#found this in a notebook from last year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amberlynnmurdock · 2 months ago

Text

The First Time

Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Reader

Genre: FLUFF, angst, SMUTTTT 18+!!!!

Summary: Dex and his neighbor become good friends, so much so she only trusts him to take her virginity.

Based off this anon message

Note: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT BUT HERE IT IS I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE IT

She’s the purest thing he’s ever known, and she lives right down the hall from him. Dex liked to keep his space neat and tidy; it was never dirty or out of order. He never allowed anyone into his space. Dex valued his privacy and, even more so, his alone time, despite feeling the lows of such often. Everything was a routine he had to strictly follow: wake up, shower, get ready for work, work, come home, be alone.

She ended up fitting into his routine, somehow. Only someone as pure and kind as she could find her way into Dex’s space--and so easily, too. She had recently graduated from New York University with a degree in forensic science and was living alone for the first time.

He’ll never forget when she started talking to him in the elevator, one rainy evening.

“What floor?” He asked her.

“6,” she replied. It was the same as his. Dex clicked the elevator button.

“You work for the FBI?” She couldn’t help but notice the large letters on the sleeve of his navy blue jacket. Dex typically took it off before going out in public, but that day’s mission had exhausted him so much, he forgot to.

“Yes,” Dex answered and shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to friendly conversation with strangers. It was natural for him to have his guard up.

“That’s cool,” she sighed. “I just graduated from NYU last year. I got a job at the 15th Precinct in their forensics department, but working for the FBI is a dream of mine. Do you like it?”

“It’s tough,” Dex said. “It pays the bills.”

The elevator dinged. If he weren’t on the same floor as her, he’d be happy. He let her exit the elevator first and trailed slowly behind her. She waited for him so they could walk in tandem. He sighed, realizing he had no escape.

“Do you mind if I come by sometime and ask you questions about your job? I’m new to the area—new to living here, and I’d like to know that I have a personal FBI agent to call a neighbor and—friend,” she smiled at him. Dex squinted his eyes slightly, amused by her outgoing personality and interest in his job. He wasn’t particularly a fan of being put on the spot like this, but seeing the way she looked so hopeful at him—who was he to say no?

“Sure.”

And that’s how she ended up sitting across from him at his kitchen table, notebook on her right side, a cup of decaf coffee on her left. It had been like this for a year now—like clockwork, she was at his door at 11 PM, sometimes even later (depending on when he came home from work) to talk about his day and ask questions about anything related to his job. Dex grew to look forward to these late-night conversations with her—it was oddly reminiscent of his meetings with Dr. Mercer.

Now, he knew these weren’t therapy sessions, and if anything, he was the one giving her advice and information, but it was comforting to talk to her about his day. He found comfort in explaining his job duties and answering any curiosities she had. She was kind, probably the kindest thing in his life right now, and he needed that. He found it harder to sleep if she didn’t come by and spend an hour with him talking about his job.

“Wow,” she breathed. “So when you guys detain whoever you need to, how soon does forensics show up to the scene?”

“They’re already on their way before we even lock the handcuffs,” Dex said. He watched as she scribbled something in her notebook. He only recently noticed how attracted he was to her—he only ever saw her at night, and she was always, more often than not, in her pajamas. He started to take notice of her rotation. Last week, she had light pink polka dot ones on. Tonight, she’s in a plain light blue set. Next was probably her black silk ones. It was always in her natural state that he saw her. No makeup, disheveled hair. Friendly smile. Curious and his favorite part, attentive, eyes.

He rarely ever saw her during the day. He was up at the crack of dawn going to the headquarters, and she was always in three hours later. She always came home before him, and when she’d hear Dex’s familiar knock on her door, she knew he was ready for their nightly catch-up.

Neighbors catching up…friends, like she said one time. That’s what they were, Dex supposed.

He didn’t think of this as an almost every night thing. After the first few nights, he let her into his apartment, Dex thought it was a done deal. On the fifth night, just as he was about to get in bed, he heard a knock at his door.

“I brought ice cream,” she was holding two tubs of Ben and Jerry’s in her hands, and squeezing her notebook under her arm. “Mint chocolate cookie or strawberry cheesecake.”

Dex grabbed the mint chocolate cookie from her grasp and let her inside with a tired smile.

He had also grown a bit protective over her as her neighbor.

He remembered one time he got home from work at 10:30 PM—earlier than usual. He knocked on her door three times—it was his signal that he was ready and home—but there was no answer on the other side of the door. Dex pressed his ear against it and listened for any movement or sound. Nothing. He checked his watch and saw it was nearly 11:00 PM. It wasn’t like her to not be home already.

He pulled out his phone and called her. It immediately went to voicemail.

Dex clicked his phone off and rested it on his lips. The increasing heaviness in his chest was something he only felt when he was on missions—he was anxious. Is she okay?

Something inside of him locked, or maybe, unlocked at the thought of her never coming home. The thought of her never sitting across from him at his kitchen table ever again. It unlocked a feeling he kept hidden away as best as he could, despite it being the most constant thing in his life. Feeling abandoned—left behind. Alone.

For the first time in his life, Dex didn’t want to be alone.

Dex was too numb to go back into his apartment. He pressed his back against the wall of the hallway and slid down to sit on the floor. He decided he would wait there until she came home.

After an hour of staring into nothing, but mentally replaying all the times he’s had someone leave him, the elevator doors dinged. Dex was too tired to look at who it was, too afraid of disappointment if it wasn’t her. He kept his eyes forward.

“Dex?” She started walking faster towards him. “Are you okay?” Dex whipped his head up and immediately stood up on his feet.

“Yeah,” Dex nodded, his voice feeling thick and dry. “I was—worried. About you. Your phone…”

“It died,” she explained. “And I forgot my charger. I ended up staying late to finish up some work. You waited for me here?” She asked with a hint of a smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Dex nodded, meeting her eyes finally. She still looked as wide awake as ever, full of energy and positivity he wished he could emulate. Something compelled him to wrap his arms around her and bring her close in an embrace—so he did. He sighed in relief. “Don’t forget your charger again,” he said in her hair.

“I won’t,” she pulled back, suddenly catching on to the seriousness of his tone. “Rough day? Is it too late to talk in your apartment?”

“Not if it’s too late for you.”

It was strange, the effect she had on him. It only grew more intense after each night together. Dex watched her carefully now, across from his table. He couldn’t remember the lat time he let someone get close to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to connect with someone since Dr. Mercer passed away. It was the first time he possibly found a new North Star. He hoped this one wouldn’t go out.

She brought a warmth to his apartment that it was lacking before. He never spent time at the kitchen table unless it was the morning and he was having his coffee before work. He never thought he’d spend most of his nights here, with her, talking about his day and duties as an FBI agent. She was part of his routine now. And if there’s anything about Dex, it’s that he doesn’t like when his routine is disrupted.

“Can I ask you something we haven’t talked about before?” She looked up from her notebook and placed her pen down on the table. Dex shrugged his shoulders. There wasn’t much he wouldn’ttell her at this point.

“Anything,” he said.

“Have you ever had to kill someone?”

It took a lot to catch Dex off guard. But this was a question he wasn’t expecting to be asked so blatantly.

“In the line of duty, obviously,” she followed up quickly, responding to his reaction.

Dex held her gaze—he didn’t want his answer to drive her away. In case it did, he wanted to memorize the way she was looking at him right now. The hopeful curiosity. The kindness without judgement in her eyes. He broke eye contact and sighed.

“Yes,” Dex said, rearranging the napkin holder in front of him.

“Because you had no choice?”

“Yes,” he lied.

She shook her head. Not in disapproval, but in disbelief. “I can’t imagine that. Do you—do you remember the first time you had to?”

Dex does remember his first time killing someone. But it wasn’t in the line of duty as an FBI agent. It wasn’t even when he served time in the army.

It was when he was a child and had dreams of becoming a baseball star. The memory flashed in Dex’s mind as quickly as the baseball ricocheted off the fence and hit Coach NAME in the head.

“I do,” Dex said. “It was a cartel member. We had the group where we wanted them, but one guy wouldn’t give up the fight. He grabbed for a weapon to shoot at my partner—Nadeem—but I got to him before he could do anything more.”

“And by got to him, you mean…”

“Mmhm,” Dex hummed. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I know it’s not easy work. I know these things have to happen. But I wonder, are you okay? Knowing that that happened? And what you had to do?”

“I’m okay,” Dex said, and he wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not. “It was either him or Nadeem. They train you to think fast in those situations. You can’t waste time.”

“I’m really glad I chose the science side of it all.” She leaned back in his chair, and he liked how she made it look so casual. He wanted to mirror her but didn’t. “I don’t know if I could handle it like you do.”

“We make the mess,” Dex said, leaning forward. “Your side cleans it up.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it,” she replied. “Accurate.”

Dex sipped his coffee. “Anything else you’d like to know, Ms. Forensics?”

She smiled at the nickname. “I guess… out of personal curiosity… what did it feel like? Taking a life like that? Even if the guy was bad.”

Dex twisted the mug in his hands. Truthfully, it made no difference to him. But what would she want to hear?

“It’s hard,” Dex said. “Really hard. But these situations aren’t black and white. We have a job to do. We have to protect people. Protect our own. That’s what matters at the end of the day.”

“I see,” she said, nodding her head. “Do you have counselors at work you can talk to?”

“We have to undergo a psych-eval every once in a while.”

“That’s good,” she pressed her lips together. “Well, if the counselors aren’t always there for you, just know that I am, Dex.”

And there it was—that sweetness he had become so accustomed to. He couldn’t imagine his nights without it now. Dex smiled a little and focused his gaze on the table.

“It’s late,” she said after a few moments of silence. “I think I’ve run you dry for tonight. Got any plans this weekend?” She asked him this all the time, and Dex always had the same answer for her.

“No,” he said. “Catching up on sleep, maybe.”

“Me too,” she began to close her notebook and collect her pens, to Dex’s disappointment.

“You can come by tomorrow night,” Dex said with hope in his voice. “If you’re not busy and you feel like talking.”

She smiled a little and nodded her head. “I’d like that. Maybe instead of me asking about work, we can just hang?”

Dex took her empty coffee mug and wiped a coffee stain with the pad of his thumb. Her question echoed in his head.

“I’d like that,” he answered, meeting her tired eyes. “Maybe I can ask about your life and work for once.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be getting much,” she laughed, and Dex hoped she was kidding. “But I’ll do my best to highlight the interesting parts.” She began her walk to his door, notebook in her hand. Dex unlocked it from behind her, gently brushing his arm against hers by mistake. He took a step back to give her space.

“Good night, Dex,” she whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Good night,” he softly said back. He watched her as she walked halfway down the hall to her apartment. He always waited until she was inside and locked the door before going back and retreating to his bedroom. When she was, he closed his door and locked it. He was alone again.

◎◎◎

Dex wasn’t worried about having her over until the reality finally settled in and he realized that she would be coming over in a different context than usual. He couldn’t remember the last time he hosted something for someone and had food ready—this was possibly his first time ever. When he came home, early for a Friday night, he checked his fridge to see if he had any snacks and felt silly for it—of course, he had nothing, except a carton of milk and some eggs.

He went back out to the corner store and paused in the middle of the aisle. What did she like to eat? He only remembered the time she brought ice cream to his place. He went to the freezer and grabbed the same flavors of Ben and Jerry’s she had once brought: mint chocolate cookie and strawberry cheesecake. Dex balanced the two cartons in his hands and went through the chips aisle. He wasn’t sure what to get, and the options were overwhelming. He settled on a jar of salsa, French onion and guacamole—that way, she’d have more than one option. He also grabbed two kinds of chips: salted and hint of lime. He also threw in a container of chocolate chip cookies.

After leaving the store, he realized that she may be interested in drinking something. He wasn’t a drinker at all—alcohol didn’t mix well with his medication—so he didn’t have a clue of what she may like. Wine? Beer? He found himself inside the liquor store, even more overwhelmed by the options. When was the last time he was in a place like this?

He grabbed one bottle of red wine (Pinot Noir), one bottle of white wine (Sauvignon Blanc), and one bottle of rose for good measure. At the counter, he saw a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels and grabbed it.

Dex had his hands full on his way back to his apartment. He’d never had this much food in his house—the bags practically filled his counter. He laid every snack out but paused midway—they wouldn’t be sitting at his kitchen table. Maybe on the couch? Dex began to move all the snacks to the coffee table. He placed each dip in a bowl and had two more bowls filled with each type of chip he bought. He left the ice cream in the freezer. He put the chocolate-covered pretzels in a smaller bowl.

Then, he put each bottle of wine on the counter so that when she first walked in, she could choose. Dex finally sat down on his couch and checked the time. It was almost 10 PM. She should be home soon.

◎◎◎

His apartment felt cold and dark until she finally graced it with her presence. She was in her black silk pajamas, as Dex correctly predicted was next in her rotation. When she first walked inside Dex’s apartment and saw the line up of wine and snacks, she couldn’t help but smile at how endearing it all was, especially the hopeful look on Dex’s face as he watched her take it all in.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” Dex said, scratching his neck. “So I got a bit of everything.”

“It’s okay,” she looked at him, this well-trained and tough FBI agent who looked like he spent the last hour stressing over salted or hint of lime chips and ended up getting both. “It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

Dex sighed in relief. “I also got different wines you can choose from.”

She looked at each bottle. She was naturally inclined to reach for the red. But she wanted to make sure Dex had a say in the matter, too. “Which do you prefer?” She asked him.

He shook his head. “Oh, I don’t drink. I got that for you. All of it’s for you.”

“Well, if you’re not drinking, then I’m not either,” she said smiling. “I do want to dig into those chocolate-covered pretzels, though.”

“They’re for you,” Dex said.

She walked over to his couch, but Dex stayed standing by his kitchen table. He didn’t take a moment before to take in how different his apartment looked whenever she was in it. Before, everything looked as tidy as it needed to be: empty coffee table, couch lacking warmth, unused empty bowls. But she graced his apartment with her presence by making it feel comfortable. A couch is meant to be sat on, a coffee table meant to have snacks, and bowls meant to have food—just for her. He’s never seen his place so lively and it’s all because of her.

It was like watching a science experiment in real time. The cause and effect. The hypothesis and results. Except, he felt in the thick of the experiment and the results could be a wild card. He was just happy to witness it happening. How she was so good at making it all feel so comfortable. He liked having her around. Dex wanted her to stay a while.

“Well don’t be shy, Dex,” she patted the seat next to her on his couch. “Come stay a while.”

Dex laughed and made his way to his couch. He felt like a stranger in his own house. How should he delicately handle this new context of hanging out? He was used to her having a notebook and her doing the talking. He felt the pressure and was afraid he wouldn’t live up to expectations.

He sat down next to her—not too close. A comfortable distance. He reached for a salted chip and dipped in the guacamole first. During training, they taught agents to start conversations with witnesses or suspects casually. He felt he could apply those tactics here, with her.

“So,” Dex began, chewing his chip of guacamole, “first thing’s first. How was your day at work?”

Dex didn't know he had it in him, to curate and carry a conversation as long as he did with her. He asked her things about her life he didn’t know before—how she got into forensic science, where she’s from, who she used to be. She’s only 22—she’s got her whole life ahead of her, and she’s only getting started.

When she revealed her age, Dex was slightly taken aback. The thought never crossed his mind but now that he knew she was a bit younger than him, he felt that sense of protection he had over her grow in size. All those times she had come home late, he never knew she was vulnerable like that. Maybe it was wrong to think that way… she’s independent and lives on her own. She can take care of herself. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Still, he had to know something.

“My age… you’re not uncomfortable?” Dex asked in a small voice, avoiding eye contact.

“No,” she shook her head. “Not unless you are.”

“I’m not,” Dex answered quickly. “It never crossed my mind to ask how old you were. I didn’t think there was that much of a difference.”

“Seven years is nothing,” she shrugged. Most of my coworkers are that or even more.”

“I just want you to be comfortable,” Dex admitted. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be here.”

“I want to be here,” she said. “I like talking to you. You’ve told me a lot about the FBI. That’s not the only reason I like talking to you, though.”

“Why’s that?” Dex couldn’t help but ask.

“You’re nice to me,” she simply stated. “I got lucky that you’re my neighbor. I feel safe.”

“Even though you know my line of work isn’t always sunshine and daises—even though you know what I’ve done,” Dex said in a low voice, “You still feel safe?”

“You’ve given me no reason to think otherwise,” she said softly. “You’ve shown me one side of you. I’m shocked you haven’t figured out I’m trying to get to know all of you, Dex.”

Dex held her gaze and felt something blooming slowly in his chest. “What else do you want to know?”

“We can save it for another time. You asked me here tonight because you wanted to get to know me,” she nudged his shoulder with hers, the first physical touch they’d shared all evening.

“That’s right,” Dex said with a small nod.

“Your turn,” She said with a welcoming smile. Dex took a deep breath. Truthfully, he felt the basic questions had run dry. He knew all there was to know about her on the surface: how she got into forensic science, where she studied, where she’s from, where she works. When he was serving time in the army, the comrades he was with often sat in circles in their tents and started playing games like Never Have I Ever or Would You Rather? He didn’t want to play those games with her now, but he wanted to get to know her on a deeper level. Those games typically made people reveal things about themselves. If she felt so safe around him, Dex didn’t see any harm in asking more personal questions.

“Do you remember what your prom was like?” Dex asked with a sideways smile.

“My prom?” Her eyes lit up at the question to Dex’s relief. He nodded. “Oh my, gosh, well, yes. It was such a weird time for me. I actually didn’t have a date my junior year, but senior year I did. I was the worst prom date.”

Dex smiled, trying to live vicariously through her experiences. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true. I had a crush on someone else so by the end, I ditched my prom date and went to a different party. But I had so much fun with my friends. I miss the freedom of being that young,” she smiled. “Good music, free food. Sneaking alcohol at the after party. What about you?”

Dex looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t go to prom. I didn’t technically have a prom.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. The institution Dex grew up in threw a makeshift prom for the seniors, but it didn’t have good music. It had free food that came from the cafeteria they ate at every day already. And absolutely no alcohol by any means. And Dex didn’t have a date. “I remember sneaking out to leave early and head back to my room.”

“Room?” She questioned.

“I grew up in a Boys’ Home,” Dex lied again. “They invited other homes for orphans but it was awkward. No one really knew anyone. I swore off events like that after that.”

“When’s the last time you went to an event?”

“Probably then.”

“Dex,” she said his name, “we’ll have to find an event for us to go to and change that.” Dex smiled. He’d only consider it for her.

“What color was your dress?” He asked her.

“White,” she said. “With a bunch of sparkles. My friends gave me shit about it, saying white was for weddings, but I didn’t care. I loved my dress. It was an off-shoulder dress. I felt like a princess.”

Dex tried to imagine it in his mind. White—fitting for her.

“I’m sure you looked like one, too,” Dex said quietly. “Have you ever traveled outside the city?”

“Of course,” she smiled again. “I’ve been for Orlando, Boston… the entire east coast, pretty much. Outside, I’ve been to London.”

“London,” Dex said impressed. “Did you like it?”

“I did but, it’s got nothing on New York. Where have you traveled?”

“I’ve only ever traveled for the army,” Dex answered. “Nowhere exciting. And definitely not for vacation.”

“We’ll use up your PTO days soon,” she nudged his knee with hers. Dex liked the hopefulness in her tone—the idea of what she was saying coming to fruition one day. And he liked that she said we.

“Do you remember your first heartbreak?” Dex asked her.

“Oh, Dex,” she sighed. “Who doesn’t? It happened recently in college. About around the time I was a freshman. Of course, I fell for a guy who was older than me. He had me in the palm of his hand for an entire year… until he graduated and dumped me like that. I was so head over heels for him, but it taught me a great lesson. Never put your life on hold for someone else.”

“That’s true,” Dex said. “I’m sorry he did that to you. That must’ve been hard.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I hardly think about it now, unless someone asks me. Do you remember yours?”

“Yeah,” Dex replied. “Like you said, who doesn’t?”

“What was it?”

“It’s not a typical heartbreak.”

“It’s all the same feeling.”

“I guess it would be when my parents died,” Dex said, meeting her eyes. “And then I was put in that home when I was a kid.”

“Dex, I’m sorry,” she whispered, scooting closer to Dex on the couch. His right leg was now resting against her left leg. She put her arm around his back and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dex whispered back. “It was a long time ago. It made me capable of being on my own at an early age.”

“Do you have other family?” She asked, pulling back to look at him.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s just me.”

“Well,” she said instantly, “now you’ve got me.”

Dex wanted to tell her that she couldn’t say things like that to him unless she really meant it. But he didn’t want to get serious about it all—didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“Do you remember your first kiss?” She asked him in a lighter voice. Dex laughed.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I had no idea what I was doing. It was awkward. And wet. You?”

She laughed against him. “I had a similar experience. It was so strange at first. I honestly hated it. I felt too young to kiss like that.”

“Yeah,” Dex nodded, trailing off, thinking of another question to ask her. He opened his mouth to say something, wondering if it may be too far, or treading a thin line of what boundaries they already had. Her leg was still pressed against his, but her hands were to herself now. “Do you remember… your first time?” He asked her.

Silence at first. So much silence that Dex had to look at her to make sure she was okay. Her eyes were focused in front of her, avoiding his. He’s never seen her like this—quiet, unsure. Dex wanted to rescind the question immediately and apologize for overstepping a boundary. But then, she gave him a small, ironic smile.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. Dex thought of every possibility in his head that could make her not remember something like that—having sex for the first time—and each possibility raised concern in him until she finished her answer. “I haven’t had my first time yet.”

It was Dex’s turn to go silent. He looked at her expression—she was trying her hardest to keep an indifferent look, but Dex sensed a tinge of embarrassment from her, and even sadness. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more: that she was a virgin or that she was capable of emitting an emotion he knew all too well. He wanted to kick himself for triggering that emotion out of her.

“I’m sorry,” Dex squinted his eyes, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re not judging me, are you?”

Dex looked at her in disbelief. How could he judge a girl like her? Dex has killed people before—not in the line of duty. He’s used lethal force; he’s been abandoned. And she thinks that he would judge her over not having ever had sex? Dex felt hollow in his heart for a moment—that she thought for even a second he would ever judge her for something like that. She, who is so kind and sweet—pure—someone Dex is positive he isn’t worthy of having so close to him. She scares him in a lot of ways because of that. But somehow he’s earned her trust. No, there’s no world where Benjamin Poindexter judges her.

“Never,” he breathed out, moving so he was facing her. “I could never judge you for something like that. There’s no shame in it.”

“Sometimes I feel that way, that I haven’t experienced something so intimate before,” she said behind a sad smile. In a lot of ways, Dex hasn’t experienced something so intimate before either. Yes, he’s had sex—but the sex he’s had with partners never felt intimate. It just felt like sex. Soulless, empty, physical. He always felt emptier inside after.

“It’s okay,” Dex comforted her. “It’s not always intimate.”

“It’s not?” She asked him, furrowing her brows. “I don’t know. It seems intimate to me.”

“It is,” Dex nodded, “it can be. But it has to be with the right person. Otherwise, it’s just an act.”

“I don’t want it to be that way,” she admitted, breaking eye contact. “Just an act. I can’t—I’m too sensitive to just do it. It has to mean something. I think that’s why I’ve waited so long. Not because of religious reasons. I’m not waiting for marriage. I just want my first time to be intimate. I want my first time to mean something. I want it to be real. I’ve heard so many stories from my friends saying guys just leave them after they get what they want. I’m not strong enough for that.”

“I understand,” Dex said softly. “I get it. But please know I could never judge you for that. If you don’t judge me for not being pure.”

“Pure,” she laughed, “is that what you think I am now that you know that?”

“No,” Dex shook his head. “I knew you were pure from the moment I met you. I didn’t need to know anything else about you to know that.”

“Why do you say that?” She asked.

“Because,” Dex struggled to find the words. He looked at his hands, her knees, her curious expression. “You talked to me so easily that first night in the elevator. So open. I’m not—I’m not used to that. You were kind. I could tell you were a good person. I—I need that in my life, __,” he said, almost pleading like she was halfway out the door when she was still sitting on the couch next to him.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” she whispered.

“I let you come over every night to talk about my job because you wanted to,” Dex began to say, “but I also let it keep happening because it has kept me sane. Talking to you. Being with you…” he broke eye contact again. “You tell me I make you feel safe,” Dex spoke again. “You make me feel that way, too.” But when Dex says that she makes him feel safe, he doesn’t mean safe from the other people in the building or even New York City. She makes him feel safe from himself.

“I’d never want to do something to make you go away,” Dex continued. “I want you around,” he whispered. “I want you to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she shook her head. She placed her hand on Dex’s knee. Dex slowly brought his hand to cover hers. This was the first direct contact they’d ever had—holding hands. Dex looked at the image—studied how his hand fit perfectly on top of hers. He twisted his fingers so they intertwined. Without thinking, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She let him. He kissed her knuckles again, then the back of her and, then her wrist, and soon Dex was peppering kisses all the way up the length of her arm, pushing her sleeve up.

“Dex…”

He rolled her sleeve down and held her hand again, waiting for her directive. When she gave no protest, Dex moved her hair behind her and kissed her neck. She gently pushed his chest away from her, but only to look at him. His eyes were dark, full of intensity. She leaned in and closed the space between them, kissing Dex and Dex kissing her back. The moment their lips touched, they both knew it was long overdue. Dex placed his hands on her waist while she held him on his shoulders. His tongue made his way into her mouth and she welcomed it gladly. Dex squeezed her gently and pulled back, resting his forehead on hers, out of breath.

“When’s the last time you’ve had a kiss like that?” She asked. Both of them had soft laughs escape their lips.

“I think that was my first time,” Dex admitted against her lips, “my first time wanting to kiss someone like that.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” she smiled.

Dex kissed her again, gently pressing her to lay down on his couch. She did so she was laying on her back, with Dex leaning over her. She pushed his chest away again, indicating she wanted to speak.

