tiny trembles coast through your body as you pant through the high, body going pliant as your release works out of your system.

Enraptured, the pride Hunter feels is undeniable as he pries his fingers from your pussy, sliding them into his mouth to clean them off and savour the taste of you even more.

Staring up at the ceiling as you drag your breathing under control, a small snort of laughter escapes you. “Oh, stars, you can do that again whenever you want.” You vow quietly, enjoying Hunter’s chuckle as he shifts back over you, capturing your lips for a deep kiss, the tang of you lingering in his mouth.

As Hunter pulls back, he rests on his knees between your thighs, soaking up the sight of you naked. He still can’t believe this is happening, that you’d chosen him.

Your gaze travels over his body – broad shoulders, firm chest, defined abs. He was gorgeous enough to be a carved statue in a fancy Naboo garden. Eyes roaming lower, you swallow at the sight of his cock. Hard and flushed, it twitches with his heartbeat, girthier than you’d expected.

“It’ll fit.” Hunter can’t resist teasing, tattooed hand shifting down so he can give himself a few lazy strokes. The way you watch the movement gives him ideas for the future. “Still want this, love?” He checks in.

Your earlier nervousness is still there, but it’s smothered by anticipation. Eyes flitting up, you meet Hunter’s gaze, parting your thighs just that little bit more.

Delight flares in Hunter’s eyes, and he moves to rest back over you, one hand supporting his weight as the other stays wrapped around his dick. Holding your gaze, he drags the velvety head between your slick folds, enjoying the way your breath stutters as he brushes against your clit.

“I’ve got you, princess.” He coos, lining up before pressing forward. “Doing so well.” Hunter praises, focused on your face and your body’s reaction as he bottoms out, hips flush to yours.

The sensation is unlike anything you’d experienced before. The stretch burns slightly but gives way quickly to pleasure as he feeds the last inch of his cock into your heat. Love and adoration weave through you, that earlier sense of rightness rearing its head as you squirm a little beneath him.

Hunter’s now free hand drops to your hip, grip firm as he holds you still. “Just…give me a second.” He murmurs, voice strained as his eyes close. “Been dreaming about this for a long time, and if I don’t take a few breaths here, I’m gonna kriffing embarrass myself.”

The revelation that he’s dreamt of this moment makes you involuntarily clench around him.

“Not helping…” He growls quietly, words lacking any bite. You feel like heaven, like everything he’s ever wanted and desired.

Mirth dances in your eyes as you lift a hand to trace along his inked jawline, still unable to comprehend that he wants you and that he’s buried inside you, the two of you connected in the most intimate of ways.

Dark eyes snap open at the contact, and Hunter takes you in, soaks in the sight of you sprawled underneath him, hair fanned on the pillow, lips plush from kisses and eyes still a little hazy from your orgasm. “Kriff, baby. I love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. They don’t get to have you, but I do.” He rasps, letting the last fragments of his feelings for you eke out of the box he’d kept them locked away in for far too long. “Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans.

Hand leaving your hip, Hunter tilts your head back up as he sees it start to dip down. “Don’t go getting shy on me now.” He whispers. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He slowly draws his hips back, watching as your lips part and the sweetest sound slides from between them as he pushes himself back inside. Hunter takes his time, building up the pace, focusing on every noise you make, every shift of your body, every flutter of your heart.

With every roll of Hunter’s hips, that earlier pleasure starts to build again. Hands grasp at his sweat-dampened shoulders, providing leverage as you move with him, the harsh sounds of your breaths filling the room alongside the noise of your bodies meeting. The air feels hot, matching the heat inside you as Hunter’s lips crash against yours, devouring you. A whine escapes you as his tongue presses forward, tasting you. It’s unrefined and needy, his usual self-control long thrown out of the hotel room window.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. You can give me one more. I know you can.” Hunter whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to slide his free hand between your bodies, thrusts never faltering. Dragging his lips across your jaw, he peppers kisses down your throat as his fingers circle over your clit once, twice, and on the third round, he nips at your throat.

The building pleasure slams into you, tipping over into ecstasy as you cry out his name, back arching, and body clenching around him as the high washes through you. Panting for breath, nails digging into Hunter’s shoulders, you coast through the feeling, small shakes rocking your body as Hunter’s hips snap against yours a little roughly.

The way you’d tightened around him, the sound of you crying out his name in the throes of pleasure, it was all too much for Hunter. “Kriff, cyar’ika. Where?” He asks between ragged breaths, thrusts sloppy as he closes in on his own climax.

