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novthirty · 3 months ago

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OUT OF BOUNDS | you get isekai-d into the N109 zone

— pairing: sylus x non-mc! reader

— synopsis: you land in the world of love and deepspace. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of his personal secretary. wc: 3.8k

— tags: isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, pining, slice of life, birthdays, holiday season, reader is not the main character, boss/employee relationship

— edit: i’ve since turned this into a multi-chapter fic! this will continue to function as a standalone one-shot, but you can find the series here.

ao3 | masterlist | requests are open!

It was just your luck to be walking home from a 7PM class on a desolate road, only for a vehicle to swerve and crash into you. The impact is like a sledgehammer to your body as you hear the crunch of glass and the snap of bones. This is it, you think, as the world around you blurs into nothingness.

—————————————————————

You wake up in a hospital bed, where you promptly have a panic attack from the IV attached to your arm. You desperately thrash against the nurses’ hold, trying to remove the intrusive line from your body, but it’s no use as your injuries and the numerous drugs hamper your movements. You hear muffled explanations— inaudible to your clouded mind— before they decide to sedate you. You drift back to sleep.

Sometime later, you wake up again, this time with the IV detached and a familiar face sitting by your bedside. You laugh, thinking you must be in some sort of dream or coma-induced hallucination. Because why was Sylus, a love interest from Love and Deepspace— the game you’ve been obsessed with for the past few months— sitting beside you? You say as much, and the only response he deigns you with is, “Did you sustain brain damage on top of your other injuries?”

You shake your head at the absurdity of your delusions, quickly falling back into a medically-induced sleep. Things should be back to normal when you wake up.

—————————————————————

Newsflash: they weren’t. Days passed, and you gradually had to accept that whether it was reality or not, you were gonna be stuck here until you figured out how to go back to the normal world. Sylus visits you from time to time, the strange girl who landed in his backyard and claims to be from another world. It turns out that the place you’ve woken up in is not a hospital, but Onychinus’s medical ward.

When you’ve healed enough to be discharged, you have nowhere to go. So you turn to the only person you’re familiar with in this world.

You had been a college student, just months away from graduation before you found yourself here. It fills you with spite, how everything you’d worked hard for was taken away in the blink of an eye. But you push the bitterness aside, offering whatever skills you have to Sylus so he doesn’t kick you out. You know that this world isn’t kind, the N109 Zone one of the worst places you could have ended up. A normal civilian such as you wouldn’t survive here alone. Though you don’t have much to contribute to a criminal organization, you’re grateful when Sylus offers you the job of his personal assistant.

Although you don’t have much work experience, your previous internships and methodical nature help you to excel at this job. Never has the leader of Onychinus been so…. organized, his colleagues around him observe the stark change in the following months. You whip him up to shape, scolding him when he arrives late to meetings, making sure he actually calls back when he says he will. His business partners now call his office to be greeted by a chirpy voice, “How may I help you? Oh, Sylus isn’t here right now. Would you like to leave a message?”

He had initially given you this job as more of a placeholder role, so you can occupy yourself with the illusion of real responsibility while he investigates his suspicions about you. Where did you come from? Who sent you? And most importantly, how did you manage to infiltrate his base right under his nose? But his investigation leads him to the simple truth: there was nothing on you. It’s as if you materialized from thin air. No records, no blood ties, no evidence of your existence before you walked into his life.

But if reincarnation can be fact, and dragons more than legends, why deny the possibility of other realities? This, more than anything, makes him inclined to believe your claims.

Besides, you’ve proven yourself to be… useful, he supposes. Although the fear he instilled in his business partners was enough to put them in their place, he now had you to act as a buffer to their complaints and concerns, handling matters that were beneath him. You easily adjust to his nocturnal schedule; you’re like a little crow chirping at his shoulder at all times of the day, reminding him to leave on time for meetings, to eat three meals each day (even going so far as to ask his preferred meals to inform the chefs in advance). You physically force him out of his office the moment noon hits in an attempt to prevent him from overworking, “Sun’s up, boss. It’s time to hit the sack.”

Your office is connected to his, although it's less a room and more an alcove he cleared away when he gave you the job. You have a small desk, a fluffy pink swivel chair, and a shelf covered in the trinkets you spend your salary on. (Another thing you have in common with Mephisto, he notes to the ever-growing list.) He finds amusement to idly watch you during his downtime, twirling the strands of your hair and chewing your pen as you talk on the phone about weapons shipments and insuring someone who lost a finger in an operation.

Contradictory to his initial expectations, you prove yourself in a professional capacity and cement your place in the ranks of Onychinus.

—————————————————————

The first surprise is truly when the clock strikes twelve on April 18, and he enters his office to find a cake on his desk. Decorated in black and maroon frosting, it’s topped with his name in crooked cursive and a crow-shaped candle to boot. Moments after, you stride in from behind with Luke and Kieran, all carrying gifts and wearing patterned party hats, singing a terribly off-key rendition of the birthday song.

“Happy birthday, Sylus! Make a wish!”

He blows the candles (and wishes for the only thing he truly desires).

“Do you like the cake? The chefs helped me decorate it!” You say as you slice it into even triangles, giving him the largest one. Mephisto is perched on your shoulder, with his own red party hat, as you feed him small bites of your own slice. (The resemblances between the two of you are truly uncanny). The celebration is a silly endeavor that lasts no more than an hour before he kicks everyone out of his office. But try as he might, he can’t wipe the grin off his face for the rest of the day.

When May comes, you rope him into the preparations for Luke and Kieran’s birthday. Due to your incessant nagging, he’s since discovered your shared digital calendar— complete with monthly, weekly, daily, and hourly agendas— and chosen to ignore it. “The calendar exists for you to be on time,” You seethe whenever he steps into his office late, the little shit smirking as if you didn’t just rearrange his schedule to hell and back for that one hour-long meeting he missed. However, that doesn’t mean he’s exempt from any festivities you force upon the household.

The twins’ celebration is a significantly more chaotic affair than his, involving a two tiered cake and a booking for a laser tag arena, and ending with a trip to the medical ward. Despite the casualties, it’s the most fun Luke and Kieran have had since they joined Onychinus. (Fun that wasn’t self-orchestrated, at least).

Your presence brings a liveliness to his found family, something that grounds you all in this high-paced line of work. A presence that, little by little, seeps into his life to the point he can no longer imagine living without it.

—————————————————————

When he finds you on a cold midnight in November, sitting alone on the kitchen island with a puny cupcake and a candle, he asks you what the hell you think you are doing.

“Well, it’s just a birthday. I didn't feel the need to have a lot of celebration this year." The answer is nowhere enough to appease him, especially given your grandiose efforts to celebrate literally everyone else’s birthday. So, you admit to him, “I felt a bit sad, I guess. This was my last year of college. I had so many plans for before my entry into the workforce… and now, I can't really do any of them.”

Without missing a beat, he asks, “And what were those plans?”

You list off the various places you wanted to visit, the items you were supposed to cross from your bucket list this year. As you reminisce on old plans, you split the cupcake with him and bid him goodnight, returning to your office to catch up on work.

When you wake up at 5 PM later that day, it’s to streamers and balloons in the living room.

“Happy birthday!” Everyone in the house cheers as you enter the room, decked out in all sorts of party favors. Even Sylus, who was notoriously un-festive, is wearing a cone-shaped party hat striped with your favorite colors.

What follows is an impromptu day-off for everyone in the base (you feel an oncoming migraine thinking of how you’re going to readjust Sylus’s schedule). They bring you to Linkon City, your first time visiting since your arrival, following an itinerary that matches your original plans to a T.