“Dex, I want you to be my first time,” she said.

“What?”

“I want you to take my virginity,” she told him. Dex pulled back completely now. He had to sit with what she was asking him. She leaned up again in concern. “I want it to be with you.”

“__,” he said her name, rubbing his eyes closed. As much as he wanted that, Dex wasn’t sure he was worthy. He wasn’t worthy to be in your presence alone—but to take that from you, the very thing that could change everything—he wasn’t sure he was worthy of that either. You were so good and so pure—to give him that responsibility is to give him the power to potentially ruin that. He couldn’t stand the thought of ruining something else that was so good in his life.

But if it wasn’t going to be him, it was going to be someone else. And the thought of someone else doing this to her—ruining her purity—cut him to the bone. As quickly as his attachment grew in his chest, jealousy did too, at the thought of someone else doing it to her.

Selfishly, he wants to be the one to taint her. Unselfishly, he doesn’t want to ruin what she is.

“You don’t want me,” she shook her head and bit her lip, avoiding eye contact.

“That’s not true,” Dex said. “I do want you.”

“Then why aren’t you saying yes? Why aren't you taking me right now?”

“Because like you said before,” Dex whispered, taking her hands again. “You want it to be special. You want it to mean something. Rushing into it on a spur of the moment thing won’t make it what it should be.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and Dex had never seen her so emotional. It made his heart hammer in his chest. He shifted so he sat closer to her. He kissed her forehead.

“I want you,” he reassured her. “But not right now. You should sleep on it. Really think if you want it to be me. I’d hate to ruin a perfect night by us jumping into it right away.”

She avoided looking at him, but deep down, she knew he was right.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I will.”

He kept looking at her until the look of worry faded from her face. All that was left was exhaustion in the form of half-closed eyes and soft breathing. Dex nudged her with his knee.

“What do you say we call it for tonight?” Dex asked. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I should go.”

Dex walked her to her door. As she unlocked it, she turned around to say goodnight again, and as if on cue, Dex twisted her into his arms and gently pushed her against the wall of the hallway, kissing her deeply. He locked her there, between his arms, a leg separating hers. She placed her hands on his chest to steady herself. When he pulled back, he looked away, as if the mere sight of her would make him come completely undone.

Silence followed her into her apartment. Dex retreated back to his, and while she was no longer gracing it with her presence—he felt her everywhere.

◎◎◎

Dex sat at his kitchen counter. His mind was too clouded by his thoughts to focus on anything—his thoughts that were consumed by her. He didn’t realize that by giving her a choice in thinking about what they talked about, he was at the mercy of that decision.

If she ended up not wanting it to be with him, how would that change their relationship? Would she stop coming over? Worse—would she never speak to him again? Dex could’ve easily given her what she wanted in that moment, but at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin what they already had. What had easily landed in his lap without him having to do anything.

On the other hand, if she did still want it to be with him… well, where do they go from there? Not to mention that he would be the one to take that purity away from her—and not in the sense of virginity. But in the sense that someone like him, someone who has killed and is capable of doing much worse, gets to be inside her for the first time. He didn’t feel worthy to be in her presence like that, to be the one to alter her experience with intimacy forever. If she still wanted it to be with him, he would make sure it was special and intimate like she wanted it to be.

But he’s afraid that if this happens, he’ll never be able to let her go. It sounds wrong, but he would feel a sort of possession over her. He was protective over her already; after this, he would be downright territorial. His past lovers have all been with people before him…she would be the first he’d ever be with who hadn’t been touched before.

Touched. Dex felt a cramp in his hands thinking about touching her for the first time. He’d want to map her entire body out; take in how beautiful she looks completely naked. He’d be the first to see her like that. He hoped he’d be the last.

There was a knock at his door.

Dex paused before getting up. It could all change in this next moment. He wasn’t sure which he was hoping more for. He took a deep breath and walked to the door.

There she was in all her glory—her hair had brushed out, messy curls and was pushed to one side, like she had just nervously fixed her hair. She was in a new set of pajamas—pearlescent silk white. She met his eyes for a fleeting moment before looking down—Dex could still she still felt embarrassed, or ashamed. For whatever reason. It should be him who felt like that.

“It’s okay," Dex spoke first. “Whatever your decision is."

“I want it with you, Dex,” she looked up at him with worried eyes. “But if you don’t want it with me, then—“

“Come in,” Dex opened the door for her to step inside. She immediately stood in the middle of his living room as Dex shut and locked his door.

She was holding herself—arms around her stomach, avoiding eye contact. Dex wasn’t used to seeing her so unsure of herself; he was used to seeing her positive, confident, smiling. Looking at him with hopeful eyes. What did he have to do to calm her nerves?

“I want this with you,” Dex said softly, approaching her slowly. “I just want to make sure you truly want this with me.”

“I do,” she affirmed. “More than anything.”

Dex placed his hand on her cheek, studying her features before everything changes. She was right about something—sex is an intimate act. Sex changes things. He knows how it has changed things for him, but he’s not sure how it will change things for her. He wanted to remember what she looked like before the act—before he changed everything. He caressed her cheek with his thumb. He didn’t want her to feel worried. It was written all over her face.

“What are you scared of?” He asked her.

“It hurting,” she said meeting his eyes.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Dex began, “it’ll hurt at first. But then it won’t. What else are you scared of?”

“Making a mess,” she broke eye contact again. “I may bleed.”

“Don’t worry,” Dex shook his head, whispering. “It’s not a mess you’ll have to clean up. Anything else?”

She bit her lip and met his eyes again. “I don’t want you to stop talking to me after it’s done. I don’t want us to do it, and then that being all that you wanted, and then you stop seeing me or hanging out with me.”

Dex furrowed his brows in disbelief. Here he was, afraid of the same thing, unknowing that she too shared the same fears. Dex would never stop talking to her after it’s done. She knows she’ll be attached to him after—little did she know that Dex would be infinitely more attached to her, for separate reasons. He may be taking her purity, but she’s giving him something worse: hopes that he may find newfound purity in himself.

“___,” he said her name, meeting her eyes. He caressed her cheek some more. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Once this happens—it won’t be possible for me to let you go.”

She took a long shaky breath. “Okay, Dex. I trust you. I—I think I’m ready.”

Dex continued to caress her cheek as he held her gaze, witnessing her eyes soften in comfort—safety. Trust. “Okay,” he said. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

She blushed in the most adorable way. Avoided eye contact, bit her lip. She nodded. Dex placed two fingers under her chin to lift her to look at him. Dex slowly leaned down to meet her lips with his. And when they finally touched, she fell right into him.

Dex cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, holding her steady in place as he kissed her. He teased her lips with her tongue, and she opened her mouth to let him in. He started off slowly…sweetly. When she took his hands and moved them to hold her waist, he took it as a sign to deepen the kiss. His tongue danced against hers as he practically inhaled her with kisses. His strong hands rested at either side of her waist.

They both pulled back out of breath. Dex leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed.

“Let me lay you down,” Dex said in a low voice. She nodded against him and let him lead the way to his bedroom.

She sat at the foot of the bed in the center. She started to shake uncontrollably—from nerves, the AC in his room and from the reality of what was about to happen.

Dex knelt between her knees in front of her. He took her hand and held it in his. He kissed her knuckles and felt her shaking. He looked up at her.

“This is for you,” Dex reminded her. “It’s okay.”

“I’m just nervous,” she said. “I’ve never been completely naked in front of anyone.”

“I’ll ask you if I can do anything before I do it,” Dex said. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she nodded. She was taking deep breaths to calm her anxiety. Dex kissed her knuckles again. He placed both her hands on her legs.

“Can I touch your shoulders?” He asked.

She looked confused at first, but nodded anyway. Dex placed his hands on both her shoulders, softly caressing her with his thumbs. He moved his hands down both her arms slowly, feeling the softness of her silk pajamas. When he reached her hands, he held them both.

“Can I unbutton your shirt?”

“Yes,” she breathed softly.

Dex nodded and slowly started to unbutton her shirt one by one. He kept his focus on the buttons—nothing else—definitely not the goosebumps rising on her skin and definitely not at her hard nipples through the shirt. When he was done, only the center of her torso was exposed. She leaned back on her elbows and Dex leaned forward more between her legs, which were now spread a bit more.

Dex could see her heart pounding in her chest. He took right hand and kissed her knuckles. He met her eyes.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” Dex reassured her. She shook her head.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

Dex kissed her hand again. “Can I touch you?”

“Anywhere,” she said in a small voice.

Dex slowly began to trail his hand up the length of her torso, from her stomach to her collarbone. He slipped a few fingers under neath her shirt, dangerously close to her left breast. Dex looked at her once more for permission. All he needed was a small nod to let him know it was okay—and she did. Dex slowly traced his fingers over her breast, feeling her soft supple skin react to his touch—goosebumps, her nipple hard in the palm of his hand. Dex took a deep breath to control his own feelings of arousal—feeling her breast in his hand, realizing he was the first person to ever touch her like this. Dex squeezed her breast lightly and traced his pointer finger underneath her breast, feeling the curve of her soft skin. He pushed the shirt away, exposing her completely. He did the same thing on her other side with his other hand. He slid her shirt completely off and she closed her eyes, leaning fully back.

“You’re beautiful,” Dex whispered. “You’re soft and perfect.”

She opened her eyes. “Touch me more.”

Dex scooped her in his arms and lifted her further up his bed. He knelt between her on the bed and traced his hand on her stomach again. An intrusive thought crossed his mind—would she let him come inside her? Would she want to feel his seed that deeply inside her, knowing the risk? Dex felt his cock harden at the thought of coming inside her for her first time.

He took a deep breath and crossed the thought away. He placed both his hands on her breasts and gently squeezed them again. He leaned down and kissed the skin between her breasts. She closed her eyes in pleasure. Dex kept his hands on her waist and slowly kissed his way to her right breast, kissing it before taking her nipple in his mouth. He licked and sucked her hard nipple, gently wrapping his lips around it and starting a motion of licking and sucking. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and kissed her breast. He did the same thing on the other side.

“How did that feel?” He asked her.

“Good,” she answered in a breathy voice. “Really good.” She was still shaking. Dex was starting to love the idea of him making her shake like that.

“Good,” he said. Dex began to pepper kisses down the length of her torso, holding his hands on either side of her waist. She breathed deeply and pressed her head into his pillow, bracing herself for whatever was next. He played with the hem of her pajama pants and looked up at her with a slight sense of urgency.

“Can I take these off?” Dex asked.

“Yes,” she breathed, closing her eyes.

In one single slip, Dex took her pajama pants and underwear off, completely exposing her to him. Dex gazed at her sex which was slightly glistening from how wet she was, and then he noticed her slightly shaking again. He placed his hands on her thighs and kissed her on either side, trying to hold her steady.

“It’s okay,” Dex whispered. “Just tell me if you want to stop.”

“I don’t,” she said. “I’ll stop shaking soon.”

Dex secretly hoped she wouldn’t. He slowly slid his right hand over to her inner thigh and began to draw small circles. He slowly inched his way over to touch her pussy. He ever so gently placed the pad of his thumb on her clit, mimicking the small circles he just drew on her thigh before. She shivered at his touch and Dex watched her carefully. He mindlessly kept rubbing her clit as he watched her expression change from tense to relaxed.

“That feels really good,” she whispered.

“Let me know how this feels,” Dex said in a low voice. He slowly knelt between her legs, pushing them farther apart. He placed his entire mouth on her pussy and began to lap slowly at her slick folds. He started from the bottom and licked slowly up to her clit.

“Oh,” she moaned in a slightly pitched voice. Her legs shifted against Dex’s head, which was welcomed. Dex continued to lap at her wetness, completely putting his entire mouth on her sex. He pulled back momentarily to insert one finger in her tight pussy. She gasped at the tension, grabbing onto the fitted sheets. Dex reached his other hand up and took her hand, indicating that she could hold onto him. He pulled his finger and met his lips to her pussy again, this time moving his tongue around faster than before. His lips were locked on her wetness, and he began to feel himself get lost in the way she felt against his mouth, like this was his last meal on earth. She squirmed against his face, breathing deeply. She reached to pull on his hair to channel how he was making her feel. His hand gripped her thigh while the other held onto her ankle.

Dex focused his sucking on her clit and he paid mind to how she was breathing—he didn’t want her to come yet. Her eyes were closed, mouth half open, brows furrowed together. With his lips still on her pussy, Dex looked up at her and locked eyes for a moment with her before she closed them again and sighed into his pillow. He took one last lap at her wetness before pulling back and kissing both of her inner thighs.

“Dex…”

“You okay?” He licked his lips.

She only nodded, slightly disappointed by how cold she felt now that he wasn’t touching her. Dex could sense she wanted more. He could sense she was ready. He took off his shirt and pants, exposing himself to her. He couldn’t remember the last time he was bare in front of someone, but he didn’t care—all those times before didn’t matter. Only now did.

His cock was hard, pre-cum leaking at the tip. Dex was slightly surprised that she reached down to touch him, gently running her thumb over his tip. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. He placed his hands under the small of her back and lifted her up his bed, so she lay perfectly in the middle. He was hovering over her now—his cock dangerously close to her wetness, but not touching. They looked at each other for a moment, Dex looking deeply into her eyes—he couldn’t tell what she felt. Fear, anticipation, aroused? A mix of all three, he supposed. Because it’s exactly how he felt, too. Knowing that after this, their entire dynamic would change. For better or worse.

She spread her legs wider and placed her hands on his face. Dex leaned down and kissed her gently.

“You still want this?” He asked her.

“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Please be gentle.”

“I will,” Dex nodded, his hot breath hitting her skin. He pushed a strand of hair away from her flushed face. He kissed her between her eyebrows.

Dex slowly lined up his cock at her entrance and rubbed his tip against her folds, getting himself wet with her pussy. He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. Her eyes were closed, but he watched her as he ever so slowly tried to push himself inside her. He was too big for her to enter easily, and she was too tight for him to go any harder. She said gentle, and that’s exactly what he did. She took a sharp intake of breath and her heart was beating hard against her chest. Dex could sense her anxiety and kissed her forehead again as he tried to push himself inside her more. Slowly, inch by inch, he pushed himself inside her tight pussy, and in one quick thrust, Dex was completely inside her. They both reacted in their own way—Dex letting out the deepest sigh he’s ever taken, and her gasping for air from the pain.

“Dex, Dex,” she whispered in a slight panic.

“Shh,” Dex was trying to keep himself focused but it was hard to while he felt her tight pussy completely encase him while at the same time soften her worries. “It’ll get better. I’m going to go back and forth.”

She nodded and kept her eyes shut, a pained expression on her face. Dex felt incredible inside her, but this wasn’t about him. It was all for her.

He slowly pulled out, and she could feel the difference immediately. He felt so big inside her that when he almost pulled out, she felt so empty—she needed to feel him like that all the time. Close, inside, tangled up with her softness.

When he pushed back in, he couldn’t help the moan that slipped out of his lips. She was shaking, and her shaking at his cock inside her, ignited something primal in him. He was the first person to ever feel her like this and make her feel this way, and that thought alone spurred Dex on to keep thrusting inside her. She was completely soaking and he could feel her start to mold to his cock.

“Dex,” she whispered his name, “it’s starting to feel different.”

“How?” He uttered out while he still slowly went back and forth inside her.

“Good,” she opened her eyes finally and met his dark ones. “Really good. I—“

“You want more?” Dex asked, and it was his turn to close his eyes.

“I want more,” she nodded.

Dex wasted no time in speeding up his thrusts inside her. He went even deeper, feeling the tip of his cock touch the back of her cervix. He was imprinting his size on her. She knew she would feel him for days after. She felt so velvety, soft, wet and tight around his cock, Dex’s mouth was half open and his eyes were closed as he continued to thrust inside her.

“More, Dex,” she sighed.

His arms were under her, and hers were around his shoulders. Dex kept one arm under her and held onto his bed frame to get a better angle at fucking her, because now that’s what they were doing. Dex pounded inside her tight pussy, wetness and possibly blood coating both of them and his sheets. He watched her as she closed her eyes, mouth half open, as he continued to fuck her into being all his. He didn’t know what he liked more—being inside her or watching how much she enjoyed him being inside her. She fluttered her eyes open for a moment, meeting his, and Dex instantly closed his eyes. He retreated his arm back from the bed frame and scooped her in his arms, pressing his forehead against hers.

She closed her eyes again and had an expression of arousal, her eyebrows knitted together and her mouth slightly open. She opened her eyes and suddenly felt very aware of what was happening between their two sexes—it was a mix of wetness from her and something else more runny—blood. Her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, Dex could tell, and she tried to look between them as he kept thrusting his cock inside her, unsure if she should allow herself to feel good or worry about the mess she’s making.

Dex followed her line of view and blocked it with his dark eyes.

“Look at me,” he whispered. “Look at me. How do you feel?”

She met his eyes and sighed heavily, “But Dex—“

“Don’t,” he pressed his forehead firmly against hers, continuing to pound into her, feeling the tip of his cock touch the back of her cervix. “Focus on me.”

Focus on him she did—the way he was hitting her g-spot repetitively made her spread her legs wider and push him in even more. He filled her up so completely, so well, she was sure to feel him for days.

“Oh, God, Dex,” she moaned, louder than before, “something’s happening—“

“Let it,” Dex whispered against her lips, closing his eyes and focusing on hitting her sweet spot. “Come for me, __. Come for me…come for me…”

“Dex!” Her pussy convulsed around his cock as she finally reached climax for the first time. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly against her, holding on like she was holding on for life. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest and she lost her breath and regained it as she held onto his warm body. He was still inside her, thrusting more gently now. He kissed her neck, kissed the skin behind her ear, kissed her forehead and kissed her lip as he continued to move inside and out of her.

“Oh,” Dex whispered against her lips. “I’m right behind you—“

“Inside me,” she said in a whisper, “please.”

Dex closed his eyes as he felt himself release his seed inside her tight pussy, feeling it coat all over her inside, he was shaking against her. It was her turn to kiss him, to bring him back down from his own high.

He laid his entire body weight on her, which was welcomed. His cock was still inside her, resting, until he slowly pulled out of her. She held him tighter. He breathed her in deeply, kissing her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his dirty blonde hair.

He pulled back, gazed in her eyes for a moment.

“Let me get a towel,” Dex said softly.

He pulled the sheets over her and when he came back, he cleaned between her legs as best as he could while she fell asleep. Dex threw the towel in the hamper, a clean, perfect throw, and crawled back under the sheets with her. He pulled her in tightly, and she molded against him like she was meant to be there. It may have been her first time, but he was certain this was his first time feeling the attachment in the aftermath. He hoped this wouldn’t be their last.

#daredevil #bullseye #ben poindexter #benjamin poindexter #bullseye x reader #ben poindexter x reader #benjamin poindexter x reader #dex #dex x reader #bullseye smut #ben poindexter smut #benjamin poindexter smut #marvel #daredevil born again #daredevil: born again #the first time

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kxsagi · 4 months ago

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"𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐃𝐍𝐀, 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲"

you had spent ten months avoiding ex bf! sae itoshi, ignoring his name on sports headlines and skipping press conferences where he might be. but now, as you stood on the sidelines of the biggest match of the year, there was no avoiding him. especially not after that goal.

it had been a perfect strike, the kind that would be replayed for years. ex bf! sae itoshi ran a hand through his hair in celebration, sweat-slicked under the stadium lights. he was swarmed by teammates, but his eyes cut through the chaos.

and found you.

sports journalist! reader, one of the best in the industry, but if we’re speaking more than that, the love of his life that he regrets ever letting go of.

ten months ago, he was at a turning point in his career, as one of the biggest football clubs in the world, re al (real madrid), wanted to sign him. the deal meant leaving the country, a brutal training schedule, and an insane media spotlight.

he knew what that kind of pressure could do to a relationship. he’d seen it with other players – long-distance, constant scrutiny, fights over missed calls, and conflicting schedules. you had just landed your dream job in sports journalism. he didn’t want you to dim your own success just to chase him around the world.

so, in the only way he knew how, he let you go.

he told himself it was for your sake, that you deserved stability, not a boyfriend who was constantly on planes or stuck in training camps. he didn’t give you a choice. he ended it before the two of you had the chance to fall apart.

and he never told you the real reason.

for you, it came out of nowhere.

one minute, you were planning a future together. the next, he was pulling away, telling you “it just wouldn’t work.” that he didn’t “have time for a relationship.” that you’d both be “better off this way.”

you didn’t beg. you didn’t chase.

you walked away with your dignity intact, but you won’t lie, it wrecked you. because you never stopped loving him. and the worst part? you had to keep covering his career. watching from the sidelines as he became a global superstar.

now in the present, he casually stood in front of you, looking like sin itself. “didn’t think you’d show up,” he drawled. his voice was as lazy as ever, like he hadn’t just scored the most jaw-dropping goal in club football.

you level him with a look, gripping the notebook in your hand a little tighter. “i’m working, itoshi. try to act like this isn’t personal.”

his lips curled at the edges, the smirk so familiar it made your chest ache. he would always do that when he tried not to laugh, especially when you called him by his last name. “it’s not personal? you sure about that?”

gosh, he was impossible. effortlessly cocky. stupidly attractive.

you exhale sharply. “how does it feel, scoring the winning goal in the biggest match of your career?”

ex bf! sae itoshi tips his head, like he actually had to think about it. “mmm. feels good, i guess.”

you nearly scoff. “you guess?”

“yeah.” he looked straight at you, voice maddeningly casual. “would’ve felt better if you were waiting for me at the end of it.”

your stomach flips.

you tried your best to keep your expression neutral, but him? he saw right through you. he always did.

“that’s not my job anymore,” you say, proud of how steady your voice remained. “you don’t get to say things like that anymore.”

ex bf! sae itoshi just hummed, unconcerned. “yeah?”

“you left, sae.”

his expression darkens. “and you let me.”

silence.

the past wrapped around the two of you, thick and suffocating. your love had always been like this: high risk, high reward. but in the end, no one had won.

“say the word,” he murmured, voice rough. “and i’ll fix it.”

your pulse hammered. “it’s not that simple.”

his fingers brush your wrist, the lightest touch, but it sent a wildfire through your veins.

“it is,” he said, his voice low, steady. “i still want you. and i don’t think you’ve stopped wanting me either.”

damn him. damn how right he was. it wasn’t fair. the way he could stand there, completely at ease, while you felt like your entire world was tilting.

the crowd cheered, the cameras rolled, but all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart. and all you could see was the way your ex-boyfriend looked at you… like this game wasn’t over.

like he was ready for extra time.

“why do you look like you wanna kiss me right now?”

your jaw clenched. “you’re delusional.”

his grin deepened, all lazy arrogance. “nah. just good at reading the game.”

you should have walked away. you should have kept this professional. but instead, you made the mistake of looking at his lips.

ex bf! sae itoshi saw. and like the menace he was, he leaned in slightly, voice dropping low. “still the same, aren’t we, princesa?” his fingers ghosted near your wrist, not touching, but close enough that you felt the heat of him. “still pretending we don’t want this.”

your heart slammed against your ribs and you swallowed. “what do you want, sae?”

his voice softened, just barely. “you.”

simple. unbothered. like he had all the time in the world. like he already knew he had you.

and the worst part?

he was right.

a/n: yes, the title was based off of a lyric from “fallen star” by the neighbourhood gosh i LOVE that song

#sae can kidnap me and run me over like a truck #sae could look at me in disgust and i'd still be happy bc he acknowledged my existence #i love sae #sae supremacy #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #ah yes exes to lovers #my favorite trope #exes to lovers #you're in my DNA i can't get away

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foolinafable · 7 months ago

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squeeze you in

SYNOPSIS: Viktor barely has the time, but he makes it for you PAIRING: Viktor x reader WORDCOUNT: 5.2K TAGS: S1 Arcane, set around Act 1 and before Act 2, 5 year age gap, assuming arcane uses weekdays and seasons. Fem pronouns towards the end NOTES: spent all weekend writing this, hope you all enjoy. try not to mind any editing errors

This was decidedly a bad idea. Wandering the halls of the academy at night wasn’t dangerous, even with the recent attack from the undercity, that's if you could even really call it an attack. To you, it seems to be children getting involved in things they shouldn’t. You could remember them now, the swirls of brown, red and blue running along the roofs of Piltover after the explosion in the apartments of the academy. While many around you felt fear, all you saw were children. Sure, they looked only a few years your junior, but even Heimerdinger tells you that you are only on the cusp of adulthood, still shadowed by childish tendencies. You suppose that he is correct; twenty is only one year off nineteen, and that age is considered a teenager despite its adult allowances.

You take a deep breath as your hand curls around the handle to Heimerdinger's office, unsure as to why you feel so nervous. It’s not as if you're stealing anything but rather retrieving it. You had foolishly left behind your notebook during your meeting with him when it had been interrupted by the council having an impromptu meeting, something you are sure had something to do with Talis. You needed it for a meeting the next morning with another professor about your dissertation, your last piece of work as a student at the academy, and you couldn't go to the meeting without it. Least you look unprepared, surely your job offer as a researcher for the academy could be rescinded if you didn’t appear completely committed.

So, despite your better judgement, your anxiety outweighed it as usual as you slowly opened the door to the dean, your mentor's room. You crept inside, even though nobody was around, afraid even the slightest noise could get you caught snooping after hours. Quickly, you found your notebook on the chair. You had left it opposite Heimerdinger's desk; he preferred it when you told him of your research and studies without the aid of your writings, so you had placed it next to your body on the chair. You picked it up, signing in relief that this was as easy as you hoped, when another notebook caught your attention, one that certainly wasn't on the desk when you left. Curiousity about getting the better of you as you reach for it, opening it to the first page, eyes widening at the text ‘If found, please return to Jayce Talis'. Your mind quickly remembered an interaction you had overheard in this very office earlier that day.