It’s probably a stupid idea and could go very wrong, but it’s the first one that comes to mind. And you’re desperate to experience it. “In me. Come in me. Please.” You insist.

Hunter crumbles for the second time this evening, unable to deny you anything, consequences be damned. A few more rough thrusts and he’s growling out your name, pressing himself into you as deep as he can get, lips finding yours for a passionate kiss as he finds his own release, cock twitching as he fills you.

His hips slow to a stop, and your kiss turns softer and more reverent as the haze of lust dissipates. Hands stroke across each other’s bodies reverently, lips parting as Hunter mouthes down your throat to the spot he’d nipped earlier, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin. He sucks lightly, just to leave the slightest mark, so faint that unless someone was standing right beside you, they wouldn’t see it.

Contentment curls through you, hand brushing Hunter’s hair, fingers snagging on his bandana. Feeling cheeky, you pry it off, wrapping it around your wrist, enjoying how his eyes darken.

“Playin’ with fire again, cyar’ika.” Hunter murmurs, lips moving up to ghost across the shell of your ear.

A smile paints itself on your lips. “If that was me getting burned, then tie me to a stake and call me a Nightsister.”

Hunter’s whole body shakes with his laughter, amusement shining in his pretty brown eyes. “Oh, one day I’ll tie you to something, don’t worry about that.” He vows.

A thrill shoots through you, your own laughter joining his. As it fizzles out and the room falls silent, you’re left staring into each other’s eyes.

“How’d you feel?” Hunter asks, slowly shifting you both down onto your sides. The movement has him slipping from you, and you wince a little. Hunter’s arms loop around you, drawing you close.

“Loved.” You answer honestly.

“Good.” Hunter smooths a hand across your hair, pushing it back from your face. He captures your lips for another soft kiss. “Because you are.” He shares as the kiss breaks.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks again. He was getting too good at pulling this reaction from you. “As are you.” You reply, wanting to ensure he understands how much you care for him in return.

Hunter’s smile is blinding as he draws you closer, suffocating the space between you, tucking you safely under his chin. Burying his nose in your hair, he inhales deeply, picking up on your combined scent.

As the night draws on, the two of you lay entwined, finding comfort in the shared warmth of your bodies. The soft glow of the cityscape filters through the window, casting a gentle illumination in the room as you share quiet conversations.

As sleep begins to claim you both, you whisper a quiet promise into the stillness of the night. “No matter where the stars take us, I want to be with you.”

Hunter holds you a little tighter, kissing your forehead in silent agreement. Together, you drift into dreams, wrapped in the warmth of love and the certainty that, no matter what challenges awaited, you would face them together.

343 notes · View notes

circethesinner · 1 year

Text

infuriating ⟐ xavier thorpe

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader oneshot (second person pov - she/her pronouns used for reader - occasional use of Y/N)

wednesday x enid mentioned

warning(s) : mild language, enemies to lovers, mild violence, injury, and bl**d mentioned

word count: 6.2k

⭑•⊱✩masterlist✩⊰•⭑

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

summary: no matter what you did, xavier would somehow find a way to one up you - but when he accuses you of something you didn't do, you set off on a mission to clear your name and help him

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

Sometimes you mourned the friendship that could have been between you.

Then he’d do something that boiled your blood until it evaporated, and the mourning was replaced with seething rage.

“Looks like I won again, Y/N,” Xavier’s smile was so smug you wanted to slap it off of his face. “I’d say ‘better luck next time’, but we both know it takes more than luck for you to beat me.”

“I am going to sprinkle shattered glass in all of your left shoes,” You glared at him, snatching the test paper from his hands and comparing his score to yours.

One point.

He’d beaten you by One. Fucking. Point.

“Flee from my presence, foul creature,” You shoved the test paper into his chest and turned around, making yourself look busy by rooting through your bag. “I can still hear your breathing.”

“Just revelling in my victory a little,” You could practically hear his smirk as he spoke. Taking deep breaths, you tried not to engage with him. You’d gotten in trouble for fighting in class before, and you weren’t going to let it happen again because he couldn’t help but shove his victory in your face. Your breathing didn’t return to normal until you’d heard him walk away, catching up to Ajax to likely gloat about his achievement.

That was the fifth test in a row that he’d beaten you on, and it was infuriating. Xavier Thorpe was utterly infuriating in every way possible. You had spent nearly every waking hour studying, yet he would doodle in the margins of his textbooks and still come out on top.