Sylus is upset that you’ve kept the date to yourself for so long, but more than that, he’s angry at himself for not bothering to ask. So he does his best to make up for it in the final hours of your birthday. Throughout the evening, he drags you to every activity that had been on your wishlist, lavishing you with all sorts of presents on the way. It’s a little too much. You’re not used to being spoiled, not used to treating yourself without deserving it first, and you tell him as much.

He tips your chin upwards with a feather-light touch, his gaze unreadable as he asks, “And who says my lovely secretary doesn’t deserve the world at her feet?”

The atmosphere shifts, the effortless ease at which you interact with him dissipates into stutters and heated stares. You ride home on the back of his motorcycle, finding yourself flushing despite the winter chill in the air. It’s a comfortable silence, yet your heart is thumping loudly against your chest. Does he hear how he makes you feel? You wonder.

Before he retires to his bedroom, you place a soft kiss against his cheek. “Thank you for today,” you whisper before shutting the door behind you.

—————————————————————

From then on, things are significantly more… tense, between the two of you. What were once casual interactions turn tense with every brush of your fingers, with every meeting of your eyes across the room. He's always lavished you with the sweetest of pet names; darling, little bird, sweet girl. You assume it’s just his speech pattern, given what you had known of him from the game. But why does it make your heart race every time he refers to you with such terms of endearment? Why does it fuel your delusions of having something more?

—————————————————————

It comes to a head during the week of Christmas, where you once again strong-arm him into having your festive way at the Onychinus base.

You were appalled at their lack of holiday spirit for the previous years, “How can you run an organization like this?!” So you drag your boss out to the nearest Christmas tree farm. “You’re rich enough to afford a real one,” You decide definitively. He rolls his eyes but drives you there anyway.

Each night on the week before Christmas goes similarly. The moment your work is done for the evening, you drag the whole house into some sort of festive activity. Decorating the tree, baking a gingerbread house, making eggnog. Holiday tunes fill the Onychinus base 24/7 and for once, Sylus finds that he doesn’t mind. Not when he sees the way you dance to yourself when you think no one’s looking, the way you know the words by heart and hum them under your breath. But he doesn’t participate much, mostly checking in and making a sardonic yet supportive comment before returning to his work.

One evening, he decides to bring his work to the living room while you’re setting up the tree. It was a great source of amusement to see you struggle on your toes to place the ornaments, hoisting yourself up on whatever surface was available to you. But even he found it a bit too pitiful to watch you struggle to place the star, too vertically challenged to place the finishing touch. Couldn’t you just get a ladder? “Let me help you,” His breath tickles your ear as he grabs your waist and lifts you up.

You squeal, holding tight to his arms and kicking at the air beneath you, “Sylus, what the fuck! Put me down!”

“Place the star, darling. While I'm still being nice.” In the end, you call it a team effort, despite his only contribution being his role as a human ladder.

—————————————————————

You’ve been very festive and cheery the whole week of Christmas, so it disturbs him when the eve of the 25th arrives and you’re downtrodden. A shell of your typical self. He's never seen you like this before— absentminded and listless, it takes you a whole minute to realize he’s calling your name for the grand Christmas dinner you had insisted upon. You open presents with everyone in the early morning, smiling and thanking at the right cues, but he can tell your heart’s not in it.

After the gifts have been given and the wrapping paper cleaned up, he takes you to the rooftop to ask what’s wrong.

And so, you bare your heart to the only person who holds enough of it to break it.

It’s a bittersweet Christmas for you, the first one you’ve ever spent away from home. For the first time since you were whisked away to this surreal world, you speak of your original life. Your family. Your friends. Your dreams. A fragile boundary that you haven’t touched with anyone here, for it hurts too much to speak of what you left behind. Of what was taken away from you.

And it is here, underneath the midnight sky where he tells you of his search for the other half of his soul. He speaks of a similar homesickness, resonating with how out of reach home feels for you right now, as he’s waited what seems like a millennia for the person he calls his.

You already know, of course, that sooner or later, he will meet her. This world was once your favorite game, and you had shed tears at their loss, at their cursed fate. You stay silent, listening to the tragic tale from the man himself. The affection in his tone as he speaks of her— his sorceress, his soulmate— makes you hurt for this man, for the trials he’s endured in the name of true love. But it is also a bitter reminder that you have no place by his side.

—————————————————————

On New Year’s Eve, he doesn’t even give you the chance to feel homesick. The moment the sun goes down, he takes you on a joyride to Linkon City, bringing you to a cafe to have dinner together and sightsee the various festivities for the holiday; making sure you don’t even have a moment to feel sad.

He brings you to the tallest building in the city, for the best view of the sky when the fireworks show starts. Despite the chilly air, his hand is warm in yours, clutching it in a tight grip as he wades through the crowd of people who had the same idea. You find a secluded corner where the two of you sit down and sip your milk tea, talking about your new year’s resolutions.

“I don’t do resolutions,” He waved a hand, unimpressed. “If I want to change an aspect of my life, I won't wait until the start of a new year to do so.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” You stick your tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes, but he’s internally pleased with how well he’s distracted you thus far. “My resolutions are always the same. Exercise more, eat healthy, and save money!”

“Dear, there is a private gym back home that you haven’t touched even once,” Your heart flutters at the word home. A word that brings you melancholy most of the time, but now fills your heart with a sort of domestic bliss.

“Well then, it’s perfect! I'll have no excuse not to start tomorrow.”

He shakes his head in fond exasperation. Your eyes are glued to the magnificent colors soaring through the sky, legs bouncing in time with the countdown. But unbeknownst to you, his gaze is entirely on you.

When the clock strikes midnight, you jump to give him a hug. “Happy New Year, Sylus!”

He cradles you in his arms, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Happy New Year.”

—————————————————————

As the months pass by, you grow more accustomed to the harsh edges of your new job. It's not exactly the first job you had envisioned for yourself; you had once hoped to start somewhere more in line with your aspiring career, somewhere you could make use of your degree. But plans don’t always work out. What you do is unorthodox, but it’s fulfilling and allows you to live in this dangerous world from a safe vantage point, almost like dipping your toes into a ten feet pool.

That doesn’t mean you’re completely sheltered from all the dangers of the job, however. Given the type of clientele you handle, more often than not, you’re faced with threats of being maimed over the phone when you can’t give somebody what they want. Each time, Sylus promptly takes over and matches their energy twicefold with a more heinous, yet very real threat.

The worst days are post-missions, when you have to witness your newfound family return bloody and bruised in the name of Onychinus. You become conditioned to waiting with a first aid kit and a change of clothes for Luke and Kieran, immediately patching up their wounds. But Sylus— you almost think he’s invincible, with how he returns from even the most high-risk operations without a scratch.

That is, until one night when he walks through the front door, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. His evol is working overtime to knit his skin back together, but the blood still pools beneath him on the marble tile. You stay by his side through the night as he recovers, listening to deluded murmurs about a time long past, and an ever-so-familiar name.

You grip his hand in yours throughout the night. But it’s not your hand to hold.

—————————————————————

Over the span of a year, you become one of Sylus’s closest confidants. He treats you with all the gentleness and care in the world, revealing to you a softer side of him that you knew existed in the game, but that he rarely ever showed to anyone else. You feel honored that he trusts you with these facets of himself, but you also feel guilty.

Because what Sylus doesn’t know is that he was your favorite. You, a student facing burnout in your final year of university, began to cope with a game suggested to you, subsequently becoming engrossed with one of its newest characters. His soft treatment of the main character, juxtaposed with his violent nature, had drawn you to him. Your heart had fluttered at every tender moment, each call and text message, each appearance in the main story. You had foolishly indulged in the delusions of romance with a fictional man.