You were walking the path towards Heimerdinger's office, only this time it was daytime, the sun was out despite the slight winter chill warming anyone in its path. You slowed as you got towards your mentor's office, frowning at the sound of voices coming from inside. Did you get the time wrong? You wondered, looking down at your watch, showing that you were, in fact, on time. Your hands are sweaty now, anxiety crawling at the idea of interrupting, deciding to stay outside for a few moments to calm down.

“Why can’t I read it?” An exacerbated voice rang out, his accent making your face feel hot

“That Talis’ work was dangerous; the explosions in the city were proof of that; you don’t need to be involved, Viktor”, Heimerdinger's voice rang out, proud as always

“I hardly see how simply reading what he was working on is such a bad thing. I thought the greatest scientific ventures were the ones that bent the rules of the institution.” The man Viktor, you assume, tries to manoeuvre the conversation to his favour, but Heimerdinger is seemingly having none of it. Moving closer to where you are by the door as if to get the boy out of his office, you quickly knock on the door, worried that he would open the door and see you eavesdropping. Both voices stop at the sound of the knock, and Heimerdinger quickly opens the door. You awkwardly smile at the dean, eyes rising to meet the amber ones of the other body occupying the room.

“Can I come back later?” You twiddle your fingers, nervousness wracking your body at interrupting whatever this is

“No, no, come in”, Heimerdinger exclaims, pulling you by the hand into his office, yelping at the sudden contact as he continues to speak. “We were done here anyways”, his eyes solely on Viktor, who seemed to have mellowed out your presence, quickly giving his goodbyes before leaving the room, closing it behind him.

So this was what the man was interested in, what he was forbidden from reading. You tap your fingers on the book cover before quickly placing your notebook on top of it, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth as you quickly depart from the office, might as well make all your worries worthwhile.

—

It wasn’t until later the next day you saw the man you were looking for; it was early afternoon, and you were packing up after having lunch when a head of unruly brown hair caught your eye, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, coffee in one hand sandwich in the other. Grabbing Jayces book, which you had procured the night before, you quickly made your way towards the man before you lost your cool. Unceremoniously dropping the book in front of the man whose eyes darted from you to the book, mouth opening and closing in clear shock.

“I hope whatever is in there is worth it,” you muttered, adjusting your bag on your shoulder before turning to leave.

“I-how?” Viktor called out, but you only replied with a cheeky smile, finger covering your mouth in secrecy as you walked away, thinking that to be the only interaction you would have with your mentor's other protege when his voice called out to you, not so far behind

“Wait”

You stood stock still as he approached quicker than you would’ve thought given his cane, but you suppose it was a silly thought that an ailment could stop a man on a mission. Once he catches up with you, he continues to walk, so you join him, slightly confused as to what he may now want.

“Have you read it?” he asks.

“It would be a lie to say I don't know of its content,” you replied, noticing his smile at your remark, eyes sparkling with wonder.

“What did you think?”

“I think...” You trail off, trying to come up with the right words as you both round a corner. “What he wants to do is revolutionary...” Your words scamper off slightly as you notice his eyes on the side of your face.

“But” he reads your mind.

“But”, you echo “I am unsure if he completely knows what he is doing or how he plans to do it”, trying to be as vague as possible due to the students scattered all around “I wrote some notes”, you gesture to the book “Things I thought could be helpful, I assume that's why you wanted it, to learn”

“And how did you get it?” he wonders aloud. “Last time I checked, Heimerdinger wasn't giving out illegal independent research to anyone”, he said with a smile on his face.

“Let's just say it certainly wasn't by asking nicely,” you tease, matching his grin with one of your own “Well, you should probably go read and hide that before Heimerdinger sends out a search party for it.”

“I probably should” Viktor smiles as he turns back the way the two of you came, the book held tightly in his unoccupied hand.

Continuing to walk the way you had been, you couldn’t help but feel relief at the fact that the book was now out of hands and the man, Viktor, seemed just as keen to keep this a secret as you did, even if you did spend all night essentially peer reviewing Jayce Talis’ work, unfortunately, your need to stay out of trouble with your superiors greatly outweighed your want to indulge in what he and assumedly Viktor was planning, you could only hope that your words you had spent all night working on where a help instead of a hindrance. You especially wanted to know how Viktor would take the words you wrote specifically for him at the front of the book:

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’

—

One of the benefits of being the dean's newest protege was that the academy gave you your lab, a small space just for you, it even had your name on a metal plaque on the door, probably due to the academy's narcissism, thinking that they would keep you even after your graduation, not that they were wrong. A fact that slightly irritated you.

You didn’t usually get many visitors, just Heimerdinger, to see what you were working on, but those meetings were usually scheduled so he could ensure you were tallying in your lab and not at one of your usual haunts like the library. So you couldn’t help but jump at the sound of a knock on your door, eyebrows furrowed as you called out to whoever stood outside your door.

“Come in!”

Your confusion lingered as Viktor walked in. It had only been a few days since you’d given him Jayce’s book, and from what you had heard, the two were now employed to continue Jayce’s studies non-illegally this time, being funded by Councilwoman Medarda, which they have named ‘Hextech’

“You’re not an easy woman to get ahold of”, Viktor claims as he takes a seat at your desk “I have been stopping by your room for a few days, but you were never in”, he continues, eyes piercing as he takes in the view of you, stood by another desk filled with colanders and Bunsen burners

“You sound like Heimerdinger when you say that” You smiled slightly in truth, scoffing at the face he made, clearly not appreciative of your parallel “What?” you laugh “he has said similar things on various occasions”

“I understand why,” he remarked.

“I spend a lot of time in the library, researching. Especially at the moment with final deadlines coming in, as I’m sure you remember,” he hummed at your explanation “And it’s not as if I’m a professor with allocated office hours, I don't need to be here,” you tell him passively looking back at your work at the table, deciding to turn off the flame not going to get any worthwhile work done until he's gone.

“So what can I do for you?” you asked when the man still sat in silence, seemingly comfortable to just watch you work he blinked, taken away from wherever he went upon registering your words.

“Oh well, I just wanted to thank you, Jayce, as well, for getting his book and your notes, they were more than helpful with working through the kinks in his theory- instrumental really to the breakthrough”, he admitted somewhat bashfully, stumbling over his words a little not that you noticed nervousness crawling up your spine at his approval of your words.

“Oh, um, you're welcome. I mean, a fresh pair of eyes is always helpful..” you murmur, unsure of yourself now as he stares at you, not daring to make eye contact, knowing it will only make your nerves worse.

“We were wondering, Jayce and I, if you would read some of our other research in the future, help us out. We would give out any references in the future for any work you do after study” he speaks delicately, soft and slow and if worried, he would scare you off like a child being caught doing something they shouldn’t. Your heart seems to slow from its anxious thumping as you contemplate his offer.

“I don't see why not”, you ponder absentmindedly, but your mind is already made up.

“Really?” he asked, though he didn’t sound shocked, more like he was trying to egg more words out of you.

“If you can find me, that is” You smile, the nerves falling away from you as he laughs a little

“I’ll go tell Jayce the good news; he's going to be over the moon. You didn’t hear it from me, but he has always wanted to work with you. He said something about loving your approach in an article about the arcane:” You looked at the man again, but he simply walked out of the room, not sparing you another word. You had honestly forgotten that your last article had been published, and the fact that academics that you knew had read it and enjoyed it made a smile appear on your face, maybe this was going to be better than you had thought.

—

A routine had been established this past few months, as winter made way for spring, you had found yourself in a comfortable pattern with the boys.

Once a week, on a Wednesday, you would spend the entire day in your lab working, and at some point, Jayce or Viktor would drop by with some work for you to look through and maybe a comment or two on things you had written the week before. These meetings were usually brief as they quickly needed to get back to work, so you would spend hours going through papers, tweaking diagrams, and sometimes even trekking to the library for a book that might help them. It wouldn’t be until the sun had made way for the moon in the sky that you would be done, taking the work down several corridors and stairs to get to their workspace, where they would still be working to drop them off. The two would then call it time for a break, so the three of you would scamper your way to the cafeteria for a change of scenery while you all ate the food you packed for lunch but had yet to get to.

Today, however, Viktor seemed hellbent on breaking the schedule the three of you had unknowingly created. He had appeared at your lab, maybe a little earlier than he or Jayce usually decided to grace you with their presences, but it was of no matter to you, honestly, the earlier, the better, as it meant you may finish earlier than the hour of the wolf. He did bring a stack of papers with him, but instead of dropping them at your desk, sharing a few complimentary words, and then leaving, he dropped the work at your desk and then sat himself in the new chair he and Jayce had procured that was placed on the other side of your desk so they would have somewhere to sit, not that either of them had used it up until now.

“You alright?” you ask, grabbing the top paper from the pile, you could immediately tell this was Jayce’s as the handwriting is much neater and the use of a very inky pen you quickly grabbed your pink pen and started to read the words on the page only to look up and give the man a sarcastic glower at his lack of words to which he simply smiled, not even the slightest bit disheartened by your look.

“Jayce is off for the day, something to do with his sponsorship with the Kirammans. Told me to take the day off” he shuffled in the chair, attempting to get comfy as his hand grabbed at your notebook, deciding that he would read through some of your work for once

“And you have decided to spend your time here? Doing more work?” you questioned, though not paying the man much attention, mumbling to yourself on the words on the page, completely unphased by Viktor’s lack of decorum, it’s not as if it’s the first time he got bored and decided to read it. “Would mixing it with metal only make it more unstable?” you mutter, not expecting an answer “As an alloy, maybe, or would that make it worse..” you tap the pen on your cheek in thought before scrambling to write your thoughts in the margins of Jayce’s research

“I don’t see reading through your essays and research papers as work”, he admits, a shameless smile gracing his face as he watched you mumble to yourself “More of a palate cleanser, really”

“I just thought that a rest day was supposed to be resting, like having time away from work?” you tried to put the idea of leaving and maybe getting some sleep into the man’s head, his eyebags were becoming a permanent feature on his face like a shadow he cannot be rid of.

“Quite hypocritical, don’t you think?” a teasing look on his face at your words “Is today not also your day off?” he questioned even though he knew the answer. You simply rolled your eyes, trying to smile as he barked out a laugh.

While today was your break from lessons, it had quickly become anything but a rest day after you took the boys up on their offer, there was no way that you could complete your last year's work and help them if you didn’t give up your rest day- so undoubtedly you were a hypocrite, much to your chagrin.

“Just because I give up my days off to help you doesn’t mean you need to do the same,” you tell him, not wanting the man to feel obligated to help you.

“Maybe I want to?”

Well, you can’t argue with that.

The two of them work on your rather small desk with an ease you wouldn’t expect, but you find yourself very comfortable working alongside him and somehow, the work seems to go by faster.

Maybe it was because you wouldn’t need to spend countless hours trying to figure out what chicken scratch either of them had written on your own. Instead, a second pair of eyes, Viktor’s eyes, made the process go by much faster, albeit with some laughter at what on earth either of them had written. You had even managed a trip to the library, something you rarely had time for, usually going to pick up books for the boys the day after, or Jayce would go the day after with a slip of paper. Not only did you and Viktor have the time to pick up some books, but you also went through and verified if they could have something useful inside.

The sun was still shining bright in the sky when you and Viktor had dropped everything off at his lab, still a few hours left of the day. It was an uncharacteristically nice day outside, certainly warmer than you would’ve expected from the spring in Piltover, so the two of you decided to eat your packed lunches outside on a bench within the academy grounds, both too tired to bother going exploring the city for somewhere nicer.

“Now you have helped me, do you think I could convince you to go home and get some sleep, the bags under your eyes are also large enough to be considered their entities” You smiled, laughing quietly at the man sitting next to you as he coughed back his food, clearly not expecting your smartmouth

“As if you’re one to talk”, he quipped as you let out a shocked gasp, though quickly matching his smile

“How about I promise to go back to my apartments and take a breather if you go to yours?” you propositioned. Honestly, some time in bed sounded heavenly

“Only if I walk you back, I don’t want you to sneak back to your office, I hear you can often find yourself in places you aren’t supposed to”, he joked

“It’s a deal then” Both of you chose not to comment on the matching grins on your faces.

—

When Heimerdinger said your last year of study would be the hardest, you believed him. But never did you imagine you could be so swamped.

This past week, you had corralled a table in the library to yourself, spending more time sitting in the uncomfortable seat than anywhere else. It was deadline season, and to say it was hitting you hard was an understatement. No matter how well prepared you thought you were, the workload was unimaginable, leaving you with barely enough time to sleep or eat. Jayce had joked that during his last year, he essentially became a book within the library, and while it was funny at the time now, you understood why, feeling more and more like an encyclopedia by the day.

Luckily for you, your self-imprisonment was soon coming to an end; all you needed to do was read through your coursework one more time, and it would all be done, your last piece of work as a student of the academy. You would dwell on its bittersweetness another time as you read through another paragraph, completely absorbed in your work, completely missing the familiar sounds of footsteps and the tapping of a cane coming your way.

“I swear I need to get a tracker on you” Your head shot up at the sound of Viktor’s voice

“I’m not that hard to find”, you complain as he sits himself down in the chair closest to yours, cane leaning against the table

“I don’t think you get much of a say on the matter, your not the one who has to aimlessly wander around the academy”

“Whatever”, you glower, attempting to get back to your reading when his hand reaches out to grab yours. you jolt, looking up as he intertwines your fingers

“How are you doing be honest” he holds eye contact as his thumb rubs at your index fingers, stopping just after he knuckle before traveling back up

You smile “I’m drowning”

he hums “I can tell” You slump rather unceremoniously into your chair, eyes closed as he continues to rub affectionately at your knuckle, a half-hearted attempt to seep all the tension away from you “Have you got much more to do?” he questions voice soft

“No, just need to read through it once more, then it should be good to submit” You let out a large breath of annoyance, wishing you were finished, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep

“Then you’re done?” he probes

“Completly done, well, until my contract starts as a researcher in the summer”, you clarify, eyes opening slightly, not missing the slight smile on his face, looking down when you heard a rustling of papers only to see Viktor’s non-occupied hand grabbing at your work.

“Take a break; I’ll give it the last read-through. Knowing you, it’s already perfect.” his soft yet stern voice didn’t leave much room for argument, so you closed your eyes again, only for a moment letting the constant feel of his thumb lull you into a calm you had never known.

It was only, however, when you heard the unmistakable voice of Jayce that your eyes opened again, you sent a sheepish smile his way at the admittance that you had, in fact, fallen asleep, trying not to laugh too loudly at his remarks on how much Viktor must have been boring you, if only he knew.

—

Since you had officially handed in all your work and your classes had finished, you now found yourself with a lot of free time, a prospect Viktor and Jayce very much enjoyed. Coming every morning to your door to walk you to their lab for a day of work. Not that you minded, but before Hextech, your plans for the summer would’ve been reading or doing whatever Heimerdinger would see as befitting, so the work was beneficial to you, stopping you from going extensional on what it is you want to dedicate your academic life to, especially since you had no ideas, other than those to help the boys revolutionalise hextech, their current program with the hexgates you were sure was due a breakthrough any day.

You found yourself sat at Jayces desk, him gone for the afternoon schmoozing with some counsellors to try and get as much funding off them as he could. You found yourself tapping along to the melody of the song Viktor had put on, the only time you could have music was when Jayce was out, as he claimed it was too stimulating for him. Working exactly where the man had left off, creating a small prototype of the hexgate, one of many that were to be used in tests planned for later in the week. You barely batted an eye as Viktor appeared next to you, used to him appearing closer than most would

“It’s looking good”, he gestured to the model in your hand you simply hummed in response, adding the final gear, shoulders slumping when you put it down.

“How many do we need again?” you ask, hands rubbing at the tension in your neck from huddling to get a good look at what you were doing.

“Too many”, you groaned at his sheepish admittance. It was silent for a moment or so before he spoke again, an unknown quality to his voice that made you look up at him in confusion.

“Jayce and I were thinking..” he trailed off slightly

“Oh no”, you joked, smiling when you caught the amusement now on his face

“I know, how scary”, he smirked “Anyway, as you’re coming back as a scientist for the academy, we thought, why not make your place with us permanent.”

“Really?” you questioned, do they honestly want you to help them all the time with the work that could improve lives and be the history pages?

“I don’t think we’d be able to function without you now” he admitted

“I’d love to,” you tell him smiling

“Good”, the relief flooded the man “Because we already asked and got the go-ahead from Heimerdinger”, he confessed

“That confident?” you teased

“Obviously”

—

You thought you had done a good job at pretending that today was just any other day, but clearly, as Viktor sat next to you with a cupcake with a candle in it - you had been wrong.

“How did you know today was my birthday? I didn’t tell anyone?” you asked, astonished.

“Heimerdinger told me”, he revealed after you stared at him, clearly pleased with himself

“How does that end up in conversation?” you wonder

“Don’t be so nosey”, he teases, hand coming to grab at your nose

“Says the one who went to our mentor to ask about my personal life”, you accused, but the large smile on your face showed no malice in your words

“Touche”, he forfeited this round, lighting the candle on the cake before pushing it back into your face you simply sent him a look of victory before blowing out the candle, he quickly disposed of the candle before giving you the cake to eat

“Got any big plans for twenty-one?” he wondered aloud

“Work with you” You shrugged your shoulders, laughing lightly as you dug into your birthday cake

“A noble pursuit, I’m sure” It was silent for a short while as you finished your cake, but you didn’t make a move to speak, knowing the look on his face, he wasn’t done “Not going out celebrating? With a boyfriend, maybe?”

“No, no boyfriend, never had the time for any of that. Heimerdinger told me that when a woman dedicates her life to academia, she does not bother dreaming of a family or a relationship, and I agree not many would be able to handle it. Why do you ask?” you admit

“Don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes is all”, he speaks nonachanlty despite his words being anything but

“Well, your not”, you promise, lacing a hand with his

“Good” he brings your hand up his lips

—

You both had way too much stuff. The prospect of moving in together while still exciting the amount of work you had left made you gnaw at your bottom lip. You had a lot of help from Jayce and a rather reluctant Caitlyn to get the boxes into your and Viktor’s new home, and while she commented on its quaintness, it was certainly bigger than anywhere the two of you had ever dreamt of living in

“A family home”, Heimerdinger had teased the two of you when you told him, and you suppose he was right. You didn’t think much about the two spare rooms when you had purchased the house, thinking they would probably be offices, but Viktor absolute reluctance and disdain at your idea to turn one of the rooms into a library after looking at the sheer amount of books the two of you owned made you think differently, it wouldn’t take a smart man to know what he wanted to do with them.

“Stop that” Viktor pulled your bottom lip away from your teeth, an annoyed glint in his eyes, clearly thinking about how many times he had told you those same words you simply kissed his thumb, making him smile at your affection

“There’s so much to do”, you inwardly groaned as you rested your head on his shoulder, making sure not to put too much of your weight on him

“We have the week; don’t need to do it all tonight”, he reminds you, giving a kiss on the top of your head

“Come on, I’ve already started in our room” You straighten up and follow him into your room looking at the picture frames he had already put around the room, one was placed on his bedside table, a photo Jayce had taken at your graduation with your cap and gown arms warped around Viktor a huge smile, all teeth as you look at the camera while Viktor is smiling proudly looking at you, smiling at the photo you move on to the frame he placed on the dresser, a piece of paper framed within it your hands grip the frame looking at the familiar words you had written:

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’

You turned to the man who was busying himself with a box filled with jumpers you had never seen him wear

“You kept this?” you smile as he turns around, noticing his bashful expression at being caught.

“You holding it, arent you?” he asked, trying to drive the conversation

“Why,” you asked, not giving up so easily even as he caressed your face in an attempt to distract you groaning, he relented, he could not give you what you wanted, ever so spoiled by him you were

“At first, it was to remind me that it was all worth it”

“At first?” you echo

“Then I kept it because it reminded me of you, of the future I want us to have, and that will only be possible if I kept working, even if it means going beyond the council and what they want.”

“I was only shadowing your view, what you had said to Heimerdinger, something I wasn’t even supposed to hear”, you remind him.

“Well, I’m glad you did”, he admits “And I’m even more glad that you stole Jayces book because bending the rules is what brought us together”, his hand not on his cane gripped at your hip.

“I’m glad I did, too”, you confirm your words with a kiss.

#viktor arcane x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #arcane x reader #arcane

1K notes · View notes

finelinemia · 22 days ago

Text

BEST FRIEND’S DAD ❤️‍🔥

smut ! harry styles x reader

summary: For years now, you've found Mr. Styles, your best friend Sophie's father, quite attractive, to the point of getting wet just by looking at him. Everything changes one night, when he picks you and Sophie up from a party and you stay the night at his house.

word count: 5.2k

cw: smut, daddy issues, daddy kink, masturbation, oral sex, penetration, dirty talk, unprotective sex

author’s note: Hiii, this is my first smut so don't be too hard on me and I hope you like it a lot. I've never done something so "long" so I hope it lives up to expectations. Kisses and happy reading💋

[ dadrry! , dilfrry! ] +18

"Okay, and at tomorrow's meeting we could talk about the new clients we're bringing on," I say to Jeff through the computer screen as I watch him jot down the different things I'm saying in his notebook.

I took the afternoon off because Sophie, my 24-year-old daughter, is coming to my house for the weekend after spending the last week with her mother, and I want to take advantage of my time with her. She recently graduated from college and is about to leave for the United States for an internship, so the more time I can spend with her, the better.

I divorced her mother when Soph was 15. I remember that at first it was hard for her to adjust to her new life with separated parents and having to spend a different week with each one. But I guess everything works out in the end, and she's at her best, enjoying her last summer before leaving for another country far from us.

"You should also look over the paperwork I sent you for-" My words stopped when I heard the front door open, followed by laughter. "Just a minute, Jeff. I think Sophie's home." I took off my glasses and placed them on my desk, then turned to look at my study door. "Soph! Is that you?"

"Yes, Dad!" The door opens and Sophie pokes her head in. "Working hard?" she asks with a smile.

I smile "You could say, how was your day?"

She shrugs, "Hmm... well, we went to the beach." We? "Y/N is here."

Another head peeks through the door and my mouth goes dry. I've never thought about my daughter's friends that way before; after all, the age difference was a big enough deal to be thinking that way, but fuck, you were something completely different.

This all started when you and Sophie met in college. You were roommates, and eventually you became inseparable. You started coming over constantly, to sleep, eat, or just hang out. Seeing you here was already something totally normal for me. And at first, believe me, everything was fine, but then the glances started. The ones you think I don't notice. The way you swallow softly when you see me coming, or the way you bite your lip slightly when you see me in a slightly tighter shirt. A man can't see those things and not go crazy. And that's why every time I see you I go crazy, so crazy that sometimes I need to go to the bathroom to get my hard-on down and even masturbate to relax. You've become something I should stay away from.

I don't want to be misunderstood either. I've never done anything with you, never made the move, never even looked at you for more than three seconds because I don't know what would happen if we held eye contact longer than that. You think I haven't thought about what it would be like to lean you against the kitchen counter and eat your pussy while you moan my name and being heard throughout the house? But I'm a gentleman, and a gentleman has his limits.

"Dad, are you listening to me?" Sophie's voice interrupts my thoughts, and I shake my head. I look back at her. "Y/N's staying over because we're going to a party, okay?" A party?

"Sorry? A party? I thought we were going to spend the day together. I took the afternoon off so I could be with you." At this point in the film, I'm not surprised in the least. I know Sophie loves me, obviously, but she's a very sociable girl and is always surrounded by friends. She's almost never at home. I can at least be thankful she's responsible.

"I know, Dad, and we have all weekend to be together! But this party is going to be one of the best of the summer." She turns to look at you, asking you with her eyes to help her with this.

"Uh... yeah, it's going to be great. Almost everyone from college is going," you say, avoiding my eyes. Are you nervous already? I haven't even had to lift a finger.

"It's going to be legendary, Dad! We can't miss it, please, please." It still tickles me that Sophie keeps asking me for permission to do certain things. It's obvious she doesn't need it; she's 24 and about to leave for another country. But I guess she'll always be daddy's little girl.

I let out a sigh. "I guess I can wait one more day to be with my daughter..." Sophie starts jumping up and down before I can even finish the sentence. "I don't want you to be too late, and be responsible with your drinking. And with the men."

"Ah yes, the biggest problem today," you joke as Sophie continues jumping up and down. That makes me laugh more than it should.

"Oh! I'll see if I remembered to bring the dress from Mom's house." Sophie runs up the stairs to her room, leaving me alone with you.

"Hmm, talk to you on Monday, Jeff. Have a nice weekend." After Jeff says goodbye, I close the computer screen and look up at you. "So, how's your mom?" I ask, though I don't really care that much, your mother and I don't get along that well.; I just want to make conversation.

"Why? Are you interested in her?" you ask, leaning against the doorframe, tilting your head. I can't tell if you're serious or just joking.

I let out a small laugh as well, shaking my head slightly. Your story is quite different from Sophie's. You don't have divorced parents; your father left when you were five, but that story never leaves your mouth. Sophie told me a few months after she met you. I try not to bring it up when you're around because I know it's probably something that affects you quite a bit.

"Although your mother is quite an attractive woman, I'm not interested." I pick up the papers on the desk.

"She's fine. I think she's signed up for a cooking class. She's having the best years of her life, according to her." You glance down slightly, and that makes me tilt my head a little. "She deserves it, I suppose... after 20 years of raising a daughter alone, she needs to rest and have some fun."

The comment makes me purse my lips in disapproval. It's the first time you've spoken about the subject with me, and you seem somewhat upset, even though it's been years since then. I still don't understand how someone could abandon their daughter like that. You'll always be worried that she grew up without a father, and that will stay with her for the rest of her life.

"You look like her." My voice makes you lift your head from the floor. "Like your mother, I mean. You're both very attractive women." Did you really just say that, Harry?

You blush a little and swallow lightly. There it is…

"Thank you, Mr. Styles." you murmur.