You swung your bag over your shoulder, feeling the weight of your sketchbook clunk against your back as the corners jabbed you in the spine. You considered it to be the sketchbook taking revenge on you as it lay at the bottom of your bag, having been left untouched for over a month. As much as you adored art, you couldn’t face it much anymore. Not just because you didn’t have time, it was what it represented to you now. He’d soiled one of the few activities you enjoyed with his mere being, and you hated how much it got to you as much as you hated him.

Art was what you and Xavier had bonded over in that first week at Nevermore. You would sit together under the shade of the trees on the outskirts of the forest, drawing and comparing your individual art styles, taking notes from one another. You had admired how he’d make his art come to life and delighted in it when he’d lean over and do the same for yours.

You were both good students, great students even. Two of the top scorers in almost every class. At first, it was a playful competition to see who could do better. You would take friendly jabs at one another, but the mood soured like milk that had been left on the kitchen counter for a week in the middle of summer.

It started with a comment here and there that would hit home, you’d brush it off at the time, but it would weigh on you. Soon, those jabs became sharper and more frequent.

You weren’t a saint. You knew you were guilty of dishing them out as much as you were taking them in. Somewhere, the bond you two had briefly shared was cut entirely, and that was it. You hated one another.

It wasn’t just academically that he would one-up you; it was everything.

You got a new paintbrush? That’s cool. He got a whole set.

You won a teddy at the fair? That’s amazing. He won five of them.

You got to turn an old supply cupboard into a mini art studio? That’s great. He fixed up a whole shed.

Everything you did, he had to do better. You could keep up at first. It was back and forth. You’d beat him one day; he’d beat you the next, and so on. However, your grip was slipping, and it was clear to everyone who knew you.

You had increasingly stopped talking to people, started to eat meals at your own table so you could study in between bites without interruption, stopped showing up to fencing club. The list went on.

“Pick three colours!” Enid threw her arm around your shoulder as you were walking. You flinched, having not expected it, but acclimated very quickly. You were more than used to Enid’s ambushes and hugs after two years at Nevermore.

“Pink, purple, and blue,” You answered, trying to use the arm that wasn’t pressed up against her side to readjust your bag so it would stop literally stabbing you in the back. “Why do you ask?”

“I got a new manicure set the other day, and we are going to treat ourselves to a nice spa evening,” She announced proudly. “We’ll put on some cheesy movies, eat some junk food, do face masks, the whole nine yards!”

“Enid, that sounds lovely, but I really have to study for-” You tried to protest, but she cut you off.

“Nope! I’m not taking that again!” She shook her head wildly. “You’ve cancelled on me seven times in the past three weeks so you could study.”

“You’re free to study with me,” You offered up. Enid stopped walking and turned to you, grabbing your shoulders, so you faced her.

“Y/N, I am genuinely concerned for your health,” She sighed, shaking you slightly as she spoke. “The bags under your eyes are not designer! You look like you haven’t slept in a year, and all you do is study!”

You wouldn’t admit it to her, but your sleep had been rough for a while. You’d stay up until 3am studying, then go down for two hours of restless sleep full of nightmares of failure, only to wake up at 5am to get some more studying in before class. As for the weekends? Sleep simply didn’t exist.

“I just really need to-” You tried to protest again, but Enid was having none of it.

“I’m not asking you to relax. I’m forcing you to,” She said firmly. She let go of your shoulders, but before you could react and escape, she had your hand in a death grip as she dragged you to your dorm.

“Enid! Claws!” You pleaded as her sharpened nails dug in slightly, but she was too busy making sure you got to your dorm without escaping to take notice.

Once you had reached your dorm, you noticed that Enid had already set everything up on your bed. Your roommate, Yoko, was notably missing, and you cursed under your breath when you realised that they had likely been planning this ambush for a while.

“This is going to be a fun, relaxing evening!” She smiled as she finally let go of your hand. You rubbed the area where her claws had dug into you as you pouted at her. “Don’t give me that look! You brought this on yourself. Now sit down, and relax.”

She switched some awful cheesy rom-com on and set to work shaping and painting your nails.

After a while, you did manage to relax. It was nice to be pampered a little, and the rom-com was so bad that it made you laugh, something you realised you hadn’t done in a while.

You were halfway through the second movie when someone started pounding on your door. Regrettably, you knew the voice demanding to be let in immediately.

“Don’t,” Enid warned, clearly also recognising the voice.

“I’ll just make him leave,” You signed, getting up as slowly as you could just to antagonise him.

“I can hear you in there!” Xavier shouted, still banging on the door. He almost fell into your room when you opened the door. Pushing past you, he barely paid attention to Enid as he started to open your drawers. “Where is it?”