When you landed in this world, there was a cognitive dissonance as you came to terms with the difference between the 2D character that lived on your phone screen and the living, breathing person in front of you. For a while, you were too focused on your new situation to even think of the implications of the fictional character you’d been crushing on being in close, real proximity. He had not trusted you, either. You could practically visualize his defenses in each interaction, as he contemplated what to make of you.

At the time, you thought that by now, surely you would have woken up from this coma-induced hallucination already. Surely you would have woken back up to reality. But as you grow to accept that the situation you’re in is real, and the likelihood that you may be stuck there for the foreseeable future— before you knew it, he had crept into your heart.

You don’t know when it started. All you know is that his presence in your life is more than the surface-level distraction it once was in your reality. No, Sylus— the living person who comforted you on the saddest birthday you’ve had, who indulged your demands for a Christmas celebration, who makes your heart race like no other— has you wrapped around his finger. He could ask anything of you, and your heart could do nothing but surrender to his whims.

But in the back of your head, always lurking, is the distant reminder of the main character. The vivacious hunter whose life is tied to his. The other half of his soul. There’s no chance you could ever come between something destined by the universe itself, so you yield in the face of their cosmic love. You shove away your feelings and resign yourself to finding a way back home, desperately, before this world forces you to lose a love you never had a chance at.

—————————————————————

What you don’t know is that he’s desperately blocking off every potential lead back to your world, not wanting to face a reality where you are not in his life.

He finds himself conflicted, because his soul is tied to her. His sorcerer, his soulmate, whom he has yearned for for what feels like a millenia. But here you are, his lovely secretary, the woman who forces him into mundane festivities and stays by his side even in weakness. The two images war in his head; the dragon roaring at how distracted he’s become from searching for his mate, and the man, falling fast and hard for a woman from another world, brought to him by pure fate. A love born out of an unexpected connection.

His search for his long-lost love continues, but alongside it are his attempts to tie you down to his world, to keep you in his grasp. Because he cannot, will not, live without you.

He will watch the world burn before he lets it take his love away again.

—————————————————————

So, the two of you continue in this cycle of push and pull, of moving closer but not close enough. You live in a limbo, desperately searching for ways to get home before the main storyline catches up to you. Haunted by the narrative, you two move in and out of each other’s orbit, just out of reach. Just out of bounds.

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like and reblog if you enjoyed!

i’ve since turned this into a multi-chapter fic! this will continue to function as a standalone one-shot, but you can find the series here (comment there if you’d like to be tagged!)

#novthirty-writes #out of bounds 🐦‍⬛#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x non mc #sylus #qin che #lnds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x non mc reader

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callikari · 4 months ago

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THE TUTOR —LEE HEESEUNG ᝰ.ᐟ ˎˊ˗

SYNOPSIS — being a broke college student meant doing whatever it took to survive, even if that meant lying your way into a tutoring gig you weren’t qualified for. when lee heeseung, campus golden boy and star athlete, mistook you for his assigned tutor, you saw an opportunity—he was willing to pay, and you needed the money. easy cash, right? except there was one problem: he was already acing the class. turns out, he just wanted an excuse to spend time with you. now, you’re stuck in a fake tutoring arrangement, trying (and failing) to convince yourself that his dumb little smirks and unnecessary close proximity aren’t affecting you.

PAIRING — lee heeseung x broke-college-student-fem!reader (ft. enhypen, yunjin & eunchae from le sserafim, wonyoung from ive)

GENRE(S) — written, college au, fake tutor au, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, comedy, and slight crack.

WARNING(S) — swearing, broke student struggles, scamming (for survival purposes), heeseung being an annoying flirt, your friends clowning you, lots of academic bullshitting, and mild secondhand embarrassment.

WORDCOUNT — 10k

you had no idea how you ended up in this situation. honestly, you were just a broke college student trying to make some extra cash by tutoring, and now you were stuck in a "mess" of a situation with lee heeseung—campus golden boy, star athlete, and the last person you thought you'd end up spending this much time with.

it all started in the library, where you had been buried under a mountain of textbooks and assignments. you were just minding your own business, trying to squeeze in as much studying as you could before the next exam, when heeseung walked up to you with a confused look on his face.

"hey, are you my tutor?" he asked, looking at you like you were the answer to his prayers.

you blinked. “your tutor?”

“yeah, you’re supposed to help me with my chemistry class, right?” he said, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper.

the paper had your name on it. assigned tutor.

you looked at him for a long second, unsure how to respond. in that moment, your brain made a split-second decision.

no, this wasn’t right. you weren’t his tutor.

but then again, you were broke. and he was paying.

so, instead of correcting him, you smiled and said, “yep. that’s me.”

heeseung grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “great! let’s get started, then.”

you immediately regretted your decision.

and so, here you were.

heeseung was the "last" person you expected to be in your tutoring group. you knew his type—popular, charismatic, and completely "unbothered" by anything that had to do with studying. you weren’t even sure how he managed to get into college in the first place with his terrible grades.

he sat down across from you, all smiles, like he didn’t have a care in the world. meanwhile, you were scrambling to figure out how to get him to actually pay attention to what you were saying. you’d barely gotten into your lesson before he started yawning.

“is this really necessary?” he asked, his tone light and lazy.

you glanced up, trying your best to suppress a frustrated sigh. “yes, heeseung. chemistry is a requirement for your major.”

he looked at you, completely unfazed. “i’m pretty sure i can just ask my tutor to give me the answers.”

you stared at him, blinking. “i *am* your tutor.”

he smirked. “well, then you’re not doing a very good job.”

you couldn’t help the way your eyebrow twitched at his words. why was this so difficult?

the more you tried to get him focused, the more distracted he became. you found yourself flipping through the textbook and pointing out formulas that made sense to you, while he sat back and played with his pen. his lack of attention was grating on your nerves, but you refused to let him see how annoyed you were.

“heeseung, focus. we need to finish this chapter today,” you said through clenched teeth.

he glanced up at you lazily, a playful grin forming on his lips. “you’re kind of cute when you’re serious.”

you froze. "what?" you couldn’t even process the words. sure, you knew he was a flirt, but hearing him say that made your heart skip a beat. you swallowed, trying to shake it off. this was heeseung, after all. you couldn’t let him get under your skin.

he leaned forward, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. “i’ll try my best, tutor,” he teased, his voice dropping into a teasing tone.

you gave him a tight smile, trying to regain control of the situation. “let’s get to work.”

it was incredible how little heeseung actually knew about chemistry. each time you tried to explain a concept, he’d stare at you like you were speaking a foreign language. but it wasn’t just that—he was charming in the most infuriating way. his innocent questions and half-smiles made you question your focus. you had to admit, the guy was cute, and his charm was practically endless.

“so, like, what does this even do?” he asked, pointing to the periodic table in front of you.

you tried your best to stay professional, keeping your voice as calm as possible. “this is the atomic structure. see, each element has its own number of protons, neutrons, and electrons. you need to understand the structure in order to comprehend chemical reactions.”

heeseung nodded as if he understood, but the amused glint in his eyes told you otherwise. “right, right. so, can we just…skip this and get to the part where you help me ace the exam?” he asked, his grin wide.

“heeseung,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “we need to understand the basics first. there’s no way you’ll get through the exam without knowing this.”

he just tilted his head to the side, his hair falling perfectly around his face. “but you’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

your eyes widened in disbelief, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “stop distracting me. focus on the material,” you snapped, though you could feel your face heating up despite your best efforts to remain composed.

it was a constant cycle of distractions, laughter, and trying to drag him back into the lesson. every time you thought you’d made progress, he’d throw you off course with a casual comment or a playful smirk. it felt like you were running in circles.

the more time you spent with heeseung, the more you started to notice things about him. little things. like how he’d always brush his hair out of his eyes when he was concentrating—well, pretending to concentrate, anyway. or how his smile could light up the entire room, even when he was clearly being a little brat.

it was a slow burn, but you were starting to realize that heeseung wasn’t just the charming golden boy you thought he was. yeah, he was annoying as hell, but there was something more beneath the surface. he was smart—really smart, when he put his mind to it. you’d seen it when he actually listened to what you were saying. it was frustrating, to say the least. here you were, trying to keep him focused, but at the same time, you were starting to feel a little… distracted yourself.