“You know you can call me Harry, right?” I smirk.

"Yeah, I know, but it's weird calling you by your first name..." Well, I bet you'll moan it out loud.

"A lot of people are going to that party... you say?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.

"Yeah, we're planning on meeting up with our friends. Have a drink... hang out, you know, and then head home."

It's obvious that both you and my daughter want to hide what you're really going to do at those parties, but I guess you're both adults and it's none of my business, right?

"Hmm... I'm sure you both have a lot of guys after you." i murmur, and you tilt your head slightly. "Oh, I'm just asking. You know I care about Sophie."

"To Sophie, huh?" This time you're the one who lets out a smirk. “Yes, I suppose there will be some boys.”

"Hm... do you have a boyfriend?" Harry, shut your mouth before you regret it.

You shake your head. "Why? Are you interested?" I know you're joking, but I really want to say yes.

"Y/N! Come get ready! Time's running out!" Sophie yells from upstairs.

"Saved by the bell, I guess," you say, moving away from the door frame and turning toward the exit. "See you later, Harry."

I watch you sway your hips as you head for the stairs, and I let out a long sigh. Why the hell does my name have to sound so good on your lips? Fuck, on top of that, you were clearly hitting on me.

I open the computer again and start reviewing documents, trying to think of something other than my name on your lips, trying not to think about what it would sound like if you moaned it.

"Fuck-" I get up from the desk and walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I pull down my pants and boxers and lean with one hand against the wall, the other going straight to my cock without a second thought. Am I seriously jerking off thinking about my daughter's best friend?

I move my hand quickly as I throw my head back. My name on your lips keeps echoing in my head over and over again. I breathe raggedly as I increase the pace. If you've achieved this with just a word, I don't want to imagine what it would be like if you were touching me. If it were your hand right now giving me pleasure.

"Shit- shit, shit, shit..." I grab a piece of toilet paper, continuing to pump myself, and place it right on the tip, cumming on it almost instantly. "You're fucked..." I mutter to myself as I throw the paper into the toilet and flush. I wash my hands and face and head back out to my study, hoping I can work better this time.

•••

"If you need anything, just call me. If anything happens, please don't hesitate-" I say to Sophie as she finishes touching up her lipstick in the entryway mirror. "Sweetheart, are you listening? I can even go pick you up, okay? Wake me up if you have to."

"Dad, don't worry. We'll take a taxi back. Don't wait up, I know you." she gives me a look through the mirror. "We are going to have fun for a few hours and then we'll come back, okay?"

"Don't get into anyone's car, Sophie, please, especially if they've been drinking." I run my hand through my hair. I've always been pretty protective of her, but I still get rapid heartbeats every time she goes out partying.

"Believe me, Dad, there's no way I'm crazy about getting into anyone's car." She finishes applying lipstick and turns to me, but her gaze wanders to something behind me. "Oh my God, you're so hot!"

I turn subtly and our eyes meet. Remember the three-second rule, Harry. But then I glance down slightly at your dress. It's so fucking short, and tight, and red, and I need to get it off you asap.

I clear my throat and look away, returning my eyes to Sophie. "Well, have a good time, don't be back too late, and call me if-"

"If there's any problem. Yes, Dad, I know. Let's go. The taxi is waiting outside." She grabs her bag and opens the door, you following behind her.

"Goodbye, Harry," you say, maintaining eye contact with me, closing the door behind you.

"Fucking hell" I mutter to myself.

How do you expect me to behave after that? I couldn't even get to sleep. You went to a party full of college boys dressed like that and I'm not even thinking about my daughter getting drunk anymore. It's obvious you're going to attract a lot of attention tonight, and I can't help it. I'm not going to be there to stop it. I just can lie in bed and wait for this night to be over. Tomorrow you'll go home, and everything will be back to normal.

My phone starts ringing on the nightstand, and I frown. The clock marks three in the morning, and you don't usually get calls at this hour, unless it's your daughter calling you from a drunken state. Sure enough, when I grabbed my phone, the screen lit up with a picture of Sophie and her name. I picked it up after the third ring.

"Soph? Are you okay?" I ask while rubbing my eyes.

"Hi... it's Y/N." Your voice makes me sit up in bed. "Hey, I think you're going to have to come pick us up..."

"Did something happened to you?" I ask as I get out of bed and put on my slippers.

I can hear how you let out a sigh. "Sophie's had too much to drink... I can't even hold her. We're sitting on the sidewalk and she's practically unconscious."

"Fuck, Soph..." I run my hand over my face, trying to think clearly. "Okay, don't move. I'll be there as soon as I can. Send me the location, okay?" I hang up, throwing the phone on the bed and starting to get dressed. My phone rings again, this time with the location of the party. I finish putting on my sweatshirt and head down to the garage.

I get in the car and start it as quickly as I can. I don't even let the garage door open all the way before accelerate at full speed, leaving the house behind and heading toward your destination. The night my daughter had to prove to me she's responsible so she could leave for another country, she goes and screws up. And you haven't done anything to stop it.

I arrive at the house where the party is being held in less than 15 minutes and see you both sitting on the sidewalk, you with your arm around Sophie as she rests her head on your shoulder. If I weren't so pissed off, I'd actually think it was a cute scene.

I get out of the car and approach you. You raise your head to look at me. "How much has she had to drink?" I bend down to grab Sophie's head and try to get her to react. Her head is dead weight and her eyes are swollen.

"I think two drinks..." I look at you, not believing a word, "and maybe ten shots..."

"For God’s sake, and you let her do that?" I ask, frowning. "I thought you were more responsible."

"I wasn't paying attention, we separated for a moment, I was-" you cut off the sentence before you can say anything else.

"You were what?" I raise my eyebrow as a signal for you to continue talking.

"I was with someone else," you say simply.

"Oh, great. You were showing some college student how great that dress looks on you, weren't you?" I scoop Sophie up and head out to the car.

You follow me behind "I haven't even told you and you're already jumping to conclusions? I don't understand why you're so angry"

“Maybe because my daughter can’t stand up and instead of being with her and making sure she doesn’t do anything crazy, you’ve been making out with a boy.”

"Hey, Sophie isn't my responsibility. Yes, we came to the party together, and yes, she's my friend. But she said she'd be fine on her own and that I could leave without a problem, and she was surrounded by all our friends!" you reply, throwing your hands up in the air.

"Well, it seems your friends didn't give a shit that she could have ended up in the hospital!," he sighed, putting Sophie in the car. "Look, I want to take her home. You can stay with your friend if you want."

I see you roll your eyes. “Oh my god, that’s all you’ve got left with, right? What’s going on? are you jealous?”

I look at you in disbelief, "Jealous? me? For God's sake, you should listen to yourself for a moment. You could be my daughter."

"Exactly, I could be your daughter but you always look at me with those eyes and you don't stay looking at me for more than three seconds because you're afraid something will happen!" you say and I open my eyes wide. "Do you think I haven't noticed? You were drooling today when you saw me in this fucking dress. And now you're incriminating me more for being with someone than for not having paid attention to Sophie."

My jaw tightens and I can't look at you for a second longer. "Get in the car, Y/N."

“What?”

"Get in the fucking car. Now." Without another word, you get in the car, and I walk around it, climbing into the driver's seat.

The ride home was completely silent, aside from Sophie's babbling in the back seat. I check to see if she's okay through the rearview mirror; she's so out of it, it makes me even angrier. I shift my gaze to you and watch for a few seconds. You're staring out the window, completely ignoring me. Bad choice.

We arrive at my house and I put the car in the garage. Without saying a word, I get out and grab Sophie from the backseat. You get out slowly and watch me silently as I walk inside. You follow with small steps behind me and we go up the stairs to the bedrooms. I go into Sophie's and gently place her on the bed, turning her so she's on her side, in case she throws up and chokes and we don't have a bad time. When I'm sure she's okay, I turn around and see you waiting in the doorway. You obviously want to say something, but my face doesn't give you the opportunity to do so. I walk to the door, and you take a few steps back while I close it behind me, watching you silently for a few seconds. By my count, it's been more than three. Shit.

"Say it again," I say, approaching you. You take a few steps back and hit the wall.

"Say what again?" you murmur, looking up into my eyes. You look so vulnerable from here.

"You know what" I lean closer to your ear, brushing my lips against the thin skin. "That I'm jealous..."

I can feel you swallow and part your lips. "Are you?"

"Am I? Fuck..." I look down at your dress. "How could you wear that and let others look at you?" I look up into your eyes, which are burning with desire. "You know you've been only mine for a long time..."

My hands move to your legs and I begin to slowly raise them, pulling your dress up until it rests at your waist. You're wearing a red lingerie thong, and that drives me even further crazy.

"Who did you wear that for, huh?" My fingers play with the straps of your underwear. "Did you wear that for him... or for me?" I murmur, looking into your eyes.

You let out a light sigh, I've barely touched you and you're already going crazy "For you... always for you..."

That makes me smile and my fingers slowly slide the thong down your legs, and like a good girl you lift each foot for me so I can pull it all the way off.

"You learn quickly, very well." I take the piece of fabric in my hands and look at it. "Hm, just a few words and you're already wet?" I say, feeling the damp fabric between my fingers. "Fuck, I can't wait for my cock to be inside that pussy..."

I bring the fabric up to my nose and sniff it a little. "But... not so fast. I want to taste you first." That makes you let out a small moan, and I bring my index finger to my lips. "No, no, Sophie's on the other side of that door, she can't find out." I look back down at the thong. "Actually... I had a thought." My gaze returns to yours. "Open your mouth." It's more of a command than a request, and without hesitating for a second, you open your mouth. "Good girl..." I gently fold the piece of fabric and place it in your mouth. This makes you roll your eyes. “You like it? You like tasting yourself, hm?" You nod slightly, and I smile. "Good, be quiet, and Daddy will make you feel like you're on cloud nine, okay? Now it's my turn to taste you."

I bend down until my knees touch the floor and open your legs with my hands, giving me better accessibility and visual of your juices soaking your intimate area. I run a finger through your folds, and it makes you twitch, making me laugh. "So responsive, huh?" Your sounds are muffled by the piece of cloth in your mouth, but it's perfectly clear you're losing your mind. "You want my tongue in your pussy, right? In that tight, wet pussy... I'm sure it's so tight you won't even be able to take me all the way in." You move your hips toward me, letting me know you can't take it anymore. "Okay, okay, you're desperate, I get it... don't worry, sweetheart, I'm going to make you feel so good."

With nothing else to say, I sink my tongue into your folds and you let out a strangled cry. I manage to open your legs further and sink my mouth into you, savoring every inch. I pass over your clit and your legs tremble with pleasure. "Have I found your spot, sweetheart?" My mouth begins to work on it. I circle it with my tongue, sucking and applying pressure while holding you with one of my hands so you don't fall. With the other, I decide to move up the inside of your thighs to your pussy and without warning, I insert a finger, this makes you jump and grab onto my hair, sinking me deeper into you.

My finger moves at a fast pace as you throw your head back, if it weren't for the thong in your mouth I swear you'd be screaming right now. You're holding up well so I decide to slide another finger in, curling them inside you and making you cry out in pleasure. "Can you handle another one, sweetheart?" I murmur, looking slightly up. You look down at me and nod eagerly, so I don't wait another second to slide in a third finger. Fuck you're so tight my only thought now is how are you going to handle my cock.

I feel your walls start to clench around my fingers and decide to pick up the pace. "You're doing so good, hold on a little longer for me." I murmur before sinking my mouth back onto your clit, sucking on it vigorously. I run my tongue gently over it and then pull away, standing up while I still working on you with my hand. I continue to hold your hip with the other as I stand and look down at your eyes. "I wanna see your face when I make you cum, hm? Don't take your eyes off me." Your eyes are watery and full of lust, your moans echoing against the fabric of your thong. "Cum for Daddy, sweetheart."

My thumb joins the work, massaging your clit with good pressure and at a fast pace. You try to tilt your head back again, but I grab your hair with my other hand, making you look at me. "Eyes on me," I command as I slide my last finger in with difficulty, your walls tightening more.

Your legs start to shake, and the fabric can't suppress your sounds in any longer. Your eyes roll back into their sockets, and you can't hold it in anymore. You come hard, cumming into my hand, and I can't stop watching as you sob in pleasure. "Good girl..." I murmur as I continue pumping inside you, prolonging your orgasm as much as I can.

I catch you just as you're about to fall, putting an arm around your waist and holding you against me. I withdraw my fingers from inside you, and you let out a complain, making me laugh. I watch them for a moment, then look back at you, removing your thong from your mouth and replace it with my fingers. You close your mouth around and suck on them, tasting your juices. That makes me let out a little moan and i keep looking down at you, letting you take all the leftovers from my fingers.

"Come on, I'm not done with you yet." I take the fingers out of your mouth and grab your legs, throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you downstairs to the kitchen. I place you on the floor and push you towards the counter, making you lean over so your torso is on it. "You have no idea how many times I've pictured you here, bent over for me." I slide my hands over your ass and give it a squeeze, making you let out a little squeal. "Do you want my cock in your little pussy?" my hips come closer to your core, rubbing myself against you, making me moan. You nod quickly and I let out a small sigh. "The cat got your tongue, sweetheart? Words, I want words."

"Yes, please fuck me..." you murmur with your cheek on the counter, looking up at me with little eyes.

"Oh baby, I'm going to fuck you so good you won't even remember your name. I'm going to make you forget every fucking man who's ever been inside you, and your only memories will be of me..." my hands part your legs further, giving me a clear view of your pussy. My hard cock is straining against my pants, aching to be inside of you. I unbutton my pants and pull them and my boxers down to my feet. My cock is already at full strength and ready for action. I grab it with my hand while I continue to grab your ass with the other. Your juices run down your legs and it's the most beautiful scene I've ever seen in my life. "I don't want you to think about anyone else, just me... Who do you belong to, sweetheart?"

I run the tip through your folds and you let out a moan "To you... I belong to you... please..." you beg.

"Only I can fuck you, right?" I say, positioning the tip right at your entrance.

"Yes, only you, you're the only one for me, please Mr. Styles." you beg again and I smile.

"No, no, baby. What did I tell you to call me?" My hand squeezes your ass again and you jump a little.

"Harry... Harry—please," you moan, and I bite my lip at the sound of you. I knew I'd love the moment your lips moaned my name. I might even come just hearing you.

"Good girl… you sound so hot when you moan my name." Without warning, I thrust into you in one swift thrust, and you cry out, tears streaming down your cheeks. I raise my free hand to your mouth, covering it. "Remember Sophie's home... moan into my hand."

I begin to slowly move in and out of you, giving your pussy time to adjust to my length. You're so tight I'm afraid you might break at any moment, but you feel so good... fuck, I didn't even remember what this was like.

I increase the pace as our moans intertwine. The hand I had on your ass moves up inside your dress and I grab your breast, pinching your nipple with my fingers. My hand muffles your moans, and for a moment I don't care if anyone can hear us, so I withdraw it, letting you moan freely.

On top of that, you're the kind who likes to scream…

"You feel so good... so tight, so hot, and so wet, fuck, sweetheart, I could get used to this." I say between moans while I fuck you against the counter.

I move further in, trying to get you to take my full length. You let out another moan and grab onto the counter. "That's it, baby, take all of me, you're doing so well."

I throw my head back as I manage to fit my entire length inside you. I let out a sigh, giving myself a few seconds to compose myself, and then I continue with a measured rhythm.

I start to increase the pace again, my thrusts getting harder and faster, driving you to your edge. Your moans are the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, and I need more. One of my hands is still on your breast, the other gripping you right where I want it. The sound of our bodies colliding can be heard throughout the kitchen, echoing off the walls. If Sophie wakes up now, we're dead.

"We shouldn't do this..." you moan and I laugh a little.

I lean down close to your ear and whisper, "Then ask me to stop." With this I give another harder thrust and you moan louder, gripping the counter tighter "That’s what I thought...”

I start to feel your walls tighten around me again and your moans start to get louder and louder. "You're so loud... too loud. But I like it, I want to hear you scream for me. Tell me how much you like it, sweetheart. Tell me no one has ever made you feel like this."

"No one... you're the only one." Your breathing is ragged, you gasp for air with every thrust I give you.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take my cock in that little pussy of yours.” The hand holding you in place grabs your hair and pulls it back as I increase my pace. I lean in slightly to kiss your neck, while my other hand continues to pinch your nipple.

You cry out in pleasure as I continue to move inside you, your walls squeezing my entire cock. "Are you close?" I whisper in your ear, and you nod slightly. "Then come for me, sweetheart. Soak my cock with your juice."

Your body tenses at my words, and your back arches with pleasure. Your legs tremble, but I manage to grip your hips with both hands to keep you from falling. You remain clutching the counter as you come for the second time, your juices running quickly down your legs, soaking my cock. You let out a loud moan and collapse onto the counter. I continue moving inside you, prolonging your ecstasy a little longer.

"Fuck—" A few seconds later, I notice I'm coming too, and I withdraw my cock from inside your pussy. I grab it with my right hand and pump it for a few more seconds, finally reaching orgasm and cumming on your back. "Damn."

I lean against you, breathing fast, trying to return to normal. I move my hand up to your face and brush back some strands of hair that are covering your eyes. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

You just laugh, making me smile. Now is when I should feel bad, but quite the opposite. I've felt so fucking good that I want to do it again and again, I want to feel you again.

"Come on, let's see what you can do with your mouth besides scream..." I say, slapping you on the ass and making you stand up. This isn't even close to over yet.

If you liked it, you can leave me a like and reblog it so it reaches more people. Thanks!🩷

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finelinefae · 6 months ago

Text

friends [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: bambi meets harry's best friends.

word count: 8.8k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), drunk harry, shy reader, boyfriend!h

this is part 3 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Y/N was slowly but surely finding her rhythm at Pleasing. Thanks to Harry’s advice on making the most of each day (advice he apparently wrote a book about—though when Lindsey mentioned it, Harry had quickly shushed her and changed the subject), she had developed a solid morning and evening routine.

Her workdays at Pleasing fell on the busiest days of Harry’s schedule, which meant she was there three times a week. Those mornings began promptly at 7 a.m., with her clothes already laid out from the night before. After waking, she’d prepare breakfast for herself and her brothers, speaking to Harry on the phone as they went about their respective routines in separate homes. Once breakfast was done, she’d brush her teeth, do her makeup, and style her hair. By the time the school bus arrived to whisk her brothers away, her car would be rounding the corner to take her into the city.

Despite her hectic schedule, Y/N was managing to juggle her studies—though she couldn’t ignore that they were beginning to take a backseat. Lately, she’d found herself questioning whether she even wanted to continue her course. But with life moving at such a whirlwind pace, the thought of making a definitive decision felt overwhelming. For now, it was easier to just focus on the day-to-day.

To her surprise, Y/N was actually enjoying her job—something she’d never expected. She’d never been a fan of “adulting”; being forced to grow up quickly didn’t mean she had to like it. Paying bills, going to work, and worrying about the future had always felt like too much. But having a steady job offered her a rare sense of stability—one she appreciated more than she wanted to admit. It kept food on the table, gave her some consistency, and most importantly, brought her closer to Harry.

Keeping their relationship a secret, however, was proving to be a challenge. Surprisingly, Y/N was the more professional of the two, maintaining her composure in the workplace. She kept her hands to herself and avoided lingering glances, even when they were in the same room. Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as disciplined. He had a knack for initiating little interactions that straddled the line of propriety—always claiming they were “accidents.”

Like the time he held her hand just a second too long. Or the time he “accidentally” kissed her in the elevator right as the doors were opening. Then there was the incident during a meeting when, as she served tea, he tugged on the hem of her dress—apparently needing a refill.

Y/N couldn’t help but adore how infatuated he was, but she was determined to keep things professional. The last thing she wanted was for her coworkers to think she had an unfair advantage because of her relationship. Still, Harry’s innocent looks and playfulness made it hard to stay mad at him for long.

“I need to ask you something,” Harry said from his desk.

It was Wednesday evening and everyone had gone home. Harry had needed to catch up on some work so Y/N stayed behind after some convincing with the proposition he would drop her home afterwards. Y/N was sitting on the chair opposite, her notebook open and laptop screen. Her laptop was on its last legs, taking forever to load and lagging every five seconds but she could never afford a new one and having one was better than nothing.

“What’s wrong?” She looked up, wearing her glasses and face framed by wispy bits of loose hair that had escaped her messy bun.

Harry’s face brightened when she looked up at him. “C’mere, Bambi. Too far away.” He pushed himself away from his desk and gestured to his lap.

Y/N smiled and walked around the desk to sit in his lap. She straddled herself across his lap and wrapped both her arms around his neck, “Y’ smell good,” He murmurs, smelling her gingerbread cookie perfume even though it was Autumn, she was already excited for her favourite day of the year.

“What did you want to ask?” She pouted.

As if remembering he bought her over for a purpose, he continued, “This weekend, y’know you’re coming to stay the night?”

How could she forget? It was all she had been thinking about since he asked her. She had even bought brand new pyjamas with the remaining paycheck from her old job because her usual ones were worn and not as pretty. She had never been to a sleepover before let alone one with a man. She was’t sure what to expect but had seen movies where girls would sleepover and they’d paint each others nails and eat ice cream. She knew that wouldn’t be the case with Harry but she had made a list of other things they could do together that he’d enjoy too.

“I know,” Y/N nodded, brows furrowed as she waited for him to continue. Part of her couldn’t help but worry. Did he not want her to sleep over anymore?

"Some of my friends are having a dinner get together type thing," Harry said, his tone casual but hopeful. "I haven’t said I’ll go yet because I knew you were coming over, but I wanted to ask if you’d like to come with me?"

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. "To the dinner party? With you?"

Harry smiled, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Yeah, with me. Who else?"

She blinked, processing his words. "I’d be meeting your friends?" she asked cautiously. "Are you sure about that?"

"Why wouldn’t I be sure?" he replied, his brow lifting slightly.

"I don’t know, I just..." she trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to explain the nervous flutter in her chest.

"Ah, there y’go, Bambi," Harry smirked, leaning in just enough to make her cheeks burn. "Getting all flustered."

"I’m not flustered!" she protested, though the warmth in her face betrayed her.

Harry chuckled, his gaze warm and steady as it met hers. "It makes me happy, you know—thinking about introducing you to my friends. They were excited when I mentioned you."

"They were?" Y/N asked, her brows lifting in surprise.

"Mhm," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. "They know it’s rare for me to bring someone I’m dating into the mix this early on." He leaned in, nuzzling against her neck and pressing a soft kiss to her skin. "So, will you come? We can head back to mine after."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay... but I don’t know if I have anything to wear."

Harry smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Y’know I can sort that," he teased.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she bit back a shy smile as his confidence and charm worked their usual magic.

. . .

Y/N glanced down at her suitcase, biting her lip. Did I overpack for one night? Probably. She always did.

Growing up, money had been tight, but once Y/N started earning her own at sixteen, she’d developed a habit of indulging herself. Not extravagantly—there were no designer handbags or flashy purchases—but enough to feel like she was treating herself after the grind of a day. Skincare, makeup, clothes—her modest earnings often vanished in the blink of an eye.

Fashion was her weakness. Her clothing rack groaned under the weight of her ever-expanding wardrobe, frequently collapsing as if protesting her relentless shopping habit. Packing for this overnight stay at Harry’s had been no exception. She’d started with a backpack, then upgraded to a duffle bag, only to realize that wouldn’t fit everything she might need. Now, her suitcase sat by the stairs, practically mocking her indecision.

“Whoa.” Sammy’s voice broke her thoughts as he sauntered into her room, a chocolate bar in hand. “Are you moving in?”

“No,” Y/N huffed, hands on her hips. “I just want to be prepared.”

Sammy raised an eyebrow. “You know, he could just stay here instead.”

Y/N stilled. The boy’s first night without her had everyone feeling uneasy, and she knew Sammy wasn’t looking forward to it. His gaze was guarded, but she could see the vulnerability underneath.

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured, stepping closer. “It’s just one night. If you really hate it, we’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly. “There’s going to be a day when you move out. And leave me. With Mom. Or... without her.”

The words hit harder than he intended. Y/N swallowed the lump forming in her throat, reaching out to him. She saw the sadness etched in his eyes, a reflection of her own fears. “Wherever I go, you go,” she whispered firmly.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Sammy leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. Y/N held him close, closing her eyes for a moment before pulling away.

The sound of a knock at the front door jolted her. She glanced at the clock, muttering a quick, “That’s Harry,” as she rushed downstairs. She wanted to intercept him before Archie could get started—her little brother’s chatter had a way of turning quick visits into extended stays.

Yanking the door open, she froze. Harry stood there, a beaming smile lighting up his face despite the chill in the air. He wore a puffer jacket and shorts, his casual confidence making her heart skip.

“Hi, Harry,” she greeted, cheeks tinged pink, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or his presence. Without thinking, she leapt into his arms, her sock-clad feet barely touching the doorstep.

“Hi, Bambi,” he chuckled, steadying her as his arms closed around her. “Y’ready to go?”

“Mhm.” She pulled back, slipping on her shoes. “Let me say goodbye to the boys.”

Harry’s gaze shifted behind her, landing on the suitcase by the stairs. A laugh bubbled from him. “Are you planning on moving in?”

Y/N furrowed her brows, following his line of sight. When realization dawned, she flushed. “Oh, that. I, uh... didn’t know what I’d need.”

His grin softened as he stepped closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “S’alright, Bambi,” he murmured. “M’just excited to have you over.”

She smiled, her heart swelling as he leaned in for another kiss. Then, without missing a beat, he grabbed her suitcase and carried it effortlessly to the car.

After she had bid goodbye to her brother’s and promised them some much needed one on one time with them once she came back from Harry’s house, Y/N took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for the next twenty four hours.

. . .