“What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled back. You’d never seen him look this frantic before. Whatever had happened had shaken him, but that wasn’t an excuse to barge into your room and root through your belongings. “Whatever you’re looking for isn’t in my goddamn underwear draw, you creep.” You slammed your drawer shut, only just missing getting his fingers trapped, which was a shame in your eyes.

“Where is it?” He repeated, turning around and apparently only just noticing Enid on your bed. He pointed at her accusingly. “Did you help her?”

“Don’t bring Enid into whatever little fucking mind games you’re playing!” You stood in front of your bed, blocking Enid from his view. “What are you even looking for?”

“My sketchbook,” He answered, his eyes still scanning every surface of your room. “I know you took it.”

“You know I took it?” You repeated, completely flabbergasted. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because you’re-” He gestured at you wordlessly. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know who pissed in your cereal this morning, but I didn’t take your sketchbook,” You told him firmly, pushing on his chest to try and usher him out of your room. “Now get out of here before I summon every teacher I can and say that you barged into my room and rifled through my bras.”

“Where is my sketchbook?” He asked again, standing firmly still so you couldn’t push him away.

“Where did you last see it?” Enid asked, standing up to join you. You almost cursed how helpful she naturally was but couldn’t find it in you to be even remotely upset with her.

“I left it in my room after class while Ajax and I hung out in the quad, and when I went back to my room, it was gone,” His eyes had met yours and were fixed in a stone-cold glare. “I know you took it.” Before you could defend yourself, Enid jumped in again.

“That settles it then! Y/N can’t have taken it!” She told him, sounding relieved that she could settle the conflict. “I pulled Y/N back here straight from class, and we’ve been here since! She hasn’t left my sight for a second.”

“She wouldn’t even let me pee by myself,” You added, hoping to solidify it further. “She followed me into the stall and faced the opposite direction.”

“How do I know you weren’t an accomplice?” Xavier asked, focusing back on Enid. “You could just be covering for her.”

“Oh, please! She couldn’t lie to a dead fish,” You rolled your eyes and turned to her. “Watch this! Enid, do you have a crush on Wednesday?”

“What?” Enid giggled nervously, playing with her hair. “Nooo!”

“See!” You pointed at her, looking back at Xavier. “She plays with her hair whenever she lies.”

“No I don’t!” Enid tried to protest but realised she was still playing with her hair as she denied it. With a small ‘shoot’ muttered under her breath, her hand dropped, and she looked down at the floor.

“I didn’t take your sketchbook, Xavier,” You repeated for the final time, watching as his shoulders dropped in realisation that you were telling the truth. “But we’re going to find out who did.”

“Wait, what?” They said it in unison, each looking at you in confusion. You felt almost as much confusion with yourself when the words had left your mouth, unsure where they’d come from. But you had said it now, and you weren’t going to backtrack.

“Why the hell would you want to help?” Xavier asked.

“Firstly, to clear my name,” You told him, tapping on your nails to make sure they were dry before you started this ordeal. They were still a little tacky, but you figured it would be okay. “Secondly, stealing a sketchbook? That’s unforgivable.”

“Can’t you just buy another one?” Enid sighed, looking longingly over at the bed where the snacks she’d curated for the evening lay undisturbed.

“Buy another one?” It was your turn to speak in unison with Xavier.

“Look, Enid, while Xavier was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, sketchbooks can’t just be replaced that easily!” You received a small jab in the side with Xavier’s elbow at the silver spoon comment but ignored it as best as you could. “I’ll put this in terms you’ll understand, okay? A sketchbook is to an artist what Moona is to you.” Moona was Enid’s favourite plush teddy. It was a wolf that Wednesday had won at the fair, which she had claimed she’d won accidentally, but you knew for a fact that she’d specifically won it for Enid. It was an irreplaceable treasure to the lovesick werewolf.

“Well, then, why are you still waiting around?” She gasped, pushing the two of you out the door.

“Are you not helping?” You asked, trying to plead with her not to leave you alone with Xavier without using words.

“I would, but I really need to find out of Jack and Sarah end up together!” Enid nodded back over at the laptop where the rom-com you had been halfway through had been paused.

“They’re the main characters, and they hate each other,” You scoffed. “Of course they’re going to end up together!”

She mouthed the word ‘sorry’ without a trace of actually being it on her face as she closed the door behind you both. You heard the lock click behind it.

“Enid! That’s my room!” You groaned, leaning against the door. “You can’t just lock me out of it!” From inside, you heard the sound of the movie being turned up to cover your voice.