“okay, okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head in a relaxed posture. “i think i’m getting it.”

“really?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “you understand how to balance chemical equations now?”

he shrugged. “more or less. but honestly, i think i’d understand better if you gave me some extra help.”

you crossed your arms, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “extra help?” you repeated, your voice a little too sarcastic for your liking.

he leaned forward again, a devilish grin curling on his lips. “yeah. like, you know, help outside of studying. maybe, we could—” he broke off when he saw the look on your face.

“no,” you said flatly.

“aww, come on,” he teased, his grin only widening. “what are you so afraid of?”

you felt your heart skip a beat, but you pushed it down. “nothing. i’m not afraid of anything,” you muttered, turning your attention back to your notes.

he leaned back again, clearly entertained by your reaction. “you know, you’re not as tough as you think.”

you didn’t know if you should laugh or just throw something at him. instead, you went with a fake smile. “don’t flatter yourself.”

he just laughed. “hey, no need to be so harsh. i’m just trying to help.”

“you’re trying to distract me,” you shot back.

“well, it’s working.”

the next time you met with heeseung for tutoring, something felt different. maybe it was the way he greeted you, with a casual “hey, ready to teach me something new today?” or maybe it was the way his usual teasing seemed to have softened. whatever it was, it made you more aware of how much you were starting to look forward to these sessions.

“we’re going over reactions today,” you said, trying to focus. “this is where things get a little trickier, but you can handle it, right?”

heeseung flashed you a grin, already making himself comfortable in his chair. “i’m ready. as long as you’re not as serious as last time.”

you shot him a look. “i’m always serious.”

he winked at you, and you couldn’t help but sigh. “seriously, though, pay attention.”

he was paying attention—or at least, he was pretending to. as you began explaining the basics of chemical reactions, you noticed how he watched you. his usual playful glint in his eyes was still there, but there was something else now—something more sincere. heeseung wasn’t just here to mess around. he was actually trying, and it threw you off.

“so, what happens when—” you stopped mid-sentence, realizing he wasn’t just looking at you but listening.

“when an element reacts with another, the atoms rearrange to form a compound,” he finished for you.

you blinked, surprised. “wait. you actually got that right?”

heeseung leaned back, a smug look on his face. “of course. i’m not a total idiot, you know.”

“well, you’ve been acting like one lately,” you shot back, but even you could hear the hint of affection in your voice.

heeseung’s expression softened, and for a brief moment, the playful energy between you two seemed to fade. “guess I’m not as bad as you thought.”

you weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you focused back on your notes. “let’s just get through this, okay?”

heeseung’s grin returned, but now, there was a sense of warmth behind it. “yeah. we’ll make a great team.”

you weren’t sure why, but those words made your heart race.

the sessions with heeseung weren’t just about chemistry anymore. they were about you and him. the more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much he liked to poke fun at you. but at the same time, he made you feel like you actually mattered. and god, that was frustrating. you were supposed to be the one in control here—not him.

so when he slid into the seat next to you one afternoon, throwing an arm across the back of your chair, you couldn’t help but feel a little too aware of him.

“ready to learn?” he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

you tried to act unaffected, but there was a tightness in your chest that you couldn’t ignore. “we’re not here to talk about my learning skills, heeseung,” you said coolly, flipping open your notes.

he leaned closer, his voice lowering in that teasing way that always seemed to get under your skin. “you know, if you weren’t so good at teaching, i’d probably just be failing by now.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you say that now, but you wouldn’t even be passing if you weren’t such a good student,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

heeseung chuckled, clearly unfazed. “oh, so you admit it? i’m actually a great student.”

you let out a dramatic sigh. “don’t flatter yourself.”

he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “i think you like it when i flatter myself.”

you rolled your eyes. “no, i think you’re insufferable.”

but even as you said it, you couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

the silence stretched for a moment, and for once, heeseung didn’t say anything. he just looked at you, like he was trying to figure you out.

you hated how that made your stomach twist.

“you really don’t like me, do you?” he finally asked, his voice quieter than usual.

the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. sure, you hated his teasing and his constant jokes, but something about him made you want to keep going. to keep being with him.

“i don’t know,” you said slowly. “maybe i do. maybe i don’t. you’re a pain.”

heeseung’s grin softened, his eyes narrowing playfully. “i think you like me, just a little.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “don’t push your luck.”

he just laughed, clearly enjoying the way he was getting under your skin. “okay, okay. but i know i’m not as bad as you make me out to be.”

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. because deep down, you knew he was right.

the next few days passed by in a blur, with your study sessions becoming more frequent. heeseung had somehow turned into someone you could tolerate way more than you were comfortable admitting. and yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to like him completely. not in the way he seemed to want you to.

you were walking through the campus courtyard, lost in your own thoughts when you spotted him across the yard, laughing with a group of people. heeseung was a natural when it came to making friends, effortlessly charismatic and always in the center of attention. you hated how much that bothered you. it wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself. it was just the fact that you hated how easy it came to him.

as you walked past, you caught his eye, and his expression immediately shifted. he excused himself from his friends and jogged over to you, that cocky grin on his face.

“you’re staring at me again,” he teased, his tone light, but you could see the playful glint in his eyes.

you blinked, startled. “i was not.”

he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “you were definitely staring at me.”

you cursed inwardly. of course he noticed. “i wasn’t staring. i was just—” you stopped, realizing you had no excuse.

“it’s fine,” he said, a smug look appearing on his face. “i kind of like it when you stare. makes me feel special.”

you shot him a look, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “don’t get ahead of yourself, heeseung. i was not staring. i just… got distracted. okay?”

heeseung just laughed, a low chuckle that sent a strange warmth flooding your chest. “sure, sure. whatever you say.”

you started walking again, trying to ignore the way your heart was beating a little faster. “i have to get to class,” you muttered, already feeling the awkwardness creeping in.

“i’ll walk with you,” he said, falling into step beside you without waiting for an answer. “might as well since i’m already here.”

“you really don’t take a hint, do you?” you teased, but the smile on your face betrayed your words.

heeseung shrugged casually. “nah, not really. i like to make my own rules.”

“clearly,” you muttered under your breath, still not used to how confident he was. it wasn’t just his charisma—it was the way he seemed so sure of himself around you. it was like he knew exactly what he was doing, and you had no idea how to handle it.

the walk to class was filled with small talk. lighthearted banter, the kind of stuff that made the air between you two feel almost normal—if you could call it that. normal, until he dropped the bombshell.

“so, do you ever think about… us?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, a little more serious than usual.

you stopped in your tracks, your heart racing. “what do you mean?”

heeseung turned to face you, his gaze softening. “i mean… do you think we’re getting along better now?”

you blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “i guess? i don’t know. it’s… weird.”

“yeah, i get it. it’s weird for me too,” he admitted, looking down for a moment. then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he added, “but i’m kinda enjoying it.”

you frowned. “enjoying what? our bickering?”

heeseung smirked. “well, yeah. i mean, it’s fun, isn’t it? but… i also like the times when we don’t fight. when it’s just us, talking.”

you were quiet for a moment, your mind racing. could it be? could he really be saying what you thought he was saying?