In the car to Harry’s apartment, Y/N sat in the passenger seat with one hand intertwined with Harry’s whilst he drove with his other. The radio played through the car speakers, avoiding complete silence on the journey. The dulcit tones of Marvin Gaye playing throughout.

“Y’ hands are freezing,” Harry said. Y/N instinctively tried to pull away as though her hand being cold was a bad thing but Harry clung tighter, raising both their hands and kissing her knuckles before blowing his warm breath over her hand. “Do you need me to up the heater?”

Y/N shook her head, “No it’s okay, my hands get cold when I’m nervous.” She confessed.

Harry frowned, “Nervous? Are you okay?”

Y/N cringed, “M a little worried about meeting your friends. What if they don’t like me?”

Harry gave her a comforting smile, “Bambi, they’re so excited to meet you. You have nothing to worry about. They’ve met other girls I’ve dated and trust me when I say you’re a walking angel in comparison to them.”

“H-Have you dated a lot of other girls?” Y/N felt awkward bringing it up but her curiosity was getting the better of her. Harry had only mentioned briefly of the other women he had dated. Of course he had dated other women, he was a successful, handsome millionaire with a fashion company. It would be pointless trying to deny it.

Harry thought for a moment like he was trying to think carefully about his response, “I’ll be honest, I used to date a lot of women when I first started making money. I wasn’t very good when I started getting attention from the press. I drank a lot and spent money on buying out nightclubs and bars for the night.”

Y/N was shocked. She tried to picture her Harry being the version of himself he spoke about. “But my company was no where near as successful as it is now so even though I was spending a lot, I was losing a lot too. I nearly went bankrupt at one point which really gave me a kick up the ass. My sister, she’s an accountant back home in England, she came to visit and helped me get my act together.”

“Oh wow,” Y/N didn’t really know what else to say. She couldn’t seem to envision her sweet, soft and wholesome Harry being a party animal and spening nights in bars for days on end.

“Did that put you off?” Y/N immediately shook her head.

“Of course not, we’ve all got things we’re not proud of.” Y/N replied.

Harry smiled, “What about you? Any psycho ex-boyfriends I need to worry about?”

Y/N laughed, “No lucky for you, I don’t think a single guy has ever taken interest in me.”

“I highly doubt that Bambi but you’re right, I am very lucky.” Harry flashed a cheeky grin, turning the wheel around the corner and stopped outside the tallest building she had ever seen that looked as though it was completely made of glass.

Y/N’s was unable to say anything when her eyes gazed up at the towering stack of apartments. “You live in this building?” Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off, her neck permanently craned to look up. She was pretty sure the hjgihest point of the building resided in the clouds.

Harry said nothing, parking his car in the private parking spot. He went to the back to grab her suitcase, Y/N stepping out of the car and walking around to meet him.

“C’mon Bambi,” Harry chuckled at her awe-struck expression.

They walked hand in hand through the lobby which looked as glamorous as you’d expect. Harry gave a nod to the security at the door as they went past and headed towards the elevator. Y/N’s eyes widened when his finger pressed the button for the top floor.

The doors to the elevator opened and Y/N thought she might actually pass out.

She stepped into Harry’s penthouse, her breath catching as her gaze swept over the space. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, all the people and cars down below looked like ants. The open layout was both elegant and inviting, with warm ambient lighting casting a golden glow over the neutral-toned furniture and rich wooden floors.

“Wow,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step further inside. The plush cream sofa, the sleek coffee table stacked with books, and the faint scent of vanilla in the air all felt so Harry—effortlessly stylish and welcoming.

Harry chuckled behind her, setting her suitcase by the door. “You like it?”

“Like it?” she breathed, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Harry, this is... incredible.”

He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “M’glad you think so. Wanted it to feel comfy, y’know? Somewhere I could actually relax.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes drifting back to the view. “Sometimes I forget how rich you are.”

Harry chuckles from behind her, “I’m actually very glad to hear that.”

She walked over to the windows, pressing her hands gently against the glass as she looked out at the city sprawling beneath them. For a moment, it felt like they were floating above it all, separate from the noise and chaos of the world below.

Harry joined her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “S’better with you here,” he murmured, his voice soft.

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest as she leant into him. Harry kissed her shoulder, turning her round to face him. He smiled when her eyes met his, “We have some time before we need to get ready, do you want to go unpack?”

“Oh of course, am I sleeping on the couch?” Harry furrowed his brows before bursting out laughing, water almost fell from his eyes. Y/N frowned, confused at his reaction.

“You don’t want to sleep in my room Bambi? With me?” Y/N’s cheek scorched red but Harry just continued to laugh, “I mean I’m happy to sleep on the couch and let you sleep in my room if that’s what would make you comfortable.”

“No, it’s okay! I was just messing around,” She was all flustered. The idea of sleeping in Harry’s bed with him hadn’t crossed her mind like it maybe should have.

“Are you sure? Y’ know I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.” Y/N’s shoulders sunk at his sincere concern, she stood on her toes and kissed his lips. This time it was his turn to be surprised since it was rare for her to be the first to initiate a kiss between them.

“I know,” She smiled, “I want to sleep in your room… with you.”

Harry smiled, “Good. Let me give you a tour first.”

Harry led Y/N back toward the kitchen, still holding her hand as they strolled through the open-concept living area. “First stop: the kitchen,” he said, motioning grandly as they stepped into the sleek, modern space.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she took in the marble countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, and a large island that looked like it had been plucked from a home design magazine. A trio of pendant lights hung above, casting a warm glow over the pristine surfaces.

“Wow,” she breathed, running her fingers along the smooth countertop. “This is amazing. Do you even use it?”

Harry grinned, leaning casually against the island. “I use it for takeout. Does that count?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t know how anyone could resist cooking in here.”

“I can resist pretty easily, love,” he said with a smirk. “But if you ever fancy cooking together, I’m happy to assist. I’m great at stirring things and, uh… taste-testing.”

“Of course you are, no wonder you own a restaurant.” Y/N teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Harry chuckled, then nodded toward a door off to the side. “Alright, next stop: my office.”

He guided her through the door and into a smaller, cosier room that contrasted with the open, airy feel of the rest of the penthouse. The office was lined with dark wood shelves filled with books, a few framed photos, and scattered trinkets. A large desk sat in front of another set of floor-to-ceiling windows, the view just as stunning as the one in the living room.

“This is where I get most of my work done,” he said, walking over to the desk and leaning on it. “Or where I try to, anyway. Sometimes I just sit here and stare out at the city.”

Y/N wandered over to the shelves, her fingers lightly brushing the spines of the books. “It’s so… you,” she said softly, glancing at the little details—a framed photo of him with his family, a guitar pick sitting on a stack of papers, and a candle that smelled faintly of cedar.

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean messy?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I mean it’s thoughtful. Personal.”

Harry’s smile softened, and he reached out to take her hand again. “Alright, enough of the boring office. Time to show you the best room in the house.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he led her back down the hallway to his bedroom. When he pushed open the door, her breath hitched.

The bedroom was even more stunning than she’d imagined. The centerpiece was a massive bed with crisp white linens that looked impossibly soft, surrounded by sleek, minimal furniture. The far wall was made entirely of glass, offering an unobstructed view of the glittering city below. Heavy curtains were drawn to the sides, framing the view like a painting.

Harry watched her take it all in, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So? What do you think?”

“It’s… incredible,” Y/N whispered, stepping into the room. She walked over to the windows, pressing her hands against the glass as she gazed out at the city. “I don’t think I’d ever sleep. I’d just stay up staring at this view.”

“Well, lucky for you,” Harry said, coming up behind her and resting his hands gently on her shoulders, “the bed is comfortable enough to make you forget about the view.”

She turned to look at him, her cheeks warming. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Harry grinned, his dimples on full display. “Challenge accepted, Bambi.”

He took her hand and led her to the bed, sitting down beside her. The mattress really did feel like a cloud as she sank into it.

“I was serious earlier,” Harry said, his tone softer now. “You can sleep wherever you want—the bed, the couch, the office chair if you’re feeling adventurous. I just want you to be comfortable.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling at his thoughtfulness. “I already told you, Harry. I want to sleep here. With you.”

His eyes lit up at her words, and he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that too.”

Harry stood up, “I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ve just go to make a few calls but there’s an ensuite bathroom you can use to freshen up.”

After Harry brought her suitcase to the bedroom, he left her to unpack. Y/N unzipped it and pulled out her washbag, heading into the ensuite bathroom.

The bathroom was stunning—a walk-in shower with dark tiles and jets built into the walls. She stepped to the sink, admiring the clean lines of the vanity, and placed her washbag carefully on the counter. She couldn’t help but smile when she noticed all of Harry’s skincare neatly organized in a cute little spinning container—it was such a contrast to her own chaotic setup. But then her eyes landed on the glass by the sink, where his toothbrush rested.

Beside it was a pink toothbrush.

Her heart softened at the sight, a warm flutter spreading through her chest. There was something about that simple detail that made her feel all warm and gooey inside. She’d never believed she would find someone she’d want to spend so much time with but here she was staying the night with Harry and about to meet his friends.

Y/N walked into the living room, where Harry was already sitting on the couch with his laptop perched on her lap. He smiled when he saw her, and then his gaze fell to the object she was holding. “Is that Monopoly?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N nodded, her grin widening. “Yeah, it’s the original version. I asked my brothers if I could bring it with me since we've had this set forever, and they would absolutely murder me if I lost any pieces. We have to be able to play it at Christmas."

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked in amusement. “Hmm, may I ask why you decided to bring Monopoly with you today?”

Y/N paused, clearly puzzled. “Isn’t that what people do at sleepovers? Play games?”

Harry’s grin spread wider. As she stepped closer, he reached out, pulling her toward him. She ended up collapsing onto his chest with a soft laugh.

“Oh, Bambi,” he murmured, showering her face with quick kisses. His lips tickled her skin, making her giggle uncontrollably. “You’re the most precious girl I’ve ever known, you know that?”

She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Does that mean you want to play?”

Harry gave a dramatic sigh, still grinning. “Of course! Are you kidding me? I love this game.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice playful. “Well, be prepared. I’m not one to brag, but I’m pretty good at it.”

His eyes lit up with challenge. “Oh, Bambi’s competitive, I see.”

A spark flickered in her eyes as she leaned in slightly, “Just a little.”

. . .

Harry loved discovering the many layers of his Bambi. To the outside world, she was shy and quiet, but to him, she was a multi-faceted woman, full of surprises he was peeling back one by one. Yet this afternoon might have revealed his favorite side of her yet.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement and mischief as she declared her victory in Monopoly—long before the game had officially ended. Harry had debated whether to let her win, as any gentleman might, but it turned out he didn’t need to. She was fiercely competitive and had wiped the floor with him in just thirty minutes.

If time had allowed, Harry would’ve played another round or concocted a new game just to watch her face light up with that same playful energy. The afternoon spent with her, laughing over a simple board game, had him envisioning Christmas mornings and holiday traditions for years to come. It was silly, perhaps, to think so far ahead so early in their relationship, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t picture a future without Bambi in it.

Still, as the game wrapped up, he could see her nerves creep back in. The mention of preparing to meet his friends made her retreat into herself, her earlier exuberance melting into quiet apprehension. Despite his reassurances, Harry knew she’d wrestle with her anxiety until the dinner was behind them.

His friends, on the other hand, were eager to meet her. Their group chat had been buzzing with excitement about “the girl who finally tied him down.” Since Harry’s family was back in England, his friends were the closest thing he had to family in LA, making their opinions matter. But he had no doubt they’d love her.

In the living room, Harry waited for Y/N to finish getting ready, dressed in his tailored dark suit with a relaxed fit. The loose white tank underneath, with its wide scoop neckline, subtly revealed his tattoos, and the Pleasing logo stitched at the hem added a personal touch. Cream-colored loafers and white socks completed the look, his short curls neatly styled to keep them from obscuring his face.

The click of the bedroom door snapped him from his thoughts. He rose from the sofa, as alert as a puppy hearing its owner return. When Y/N stepped out, the oxygen seemed to leave the room entirely.

Her dress was light pink, soft and flowing, with thin spaghetti straps and a V-shaped neckline that showcased her décolletage. The slightly sheer fabric hinted at her elegant curves, while the asymmetrical hemline added a whimsical touch. Her hair was slicked back into a high ponytail, and her makeup was pink-toned and dewy, enhancing her natural glow. She paired the dress with strappy silver heels and a small, dainty bag dangling from her shoulder.

Her hand clung to her opposite arm, feeling vulnerable as she stood before him. Harry felt his breath hitch, his lips parting as he tried to absorb how breathtaking she looked.

“Bambi…” he managed, his voice low and reverent.

Her cheeks flushed. “Is it too much?” she asked softly.

Harry stepped closer, taking her hands in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You look beautiful. I don’t even have the words to tell you how incredible you are.”

She ducked her head, shy like the deer he affectionately nicknamed her after. “Thank you. You look very handsome, too,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on her like she was the only thing in the world.

“Do you like my dress?” she asked, her voice tentative.

Harry’s hands slid to her waist, feeling the soft fabric and the gentle curve of her silhouette. “I love it.”

“I made it,” she admitted, her blush deepening.

His brows lifted in surprise. “You did?”

She nodded, and Harry was awestruck. He’d seen her sketches before—ones she had reluctantly shared after he begged—but seeing her creations come to life was something else entirely.

Harry glanced at his watch, sighing reluctantly. “We should probably get going, but first…” He pulled out his phone, aiming it at the two of them. Y/N laughed, trying to push the camera away, but eventually relented, leaning in to kiss his cheek just as he snapped the photo. His grin widened, his eyes crinkling with joy.

Taking her hand, he asked, “Do you need a jacket?” His gaze flicked to her bare arms.

“I’ll be okay, as long as the bar has heating,” she replied with a small laugh.

Harry chuckled but grabbed a jacket on their way out anyway. He knew her well enough to anticipate the moment she’d get cold but wouldn’t say a word about it.

The drive to the bar felt like it took forever, thanks to the heavy city traffic. Harry’s hand remained warm on her thigh, and she wrapped her arm around his, seeking comfort from his touch. She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to stop.

“A little,” she confessed, glancing over at him. “I just want them to like me. I’ve never had to introduce myself to anyone’s friends before... I don’t want to mess up.”

“You’ll be fine, Bambi,” Harry reassured her, his voice calm as always. He’d said it so many times already, and she knew he’d say it dozens more if she needed to hear it. “Just be yourself. That’s all you need to be.”

Y/N wouldn’t say it out loud, but the age difference between her and Harry’s friends had been weighing on her mind all evening. The nine-year gap between her and Harry had never been an issue for them—it felt inconsequential when they were together. But his friends might see it differently.

What if they thought she was too young, too inexperienced, too… immature for someone like him? Worse, what if they assumed she was with him for his success, for the money he worked so hard to earn? The mere thought made her stomach twist. She didn’t want to be judged on circumstances she couldn’t change or assumptions she couldn’t dispel.

Harry’s friends meant a lot to him, and their approval—or lack of it—would sting far more than she cared to admit.

She nodded anyway, letting out a slow breath and turning her gaze to the window. The city lights blurred outside, their glow reflecting in her eyes. Even though his words helped calm her, she still couldn’t shake the nerves.

When they pulled up to the bar, the fancy building loomed in front of them. A valet was already waiting, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how Harry always seemed to have the luxury treatment everywhere they went. It was a reminder of how different her world was from his, but she tried not to dwell on it.

As Harry stepped out of the car, Y/N noticed the photographers waiting outside. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still made her stomach tighten. Harry wasn’t a mega-celebrity, but he was well-known enough in the business world that the occasional paparazzi was inevitable.

Harry opened the door for her, his hand gently resting on her hip as he helped her out. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head, and it felt like both a reassurance for her and a subtle message to the photographers.

The bar was dimly lit and sophisticated with shiny tables and chairs with red upholstery. Live jazz music played as people chatted over glasses of wine that probably cost more than Y/N’s monthly wages had to offer. “Do you own this bar?” Y/N asked, clinging a little bit tighter to Harry’s hand.

Harry chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Not this one,” he said, guiding Y/N toward a booth at the back of the bar. As they approached, the laughter of a group already seated at the table reached her ears. The sound was warm, familiar, like a group of people who had known each other for years.

A man with long brunette hair had his arm around a woman with similar dark hair that cascaded in waves down her shoulders. The two of them were laughing, their faces lit up in shared joy, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as they neared the group.

Before she could even take a deep breath, one of the men spotted them walking over. He had a rugged beard, and he stood up with a grin, his drink in hand.

“Harry!” he called out, extending his hand.

Harry gave him a knowing grin and shook his hand firmly, his other arm still wrapped around Y/N. “Mate,” he greeted warmly, pulling him into a quick hug.

Y/N watched the exchange, trying to hide the anxious flutter in her stomach. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she knew this was an important moment for her. She hadn’t met many of Harry’s close friends yet, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be a defining moment—how they reacted to her, how she’d fit in with this group that meant so much to him.

The man with the beard turned to Y/N, his eyes flickering with curiosity, and then he offered her a smile. “You must be Y/N,” he said, his tone warm and welcoming. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

Y/N smiled, a little relieved at the friendly tone in his voice. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too,” she replied, her nerves still there but starting to ease. “I’ve heard so much about you guys.”

Harry stood beside her, his hand still resting at the small of her back, offering her silent support as she navigated this new territory.

The man with the beard grinned as he stepped back, giving Y/N a moment to breathe. "This is Mitch," Harry said, gesturing to the man with long brunette hair who was seated next to a woman with equally dark hair. Mitch gave her a warm, easy smile, his arm casually wrapped around Sarah’s shoulders.

"It’s great to meet you, Y/N," Mitch said, his voice easy and friendly. "Harry’s told us all about you."

Y/N’s nerves eased a little more as Mitch’s friendly demeanor helped her feel at home. "I hope it’s all good things," she said, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

"Oh, definitely," Mitch replied, nudging Harry with his elbow and giving him a teasing grin.

Sarah, Mitch’s girlfriend, stood up from the booth with a bright smile, her waves of dark hair catching the light. She reached out to shake Y/N’s hand, her voice warm and welcoming. “Hi! I’m Sarah. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, but Sarah’s friendly tone immediately put her at ease. “Nice to meet you too,” she replied with a smile, trying to match Sarah’s warmth. "Harry's mentioned you guys a lot."

“Good things, I hope,” Sarah teased, winking as she sat back down beside Mitch.

Before Y/N could respond, a deep voice from the other side of the booth spoke up. “You must be Y/N,” a man with a thick beard said, “I’m Jamie.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Y/N smiled.

Jamie gave her a smile that seemed to take up half his face, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Harry’s been keeping us in the loop." He offered her a firm handshake, his grip warm. “It’s about time we met the girl who finally has him whipped.”

Finally, a woman sitting across from Jamie stood up, her presence immediately commanding attention. Alessia was striking—her short hair framed her face with confidence, and her posture was strong. She offered Y/N a small, warm smile. "I’m Alessia," she said, extending a hand. "It’s so good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Harry."

"Nice to meet you too," Y/N said, shaking her hand with a smile. There was something calming about Alessia’s assuredness that made Y/N feel at ease, even though she was a little more reserved than the others.

As Alessia returned to her seat, Harry’s hand still rested on Y/N’s back, a silent comfort in the midst of the introductions, as they sat in the booth next to Sarah and Mitch. His friends were exactly as he’d described—kind, welcoming, and playful. They were a perfect match for Harry and that bought a sense of relief to her.

“Can I get you a drink?” Harry murmured to Y/N, his hand gently brushing against hers as he leaned in.

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She had never really drunk alcohol before—not because she didn’t want to, but simply because she never really went out drinking. Whenever she was out with her brothers, she always stuck to something safe like Coke or Sprite. She felt a little embarrassed to admit that she wasn’t sure what to order.

“Um…” She fumbled for words, feeling self-conscious. "I...I don't really know what to drink."

Harry’s smile softened, as if he understood right away. “Would you like me to pick something for you?”

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. He wasn’t making her feel stupid. "Yes, please," she said gratefully, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

With a nod, Harry turned and motioned for the guys to follow him toward the bar. As they walked off, Y/N felt her nerves kick in again. She was left standing with Sarah and Alessia, the two women who already seemed so at ease with each other and the group.

Y/N suddenly felt a little out of her element. She wasn’t used to hanging out with other women in this kind of setting. With her brothers, everything was easy and casual, but this... this felt different. She was afraid that her awkwardness would be obvious, so she searched for something to say, anything to break the silence.

It didn’t take long for Sarah to sense her discomfort. She leaned forward with a welcoming smile. “Where’s your dress from? It’s gorgeous,” she asked, her voice light and friendly.

Y/N's face softened at the compliment, and she felt more at ease. “Oh, um, I actually made it,” she said, a little shy but proud. "I love fashion, so I’ve been sketching designs for a while."

Sarah’s eyes widened, impressed. “Wait, you made it? That’s amazing!” She looked at Y/N with genuine admiration. “It looks beautiful on you. I honestly thought it was something you bought from a high-end store.”

Y/N laughed softly, feeling a bit shy but happy with the compliment. “Thanks, that means a lot. I’ve kept a lot of my sketches in an old notebook, but I’ve always wanted to show them to someone.”

“I would love to see them sometime,” Sarah said enthusiastically. “I’m obsessed with fashion too. Maybe we can swap ideas sometime.”

Alessia, who had been listening with a smile, chimed in. “You’re really talented. I’m sure Harry’s lucky to have someone so creative around especially with his company.”

“Do you guys work in fashion too?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious about the two women she’d just met.

“Just Harry, I’m afraid,” Sarah replied with a playful smile. “We all went to art school, though. Mitch and I own an art gallery together, and Jamie runs a theatre company.”

“And I design album art for artists,” Alessia added, her voice warm and casual.

Y/N’s eyes widened in genuine awe. “Wow. That’s so impressive. Is that how you all met? Through art school?”

“Yep, we were kind of the outcasts of our year group,” Sarah said with a chuckle, “so we stuck together. And look where we are now.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the closeness between the group. “That’s so cool. And... were you and Mitch together back then?”

“Oh no,” Alessia laughed, shaking her head. “Sarah and Mitch didn’t get together until after art school. It was excruciating to witness—those two pining over each other for four years and never doing anything about it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at Alessia’s blunt description. “That sounds like a movie.”

“It kind of was,” Sarah said, laughing with her. “But it worked out in the end.”

“I bet Harry told you about us,” Alessia continued, leaning in a bit. “He told us he was bringing you tonight, and we were all nervous, actually.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, surprised. “Really? I was nervous too.”

“Are you kidding? After Harry’s last ‘girlfriend,’” Sarah said with a playful eye-roll, “we thought we’d be meeting some bitchy gold-digger who’d be all over him, trying to separate him from us. But then we met you, and it was like, thank God—you’re nothing like that. Honestly, we’re so relieved.”

“Harry talks about you non-stop,” Alessia added with a teasing grin. “For the last month and a half, it’s been ‘Y/N this, Y/N that,’ in our group chat. It’s kind of sweet, honestly.”

“Really?” Y/N blinked, her face softening with surprise.

Sarah smiled warmly. “Yeah, don’t worry, it’s nice to hear. He deserves someone who treats him right, you know? Especially after everything he’s done for all of us.”

Alessia nodded, her expression turning a little more serious. “He got me out of some serious debt. I was on the brink of losing everything, close to being homeless... but Harry stepped in. He rented me a place, helped me get back on my feet, and even called in a favor that landed me my first real job. He’s the most caring person I know.”

Y/N’s heart warmed at Alessia’s words. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard someone speak so highly of Harry, but it never failed to move her. Hearing it from his friends, people who had seen him at his best and worst, made her realise just how deeply Harry cared about the people in his life—and just how lucky she was to be part of it.

Soon Harry returned with the boys, sliding into the seat next to her. He placed a drink in front of her, “I got you an Aperol Spritz but if you don’t like it I can get you something else.” He told her.

“Thank you,” She beamed up at him and took a sip of her drink. It was light and bubbly with a slight bitter yet citrusy taste. The more she drank, the more she enjoyed the taste of it.

Harry continued conversing with his friends, and Y/N found herself enjoying the easy banter between them. It was nice to see this side of him—relaxed, almost boyish, and playful. The way his friends teased each other with such familiarity made her smile, and it felt like she was catching a glimpse of Harry’s world before she’d come into it.

She liked his friends. All of them were warm and welcoming, each with their own distinct personalities, but there was a genuine closeness that she could see. They kept her in the loop, filling in the gaps on things she might not have fully understood—like an inside joke or a shared memory—until she felt like she was beginning to grasp the dynamics between them.

Sarah and Alessia were especially attentive, constantly asking her questions and trying to learn everything about her. Y/N appreciated their curiosity and kindness. They didn’t make her feel like an outsider, instead showing genuine interest in her life and her background.

Every so often, Y/N would catch Harry looking down at her. He’d check in on her, his gaze soft, making sure she was okay and not feeling overwhelmed. His protective instincts were clear, and she was grateful for it. He didn’t hover, but whenever he could, he’d quietly reassure her with a small smile or a squeeze of her hand under the table.

Despite the lively atmosphere, Y/N felt like she wasn’t just another guest at the table—she was part of the conversation, part of the group. And it was easy to relax into that sense of belonging as the night wore on. Even though she was still a little out of her comfort zone, she couldn’t help but feel more at ease with every passing minute, especially with Harry so nearby.

She laughed at something Sarah had said, a light, genuine sound that felt more natural than she expected. The whole night had been surprisingly fun, and for once, she was enjoying being part of something so lively, instead of shrinking back.

“So Y/N, what’s Harry like as a boyfriend?” Jamie asked, causing Y/N to freeze in her seat.

Harry’s hand stilled from where it had been drawing invisible circles on her knee. The table seemed to pause, sensing the awkwardness in the air.

“That bad?” Jamie chuckled, trying to lighten the moment.