“You don’t have to do this,” Xavier sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I know I don’t have to,” You rolled your eyes, pulling away from the door.

“So you want to?” He looked smug again, and it boiled your blood.

“No, shut up,” You waved your hand around in front of his face as though you were fighting the words off physically. “Just show me to your room so we can get this over with.”

“That’s what she- never mind,” He stopped himself midway through the sentence, but you knew exactly what he was about to say. With a small, seemingly nervous laugh, he pushed his hair out of his face again and started walking.

“Tie your hair up,” You instructed, holding out your wrist so he could take the spare pink hair tie you kept on it.

“Why?” He asked, taking the hair tie and doing so anyway.

“It’s annoying me,” You told him, ignoring the look of ‘are you serious?’ he had given you in return. “Do you have any pieces of it? A page you ripped out?” You asked as you neared his door. “Hell, even a sticker that was on it might work.”

“Uhh…” He opened his door, looking around his room for something that would fit the bill. You noted that it looked like he’d torn the whole place apart to try and find his sketchbook. He walked over to his bed, rooting around in the storage he kept under it before pulling something out. “This is a page I ripped out of it.”

He passed it over to you. It was folded up tightly, and you went to unfold it. You didn’t need to. You were just nosey.

“Don’t-” He held his hands over yours, stopping you. “It’s… just don’t look at it.”

“You been drawing naked ladies? Naked men?” You teased him but stopped trying to open it. Whatever it was, he wanted to keep private and you, as much as you disliked him, respected that much at least.

“If you’re not going to help, just-” He tried to take it from your hands, but you snatched it away before he could.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You raised an eyebrow as his shoulders slumped in acceptance. “Turn around.”

“What? Why?” He looked incredibly skeptical. Convinced now more than ever that you were playing some sort of elaborate prank on him.

“Fine, I will!” You sighed, turning your back to him. You rooted through your bra until you found what you were looking for, hearing a quiet ‘what the fuck?’ being mumbled under Xavier’s breath. When you grew up with pocketless clothes, you had to learn to make do.

You had pulled out a hand-drawn map of the school grounds. It wasn’t your finest work, but it did the job. You had also pulled your necklace off to use.

This wasn’t your first rodeo. You knew what you were doing. You’d been scrying since you were 7. You could do this in your sleep.

“As much as it… pains me to say….” You took a deep breath as you placed the map on Xavier’s bed and sat crossed-legged in front of it. “I need you to… ugh… hold my hand.” You held your hand out, the torn and folded page from his scrapbook in it. Wordlessly, he took it.

Within seconds of focusing your energy, your necklace zoned in on the quad. You were thankful to be able to pull your hand away from his.

“It’s in the quad,” You said as he examined the map.

“Are you sure?” Xavier asked, looking doubtful. “Can we double-check?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were just looking for an excuse to hold my hand,” You groaned, holding it out again. He took it, and the necklace once again zoned in on the quad immediately. “I swear to god, if you took your sketchbook with you and left it there yourself, I will never let you live it down.”

“I didn’t take it with me, I swear,” He protested, his head tilting back in annoyance.

“Can you let go of my hand now?” You asked, trying to wiggle your hand free. He’d been gripping it tighter than last time. As soon as he realised what you’d said, he dropped your hand like it had the plague. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I know where it is now. You don’t have to come with me,” He pointed out. “That is unless you’re not confident in your scrying.”

“I am going to shove that damn sketchbook up your ass when we find it,” You glared at him getting off of his bed, brushing yourself off dramatically as though it had been filthy. “I’m going with you because, and I say this with all due respect, which is none, if someone had hypothetically taken your sketchbook, what would you do about it? They’re clearly not scared of you if they broke into your room and stole from you.”

“And you’re supposed to do what exactly?” Xavier scoffed at you. “Have you seen yourself? You’re the least intimidating person I’ve met.”

“I’ll show you intimidating,” You stormed off, determined to get to the quad and show whoever it was a piece of your mind, just to prove a point.

You should have known who it was before you turned the corner and met eyes with him. Josh was a werewolf with an attitude. Enid had once described him as ‘if anger issues were personified’, which was very accurate. The meathead was usually more bark than bite, but when he did bite… Well, he would quite literally bite, which wasn’t the safest thing for a werewolf to do.

He’d been in trouble more than once for breaking into people’s rooms and stealing their stuff just for the thrill of it. People tended to be too afraid to call him out on it after he’d sent three kids to the infirmary. But you had a point to prove.