“heeseung, you’re impossible,” you muttered, though your heart was beating faster now. maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

heeseung stepped closer, that signature cocky grin back on his face. “maybe, but you still like me.”

the following week, your study sessions with heeseung took a sudden turn. instead of the usual quiet library dates, he started dragging you around campus, making you go to random spots to “study.” sometimes it was by the fountain, sometimes near the campus cafe, and once, he even convinced you to sit in the middle of the quad in the grass—in the middle of the day, no less.

“are you sure this is productive?” you asked skeptically, looking around at all the students walking by. the noise was borderline unbearable.

heeseung, however, seemed completely unbothered. he had his headphones in, typing away on his phone, clearly in his own world. “the point of studying is being comfortable. if you’re uncomfortable, you won’t focus. so relax.”

you sighed, dropping your bag onto the grass beside you and following his lead. you hadn’t expected him to turn into this “study guru” who somehow knew all the right ways to study. but maybe it worked. you couldn’t deny that it made you focus better.

“okay, so what are we even doing?” you asked, still unsure how you were supposed to study in the middle of a bustling campus.

heeseung smirked, pulling out a notebook. “well, i figured you could help me with my notes. i’m clearly struggling,” he said with mock sincerity, even though he knew you were the one who had been tutoring him.

you gave him a deadpan look. “struggling, huh? sure. if you say so.”

heeseung flipped the notebook open to a page full of notes and highlighted passages. “help me go over this. i need to make sure i don’t bomb the next quiz.”

as you went over the material with him, you couldn’t help but notice that he was more… attentive than usual. it wasn’t just that he was asking you to explain things. he was genuinely trying to understand. and for once, you weren’t frustrated with him. you found yourself getting lost in the work and even… enjoying the way he listened intently, his focus entirely on what you were saying.

but just as you were getting comfortable, your friend group walked by, and of course, they had to notice you and heeseung sitting together.

“oh, look at this,” yujin teased, clearly amused. “the two study buddies are actually… studying?”

“what are you doing here?” you groaned, trying to hide the slight flush creeping up your neck.

“we’re just passing by,” wonyoung said innocently, but the smirk on her face betrayed her true intentions. she was way too into the idea of you and heeseung spending time together.

“don’t act like you weren’t just checking on us,” heeseung added, eyes twinkling. “you know, we’re not that interesting.”

“oh, we know,” yujin said with a wink. “we just came to make sure you weren’t actually getting along. because we all know you two are at each other’s throats most of the time.”

you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation. “please, not you guys too.”

wonyoung sat down beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “sooo, tell me, how’s the heeseung tutoring going?” she grinned at you, clearly enjoying the chaos she was about to cause.

you shot her a glare. “heeseung is actually doing fine. for once.” you shot him a quick glance to make sure he wasn’t about to do something dumb.

heeseung, however, seemed unfazed. “yeah, i think i’m doing great. i’m just… naturally brilliant,” he said, giving you a mischievous look.

yujin laughed. “oh, right. naturally brilliant. that’s why you needed help in the first place.”

“you’re one to talk, yujin,” you shot back. “how’s your chemistry grade going, huh?”

wonyoung gave a dramatic gasp. “oh no, not the chemistry card,” she said, making a show of clutching her chest. “you didn’t just do that.”

heeseung grinned. “looks like i’m not the only one who’s got an ego problem.”

you rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t help but laugh along with them. there was something about being surrounded by your friends, even if they were shamelessly teasing you, that felt… nice.

it wasn’t long before the teasing died down, and your friends eventually decided to go grab some lunch. but before they left, wonyoung gave you a knowing smile. “we’ll leave you two alone. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!”

“what?” you exclaimed, almost choking on your own laughter.

yujin threw a wink in your direction. “you know exactly what we mean.”

once they were gone, heeseung looked at you with an unreadable expression. “well, that was… something.”

you blinked, feeling the weight of the moment. it was the first time you felt like it was just the two of you—no teasing, no interruptions. just… him.

“yeah, it was,” you said, clearing your throat. “but, uh, we’re still studying. right?”

heeseung nodded, his usual smirk returning. “yeah, yeah. but… maybe later, we can have a proper study date.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time in forever, you didn’t feel the need to push him away. maybe—just maybe—you were starting to like this whole study partnership.

the next day, heeseung texted you a little earlier than usual. it wasn’t a huge surprise—he had developed a habit of doing that, whether it was to talk about studying or to joke around. but this time, the message was different.

heeseung: “hey, i was thinking about how much you need a study break. how about we grab lunch later?”

you: “seriously? i’m not a workaholic like you. i do know how to take breaks.”

heeseung: “i beg to differ. you’ve been glued to those books for hours. i can’t let that happen. lunch at 12?”

you stared at the message for a second. it was true that you’d been spending a little too much time with your nose buried in textbooks, but you hadn’t realized anyone was paying attention to it. you thought for a moment, then typed a response.

you: “fine. you win. lunch it is.”

at lunch, the campus was bustling with students, and as usual, heeseung had picked the most random spot to meet up: the food court. it was packed with people from different clubs and groups, but you didn’t mind it. somehow, even in the chaos, you felt like it was just the two of you. heeseung sat across from you, grinning from ear to ear.

“so, what’s on your mind today?” he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

you narrowed your eyes at him. “don’t act like you’re not just using this lunch break to drag me away from studying.”

he chuckled. “okay, okay. maybe i am. but it’s for your own good.”

before you could respond, your friends walked by—yujin, wonyoung, and hong eunchae, all heading toward the smoothie stand.

“oh, look at that,” yujin said loudly. “the lovebirds are having lunch.”

“yujin, shut up,” you groaned, sinking into your seat in embarrassment. “why do you guys always have to tease?”

“it’s fun,” wonyoung said, winking at you both. “you two are adorable. i’m just waiting for the day when you admit you like each other.”

you shot wonyoung a look. “it’s not like that,” you muttered, but even you could hear the slight hesitation in your voice.

heeseung, ever the tease, smirked. “oh? but wouldn’t it be interesting if it was like that?”

your friends took a seat at the table next to yours, but the teasing didn’t stop there. eunchae chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “oh my god, it’s so obvious. look at the way you two look at each other.”

you groaned and hid your face in your hands, while heeseung, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying this attention.

“we’re literally just studying partners,” you insisted, trying to keep your voice steady.

“uh huh, sure,” wonyoung said, not believing you for a second. “you’re totally just ‘study buddies.’”

heeseung laughed, nudging you playfully. “what, do you think we’re some sort of study machine? we’ve got to eat sometime, you know.”

“that’s not what i’m saying,” you said, trying your best to ignore your blushing cheeks. “it’s not like we have feelings for each other.”

yujin shot you a teasing glance. “whatever you say, y/n. we’ll see about that.”

as the conversation continued, you tried to focus on your lunch, but you couldn’t help feeling a little flustered. your friends were relentless, and you couldn’t escape their teasing. at some point, heeseung nudged you again, this time a little more seriously.

“don’t let them get to you,” he said quietly, his voice soft.

you looked up at him in surprise. “what?”

“i can see how uncomfortable you are. don’t let them mess with your head. we’re just friends. study partners,” he emphasized the words with a wink, making you laugh.

“right,” you said, finally feeling a little better. maybe heeseung wasn’t just teasing. maybe, he actually understood how awkward this whole thing was.

just then, yujin raised her eyebrows. “wait, wait. friends? no, no, no. you two have definitely been spending a little too much time together for it to be just that.”

you sighed and rolled your eyes. “can you all just stop?”

eunchae, still grinning, leaned in a little too close. “oh, but y/n, we can’t. you two are like a soap opera waiting to happen. all this sexual tension is just begging for a plot twist.”

you almost choked on your food, while heeseung, to his credit, just grinned. “you know what they say, though. you can’t fight chemistry.”