Y/N’s mind scrambled for the right words. She wasn’t sure how to describe their relationship—things were still new, and they had never really put a label on it beyond "dating." Her mouth felt dry as she fumbled for a response.

“U-um, we’re not— I don’t think—” Y/N stumbled, her face flushing. She didn’t know how to put it into words, not wanting to make things awkward or overthink it.

Before she could continue, Sarah quickly chimed in with a grin, “A better boyfriend than you.”

The entire table burst out laughing, and the tension in the air seemed to lift immediately. Jamie threw his hands up in mock defeat, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Alright, alright. I’ll take the loss. But I’m definitely curious now,” he said, leaning forward. “What makes Harry such a great boyfriend, then?”

Y/N glanced at Harry, meeting his eyes, which were filled with amusement but also a warmth that made her heart skip. "Yeah, Bambi, what am I like as a boyfriend?"

Her lips parted at the question. It was the first time he had referred to their relationship so openly, and the realisation hit her in a way that made her smile nervously.

“Well,” Y/N began, her voice softening as she relaxed, “he’s incredibly thoughtful. He’s always checking in on me, making sure I’m alright, and—he actually listens. He’s not the kind of guy who brushes off what I say or rushes through things. He’s really present.”

Harry’s hand slid over to hers under the table, his fingers intertwining with hers in a quiet show of support. He squeezed her hand gently, his gaze tender, saying everything without needing words.

“And he’s fun,” Y/N added with a light laugh, her nervousness easing. “He doesn’t take himself too seriously, which is honestly one of my favorite things about him.”

Harry’s smile deepened at her words, and there was something in the way he looked at her—like he was asking her a question without saying it aloud. “I love it… Being his girlfriend.” Y/N blushed but Harry’s face widened into a grin, one of his dimples appearing on his cheek.

The group exchanged knowing glances, clearly enjoying the moment. Alessia raised her glass, her eyes twinkling.

“To Y/N, we wish you all the luck in the world for having to put up with us.” she said, toasting her with a wink.

Everyone joined in, lifting their glasses, and Y/N felt her heart swell at the way Harry’s friends rallied around them.

. . .

Y/N hadn’t noticed how much Harry had had to drink until his head rested on her shoulder, in the middle of her conversing some more with Sarah and Alessia, “Think I want to go home Bambi,” He murmured. Y/N pushed his droopy curls back and saw the hazy look in his eye, a lazy smile on his lip, “So pretty,” His lips puckered as he spoke.

Y/N giggled, “How are we meant to get home silly, you drove us here.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry huffed, “I did didn’t I?”

Sarah chuckled, “We can drop you guys home on the way back to our place. We’ll just tell the valet to keep hold of his car. He can pick it up tomorrow as punishment.”

Y/N laughed softly, nodding her thanks to Sarah. "That sounds like a good plan," she said, looking down at Harry, whose cheek was now squished adorably against her shoulder. He was humming a tune she couldn’t quite place, the sound low and soothing despite his obvious tipsiness.

Harry’s hand found hers under the table, his fingers clumsily lacing through hers. “Y’ make me the happiest Bambi. ‘M so happy y’ m’ girlfriend.” he mumbled, his words slightly slurred but unmistakably earnest.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, her heart skipping a beat. “That’s a lot of happy,”

“It is isn’t it?” Harry laughs.

Sarah stood up, grabbing her bag. “Alright, let’s get you two lovebirds home.”

Y/N helped him to his feet. He wobbled slightly, leaning heavily against her. “You’re my favorite person ever, you know that?” he said as they made their way to the exit, his voice loud enough to draw a few amused glances from nearby tables.

“I think I’m starting to get the idea,” Y/N replied, her tone affectionate as she wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.

“I’m hungry,” he announced loudly. “Can we get chips? Or pizza?”

“Let’s get you home first, superstar,” Mitch said, clapping him on the back and making Harry stumble slightly into Y/N.

“You’re my hero,” Harry murmured dramatically as they shuffled toward the car, his arm draped over her shoulder. “You saved me, Bambi. You’re the best.”

“You’re going to think otherwise when you see how many embarrassing photos Sarah and Alessia probably took tonight,” Y/N quipped, her laughter blending with the others’ as they piled into the car.

“Embarrassing?” Harry blinked at her, his expression mock-serious. “Never. I look good in all lighting.”

Y/N shook her head, letting out a laugh as Harry’s head found her shoulder once more. “We’ll see about that in the morning,” she said, her voice fond.

Harry let out a contented sigh. “You smell so nice,” he murmured sleepily.

Y/N giggled, smoothing her hand over his curls. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the car pulled away from the bar, Harry mumbled something about her being “too good for him” before trailing off into a soft snore. Y/N looked down at him, her heart swelling. Even in his drunken, clumsy state, he had a way of making her feel like the most important person in the world.

Once Sarah and Mitch dropped them off right at Harry’s front door, Y/N was left with the daunting task of lugging Harry to his room. He wasn’t exactly helping, his body swaying dramatically as she tried to steady him.

“Harry, you’re not making this easy,” she huffed, half-laughing as he stumbled. By some miracle, she managed to guide him to the bed, where he flopped down—half on the mattress, half on the floor.

“Mission accomplished,” she muttered under her breath, crouching down to untie his laces. But just as she reached for his shoe, he playfully kicked his foot away, his lips curling into a cheeky grin.

“C’mere, Bambi,” he murmured, his voice low and a little slurred.

Y/N stood, brushing off her knees, only to find herself being tugged down onto the bed when he grabbed her wrist. She landed on top of him with a surprised gasp, her hands braced against his chest.

“Harry!” she exclaimed softly, but he didn’t say anything, just looked up at her with those green eyes, hazy but full of something she couldn’t quite describe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world around them seemed to blur as they gazed at each other, an unspoken connection passing between them. Harry reached up, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The faint smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, but his touch was steady, his expression achingly tender.

“Mean it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You make me the happiest.”

Y/N’s heart twisted at the sincerity in his words, her breath catching in her throat. Her lips curved into a soft smile as she cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. “You make me the happiest too, Harry.”

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 1 year ago

Text

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt1

Warnings: Cursing, Mentioning of Blood

Pt2 Pt3 Hyungline (xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JISUNG|

There was nothing you loved more than Jisung's singing. Well maybe Jisung himself.

But from the moment you heard him sing you knew that it was game over for you. You didn't know what you had done to have God bless you with the off chance of running into the chubby cheeked boy on the street during a last-minute girls' trip - the result of a horrible breakup.

And you sure as hell didn't know what you did to have him become smitten with you at first glance, softly asking for your number - even though it was obvious you weren't going to stay long.

But after a week of non-stop texting and meme exchanging it was obvious the feeling was mutual so long distance was something you were willing to try.

And it was the best decision you had ever made. Two and a half years strong.

The last year you had spent in South Korea had been filled with wonderful memories too, and you quickly found yourself getting used to living life with Hanji.

"Sungie!" You burst into the studio and Jisung jumped in fear. "I brought you something!"

He turned around with wide eyes and his mouth opened slightly. "What is it?"

You handed him a couple of his favorite snacks and an energy drink. "I figured you were tired since the guys told me you didn't come back to the dorms..." You wrapped your arms around him and peeked over his shoulder at to what he was scribbling in his favorite, beat up notebook. "What are you writ-"

Jisung quickly closed his notebook. "N-nothing."

"Lemme see!" You giggle reaching for it again. He quickly pulled away. "Jiji you always show me your songs!" You said, not noticing his growing irritation.

"Y/N stop I don't want you to see this one." He said grabbing his notebook.

"Why not?" You whined, trying one last time to grab it. "Thats are thing you show me your songs even before you show the guys!"

Your hands folded around the broken metal spine and part of the papers themselves and Jisung pulled away with an extreme amount of force.

The small part of metal that had no home in the small holes of the spiral bound book hooked its way into your hand. And with Han's forceful pull, ripped open your skin as well in a thing but deep wound.

You hissed in pain slightly from a small paper cut on your middle finger, which was ironic considering the much deeper gash in the palm of your dominant hand.

"Dammit Y/N!" He snapped looking at his ripped pages.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to..." You said quietly.

"Well you did!" He mumbled turning his back on you looking for tape on Chan's cluttered desk.

"I'm sorry."

"Its whatever." Han mumbled, his back still turned to you.

You hold your wrist, you hand bloodied. "Jiji-"

"Y/N I want to be alone right now." His voice was firm, and you could tell he was trying to hide his growing anger. You wanted to respect his wishes but your injury seemed to throb even more by the second, even more blood spilling out.

You nodded but opened your mouth to speak again trying to ask him for help with your gushing hand. "I know but-"

"FUCK Y/N!" Jisung screamed slamming his hands on the table. "Just leave me alone! Stop being clingy for two seconds and give a moment to breathe! You just ruined something extremely important just because you don't know when to stop messing around."

You bit your cheek, trying to stop the tears that were pricking your eyes from falling.

You knew that Jisung was only calling you clingy to to get you to go away. To hurt you enough so you'd want to leave. He had done it before.

And even though it was a bad habit, it was proving really hard for him to break.

You quickly made your way out after watching your boyfriend for a few more seconds as he started tearing small pieces of tape from the dispenser.

And even still you couldn't help but have your heart flutter at his concentration as he bent down to carefully place pieces of tape on the ripped pages.

Dammit. Why do I always have to go and ruin things... You think to yourself as you head out to your car. Grabbing an extreme amount of paper towels to soak up the red liquid streaming from your hand.

You go to wipe your tears, but only smearing blood on your face causing even more tears of frustration, sadness and disappointment to fall from your eyes.

Fuck. I'm gonna need stitches.

You drove to the hospital, continously blinking to keep your vision clear through your emotional state. You were so focused on the road and replaying the whole situation that had just occurred in your head you didn't realize your phone was ringing.

Once you computed the ringning you frantically reached for your phone, so you could talk to Jisung - apologize, just talk things through - not remembering the state your hand was in and feeling it rip open even more, causing your phone to slip and a strangled cry of pain escape your lips.

Incoming call from - Jiji *heart emoji. angel emoji. squirrel emoji.*

Your phone had fallen in between the crack of your seat and you tried grabbing it while keeping your eyes on the road.

Incoming call from - Jiji *heart emoji. angel emoji. squirrel emoji.*

"Holy shit can't I-"

You heard the blaring of a horn and by instinct you turned opposite of the direction you heard it coming from, only to have the noise covered by metal crunching on metal.

Missed Call from - Jiji *heart emoji. angel emoji. squirrel emoji.*

Beeeep.

You have one new voicemail.

"Jagiya - I saw blood on my paper. Were you bleeding? Look, I know you probably don't feel like talking to me and that's valid. I say a lot of mean things to get space- and I know how wrong that is of me. Just...call me back okay? Let me know you're okay...there was...a lot...of blood. A lot...I'm worried. You can be mad but please just let me know, okay? I feel bad. I had a reason for hiding the lyrics; but it just seems stupid now. Because you got hurt because of me...I know I'm ranting but I'm worried sick. So please just...text or something. At least tell me you have the cut bandaged or something. Because baby if I would have realized sooner you were bleeding that much...God I feel like an idiot. Just call me, okay? Or you know what text if you don't feel like talking...just let me know your safe...the guys are worried too...you left a trail...God I feel so bad. Maybe I'm exaggerating but it looked like so much...I love you. Okay? I love you."

Click.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

FELIX|

You heard your front door unlock and looked behind you to see Felix walking in.

He slipped his shoes off and immediately headed towards the game room you had set up from an old study when you and him had frist started dating.

Your desk was still in the corner, but you had set up all of Felix's extra gaming things throughout the rest of the room. Stringing up LED lights and making it as aesthetically pleasing as possible since had taken a liking to filming some of his lives in that room once your relationship had gone public.

You got up from the couch and followed Felix into the room. He didn't seem like his usual cheery self. And his determined steps into the game room differed from his usually excited steps and leaned more towards annoyance.

"Lix is everything okay?" You asked, coming to stand by him. You placing the energy drink you were sipping on by him as you reach out to give him an embrace.

"I'm fine Y/N." He mumbled, trying to shake his PC awake. Then trying to turn on the LED's and lamp next to him. When they didn't turn on he tried plugging his phone in to the extra charger that he always kept plugged in at your home, groaning when that too didn't work.

"You seem upset love, you know I'm here for you."

"I said I'm fine." He snapped as he got up and started looking at the different wires connecting the lights and other various things in the room. "This damned thing."

You got up and looked at the wires yourself. "Let me see-"

"I got it, Y/N." Felix said sternly as he moved his makeshift desk back carefully from the wall enough to squeeze back there and look at the outlets.

At the same time you notice the extension cord didn't look like it was fully plugged in. You let out a small noise of acknowledgement and crawled under table to plug it in.

It was too bad Felix didn't notice your other hand resting on the ground for balance, as he stepped on it while trying to get a better look.

You yelped in pure shock, your head coming up to bang against the underside of the table- and Felix jumping back in surprise - and reaching out to balance himself but instead knocking over your drink onto his extremely expensive keyboard.

You had never heard so many profanities string from his mouth at once.

"I'll go get towels-"

"Are you fucking slow Y/N?!" His voice was harsh. Nothing like the gentle tone he always used with you. "Maybe you are. Would explain why you'd think a fucking corrosive drink could be easily cleaned from a keyboard. GOD." He groaned slamming his fist down.

"Felix I didn't-"

"I didn't know! I didn't know!" Felix mocked. "Well no shit you didn't know. Who in their right mind puts an open drink next to a set up that probably costs more than your monthly wages."

You felt your chin start to tremble and you tried to take a breath.

"You know maybe if you weren't clinging to me 24/7 this wouldn't have happened. Now thanks to you I have to find replacements." He grumbled pushing past you.

You turned to follow him like a lost puppy.

"Dammit did you not get the hint?!" He shouted turning back towards you. "You really are slow holy shit." He spat out.

You watched him make his way towards the door grabbing his keys and just walking out in his house slippers that's how angry you had made him.

"I can fix it..." You whimpered, trying to wipe your tears as you collected an arrangement of towels both dry and cloth. "I-I can f-fix itttt..." You whine as you hold the towels with shaky hands trying to mop up the mess.

"I-I'll fix-fix it-" You keep repeating to yourself until your vision is so blurred by tears the they flow over into the crevices of his precious keyboard. You try to soak up the mousepad he had customized, and the fabric of his chair.

"I'll...fix it..."

Soon enough those three words didn't sound like words you had said them so much.

Your hands were red and raw from scrubbing down the table so much. And you could barely even breath through your desperate cries.

His words kept ringing in your head.

He sounded so angry. You had never seen him like that. And it scared you. It scared you so much.

So much it had you considering if his accessories were the only thing he'd ever consider replacing.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

SEUNGMIN|

You sat in the dressing room, waiting for Seungmin to come back stage.

Tonight was the kickoff concert for their mini tour. Just ten destinations. A mix of normal venues, mini music festivals and things of such.

Ever since you and Seungmin had become a thing a little over three years ago, you had made it your mission to attend all of his concerts. While at first you flew under the radar of attendance- you soon became the "Where's Waldo" of sort when your relationship became public- stays doing everything they could to spot you in the crowd.

Tonight was no different other than the fact that everything went abswolutely horrible.

Malfunction after malfunction. Although most of the Stays were too preoccupied with the the visuals and the improv to really care about the mistakes on the crew end of thing.

And you had come backstage to tell Seungmin the same thing that all the Stays in the crowd had been thinking.

You did great.

Most of the time on Seungmin's shorter trips you stayed out of his way. Calling him and just infroming him of the different places you were visting in the cities, and asking if he would like any specific souvenirs. Thats the way you balanced out most. Thats the way things had worked and you figured they would continue to work...

Until Seungmin came in,.

"What are you doing here?" He asked throwing his jacket on the closest chair, and immediately going to strip off his shirt.

"I just wanted to come in and see how you were doing." You said quietly- gently.

"Appreciate it but you're not exactly helping my situation. I come into the dressing room for a breather - some space but your in here." He sighs grabbing a towel and trying to soak up his sweat.

You frown and look at him, his puppy eyes clouded with frustration.

"I just wanted to tell you that you did good...none of that was your fault. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of that..."

"Y/N. You're getting overwhelming. Seeing you home, at the studio in the audience- I can't catch a fucking break. Its like you're acting as my fucking shadow- clinging on to me wherever I go. Normal couples don't do that." He said as he stepped behind a portable stall to change completley.

You opened your mouth but closed it quickly, not wanting to start something you knew Seungmin was more than likely to finish.

"Like everytime I see you it's such a burden really..." Seungmin came out drying his sweaty hair with a smaller towel. "Like don't you ever get sick of seeing me all the time?" He gives out a smile and a laugh, but his eyes don't crinkle the same way they usually do.

You bite your cheek. "No...why would I get sick of seeing you? Why...would I ever see you as a burden?"

Your boyfriend looks at you in the reflection of the mirror, and turns to see the pain in your eyes.

"I came back here to comfort you Min...but instead you want to find ways to tear me down? So effortlessly at that?" Your voice is growing in pitch by the second but getting quieter and quiter. "I've spent three years supporting you in everything that you do. I've spent money to surprise you on trips Seungmin! When you know I don't have the money to do that!" Seungmin flinches when you use his full name. It had been so long since he heard anything other than a nickname fall from your lips when talking to him. "I always put you before me...am I really that much of a burden to you Seungmin?"

The quiet boy just looked at you.

"Dammit say something!" You exclaimed.

"I...don't know what you want me to say Y/N...I appreciate you coming to my concerts. I do...but don't you have another life outside of me?"

You clenched your jaw. "You're geniunely asking me that? When we've spent over three years together?"

Seungmin sighed. "You know I don't mean it like that..."

"Then how do you mean it?"

He fidgeted and opened his mouth to say something but bit his tongue and thought for a second more.

"You know what...maybe you're right Seungmin." You grab your purse and coat.

"Where are you going?" He asked, a bit of panic creeping into his voice.

"Away." You mumbled. "You're right Seungmin. I don't have a life outside of you. And maybe that's why this doesn't feel so right anymore."

You reach for the door and you feel both his hands wrap around your arm.

"B-Baby...y...you don't mean that...you don't." He pleaded softly. You watched as his brown eyes searched your face for any bluff. "We're right...we feel right-we we fit right..." His voice took a little pitiful whine to it and you felt as if you just kicked a puppy.

Right now he looked like a kicked puppy.

You had to turn your face away so he couldn't see your walls built in anger break.

Because no matter how petty you could be you wouldn't do that to Seungmin.

Would you?

"Seungmin...you think you can just go and say those things...the things that effortlessly hurt me?" You took a deep breath. "It's like you put no thought into how you crack my heart."

Not break. He couldn't break it...

"Jagiya...please...please stay?"

Couldn't my ass. He damn well could. And two could play that game.

"I'm leaving." You said pulling your arm from him roughly, knowing that you ripping yourself from the embrace you relied on so much would hurt him the most.

"You don't mean it...we're both frustrated...Jagiya..."

You decided not to look back as you walked out the door.

Knowing just how quickly your resolve you fold if you saw just how easily Seungmin's heartbreak was painted on to him.

You knew you'd fold the second you saw how his heartbreak mirrored your own.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JEONGIN|

Please leave a message after the tone.

You groan as you guide yourself to the counter, holding onto it trying to find unwavering land in the battle of dizziness you were fighting.

Please leave a message after the tone.

"Pick up..." You groan as you try to hit the call button for Jeongin, your vision was clouded and you mistakenly pressed your second most recent call.

"Y/N? What's up?"

"Ji...Jisung...grab Jeongin for me?"

"Y/N...he's a little...irked right now. We were poking fun at him when you called but I think we went a bit too far... I don't think its the best idea..."

"Jisung, please?"

You heard Jisung shuffle around, and you heard the crunching of leaves as he made his way towards the sound of loud laughter.

"Innie! Your girlfriend is one the phone!"

You think you're hearing things when you hear Jeongin's distinct groan- but you don't have time to think about it before you hear all of his elder group members "ooh" and "ahh" at the youngest member.

"What is it?" The annoyance in his voice is evident.

"Innie...I don't feel good." You say steadying yourself on the counter. Your hands are slick with sweat, just like the rest of your body.

"Y/N I don't know what you want me to do about that." He says, covering the mic to yell something at the members- who are making kissing noises and mimicking romantic music in the background. "I'm hours away and I'm not gonna be back until Monday."

You whimper as you lower yourself onto the ground, your head swimming with dizziness - all while feeling as if someone tigthened a rubber band around your noggin.

"Stop being so dramatic and take medicine if its that bad." He finally says. "It's embarassing to have you blow up my phone while I'm on a guys trip - and even more embarassing for you to blow up my friends phones as well."

Something about the way he says my makes your heart sting slightly. As if you hadn't cultivated friendships with the guys as well.

"Maybe if you had answere-"

"Just stop Y/N! I'm not a baby! And having you cling to me...its making the guys think that. I mean don't you see how annoying that looks? Childish? Being clingy is downright childish."

You can't really focus on Jeongin's angry rant because you vision is getting blurry, and your head is throbbing so horribly, and your body is getting so clammy you can't focus on anything other than how shitty you feel.

"I think I'm gonna pass out-"

You hear Jeongin's exasperated huff. "You always have to make it about you don't you?! I'm trying to tell you how I want you sto stop blowing up my phone so damn much while I'm with the guys and you're here being dramtic. We're adults Y/N. We don't have to rely on each other for everything! So just lay down if your feeling that bad. I don;t cal you for everything."

You groan into the phone. "Jeongin-"

"Holy shit Y/N, can't you take a hint? For fuck's sake...I'll talk to you Monday." He said before hanging up, his tone exuding the aura of a typical "too-cool-for-anyone" teen boy or more specifically a hormonal attitude filled PMS monster.

You take a second to breathe, the nausea that was hitting you in waves only coming in faster and stronger.

You scrolled through your contacts and just clicked on one. Your fingers were trembling and you could barely press the speaker button before dropping your phone to the ground in a moment of weakness.

I'm gonna pass out...just...a minute longer...wait until someone answers...

You decided to not delay the inevitable and just lay on the cool ground that you'd end up on anyway. Might as well save yourself from an uneccassary bump.

"Hello?"

"I think I'm gonna faint..." You groan.

"The fuck? Y/N? What? I'm on my way I'm at the studio I'll be there in a minute..."

You give a small hmm and lean more into the floor if that was possible.

It brought you back to when you were a child, and would decide to randomly nap on the ground.

Maybe I am childish...

Maybe he was right...

You're mine clears as your mind goes static then black as if a switch turned on.

"Y/N? Y/N!"

When you open your eyes your blinded by lights and instantly annoyed by the beeping of mulitple machines.

"Y/N-ie!" You see the smiling faces of Chaeryeong and Yeji. Then Ryujin, Lia and Yuna's faces pop around you too.

"The doctor said your blood sugar was extremley low." Yeji said grabbing your hands. "He said that they're gonna run a few more tests on you too see what the cause of it was."

"We were worried sick when you called Chaer so we all came!" Lia exclaims.

You smiled gratefully, your head still throbbing slightly.

"Thank you." You said quietly.

"I called Changbin." Chaeryeong commented. "I thought it was best that one of the Kids relay the message to your boyfriend."

You pop up in bed, the sudden movement dizzying you. "What? What did you say?"

"I just told him we found you past out in your kitchen. At that point we didn't know what caused it...so all I said is we were bringing you to the hospital."

"Your boyfriend has been calling your phone for the last hour and a half." Yuna says nodding towards your phone.

26 missed calls.

"Hah...so he calls me clingy and childish then proceeds to call my phone 26 times?" You groan as you throw yourself back onto the hospital bed.

The ITZY girls look at you with sympathetic looks, Yeji squeezing your hands gently as well.

"Fuck it." You mumble, a fit of anger bubbling inside you as you swiped away all the call notifications, an insurge of pettiness filling you. "Clingy and childish my ass. I'll show him what that actually looks like."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang

#skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids reactions #skz reactions #skz stay #skz angst #yang jeongin #stray kids #lee felix #han jisung #kim seungmin

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tonfairy · 23 days ago

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After the Splash

pairing : swimmer! anton x campus journalist! reader

genre: soft smut MDNI !!, slow burn, mutual pining, teammates to lovers (reader is a swimmer too)

cw : mention of injury | wc : 3.2k

💌 : hello ! it’s been like two weeks since i uploaded my last fic—i was locked in for my comprehensive exam lol. it’s all done now though so. . . (proofread, enjoy <3 !)

While the university celebrates the athletes' victory in this year’s tournament, the student publication is also facing its own set of challenges—balancing academic demands, writing articles, designing publication materials, and doing its best to capture the story behind the success.

“The university’s swimming team has been hailed as the overall champion once again in this year's tournament. I’d like to suggest a sports feature article about the team, with a focus on their captain, Anton Lee, for our semestral newspaper. I believe it would be a strong feature,” the publication adviser proposes during the post-tournament meeting.

“It would be better if you could conduct a face-to-face interview with Anton so we can highlight the efforts of him and the team in achieving this year’s victory. I’m assigning you to this task, Ms. Y/N,” she adds.

You weren’t paying attention—you were scrolling through your phone, lost in social media—so you were caught off guard when the assignment was suddenly given to you.

“Uh… me?” you stammer, surprised.

“Yes! You’re both on the swimming team, so I assume you’ve interacted before. And I think it’s best if you write it—you’re the sports editor, after all, and you actually understand the sport,” Ms. Kim replies.

Just as you’re about to protest, Ms. Kim cuts in. “I need it by Friday,” she says firmly.

You could only nod, silently accepting the order from your publication adviser.

Fuck this article. Fuck Anton, you cursed internally.

You walked out of the journalism lab with a heavy sigh, your mind swirling with thoughts on how to even begin the assignment.

You’re an athlete-on-break, your shoulder injury having put a halt to all your training and competitions. Though your shoulder feels fine now, your doctor advised taking it easy for a while to ensure a full recovery.