“Drop it!” You spoke to him the same way you would with a dog who had grabbed something they weren’t supposed to have, which you deemed a very accurate comparison in this case. Xavier rounded the corner to see what was happening.

“Make me!” He taunted, flicking through the pages, not even looking at the images. You heard Xavier suck in a breath as he watched one of Josh’s claws catch and tear a page.

“Fine, I will,” You stepped forward, full of what you knew was pure spite and stupidity masking as anger. With each step you took, your shoes clacked against the cobblestone flooring and echoed throughout the structure.

From behind you, you were vaguely aware of Xavier calling your name, the volume increasing the closer you got to Josh.

“What are you gonna do? Hit-” You cut him off with a square punch to the face with your right hand as you grabbed at the sketchbook with your left. You didn’t even allow yourself to wince as his claws scratched your hand. If anything, you feared Enid’s reaction to you messing up your new manicure she’d worked so long on more than the practically feral werewolf you’d just punched.

The following few seconds were a blur full of tears, but surprisingly not yours. Josh was crying as he clutched his nose, which was now bleeding profusely. Without saying anything, he slunk away.

“Holy shit…” Xavier was right behind you by the time Josh had disappeared. “That was…” He couldn’t quite seem to find the right words.

“Your sketchbook,” You turned around to pass it to him, but he caught your wrist before he’d even taken the book back.

“Infirmary,” Was all he said as he studied the scratch marks, which, now that the immediate rush of adrenaline had worn off a bit, hurt. You nodded and allowed him to drag you to get the scratch checked out.

Five minutes later, you were sitting on a chair in the infirmary following a lecture about being careless from the nurse. Xavier hadn’t left your side, nor had he spoken since you’d arrived.

Usually, you enjoyed not having to hear his annoying know-it-all tone, but the silence was making you uncomfortable.

“The words are ‘thank you’ in case you’ve forgotten them,” You joked, hoping to lighten the mood. You thought you saw the ghost of a brief smile cross his face, but it was gone when he saw the scratches again. You brought your sleeve down to cover them in the hope that it’d make him talk, but you were still receiving radio silence. Eventually, you were annoyed with him again. It was to be expected. He was infuriating even when silent. “If you’re going to act like a stubborn child, just leave.” You spat out at him, turning your head away to look out the window. It had gotten very dark by that point, and it was bound to be curfew soon.

“You’re so reckless,” You almost dared to smile when you heard him talk at last, but you pushed down whatever weird part of you had presented that idea to the table, firing it immediately. It could go seek unemployment in someone else’s mind.

“Got the job done, didn’t I?” You pointed out proudly, nodding at the book that rested on his lap. “And I’d say I was pretty intimidating.”

“Well, I’d say you were pretty stupid,” He sighed. He’d let his hair down again at some point, your pink hair tie now round his wrist. You’d ask for it back later. It wasn’t that important to you. You had about 50 more scattered around your room and in your bag; you were pretty sure there was even one tied to the tag of your blazer.

“You’re so cute when you think I care about what you think,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“You think I’m cute?” Xavier had a smug grin on his face that you wished you could punch off. But, given what had just happened, you thought better of it.

“Shit! No! Fuck!” You cussed, throwing your head back in annoyance. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“What I know is that you just called me cute,” Before you could come up with a worthy retort, the nurse came around to check the scratches and sent you both away. As you’d predicted, it was almost curfew, not that anyone really abided by it, but it meant the halls were quieter than they would usually be.

You were at your door by the time it registered that Xavier had walked you back to your room. You’d walked together in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It almost felt like a peace offering of sorts. You weren’t sure if it would last when you woke up the next morning, but dare you say, you enjoyed it while it did.

“Thank you for….” You felt wrong thanking the person you’d considered your sworn enemy, but you were raised with manners, and it felt even more wrong to not be polite when someone was kind to you. “Walking me to my door.”

“Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t punch anyone else,” Xavier didn’t make eye contact with you, but the slightest smile crossed his face. “Thank you for….” He held up the sketchbook he’d been holding.

“Don’t mention it,” You shrugged, leaning slightly against your door. “Seriously, don’t mention this to anyone. I can’t have people thinking I’m soft.”

“I think Josh’s nose will speak for itself,” He joked, allowing the smile to properly settle as he spoke. “Make sure you put that stuff the nurse gave you on your hand.”