“heeseung, shut up,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

the rest of the lunch went on with the teasing, but by the end of it, you couldn’t deny that you were starting to enjoy it. the teasing wasn’t as annoying as it used to be. if anything, it was starting to feel… normal. maybe you were beginning to feel more comfortable with heeseung than you thought.

as you all headed back to campus, you couldn’t shake off the idea of what your friends had said. maybe they were right. maybe there was something more going on between you and heeseung than just studying. but that thought left you with one burning question:

did he feel the same?

after lunch, you tried to shake off your friends’ words, but their teasing lingered in your mind longer than you wanted to admit.

you two are like a soap opera waiting to happen.

all this sexual tension is just begging for a plot twist.

they were just messing with you… right? there was nothing going on between you and heeseung. sure, he had become one of the people you spent the most time with lately, but that didn’t mean anything. it was just studying. and occasional banter. and… him noticing when you needed a break.

ugh. this was so annoying.

before you could spiral further, your phone buzzed with a text.

heeseung: “you free later? study session part 12938?”

you rolled your eyes but smiled.

you: “more like part 20. but yeah, sure.”

heeseung: “great. library, usual spot. i’ll bring snacks. you bring your brain.”

you: “you make it sound like i don’t have one.”

heeseung: “well, you keep denying your obvious crush on me, so i’m starting to wonder.”

you: “EXCUSE ME?”

heeseung: “relax, i’m kidding. unless…?”

you: “don’t even start.”

heeseung: “lmao, see you later, study buddy.”

you groaned, flopping onto your bed. why did he always have to tease you like that? and why did it get under your skin so much?

later that evening, you met heeseung at the library, as planned. as soon as you sat down, he slid a chocolate bar across the table toward you.

“peace offering,” he said with a smirk.

you eyed him suspiciously but unwrapped it anyway. “what are you apologizing for?”

“for making you flustered earlier,” he said casually, flipping open his notebook.

you nearly choked on your chocolate. “i was not flustered.”

he looked up, raising an eyebrow. “sure. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

you glared at him but decided to drop it. you were not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you react. instead, you focused on studying.

for the next hour, you two actually managed to get some work done—well, mostly.

“y/n, you’ve been staring at the same page for five minutes,” heeseung said, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

you blinked. “huh?”

“see? you’re totally distracted. are you thinking about something?” he teased, resting his chin on his hand.

“no,” you said quickly, flipping the page for dramatic effect. “just… taking in the information.”

he smirked. “taking in information or taking in me?”

“heeseung, i swear—”

before you could finish, a voice interrupted.

“oh? is this a date or a study session?”

you turned to see sunghoon and jake standing nearby, both of them looking way too amused.

“neither,” you said flatly. “why are you guys even here?”

“because watching you two is peak entertainment,” jake said, plopping down next to you. “heeseung told us you’d be here, so we figured we’d stop by.”

“of course he did,” you muttered, shooting a glare at heeseung, who only grinned in response.

“so, when’s the wedding?” sunghoon asked, completely serious.

“i hate all of you,” you said, covering your face with your hands.

heeseung chuckled. “c’mon, guys, don’t scare y/n off. they still have to help me pass this class.”

“ah, right,” jake said, nodding. “but after that, you’ll confess, yeah?”

you gaped at him. “why would you assume that?”

sunghoon smirked. “because it’s obvious.”

you groaned. “can we please just study?”

heeseung leaned closer, his voice low so only you could hear. “aw, do i make you nervous?”

you shot him a look. “you wish.”

but the truth was… maybe he did. just a little. and you weren’t sure what to do about that.

for the next few days, you did your best to ignore the way heeseung had somehow weaseled his way into your daily routine. between studying, running into him on campus, and your friends’ constant teasing, it was like the universe was forcing you to acknowledge… whatever this was.

but you weren’t giving in. absolutely not.

until one night, when everything changed.

you were sitting outside your dorm building, scrolling through your phone and attempting to unwind from a long day, when heeseung plopped down next to you, startling you.

“what the hell—”

“hey,” he said, completely unfazed by your reaction. “what are you doing out here alone?”

“thinking about how much better my life would be if you stopped showing up everywhere i go,” you deadpanned.

heeseung clutched his chest dramatically. “ouch. and here i was, about to offer you a ride to the late-night diner.”

you paused. “…there’s a late-night diner?”

he smirked. “yes. and i know you haven’t eaten because i know your study habits by now.”

you rolled your eyes. “so what, you’re my personal meal tracker now?”

he stood up, holding out a hand. “just shut up and come with me.”

against your better judgment, you took his hand.

the diner was small, dimly lit, and surprisingly cozy. the kind of place you could see yourself spending hours in without realizing it. heeseung led you to a booth and, without asking, ordered milkshakes for both of you.

“what if i didn’t want a milkshake?” you challenged.

“please, you love milkshakes,” he shot back.

you narrowed your eyes. “…how do you know that?”

he shrugged. “i pay attention.”

you hated the way your stomach flipped at that.

as the night went on, you found yourself forgetting about your usual arguments. talking with heeseung felt easy—annoying at times, but effortless. he told you stories about his childhood, his dumbest mistakes, and his dreams of doing something meaningful after graduation. you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks.

and then, as you were finishing your milkshake, he looked at you and said, “y’know, i like this.”

“like what?”

“hanging out with you. without all the arguing.”

you blinked. “you like hanging out with me?”

heeseung scoffed. “wow, don’t look so surprised. i do have a heart.”

“questionable,” you muttered, though you felt your face heat up.

he grinned. “but seriously. this is nice.”

you hesitated before nodding. “…yeah. it is.”

there was a beat of silence. then, because you apparently hated peace, you blurted, “but you’re still annoying.”

heeseung laughed, shaking his head. “god, you’re impossible.”

but he didn’t let go of the straw he had been absentmindedly playing with. and neither did you.

you didn’t know what was more shocking: the fact that you willingly spent an entire night with heeseung without plotting his downfall, or the fact that you actually enjoyed it.

either way, you refused to dwell on it.

the next morning, you convinced yourself it was just the exhaustion talking. a momentary lapse in judgment. surely, once you saw him again, he’d go right back to being the most irritating person on campus.

except… he didn’t.

instead, you found yourself sitting next to him in class, sharing your notes like it was the most natural thing in the world. instead of snide remarks, he shot you small, amused glances when you got frustrated over an assignment. instead of ignoring each other in the library, he casually placed an extra coffee next to your laptop, muttering, “you looked half-dead, figured you needed this.”

and instead of feeling annoyed, you felt… something else. something dangerous.

“you’ve been real quiet lately,” jay commented as he sat across from you in the student lounge.

you blinked up at him. “what?”

“you and heeseung. where’s all the fighting? the dramatic, public arguments? i feel like i’m watching the downfall of an iconic rivalry.”

you scoffed. “don’t be ridiculous. we still argue.”

jay raised an eyebrow. “really? because from what i’ve seen, you guys are, like… flirting now.”

you nearly choked on your drink. “excuse me? flirting?”

“yeah. all the ‘oh my god, you’re so annoying’ and ‘ugh, i hate you’ shit?” jay smirked. “that’s flirting.”

“fuck off,” you muttered, kicking his shin under the table.

jay yelped, but his grin didn’t waver. “hey, i’m just saying—if you ever need a best man at the wedding, i’m available.”

“i’m going to kill you.”

“damn, first-degree murder? sounds like love to me.”

before you could launch a full-blown attack, your phone buzzed. you glanced at the screen. heeseung.

heeseung [1:07 PM]: library in 10? i found something that might help with your paper

you stared at the message a little too long.

jay leaned over, reading it before you could stop him. “oh my god.”