Since you’re “kind of” free today, you decide to head to the university’s pool to look for Anton. But when you arrive, he’s nowhere to be found—only your coach is there.

“Coach!” you called, loud enough for him to hear.

“The other shark is here?” your coach replied with a playful grin. “How’s your shoulder?”

You smiled softly. “It’s fine. I just need a little more time to recover. I can’t wait to come back.”

He hummed thoughtfully before adding, “The team’s looking forward to your return. One of them even said he ‘misses your presence,’” he chuckled.

“Stop it, Coach! It’s not funny,” you protested, rolling your eyes.

Your coach just laughed. “I’m not even lying. Anyway, what brings you here?”

“Oh! I came looking for Anton, but he’s nowhere to be found. That’s why I was hoping you might know where he is,” you replied.

He raised an eyebrow, the teasing grin still on his face. “You missed him, too?”

“What—no!” you responded quickly, a little too defensively. “I… I just need to interview him for my sports feature article.”

“Ah! He’s probably in his dorm, he doesn’t have a training schedule today,” he responded.

“I’ll check on him then. Thank you, Coach! It’s nice seeing you,” you said with a smile as you walked out.

As you walk through the dorm hallway, one thought won’t stop echoing in your head, you and Anton Lee got very up close and personal in the pool shower.

It wasn’t planned. Just post-training tension, slick tiles, and a moment that escalated way too fast.

You told yourself it was just a dumb, heat-of-the-moment thing. But the way he looked at you after—like he almost said something—that’s the part that stuck.

Then your injury break happened, and neither of you brought it up. Not once.

Now you’re heading to his dorm with a reporter’s notebook, pretending this is all about the article. But to be honest—it’s definitely not just that.

You are now in front of his dorm’s door still hesitating if you're doing right, but you knocked. No response.

Knock again.

Still nothing.

You’re about to give up when the door swings open—and you freeze.

Anton stands there, half-asleep, shirtless, hair a complete mess, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers that leave very little to the imagination.

His eyes widened. “Shit—Y/N?”

He quickly grabs your wrist and pulls you inside before you can react, shutting the door behind you as if he was trying to cover up a crime scene.

Your brain should be thinking, focus on the article, but instead it short-circuits—because he’s warm, still holding your wrist, and you didn’t miss the fact that he’s… not completely asleep, if his boxers are anything to go by.

You look anywhere but there. “Well, this isn’t weird at all,” you mutter, half to yourself.

“Sorry,” he says, voice hoarse, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just woke up.”

No joke.

You cross your arms, trying your very best not to look directly at him—or, well, down.

“I can tell,” you say, eyeing the messy sheets in the background and the fog of sleep still clinging to him. “And.. nice outfit!”

He glances down, realizes he’s still in just his boxers, and immediately grabs the nearest towel hanging off a chair to throw over his waist. “Right. Sorry. Didn’t know I was expecting company.”

“I knocked three times,” you shoot back.

“I was dead asleep. Post-tournament crash,” he yawns, scratching his chest like this is any normal morning.

You suddenly remember the sensation of his skin as if you were not standing in the middle of his dorm.

You clear your throat. “I’m here for the article. Sports feature. Ms. Kim’s orders.”

“Of course,” he says, nodding, however, there's a glimmer of something in his eyes that reflects more than purely sports.

It takes a while for silence to settle between you. Then, casually, he asks, “So… do all your interviews happen in boxer briefs and towel coverage?”

You shoot him a look. “Only the special ones.”

He laughs—soft, a little nervous—but his gaze lingers. “You could’ve just texted.”

You shrug. “You could’ve just talked to me. After.”

That stops him. After a brief moment of teasing, you find yourself standing in a dorm with a lot of unspoken memories and one particularly loud one.

“I wanted to,” he says quietly. “I just didn’t know if you—if it meant anything to you.”

Your heart skips a beat. That wasn't what you were expecting. You thought this would just be stupid and awkward. Not….honest.

“It did,” you say before you can stop yourself. “I just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

With the towel still half-wrapped around his waist, Anton blinks, obviously expecting you to blush or turn away.

But, you don’t.

“I mean, I’ve seen worse,” you say with a shrug, walking past him and dropping your bag on the edge of his unmade bed like you own the place.

He watches you, stunned and silent for a beat. “I… wasn’t expecting you to be this calm about it.”

“Why? Because last time we were alone, I was a little more—” You pause, letting your eyes flick to his chest, then back to his face. “—distracted?”

His cheeks turned red.

Gotcha!

“I’m here for the article, remember?” you add, pulling out your notebook, your tone almost innocent. “Just doing my job.”

Anton rubs the back of his neck, still not sure if you’re teasing him or just good at pretending nothing happened. “Right. Journalism.”

You smirk. “Unless you’d prefer I write a different kind of feature. I’m sure readers would love to hear about the team captain’s… post-training activities.”

He flops onto the bed, face down, towel falling off somewhere in the chaos. He groans into the sheets, there is a change in his eyes when he glances up again, less anxious, and more gentle. As if he was hiding something more serious beneath the jokes.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he says quietly.

You blink, taken aback—not by the words, but by his sincerity. No smirk. No teasing. Just the truth.

Then he gets up and takes a few steps across the gap between you. He pulls you into his chest as if he's been waiting weeks to breathe properly, and before you can respond, his arms are around you—warm, firm, and familiar.

You let yourself sink into it, your forehead resting against his bare shoulder. He smells like detergent and sleep and something that still reminds you of chlorine.

“I kept thinking about you,” he murmurs against your skin. Then his lips brush the side of your neck—soft, almost unsure. “Especially after that night. And when you disappeared on me, I.... I didn’t know if I messed things up.”

“No—You didn’t,” you whisper. Your hands rest against his back, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. “I just… needed space. And my shoulder—”

He then steps back enough to give you a peek. His fingers move your shirt collar gently to the side while his eyes look over your shoulder as if it were still bruised.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks, voice low.

You shake your head. “Not really. I’m okay now.”

He just hummed in response, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. “I didn’t just miss you in the water. I missed you.”

Your heart thuds once, firmly. Then his lips trail from your neck down to the curve of your collarbone, soft and slow.

His fingers tease just beneath the fabric of your shirt as he slides his gentle hand over your ribs. He gives you a soft and non-demanding kiss on your chest, as though he has learned your shape and warmth by heart.

You close your eyes, letting the softness of his touch wash over you. And then, amid the heat and quiet, you break the silence with a smirk.

“So,” you say, voice low and teasing, “how does it feel to be captain again? Must be a lot of pressure, hmm?”

His lips pause their trail for a moment as he groans softly. “It’s… overwhelming.”

You nudge him gently, your fingers brushing his hair. “What about the team? How did they keep up during the toughest moments?”

His breath hitches slightly, but he answers, “They pushed harder than ever. I couldn’t have done it without them.”

You chuckle, half amused by how focused he is despite the distraction. “And what was your mindset going into the final race?”

He exhales against your skin, voice rough, “Win. For the team. For everyone who believed in us.”

You press a kiss to his jaw, grinning. “Very Good.”

His hands tighten slightly on you, and you feel the unmistakable shift beneath his towel. “Interview’s going well,” you murmur, “but maybe we need a break before the next question.”

He lets out a breathless laugh and hums in agreement. You immediately notice a change beneath his towel as his hands grip you a bit more firmly.

You lean in, voice low and husky. “Alright, next question—what’s your secret for staying so focused under pressure?”

He groans softly as his lips find the curve of your neck again, teeth grazing gently as he murmurs, “You.”

Your breath catches, but you keep your tone steady, almost like a game. “Careful, Captain. You’re getting distracted.”

His hands slide beneath your shirt, fingertips tracing light, teasing patterns on your skin. “Maybe I enjoy being distracted.”

You arch into him, feeling how his body presses closer, heat spreading through you. “Does the team know how much you miss me?”

His answer comes with a low growl as his mouth moves lower, kissing the swell of your chest while one hand cups you, soft but demanding.

You grip his hair gently, pulling his mouth to yours. “How about this,” you whisper against his lips, “I’ll keep asking questions if you promise to answer me like this.”

He lifts his head just enough to capture your gaze, eyes dark and heavy. “Sure.”

The interview has been replaced by something much more serious and genuine as you two melt into one another, the notebook forgotten on the bed.

His lips trail deliberately toward the dip below your neck, following the slope of your collarbone with a low, hungry groan. As he pushes your shirt up just enough, his hands glide underneath, claiming every inch of your bare skin—his fingers lingering, teasing, worshipping the heat of you with maddening intent.

You press closer, your breath hitching as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just above your heart.

“Next question,” you whisper, voice thick with want, “what drives you to lead the team so fiercely?”

His breath falters, a low murmur vibrating against your skin. “You,” he confesses, his voice raw and deep. “Everything I do, I do for you.”

A shiver runs through you, the words sending heat pooling between you. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips continue their trail downward, soft and demanding.

You thread your fingers through his damp hair, tugging gently as you murmur, “And what about after the race? How do you unwind?”

He lifts his head just enough to capture your eyes, dark and smoldering, before claiming your lips in a kiss that promises everything and nothing all at once. “Right here,” he replies, voice thick, “with you.”

The notebook sits abandoned, the interview fading into nothing more than a dance of touches and hushed words, as you both give in to the moment, wrapped in the warmth of a long-awaited reconnection. Somewhere between the soft kisses and whispered answers, clothes fall away like second thoughts—your shirt slipping over your head, his boxers discarded at the foot of the bed.

The room is quiet except for the soft rustle of sheets and the uneven rhythm of your breathing. Anton pulls back just enough to look at you—really look at you.

His gaze roams slowly, reverently, like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“God,” he breathes, brushing his fingers lightly over your waist, your ribs, the curve of your hip. “You’re so beautiful.”

You open your mouth to tease, but the look in his eyes stops you. There’s no smirk, no playful glint—just awe. Need. Something tender that makes your chest ache.

“I missed this,” he says, voice low and hoarse. His hands trail down your sides, thumbs brushing the inside of your thighs. “I missed you. Your skin. The way you sound when I touch you. The way you fall apart in my arms.”

Your breath hitches as he leans in again, lips dragging down your neck, over your chest, his mouth hot and gentle against you.

“I thought about this,” he murmurs against your skin, “about you—more times than I should admit.”

His hands caress every inch of you, like he’s relearning, like he doesn’t want to forget again.

You arch beneath his touch, your body responding before you can even form words. You whisper his name, and it pulls a groan from deep in his chest.

He presses his forehead to yours, breath ragged. “I don’t want this to be just once,” he says, voice rough. “Tell me you missed this, too. Tell me you missed me.”

Your answer comes in a gasp, a kiss, a touch—and the way you pull him back to you, wordlessly saying yes, yes, yes.

His body hovers over yours, warm and solid, muscles tense beneath your hands. You watch the way his chest rises and falls, the hunger in his gaze barely contained.

You lean up, your lips brushing his ear, your voice soft but wicked. “You’re easy to distract, Captain.”

He groans at the sound, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

“You’re evil,” he mutters, pressing his forehead to yours.

You smile, trailing your fingers slowly down his stomach, just enough to make him twitch beneath your touch. “Maybe. Or maybe you just missed me a little too much.”

He shudders as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, the heat between you sparking into something fierce.

“You’re not the only one who replayed that night,” you whisper, teasing his lower lip with your teeth. “Except this time, I want to remember every second.”

He kisses you hard, then—like he can’t help it, like your words unlocked something feral in him. And when your hips roll up to meet his, you feel just how much he missed you.

“Say it,” he growls against your throat, “say you want me.”

You smirk, breathless, your voice a low challenge. "Want you? I've longed for you every day."

That’s all he needs.

He sinks into you with a groan, and your teasing melts into a gasp. You cling to him, nails raking lightly down his back as he begins to move—slow, deliberate, claiming every inch of you like a man making up for lost time.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, jaw clenched as he holds back the way you undo him. “You always did.”

You meet each thrust with your own, your lips brushing his ear as you murmur, “You gonna last, Captain? Or am I too much for you again?”

His answering laugh is ragged and breathless. “Keep talking like that, and we’ll find out.”

After the final wave crests and your breathing evens out, the room falls into a hush. The air is warm, heavy with all the things neither of you has said but both clearly feel. Anton doesn’t move at first. He stays close, pressed against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like he’s scared you might vanish again.

You gently run your fingers through his hair, slow and soothing. His heartbeat pounds against your chest.

“…Still think this was just an interview?” you murmur with a soft, breathless smile.

He lets out a quiet laugh against your skin. “If it was, I definitely blew it. Got totally destroyed by the sports editor.”

You laugh, too, but neither of you pulls away. You’re caught in a quiet moment—real, vulnerable, safe. After a pause, he lifts his head and looks at you. This time, there’s no joke in his eyes—just awe.

“I didn’t think I’d get to touch you like this again,” he murmurs, his fingers drawing slow, absent shapes along your hip. “I wasn’t sure I was even allowed to want it this much.”

Your heart stirs, gentler now. “I never meant to disappear,” you say, your eyes locked on his. “After that night... I wasn’t sure what it meant. And with the injury, everything just felt overwhelming.”

He gives a slow nod, then presses a soft kiss to your shoulder—tender, almost hesitant. “I understand. But I still missed you. Not just your body,” he adds, a faint grin tugging at his lips, “though yeah, I missed that too.”

You roll your eyes and give him a teasing nudge. “Pervert.”

He catches your hand and brushes a kiss over your knuckles. “Only yours.”

Silence settles, but it feels right—weighted, warm. Then, quietly, you ask, “So… what now?”

He shifts, slipping an arm beneath your back to pull you closer. “Now?” His gaze locks on yours, steady and sure, like it was in the water. "I'm not going to let you disappear on me again. If you need time, I’ll respect that—but I’m done acting like you don’t matter to me."

You lean into him, his breath brushing your cheek. “Good,” you whisper. “Because I think I care too.”

He smiles into your hair and holds you like you’re the finish line he’s been chasing all along.

You grin softly and whisper, “Guess you’re mine now.”

He chuckles, brushing his nose against yours. “And you’re mine.”

-end-

tysm guys for reading !! 🫂 i'd love to know what u think 🩷

#riize anton #anton smut #anton fanfic #anton x reader #anton hard hours #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize fanfic #anton lee #lee chanyoung #yubi's library 📚#tonfairy 🧚🏼‍♀️#tonfairy's writings ✍🏼🧚🏼‍♀️

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rkivefae · 2 months ago

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(repost from old acc, it's been a few years since I've been on here)

Okay, so my friend has doodled in my chemistry notebook when I let them borrow it, then I began thinking,,

Steddie high school au

Eddie draws continuously in chemistry class and he has certain things he draws with inspiration from that class and doesn’t want to contaminate it with other classes so he hides the notebook, poorly, in hope that when he comes back, it'll still be there.

Steve comes to his seat, in the back of the class and notices it immediately. His first thought is that someone lost it so he grabs it in hopes of seeing a name but instead sees crazy drawings. Ranging from small sketches of supposed knights to fantasy creatures that Steve never would have thought of seeing.

"If found, leave where it is OR ELSE" It read in thick sharpie letters on the front page.

He felt bad for being nosy and going through it but he couldn't help himself as he continued looking through it. After some heavy overthinking, he decides to draw something back. He wasn't the most talented but he was better than most in his art classes, so hopefully they didn’t laugh too much at his attempt.

He decides to draw a jester, tried his best to shade in all perfectly and portion everything properly. To say the least, he was impressed with his final product because this is better than anything he’s ever done in is classes. Next to it he writes, as if the character was saying it, “You should put this in better places.”

He didn’t even focus in class, AT ALL.

But when he came back to the class, he found the notebook again. Took one look at it and tried to fight back the desire to just crack it open and see if they wrote back. His fingers itched to have the glosses cover turned open. just a peak. He tried to reason and at first he held back. Trying to focus in class but that ended terribly, so he grabbed the notebook after about 5 minutes of spacing out on the teacher and eyeing it.

When he opened the page, there it was. A reply.

It was a king, you could tell by the crown he wore but fangs were prominent in the grinning feature. Black curled hair that fell onto his shoulder that was covered by a dark suit. A hand stretched out with a sword towards the Jester, “There is a trespasser? And a fool? State thy business!”

Steve fucking giggled. Giggled! Of all things he could’ve done, he giggled! King Steve Harrington since freshman year, had all the ladies wooing at him and guys wanting to be him just giggled because the owner of the notebook drewsomething for him.

Steve would never get focus back into that class since he replied. Always waiting for the notebook and it became his priority. He didn’t understand how he was still passing that class with how much he began lacking!

They talked about simple silly things at first before Eddie began picking it up more, talking more about who he was but never stated a name, not yet. They weren’t ready for that.

Steve even helped Eddie decide on what to use as his Hellfire club signature look that was going to be fought to be published as an official club on school record!

But when the last page came along at the ending of the school year, Eddie spoke about it. Said, “It’s the end of the year, the last of this book. Could I finally ask your name?”

Steve’s whole world stopped spinning. He couldn’t even begin to explain the thoughts racing through his head.

When they know, would they stop being friends with him? No one truly liked Steve Harrington, he became popular by default of being a pretty boy and on the basketball team. Most talked about how his group of people were assholes and that he might as well be, too. He wasn’t oblivious, he knew what most people thought. He was a boy of a rich family that was spoiled. That wasn’t a lie, but his life wasn’t pretty, thanks to his father and mother. But could anyone really understand that? Walking through the door of his home in fear of what he’ll walk in and see, what would happen to him if he breathed wrong in the presence of his father?

What if when he says his name and they don’t want nothing to do with him? What if when he says his name, he loses the only honest friendship he has? What if they share the things he told them in the notebook to everyone else withproof as a way to ruin his life because they didn’t like him? Maybe they weren’t like that but Steve couldn’t take that risk. No one with this chance would not take it, right? Tommy would take it. The rest of the boys on the team would take it. Carol would take it and laugh about it. He couldn’t expect different from other people, right?

Steve’s breathing quickened as his chest tightened, tears welling up and he gripped his chest. He rushed out of class with an unsteady balance, the teacher yelling behind him and he didn’t return for that period, the notebook left open and unsigned.

He couldn’t.

That moment was talked about everywhere, how he rushed out of class and didn’t return. No one bothered to question why, just whispered how panicked he was. Poor Steve, they said mockingly in the halls but never to his face.

Eddie knew.

It didn’t take long to piece it all together, the incident, the opened notebook, the fact that it was all too much of a coincidence and the things he said just made sense for it to be Steve Harrington.

He didn’t want to believe it at first, laughing that it was just dumb and there was no way that Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was talking to Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson with passion. But then again, they both didn’t know who each other was.

When Steve talked about dumb moments with his ‘friends’ and how he felt bad for the people they ‘hung’ around, the games he lost and how he beat himself up, even the moments that Steve told him how he hated the social ranking - it all should have made sense. At first, Eddie thought that the person writing back was like him, a freak with nerdy interest. Which, in a different font, Steve was.

However, as the next few years flied by, Eddie just watched Steve from afar. From sucking faces with Nancy Wheeler in the hallway, picking her up and twirling her around, smiling bright because he was happy to the moments that it looked like Steve was seconds away from turning over and dying. The bruises that cascaded over certain parts of his body being a brushed off topic and the fear that was in his eyes when he turned the corner. Like he knew things he shouldn’t.

There was raw fear, hatred, anger and even disgust that Eddie was able to recognize. Part of him wondered where the happiness went and the other was tired of him staying afar, wanting to talk to him because Steve Harrington was more than just a pretty boy from what he knew and the look on his eyes only said more.

Eddie never got to, Steve rushed past every day, ready to get the day over and he couldn’t talk to him. Soon, Steve graduated and Eddie was held-back again and he took that as a sign. A strong one. To just get over it. He was never going to know Steve Harrington and it was stupid for him to even think so. Plus, if he did, it was stupid! The town freak with the most loved boy in town? Not a good duo. So, he stayed afar for good.

Until he didn’t.

Steve Harrington waltzed in with an arguing Dustin Henderson, the club all watching the two before Steve Harrington scoffed. “I’m serious, I’m not playing your nerdy campaign just because you’re missing a person! I don’t understand it,” He said, pushing a bag towards Dustin’s chest. “You know I’m not smart enough to understand that.”

Before Dustin could reply, Eddie took that as his chance to finally greet them. He climbed out of his chair rather loudly, catching both of their attention before walking up to Steve, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.

“Well, Well, if it isn’t the missing Jester.” He said, a cocky tone laced within it

It took only a few seconds before Steve’s eyes widened when it clicked.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie au #steddie ficlet #eddie x steve #eddie munson x steve harrington #Steve Harrington x Eddie munson #steddie fanfiction

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ikeukiss · 3 months ago

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SO HIGH SCHOOL | 이희승

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 (𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐖𝐄'𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍)

⟢ PAIRING: lee heeseung x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 6.7K ⟢ GENRE: fluff, comedy, smut ⟢ TAGS: basketballplayer!heeseung, nerd!reader, college au, strangers to lovers, pet names (baby, doll, etc), fingering, oral (f receiving), praise kink, unprotected sex ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Lee Heeseung, the captain of the university's basketball team, does not need to take any interest in you, the girl hidden inside a book. But once he's thrust into your life, it's hard to escape how right it feels to be around him. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This first chapter (as well as the second) has been rewritten to be set in a university rather than the high school setting for obvious reasons. I apologize for not writing it this way originally, and I hope the rewritten version is just as enjoyable as the original was ♥︎.

Heeseung at the free-throw line, certain he will make the basket and win the championship, turns to look at you in the stands. The sounds of his coach, taunts from the opposing team, encouragement of his teammates, and commotion of the final game of the season all fade into the background. To him, all that matters besides the ball in his hands is you.

You, amongst the others in the crowd with their hearts in their mouths, have no fears for your boyfriend. The star player who’s going to make history has never given you doubts before in his talents. All you can do is smile, incredibly proud and incredulous at the thought that he is all yours and nobody else’s.

It’s almost unimaginable how the two of you found each other, coming from completely different worlds. But like all stories, similar to the ones you’ve read since childhood, the story of you and Heeseung has a clear beginning…

𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑼𝑺𝑻

“Do you ever stop to—I don’t know—not read?” Jungwon asks, jotting down notes in his notebook.

You giggle and flip the page. “It’s the last book on Professor Choi’s summer reading list. If I get chummy with her, I’ll be a shoe-in for the TA position. Besides,” you retort, looking directly at your best friend, “how else would I be able to read and still remember what you just said to me if I didn’t practice?”

“Fuck off.” He lightly knocks his shoulder into yours.

Even though it was still very early in the fall semester, you still had a lot to concentrate on with August ending, like the first novel Choi selected on her extensive reading list. You planned to discuss it with the members of the university’s book club, your notes already tucked in your backpack for the second meeting of the month.

Now, sitting with Jungwon in the hallway as you eat your lunch, your focus is solely on finishing the last fifty pages of your book. Jungwon closes his notebook and gets up from his spot next to you. “Alright, I gotta head to Biochem. I’ll see you later!” With a wink, he runs down the hallway and disappears down the corner.

Who you don’t expect to pop up next to disturb the sudden quiet of the surrounding area is Lee Heeseung, star shooting guard for the university’s basketball team. You never spoke to him before, but his reputation and family’s legacy in your small town preceded him. His brother was the shooting guard for the team years ago, breaking numerous records before he got his degree and went on to play professionally. Now, Heeseung’s definitely filling his brother’s shoes and then some.

As a person, however, you know nothing about the boy at all. This semester, though, you shared the same European literature class with Professor Choi. She cared little for his extracurriculars or persona around campus; what mattered to her was the effort of her students and the quality of the classwork.

Heeseung passes you by on his way towards his destination, not sparing a glance. You sit attentively as he knocks on Professor Choi’s office door.

She answers after a moment, a somber smile on her lips. “What can I do for you, Mr. Lee?”

He clears his throat and asks her, “You saw my message and I—“

“I am aware, Mr. Lee. My response still stands. Is there something else you need?” Choi sees you out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t acknowledge your snooping.

“I will do anything to correct my last assignment. Please,” Heeseung begs.

“Mr. Lee, the cutoff for submissions was last week. I’m sorry, but your grade is final.” She sighs and looks at her watch.

“There’s nothing I can do to bring it up before the first game?” Heeseung asks, his voice growing thin from his frustration. He’s not rude, but clearly disappointed he isn’t getting his way with his big eyes and pleading words.

“How about this? I’ll tell Coach Sung you’re working on a paired project to make up the grade.”

“Perfect.” Heeseung breathes a sigh of relief before he takes in the rest of her sentence. “Wait, who’s my partner?”

Professor Choi extends her arm out to point in your direction. Immediately, you want to tuck yourself in your book and hide. You did not intend for your interest in their conversation to put you right in the middle of it, and now you wish you hadn’t feigned curiosity at all.

“She’s one of my best students, so you’re in great hands.” She turns her head so both you and Heeseung can hear her. “I’ll send both of you the information for the project later today.”

You didn’t notice Heeseung had kept his focus on you until you broke your stare-off with Choi. She smirks secretly as you turn your attention to him.

Heeseung isn’t bad to look at, the definition of his muscles peeking out of his shirt in multiple places and his brown hair falling into his face. Each piece of his physical being represents the epitome of a Greek god’s form. But the fact neither of you had ever interacted up to this point scares you more than his intimidatingly good looks.

When Professor Choi gently closes the door, Heeseung awkwardly walks over to your position, towering over you. Ironically, his presence physically embodies your feelings towards him, this stranger now being shoved into your life.

“I’m Heeseung.”

You give him a close-lipped smile and extend your hand out to him, your name leaving your lips immediately. Displaying fake confidence, you hope he can’t tell how terrified you are.

His eyes brighten when his hand touches yours. You stand up, hand still in his, and the feeling of his palm against yours causes you to fumble your next words. “S-so I guess I should give you my number. I mean so once we get the assignment—“

Heeseung smirks. “Usually girls flirt a little more before asking for my number.”