“Shit!” You groaned as you realised you’d forgotten it back in the infirmary, rifling through your pockets in some hope that you’d just placed it in one of them without realising what you were doing. You pulled out some loose change and a bar of chocolate that you’d forgotten you’d picked up last time you were in Jericho, which was a score, but no sign of the salve the nurse had given you. “Goddamnit, I left it at-” You froze as Xavier waved the little pot in front of your face.

“You mean this?” He teased, holding it just out of reach. You glared at him, trying to grab at it anyway. After some jumping, you managed to grab it, pulling him down with it in the process.

You didn’t realise quite how close his face was to yours until it was all you could see. The movement was so subtle that you almost didn’t catch it, but you saw his eyes so briefly dart down to look at your lips.

You were aware that your breathing had gotten heavier, and your heart rate was starting to pick up as his face inched closer and closer to yours. What confused you was that you were making no move to stop whatever was about to happen from happening. That was until your door swung open, and the two of you parted so fast you would have just been a blur.

“I was wondering what the noise out here was!” Enid grinned, leaning on your doorframe. “You managed to get it back?”

“I punched Josh,” You proudly held up your hand, only for Enid to grab it and examine it in pure horror.

“You smudged the nail polish!” She gasped, her voice laced with pure outrage. “We’re starting over! Come on!” She started to tug you into the room before you could protest against it.

Your other hand was caught by Xavier, who pressed the pot of salve into it wordlessly before he rushed off down the hall, assumably to his own dorm. You managed to just about kick your door closed before Enid had pulled you away entirely to try and salvage what had been ruined.

Looking down at your free hand, you noticed that the salve wasn’t the only thing Xavier had left with you. In your hand, you held the torn piece of paper you recognised from earlier, still folded. You decided to open it when Enid went to sleep or disappeared back to her own room.

That didn’t happen for another four hours. You were exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open as Enid finished doing your nails for the sixth time before she was finally happy. She’d curled up at the end of your bed and fallen asleep immediately after, the fifth rom-com of the night playing in the background.

Yoko hadn’t returned to your shared room, but she rarely did on weekends as she was too busy with Divina. You usually enjoyed the quiet evenings you’d get to yourself or at least enjoyed not being told to turn the light off at 4am as you were still hunched over studying so you could do better on whatever test was coming up next. But having company was nice once in a while, even if that company talked at 100 miles an hour and had absolutely destroyed your cuticles.

Remembering the piece of paper Xavier had left with you, you pulled it out of your pocket, trying desperately not to smudge the still tacky nail polish as you feared Enid had a sixth sense and would awaken from her slumber foaming at the mouth.

Carefully, you unfolded the piece of paper, holding it up to the dim light of the laptop as you’d long since turned the other lights off.

Your eyes scanned the image; even in the low light, it was clear as day. On the piece of paper, curled under a tree with a book in hand, was you. Every detail, down to the strands of your hair, sticking up at odd angles after a long day. You looked serene, almost ethereal. It was difficult to understand how anyone, let alone Xavier, could have seen you and depicted you in such a beautiful way.

Though your eyes were begging you to finally allow them to rest, you reached over and pulled your own sketchbook out. After a long month, you finally allowed a wave of artistic inspiration to flow through you.

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

Slip the drawing under his door and get away from there as fast as you could. The plan was so simple, yet you repeated it in your head like a mantra so you wouldn’t forget.

Unfortunately, your plan didn’t account for how small the gap in between the bottom of the door and the floor would be. Nor did you plan for Xavier to be in his room and open it as soon as he’d seen the piece of paper start to wiggle through the small gap and heard your disgruntled grumbles from the other side. His hair was damp, and you could smell the shampoo he always used. You weren’t sure when you’d committed it to memory, but you had told yourself it was just so you could avoid him better if you could smell him a mile away.

“I know your hand is busted, but you do have two of them, so you could have used the other to do it,” He looked down at you as you slowly stood to your feet, trying to hide the piece of paper behind your back. Unfortunately for you, he caught it before you had a chance to. “You’ve been trying to shove this under my door for three minutes, don’t tell me you suddenly don’t want me to see it?” He teased you, unfolding the paper. It was only folded in half, so you didn’t have time to dash away before he could open it.

That didn’t stop you from trying, of course. You’d managed to spin on your heel and take a single step before a hand grabbed your shoulder. Using the leverage, he turned you to face him.

You expected a variety of different reactions.

Laughing at your face?

A shouting match?

Maybe just an awkward ‘thanks’?

What you didn’t expect was for his hand to gently cup your face as he pulled you in for a kiss. In fact, it was so unexpected that your brain hadn’t registered what was happening until he was pulling away.