“shut up,” you snapped, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the floor.

jay watched you with an infuriatingly smug expression. “you’re so fucked.”

you flipped him off before walking away.

the library was quiet when you arrived, but you spotted heeseung immediately. he was leaning back in his chair, one hand flipping through a book, the other twirling a pen between his fingers.

you hesitated before walking over. “hey.”

he glanced up, smiling slightly. “you’re late.”

“by two minutes.”

“yeah. unacceptable.”

you rolled your eyes, plopping into the chair across from him. “you said you found something for my paper?”

he slid a book toward you. “this has a whole section on your topic. figured it might save you some time.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re being suspiciously helpful.”

“don’t get used to it,” he teased. “i like seeing you suffer, but i love proving that i’m smarter than you.”

“asshole,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

heeseung just grinned.

and maybe jay was right. maybe you were so fucked.

if someone had told you six months ago that you’d willingly spend your free time with lee heeseung, you would’ve laughed in their face. maybe even fought them. but now? now you were waiting for him outside the library, scrolling mindlessly through your phone while he finished up an assignment.

this was getting out of hand.

"hey.”

you looked up to see heeseung walking toward you, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“took you long enough,” you muttered, shoving your phone into your pocket.

“relax, i was being productive,” he said, smirking. “you should try it sometime.”

“fuck you.”

“you wish.”

you scoffed, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at his words.

heeseung fell into step beside you as you both started heading toward the dining hall. this was becoming a weird habit—getting food together, studying together, exchanging notes without bickering. it was normal. and that was the problem.

you had no idea when the rivalry had started to feel less like a battle and more like an excuse to talk to him.

you shook the thought away.

“you’re spacing out,” heeseung said, nudging your shoulder.

you shot him a glare. “am not.”

“are too.”

“i hate you.”

heeseung grinned. “no, you don’t.”

before you could argue, a voice called out.

“ohhh, what’s this?”

you both turned to see sunghoon, jake, and jungwon standing a few feet away, watching with matching expressions of mischief.

jake gasped dramatically. “is this civil conversation i’m witnessing?”

“no way,” jungwon added. “they’re walking together without trying to kill each other.”

sunghoon grinned. “i knew all that tension wasn’t just hatred.”

you groaned, rubbing your temples. “you guys are so fucking annoying.”

heeseung just sighed. “let’s go before they start a conspiracy theory.”

but it was too late, jake had already pulled out his phone.

“this is groundbreaking,” he said, pretending to type. “i need to update the gc.”

you groaned. “jake, i swear to god—”

heeseung, on the other hand, didn’t seem phased. “you guys need a hobby.”

“this is our hobby,” jungwon said smugly.

“oh, absolutely,” sunghoon agreed. “we live for drama.”

you shot heeseung a look, but he just sighed and grabbed your wrist. “come on.”

you barely had time to process the sudden contact before he was tugging you away, leaving the three of them cackling behind you.

he didn’t let go until you reached the dining hall.

you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your skin still tingled where he’d touched you. “well. that was mortifying.”

“they’re insufferable,” heeseung muttered.

“and yet, they have a point.”

he glanced at you. “which is?”

you hesitated. were you really about to bring this up?

fuck it.

“this whole thing,” you said, gesturing vaguely between you two. “it’s not… normal.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow. “what, us not wanting to kill each other?”

“yes! i mean—no! i mean…” you exhaled sharply. “don’t you think it’s weird? one minute we’re at each other’s throats, and now we’re just—”

“friends?” he offered.

your stomach twisted. you didn’t like that word. not because it wasn’t true, but because it didn’t feel like the whole truth.

“sure,” you said weakly. “friends.”

heeseung studied you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression.

then he said, “well, that’s boring.”

you blinked. “what?”

“friends?” he repeated, tilting his head. “that’s so underwhelming.”

your heart stuttered. “what—what do you mean?”

heeseung smirked. “i mean, we could be so much more interesting than that.”

you stared at him. your brain was short-circuiting.

he took a step closer, and suddenly, the space between you felt way too small. “unless… you’re scared?”

your breath hitched. “scared?”

heeseung leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “of what this could be.”

your brain stalled.

“scared?” you echoed. “of what this could be?”

heeseung just looked at you, waiting.

you let out a breathless laugh. “oh, please. do you even hear yourself?”

“perfectly,” he said, still smirking.

“you’re joking.”

“am i?”

you crossed your arms. “yes. obviously.”

heeseung tilted his head, like he was considering something. “huh.”

“what?”

“nothing. just… i didn’t think you’d be so dense.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

he shrugged. “i thought it was pretty obvious. i like you.”

your stomach flipped. your heart flipped. but your brain? your brain was malfunctioning.

you narrowed your eyes. “okay, very funny.”

“i’m not joking.”

“yes, you are.”

heeseung sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “why would i joke about this?”

“because this is what we do!” you gestured between you. “we mess with each other, we push each other’s buttons—this is just another game to you.”

heeseung exhaled sharply. “jesus, you really don’t get it.”

you frowned. “what is there to get?”

he gave you a look. “the fact that i genuinely like you, dumbass.”

your breath caught in your throat.

heeseung shook his head, almost frustrated. “do you think i’d just say this for fun? you piss me off like no one else, but you’re also the only person i actually want to be around. figure that out.”

you stared at him.

heeseung liked you. like, for real. like, not as a joke.

and you… you had spent the past five minutes laughing in his face.

fuck.

you were malfunctioning. actually, no—you were buffering. like a shitty internet connection that couldn’t load the page properly.

heeseung liked you. and instead of responding like a normal person, you had laughed in his face.

“heeseung,” you started, trying to find something to say. “i—”

“forget it.”

your stomach dropped. “wait, what?”

heeseung sighed, running a hand down his face. “look, if you don’t feel the same way, just say it. but don’t act like i’m joking just because you don’t want to deal with it.”

your throat went dry. “that’s not—”

“then what is it?”

he sounded tired. like he had finally run out of patience.

and it hit you, all at once.

you had spent so much time convincing yourself that this thing between you two was just rivalry—just banter and competition and winning—that you had completely ignored everything else.

how your heart always raced around him. how you always looked for him in a crowded room. how his approval meant way too much, how his insults stung just a little more, how he made you feel alive in a way no one else did.

you had been so sure that he was messing with you. because the alternative? the idea that he meant it? that was terrifying.

but now…

now you could see the way his shoulders were tense, like he was bracing himself. the way his hands were curled into fists, like he was trying to hold something in.

he wasn’t playing around.

he never was.

“heeseung,” you said, voice quieter now.

he didn’t say anything.

you took a step closer. “i’m sorry.”

his jaw tightened. “for what?”

“for acting like an idiot,” you admitted. “and for not realizing sooner.”

his eyes flicked up to yours, searching. “realizing what?”

you swallowed. “that i like you too.”

the words felt big. heavier than you expected. but at the same time, saying them felt like a weight lifting—like something settling into place.

heeseung blinked. his whole body went still.

then he exhaled a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “you are so fucking annoying.”

you rolled your eyes. “jesus, thank you, i was really hoping for that to be your first response—”

before you could finish, heeseung grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him, crashing his lips against yours.

it took you half a second to catch up, but once you did, you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his hoodie.

heeseung smiled against your lips. “took you long enough.”

you huffed. “shut up.”

he hummed, pulling back just enough to look at you. “make me.”