You scoff and tuck your book closer. “I was offering to give you mine, actually. For educational purposes.”

The noise of his laughter fills the small corridor. “Right.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly feeling annoyance creeping under your skin. “Well, if it’s that hard to swap information, you can find me in the library. Around three o’clock, to be exact.” You walk away, but Heeseung follows quickly behind.

“I have practice after my last class at two.”

You look at him with serious eyes, not bothering to stop your stride towards the stairs. “Tell Coach you can’t make it.”

“Are you nuts?” Heeseung says, eyes wide.

You smirk. “You have to get your grade up to play, right?”

You watch the clock in the library with scrutiny. Members of the book club have been gone for half an hour, but you stayed behind to wait. The short hand on the clock sits cruelly over the five, mocking you for holding onto hope Heeseung will come. Every minute that goes by proves you have to face facts: you’re now forced to collaborate with a stereotypical jock.

Chaewon, one of the student librarians, puts the disorganized books on the shelves as you tap your pencil on the table. “Waiting for someone? You don’t usually stick around this late,” she says with a smile.

You grin back, the sentiment not reaching your eyes. “You could say that.”

After another ten minutes of silence, you give up. You begin packing up your belongings, shaking your head and mumbling to yourself the entire time. Curse your interest in the guy and his lack of care for his academics. No wonder his grade was in the tank already. What was the point of athletics if he didn’t have other prospects to fall back on?

Just as you’re walking out of the library, Heeseung runs into you. Sweat’s dripping from his forehead and his breaths are labored. Clearly, he chose basketball over your project. You want to punch him for putting you both in this position.

“I swear I was going to blow off practice,” Heeseung says, but he can see your doubt in his words on your face.

“Sure. How about this? Figure out how to do the project on your own.” You press your body into his to push him out of your way. He follows in suit and rubs the spot you shoved, pretending to be wounded.

It only fuels your ire. You’ve only spoken to the jerk twice and you’re already tired of him treating every word you say and feeling you have like a joke. “Is failing that amusing to you?”

Heeseung’s expression immediately goes cold. “I’m not failing.”

“Sure. So Choi’s just doing this to torture you.”

He weighs his response in his mind before answering. “I may not be perfect, but Choi is really hard on grading.”

“That first assignment was just about what your future looks like after you graduate college.” You push your backpack over your arm. “Excuse her for thinking you had plans outside of throwing a ball around a field.”

That laugh of his may just be the end of your life. He chuckles hard and puts a hand out to stop you. “First of all, that’s football.” He tries to make you look at him directly, but you refuse, too angry to give into what he wants.

He continues anyway. “Second, basketball is my life. Past, present, future, okay? Without it, I don’t even know where I’d be.”

His voice is sincere, more honest than it’s been before. Regardless, your understanding and disappointment is evident. “Don’t you think that that’s the problem?”

“It hasn’t been one before. Suddenly I say it out loud and it’s an issue?” Heeseung’s voice raises a decibel, clearly agitated, and he goes back to his cold exterior.

If he wants to fight about this, you’re game.

“No,” you say, matching his vocal level. “The issue is that your focus is solely on basketball when there’s more important things in life than a dumbass court and sweaty guys trying to make touchdowns.”

“You’re mixing up your sports analogies, angel.” Heeseung steps closer, testing your boundaries. Your chest heaves up and down, your breath labored. You may just slap him if he gets closer.

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” A fraction of his expression slips. His eyes challenge you with both irritation and anxiety. The bravado’s merely a mask for the fear that he’ll lose the one thing he wants the most in this world. And did you have it in you to be the reason he couldn’t have it?

You sigh and rub your palm across your forehead. “Tomorrow, meet me at the marketside pier. 8 AM. Take it or leave it.”

He releases a humorless chuckle. “You’re not gonna make this easy are you?”

“Not on your life.”

Heeseung is there at one of the pier’s wooden picnic tables with his materials sprawled out when you arrive at 7:45. You weren’t expecting for him to be there on time, much less earlier than you. The sun reflects off of his hair, turning the brown curls almost orange. Like the first time you saw him, you can’t help but be reminded that he is painstakingly attractive.

You give him a shy smile and put your backpack down next to you.

“I can tell you’re surprised,” Heeseung says with a small smile.

“A bit, yeah.” You unzip your bag to grab your English textbook. “I thought on the weekends you typically do…’fitness stuff.’” He laughs at your air quotes.

“Well, to be honest, I wake up at 6 AM every morning for drills with my dad.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Like you said, my sole focus is on that damn ball,” Heeseung says, opening his own textbook. “But I want to change that.”

“So you can keep playing,” you remind him, teasing the poor guy.

“Half true,” Heeseung says. “But I shouldn’t have left you hanging yesterday.”

You nod. “I appreciate your apology.” You grab a pencil from your bag, pushing on the eraser until the lead pops up. “And I shouldn’t have been so judgmental. You have to be good at stuff besides basketball, even if it’s not studying.”

“Hey! I’m doing well in all my other classes, thank you very much.” You both share a minute of laughter. “But, to be honest, I do like to sing.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, Troy Bolton.”

“For real! One day, I’ll take you to karaoke. I won’t make fun of you if you can’t keep up with me.”

“Okay, we’ll see.” You direct his focus back on to the page. “Now, onto Cervantes.”

𝑺𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑴𝑩𝑬𝑹

Although Heeseung took his sweet, laborious time to translate and understand Cervantes’s Spanish literature, the project went off without a hitch. Professor Choi was even surprised herself, in disbelief you pulled such an expansive and well-thought analysis out of the quintessential jock.

Now, it seemed the best next step to keep Heeseung on the right track was to sit him right next to you. Your initial partnership continued to benefit him in both his success in European literature and focus on academics, possibly for the first time in his postsecondary educational career.

Better than that, he may have found a new friend in you he wouldn’t have had otherwise.

By the end of one Tuesday class, Heeseung asks you to have lunch with him and his friends, a request that makes your previous seating buddy, Yujin, freak out.

Both her and Jungwon corner you on your way out when you tell them the news.

“No fucking way,” she whispers excitedly, slapping you on the back with vigor.

“That hurt,” you moan.

“Are you prepared?” Jungwon asks, smirking.

“Prepared for what?”

“The lion’s den, dude! You’re gonna be with not just his douche friends, but also the cheerleaders, other sports players…be prepared for the worst,” Jungwon grumbles.

“Oh shut up, Won!” Yujin threatens to hit him too, but he retracts. “Have fun on your pseudo first date.”

“It’s not a date!”

By the time lunch comes around, you hold yours with shaky hands, searching the student food court for Heeseung’s table. You usually sat with Jungwon or Yujin in the hallways of the English department to eat. Now, you’re a small fish in a big pond, waiting to be eaten alive.

Was it, in fact, a date, like your friends hypothesized? Did you have to try and impress Heeseung more than normal? Did you want Heeseung to take you on a date, real or fake, to begin with?

“Hey!"

Heeseung waves you over with a confident but over-exaggerated arm, flapping it wildly so you notice. He didn't need to do that, though; you could pick out his voice in any crowd.

You walk over with a smile and sit down, feeling small next to the strangers you had not met until this moment. The basketball team's not unwelcome, but they are awkward at your sudden presence at their table, even if Heeseung made it known beforehand that you would be hanging out with them to eat.

He says your name and introduces you to his friends. "And that's Sunghoon, Jongseong, and Jaeyun." You recognize the last two, Jay and Jake. Jake, the strikingly blonde one, has a class with you for the fall semester. He smiles and tips his soda can at you in acknowledgement.

“Hee was telling us you’ve been saving him this term in Euro Lit. Choi can be a pain in the ass, am I right?" Sunghoon and Jay share a laugh, but you bristle at the comment.

"Not really," you say. "Choi sponsors my book club, so we have a good relationship. I think that's why she wanted me to whip Heeseung into shape in the first place." You elbow Heeseung in the side, and he grins in response.

"She's probably right."

"Book club kid, huh?" Jake asks. "Haven't been one of those since elementary school."

Jake's comments make the entire team laugh. Your cheeks turn pink and Heeseung takes a sip from his drink, his posture stiffening in the process.

"It's not a bad thing though," Jake interjects amidst their laughter. "Books are fun."

"A bit nerdy, though," Sunghoon comments.

A girl next to Sunghoon smacks him hard on the arm, but he just pokes his tongue at her.

Your anxiety spikes the longer you sit with them, your gut feelings a reminder that they’re all a part of Heeseung’s world, not yours.

You clear your throat and stand up from the table. “I forgot to say, Hee, I have to do something for Choi anyway.” Heeseung’s face turns down at the corners. The only audible response you receive is from Jay and Sunghoon in the form of exaggerated snickers. “Run along, pet,” Sunghoon comments with a smirk.

You hope your eyes give the offense you won’t bother saying out loud. Fuck off, asshole.

When you make it to your usual lunch spot, Yujin and Jungwon are surprised to see you walking down the hallway.

“What happened?” Yujin asks.

“Exactly what Won said was going to happen,” you confess, sitting down in a criss-cross position beside her. “Now give me your chips.”

When the end of the day comes around, Heeseung catches you on your usual trek to the student trolley. “You’re forgiven, by the way.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What did I do?”

“You left me alone with my shithead teammates! I needed you there for backup, y’know.” He smirks and grabs your backpack from your shoulder to put around his arm. “I’m sorry about them. Sunghoon, mostly.”

“Can’t believe you’re friends with that guy,” you mumble.

“He’s the only one who I’m not friends with, truthfully. The others are cool. They’re just not used to new people.”

“I never would have guessed.”

Heeseung’s laugh is hearty, with a dazzling smile to match. You can almost forget the heap of embarrassment you felt earlier when you look at him like this, carefree and youthful.

“Anyway, let me give you a ride,” he offers, pointing to the parking lot. His car is freshly washed, its coat of paint identical to the school’s colors of blue with silver accents.

“What will your friends say?” you ask with a fake gasp.

“Fuck them. Besides, you’re also one of my friends. Now let’s go.” He takes your hand to walk in the direction of his car, not releasing your palm until you’re at his passenger side door.

As you give him directions to your dorm, your mind goes back to the labels you had been running through in your mind all day. Were you Heeseung’s friend? Yes. Did you want to be more? Surely he didn’t just ask anyone to have lunch with him and his friends if he didn’t have other intentions, right? So, in that case, did yours match his?

A part of you wants to say yes, but the rational piece keeps you in check. It’s ridiculous to expect more than a friendship. How could you when it was so obvious your worlds were so far from each other, your friendship a simple fluke? You were grateful for his presence in your life, knowing without him it would be a bit darker, but would it last?

Yet here you were. Sitting happily in his car, hair blowing in the wind as his thumb grazes the outside of your hand, you try to enjoy all the time you do have together.

𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹

“This is ridiculous!”

“Come on, just try it!”

“When did I ever say I was good at sports?” You groan, holding the ball in your hands with nervous fingers. Only you and Heeseung occupy the university gym’s outdoor basketball court, the rest of the team and other sports folk inside. It feels as though there’s a thousand people in the metal stands watching you, waiting for you to mess up.

“You said if I passed the last test, you would let me show you how to make a free throw.” Heeseung has his hands in his pockets, his letterman jacket flapping in the autumn wind.

“If I suck at this, you’re never going to talk to me again. Just watch.” You try to dribble the ball across the court, but it falls between your legs before you can travel any further.

Heeseung puts his face behind his hand, clearly chuckling to himself. You scoff at him and the response you saw coming the second he put the ball in your hands. “See? I told you you would think I’m embarrassing!”

He raises his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just cute, that’s all.”

“’Cute’ is probably the nicest way you could say I’m embarrassing.” You kick the basketball in his direction. He catches it with no effort, his face still shaped in a state of enjoyment.

“I said cute because I meant cute, you dork.” He steps to the free-throw line and motions for you to join him. You do, grumbling and grunting the entire way.

“Now, you gotta relax. The only way you have half a shot at making the basket is if you stop tensing up.” He hands you the ball again and steps behind you.

He puts his hands on your hip, his palms soft against your hoodie. You can practically feel the heat of his skin through the material of your clothing, and you hope he can’t tell how much your heartbeat has spiked from him being so close to you.

“Next thing is to bend your knees. They can’t be locked up.” You listen to his words, trying not to focus on how his body is making yours react. You may be imagining it, but even his voice sounds a bit breathless from the small distance between yourself and him.

His lips are ghosting over your ear when he says, “Now shoot.”

You release the ball from your hands, hoping the angle of your throw and Heeseung’s directions will prove you’re partially competent.

And sure enough, the basket makes it in a single whoosh. You turn in Heeseung’s grasp, releasing a happy cheer. “That was amazing!”

You feel the rush of the shot in your veins, but suddenly the only thing that makes your body hum in pleasure is the sudden crash of Heeseung’s lips against yours.

Unsure how to react, you stand there frozen in place as his mouth moves on its own accord. But slowly, surely, happily, you fall deeply into his embrace. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and feel the press of his tongue against your mouth, begging for entrance.

You comply, letting the feeling of him and the thrill of this private moment in both of your worlds fill you to the brim with quiet pleasure and happiness.

[LHS] can we talk, please? [LHS] did I do something wrong?? [LHS] idc if you don’t respond i’ll keep texting until you say something… [LHS] don’t leave me hanging :(

You sigh and throw your phone to the other side of the bed, tucking your comforter closer to your chest. Deciding to stay in your dorm and skip classes was probably not the best way to handle your problems, but just because you’re smart doesn’t mean you’re sensible all the time.

The past weekend’s excursion with Heeseung was beautiful, no doubt. But the fears continued to creep in with little regard for how happy he made you that day or all the days that came before it. Would how he felt about you last any longer than his basketball season? Did he entertain this simply because it was entertainment and nothing more?

The thoughts had been too much when you said goodbye to him in front of your dorm room with another hasty, giddy kiss and all the hours following it. Maybe you were self-sabotaging, but it was better to manage expectations now than let them crush you in the aftermath.

When Yujin calls you during her lunch break, you have half a mind to ignore it. You answer anyway to avoid your friends thinking something drastic happened.

“Hello,” you mumble, the effects of your late morning nap hitting you.

“Dude, Heeseung is on a tear today. He even asked Jungwon where you were, and I didn’t even think he knew the kid existed. What the hell happened on Saturday?”

Before you can respond, a knock startles any remaining fatigue out of you. “I gotta go. I’ll tell you later.” You hang up, hastily grabbing your fuzzy robe before running to the door.

You don’t bother looking through the peephole to see who it is, but you curse yourself for not doing so when you’re confronted with Heeseung. He’s a sweaty and panting mess, but he doesn’t care for his appearance. His face morphs into relief when he sees you staring back at him.

“Thank God,” he says before stepping closer to you. He runs his hand over your forehead, frowning. “You’re not sick.”

You shake your head.

“So, you just ignore me all weekend and then don’t show up to class today?”

You sigh. “I didn’t know what to say when I saw you.”

He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing. “So you chose not to see me at all? Was kissing me that terrible?

“No!” You run a frustrated hand through your hair, the spot in your hallway suddenly too cramped. You push him inside of your room and close the door behind you. “I don’t regret it at all. And I’d do it again if I could.”

Heeseung smirks at that, clearly happy with your response. “So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that when you get bored of me, things won’t go back to normal for me like they will for you, Hee. You may think this is a game but—“

Bitterness marks his sudden laugh like a bee sting, sharp and painful to your ears. His eyes grow serious, so much so your words stop short because of his stony expression. “Do you think that little of me?”

Your body tenses at his words, unsure how to respond. You have never thought of him as lesser than once, not since getting to know him. But maybe only looking at your feelings regarding your relationship compromised his own in the process.

He steps closer, your faces an inch apart. “Two months ago, I didn’t realize how much my life was going to change because of you. All I thought about before was basketball. And now, you’re one of the few things outside of that damn game that matters to me. When I haven’t talked to you or seen you for too long, it’s like there’s this rock in my gut that I can’t get rid of. I kissed you because I wanted to, not for fun or because it’s this momentary thing.

“So, if you still think I’m going to get bored of you in a few days or weeks or months, then you really aren’t as smart as I thought you were, angel. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Breathless would be too small of a word to describe how his speech affects you. You feel the same buzz of his kiss from a few days throughout your entire body from his words alone. It makes every worry and fear that has plagued you evaporate, replaced with his promises and all the reasons you should jump in headfirst without another thought.

So you do.

You kiss him hard, crashing into his lips and hoping all of the feelings he harbors reflect in the actions of your mouth. You hold on to him with your hands on his neck and the smoothness of your lips in a beautiful rhythm with each other.

Whatever happens next, you know there’s no turning back now.

𝑵𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑴𝑩𝑬𝑹

“And Sim, our prime point-guard, passes to Lee. Lee has ten seconds to make another three pointer and win the game. Will he do it? Time to find out!” Kim Sunwoo screams into the microphone, broadcasting the highlights of the semi-final game to the many listeners not attending in-person.

Lucky for you, you have the perfect spot in the stands to watch Heeseung make the winning basket and lead the team to victory.

The crowd roars when your boyfriend secures the team’s spot in the championship game. His teammates lift him up above their heads and shoulders, chanting his name and holding him with all of their strength. Heeseung immediately searches the crowd for you, his excitement fueling his newfound focus.

When he does see you, clapping your hands and cheering with the rest of the bystanders, he kisses the inside of his palm and shoots it in your direction like he’s making another basket. Your heart squeezes at the gesture, but you only blush and wink.

Ever since that day in your dorm, you can’t seem to separate yourself from him or the feelings he stirs up inside of you. The thought and reality of not seeing or hearing from him for too long immediately dampens your spirits, just like Heeseung described to you when he confessed. Jungwon calls you “lovesick fools” every time you both are in his presence, but it’s not that. The love you feel for your boyfriend is one that strengthens every sense, impulse, and desire. Without it and him, that’s when you feel the weakest. And every time Heeseung smiles at you or holds you close, you can tell he feels the same.

Whether your worlds were the exact same or as different as they possibly could be, you both made your own perfectly fit for just the two of you.

The outside world has to creep in every once in a while, though.

At the end of the night, Heeseung’s arm is wrapped snugly around you as you walk. You discuss your shared plans for the night and subsequent weekend since your roommate is away with her own significant other. Heeseung stops short when he sees his father waiting at his car with crossed arms.

“Good job, Hee,” he sa‌ys. “Saw you lost a bit of steam in the third quarter, though. We’ll have to do some more conditioning before the final.”

And there it was. The judgment you saw so often in conversations between Heeseung and his father that made you ache for the boy you loved. As his father, he should’ve been proud to see his sons succeeding, one of them off and playing for a world-renowned team and the other on his way there. Instead, all they received was judgment. It wasn’t your place, but you couldn’t wait for the day Heeseung stood up to him.

“At least I made the winning basket, right?” Heeseung shrugs off the criticism with a laugh and holds you closer. “We have to go eat, so—“

“Of course.” His father moves out of your way. “Lovely to see you again, darling,” He says to you with a small smile as he opens the passenger door for you. You return his greeting, suddenly uncomfortable with how close he is.

On your drive to your dorm, you try to help Heeseung de-stress with a hand on his thigh. “Don’t let him get to you,” you say sadly.

He smiles and gives you a knowing stare. “I’ve been dealing with him my whole life. He doesn’t have that power anymore.” He takes your hand from his thigh to clasp it in his own palm. “Besides, I’m one step closer to the championship and I got my girl next to me. Nothing’s getting in the way of my good night.”

You set your backpacks down near the shoe rack when you step inside your small room. Heeseung follows you to your kitchenette, your hands ready to grasp the Chinese takeout flyer sprawled across your toaster oven. Heeseung presses his lips to your neck as you fumble with the paper menu. The trail of his kisses going from the back of your ear to the start of your collarbone makes you shiver.

“Hee,” you warn him. “We won’t be able to eat if you keep distracting me.”

“Food is the second priority,” he responds, lips feathering your skin. “Right now, we need to celebrate the championship.”

“The championship is still three weeks away.”

“If we both know I’m going to win, what’s the point of delayed gratification?” He pulls the sleeve of your shirt down to expose the top of your shoulder, kissing that area too, making your body thrum with pleasure.

You roll your eyes before Heeseung lifts you over his shoulder, immediately heading toward your bed. You protest weakly, saying you can take the trek a few feet from your kitchenette yourself, but he laughs it off.

He knows for certain he’s in love with you. It may not be the perfect time to say it, especially before he’s about to ravish you, but the perfect time will come when it feels right.

He doesn’t say it when he strips you bare for only his eyes as he kisses you senseless, shocked and grateful your body is for him and him alone to see and cherish. He doesn’t say it as you kiss every inch of his bare chest to send him into a rambling mess of praises and curses.

Somehow, stupidly, the words slip out when your mouth is wrapped around his cock, tongue flat against the underside of his tip as he feels the back of your throat against him. You gag around the head, taking him deeper into your mouth to savor the taste and feel of him between your lips.

“Fuck, I love you so much.”

The air stills, both your bodies going rigid at the sudden confession. But, instead of running scared, you take your mouth off of him and stare deeply into his eyes, smiling widely. “What’d you say?”

Heeseung breathes out a sigh of relief, seizing your face between his hands and kissing you deeply. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the second I saw you in that hallway. I just didn’t know it yet.”

You giggle and press another kiss to his lips. He sees a tear leave your eye, and he wipes it away gently with his thumb. “I love you, too, Heeseung.”

You fall back into a steady rhythm of kissing and touching, Heeseung’s hands roaming the skin of your stomach, the swell of your breasts, and the cleft between your thighs, making you moan.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” Heeseung whispers against your lips.

He lays you flat on your back, kissing what areas he hasn’t touched yet with his hands. He needs you to know, in every moment, he chooses you and will never stop making that choice. To be with you, to love you, to give all of himself to you.

If he had to decide to either give up the game or you, he would make the former decision in a heartbeat. His dad, his friends, and even fate may say it’s immature love and you haven’t been in his life as long as basketball has, but they don’t see him the way you do.

Even if he doesn’t say it out loud, he knows he doesn’t have to.

When Heeseung finally presses his lips to your clit, kissing the nub with adoration, your legs shake at the contact. You instantly run your fingers into his hair. “Fuck,” you curse, the word rarely slipping from your lips save for moments like these.

The first time you had been together, Heeseung didn’t know exactly how to touch you without being terrified it was too much. But now, he knows all the ways to turn you into a beautiful mess.

He licks languidly across your center and through your folds, keeping the perfect pace for you to ride your hips against his mouth. He inserts a finger into your entrance after coating the digit in the arousal already pooling at your center. You, typically so put together, are ready to fall apart at the simple press of his mouth against you.

Heeseung knows he can get you off this way, without question. And most nights, he doesn’t mind when you’re the only one who receives pleasure. But tonight, you moan out a request that he can’t say no to.

“Heeseung, please. I want you inside me when I come.” He doesn’t have to be told what to do twice when it’s the best command he’s heard all night.

He takes your mouth in his, holding your jaw in his hand and slightly applying pressure to the side of your neck. A half-empty moan leaves your lips at the sudden contact. To him, the sounds that you make are their own form of poetry, better than anything you’ve read to him all year.

Heeseung quickly grabs a foil packet from your bedside drawer to put on himself, protection being the one thing you can’t forget amid your desire for each other. Positioning himself at your entrance, he believes you could not appear more beautiful with your half-lidded eyes and eager hands grasping his hips to push him inside you at last.

When he eases in, he swallows the curse prepared to leave your lips with his own. It’s an indescribable feeling, the stretch and pull of your walls taking him in completely. Although you’ve been together many times before this night, it’s still a novelty Heeseung does not take for granted.

He takes his time establishing a rhythm, loving the pants and whimpers you emit because of him and for him. He holds his hand on your throat, his thumb going into your mouth for you to wrap your lips around in a lewd manner.

“Ah, fuck,” you say as he snaps his hips, filling you to the hilt. “Just like that.”

He feels his orgasm in his gut, threading further up his body as he snaps his hips harder and faster, moving in and out at a faster pace than normal. You don’t mind scratching lines down his back as you cling to him. You’re both reduced to a heap of I love you’s and satisfied sounds, and it could not be more perfect.

“Fuck, Hee, I’m coming,” you say in the form of a promise, one so precious he wants to hear it every day.

The flutter of your walls around him as you fall apart pushes him to his own end, releasing into the condom with a guttural moan. He kisses you deeply before separating from you, running to the bathroom to throw the remnants of your lovemaking into the toilet and clean himself up.

You hold your arms out to him, ready to have him back by your side. He grins and kisses the crown of your forehead.

“Best win ever,” Heeseung whispers into the dark.

“The semi-final, you mean?” you ask with a smirk, your question entirely rhetorical. He chuckles, not bothering to answer. Instead, he presses a kiss on the crown of your head. You respond with your own kiss to his sweaty chest. “I love you.”

He grins happily to himself, the words a thousand times more powerful leaving your mouth. “I love you, too, angel.”

With your body curled into his chest, your heartbeats matching in tempo, he thinks no amount of championship wins could compare to the love he’s found in you.

𝑫𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑴𝑩𝑬𝑹

The basketball feels light as air in Heeseung’s hands, incomparable to the feeling in his chest looking at you. His teammates can tell he’s staring directly at your position in the stands. They wonder how his mind is still so occupied by you, even amongst the sea of spectators waiting for him to either succeed or screw up

Little do they realize, you’re the exact reason he’s going to win the title.

As he looks in your direction, he takes the shot without second-guessing himself. He hears the faint gasps of some attendees and even his coach, but the following swish of the basket in the hoop tells Heeseung all he needs to hear. And all he needs to see is your beautiful, proud face as the gym explodes into cheers.

You’re the best and truest thing he has in this world. He knows he’s a champion, in both the traditional and figurative sense. With you by his side, he’ll always feel like the winner of every game he’ll ever play.

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