Your eyes were wide, and your lips were parted as you watched a flurry of emotions cross his face. Confusion, happiness, annoyance, until finally settling on embarrassment.

“Sorry- I just thought-” He took a step back. His face had turned a brighter shade of red than you’d ever seen on him before. You’d seen his face flush from anger, but this was different. “I think I misread the situation, sorry.”

“No! It’s fine I-” You struggled to put your own emotions into words. “I… think I was… I think I maybe… liked that?” Though the words sounded uncertain, you knew them to be true the moment they had left your lips.

“Can I do it again?” He asked. His words were fast, as though they were falling out before he had a chance to catch them. You didn’t have to answer him properly as you surprised yourself by taking a step forward and pulling him down into a kiss. It was clumsy and fast but felt so right. You were the first to pull away, noticing how his lips tried to chase yours as you did so. Instead of kissing you again, he settled with just resting his forehead against yours.

“I don’t think I have the energy to keep pretending I hate you,” He sighed, closing his eyes. His arms wrapped around you, holding you against his chest. His words felt warm as they reached your ears. You tried to find a snarky response, as was customary in your exchanges, but you couldn’t find anything. Perhaps you were just equally as tired of pretending to hate him?

The two of you instinctively let go and took a step away from one another as soon as the sound of someone’s voice echoed down the hall, increasing in volume as they grew closer.

“Should we…?” You nodded at his open door. His hand found yours, and he pulled you into his room. You took note of how he’d taken your injured hand but had avoided touching the area where it would hurt. You weren’t sure if this was intentional or not, but the tender look in his eyes as they fixed on yours once the door was closed behind him suggested it was intentional.

Your eyes trailed down to his hand again, noticing the pink hair tie on his wrist. His hair was damp, but the hair tie wasn’t. He’d taken it off so he could shower and had gone out of his way to place it back on his wrist afterwards.

“I just wanted to impress you,” He sighed softly, his fingers slowly lacing with your own. It was a foreign but pleasant feeling. “I kept on hoping that you’d notice me more if I did well in class, which you did… But by the time I realised it wasn’t working in the way I’d intended….”

“You just doubled down on it?” You finished his sentence for him.

“It was stupid, but you were talking to me more,” He shrugged. “At one point, I considered failing classes so you’d have to tutor me, but I realised it was too late, and you’d just celebrate my loss instead of helping me.”

“As much as I’d like to argue with that, you’re right,” You laughed lightly. It wasn’t a laugh of joy but rather one of disbelief upon reflection. Had you really spent the past two years actively hating someone over a misunderstanding of intention? “So what do we do now?”

“Well, I had planned out a first date ages ago,” He smiled. He’d taken a step closer to you. His arms had found themselves around your waist as he spoke. “We’d go down to the lake with a picnic and our sketchbooks and draw, I had a playlist ready with your favourite song, and when it would play, I’d offer to dance with you.”

“That is disgustingly cheesy,” You grinned, not a hint of spite in your voice. “How would you even know my favourite song?”

“Your Spotify is public and linked to your socials,” He shrugged.

“Stalker!” You gasped. Your tone was playful.

“I was genuinely so concerned that I almost went to check on you a few months ago because you’d been playing ‘Vending Machine of Love’ for 7 hours straight,” He teased. “I listened to it out of curiosity, and I have questions.”

“And I will not be providing answers!” You laughed, knowing the exact day that was as you’d been antagonising Wednesday with it all day after she’d accidentally hurt Enid’s feelings and was too stubborn to apologise for it. “Then what would we have done on the date?”

“After dancing our little hearts out, I would have kissed you for the first time,” He admitted, his cheeks reddening a little. “I guess I messed that part up? We could pretend we-” You cut him off when you pulled him into another kiss. It was slower this time, lasting a lot longer than the previous two. His lips moulded against your own as though they belonged together. It was a cheesy thought, one you’d never dare to admit out loud.

When you finally pulled away, you did so with a smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t stop myself from ruining your plans,” Your hand absentmindedly traced patterns on his chest. “Old habits die hard.”

“Guess we’d better make some new habits,” Xavier shrugged before he captured your lips in what would be one of many, many more kisses.

a/n - I am a total sucker for enemies to lovers and writing this was an absolute delight - I enjoyed writing it so even if people deem it trash, I am happy 😌💅

anygays! I've got a couple of xavier requests that I'm working on, but feel free to send me more for xavier or any other wednesday characters!

likes and reblogs very appreciated! lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future xavier x reader fics

@ali-r3n

#xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier oneshot #wednesday #wednesday oneshot

1K notes · View notes