AUTHORS NOTE: wait i lowkey hate this IM SORRY IF ITS BAD

#kpop x reader #kpop #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen #enha #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung #heeseung x reader #callikari

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carbonfiction · 7 months ago

Text

Dark Desires

older, best friends dad!Logan x reader

summary: a week ago you found yourself drunk texting your best friends dad; something that should've been a mistake, but you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would know everything you'd kept from him all those years. You'd been thinking about it for longer than you'd care to admit; adding to the fantasy. so what happens when logan finally indulges you..

warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, F!Receiving oral, PIV smut, prone bone and missionary, Somnophilla (technically??), daddy kink, roleplay?? pussy sniffing?? Kind of voyeurism? But the person is very much asleep. Also tagging this for dubcon but it’s more pre established consent/free use and slight CNC vibes depending on how you view it? Tagged this the best i believe i can but ultimately you are responsible for your media consumption.

A/N: i don't know where this came from, other than i had a glass of wine and a naughty thought. i tried real hard on this and its a little darker than i usually write- not to mention longer- but i hope yall enjoy a filth filled piece of my intoxicated brain anyway. Et voilà.

Masterlist Words: little over 4k (oop- longest thing ive ever written.. i got carried away..)

Your heart is hammering away inside of your chest so insistently that it feels like your ribs are bruised and your breasts are trying to punch their way out of your dress.

You're still wearing the stupid thing and Laura is drinking another mimosa. Part of you is grateful for that. Yet while you want her drunk and snoring tonight, part of you can't help trying to stop her.

You make eye contact, give her the look. Tell her to slow down because you two have been down this road before. She gets wild, has fun for half an hour, and then spends the rest of the night dizzy in a bathroom asking deep philosophical questions like why do my eyes hurt? And why do guys suck? And do i still have puke in my hair?

But if she's drunk tonight, just enough to sleep like the dead, then what?

You set your own drink aside to check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time this hour and lift a shaky thumb to your texts.

You've read the thread again and again and again, and still you don't quite believe it. The party swirls around you. A hurricane of sound and the smell of cocktails is sour in your nose. You feel the heat of your friends, your fellow graduates. one day lawyers, doctors, professors, professionals in their field; and yet here you are reading over the texts again.

You feel like a little girl and yet simultaneously the most grown of women because you have a secret, a dirty little secret.

You were nearly as drunk as Laura is now when you sent the first text a week ago. You were celebrating the end of finals and you were curled up in bed after a long night out.

One of your other friends had flirted with the bartender. You'd told the girl to stop and Laura had reached from her stool and pinched your leg. Asking if you'd ever needed something so badly that you actually made a bad decision.

Everyone had laughed, all except you.

You know she was teasing and complimenting in the same breath. You're a good girl and everybody knows it. Reliable, honest and never involved with the wrong kind of guys.. Always a reason to why you were too busy to bother. You were studying, too busy hanging out with Laura. Too busy prepping for school, internships and the next two decades of your life.

You're no angel, although of course, no one was. You've had your share of regrettable hookups and disappointing boyfriends, but nothing that set your world alight. Nothing worth risking anything for.

But maybe what Laura had said thread under your skin more than you'd like to admit. Maybe you were just drunk enough to ignore the obvious risk.. Or was it that you'd been thinking about him for an indecently long amount of time?

So with finals over, diploma practically in hand. There was nothing preventing years of pent up lust from sending a jolt down between your legs, setting a crackling fire in your heart and making you sweat. Dripping down your neck, stomach, that spot on your lower back, they all tingled as you crouched on the corner of your bed and wrote a single text.

You: I need something.

You sent it. Had forced yourself to before you chickened out and immediately regretted it. You thought you'd worded it in such a way that you could play it off, pretend it didn't happen.

But you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would read those three words and know everything you'd kept from him all those years. Every dirty thought, every horny fantasy, everything.

It was all right there in the text. 2am on a Thursday night and truly it could only mean one thing. You put the phone down, tried to make yourself go to sleep.

Logan was an older man with a life. A job, house and a child- your best friend- and you were sure he wouldn't even see the stupid thing until the morning when you could say you meant to message Laura. Not him, not her father. But then you picked up the phone again, half panicked and ready to change your mind, when you'd saw those little dots.

That meant he was writing something back, at 2am on a Thursday night, either in bed or his limo.

Logan: You need to go to sleep

Of course.. Responsible. That was the responsible thing to do. And you would do just that. But first you'd just write a quick text to apologize. Say it was the wrong number and sleep this off; pretend it didn't happen for the rest of your lives.

But.. what if, for once in your life, it could be easy? What if Logan did know everything? What if.. There was something else? Because that was how this all started, hadn't it?

You'd always felt something more, saw something different in his worn eyes, his gruff demeanor. Heard something he was saying when he really wasn't saying anything at all.

Or.. Was it all in your head? Was this only ever a one way infatuation? A young woman's crush, a dark fantasy that only grew darker with each new kink you discovered in yourself? Losing all confidence, you texted back.

You: sorry. Wrong number.

And that was that- or it should've been that- If it was only ever a one way street. You put the phone down, tried desperately to keep your eyes closed, but the moment you heard the phone buzz again you peek.

Logan: Is that true sweetheart?

Oh no, no. it wasn't true at all. You knew he knew exactly who'd texted and why; what you wanted him to do. You'd been thinking about it for years. Adding to the fantasy. Soaking your sheets in the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep, all that brought a temporary relief. If only for a little while; So, you text back.

You: No

Just that. A simple No.

Logan: You telling a lie?

You: Not exactly

Logan: So you wanted my attention then?

You: Wanted? No Logan.. Need.

And yes, you know need is a very strong word.

Logan: You feel very strongly about that huh? Strong feelings can be dangerous sweetheart.

You: what if i want something dangerous.

You answered back with the most honest thing you could say. And then there was a pause, a very long pause, in which you could see no dots, and even started to wonder if he'd abandoned you. Left you on read.

A thousand images erupted in your mind, different versions of him sitting and staring at your number- your words. Those cheap reading glasses perched on his nose as he wondered if this was some kind of game.

But if it was a game.. Logan was ready to play and after a few minutes your phone dings again.

Logan: you're being a real bad girl tonight, aren't you?

And then it wasn't your best friend's father you were texting. Well, it very much was- that was the crux of it, wasn't it? But now it was also the man. The man on the other side of the phone who was paying close attention.

You: Yes, daddy. very, very bad.

Now, In the darkness of his daughter's room, You imagine colors swirling on her ceiling. Your heart restless like a caged animal and there is a knot in your stomach twisting tighter and tighter by the second.

You don't know how long you've been lying here. 5 minutes or 5 hours. But you know you can't possibly wait another moment... But then you do, because you have to.

You haven't heard from Logan all day and that makes you afraid. Really genuinely afraid that He's forgotten or changed his mind.

Because, well, it's just you and Laura in here, isn't it? You're lying on the floor, a lumpy pillow under your head, and a spare, slightly musty blanket folded under your breasts.

Laura is snoring away in her bed, her limbs tangled with a stuffed animal almost the size of her- one you'd won her from a carnival. It was like old times, she slurred drunkenly. The three of you huddled together in her bed, giggling and watching some crappy reality show.

She'd tried to get you to join her and the animal in the bed, but you'd said no. Insisted that it was too hot tonight. That you'd rather be able to spread out on the floor. Fortunately, by the time you made it up to Laura's room, she was too far gone to argue.

Unfortunately, now though, there's a very drunk girl in her bed beside you, a possible witness to your depravity. And so you lie there, staring at the ceiling and forcing yourself not to text. Not to call. To just ignore the nagging doubt in your gut.

And yet again, you still find yourself opening the text thread. Reading through the things you told him, the things he'd told you. A formed plan and line after line of you promising things. All of the 'Yes, daddy I want this' the 'Please do that to me' The repetitive 'ill be a good girl, Promise' And then, at the very bottom, a safe word. It was when you'd agreed on the safe word that you knew this was for real. Not a fiction in a book or a fantasy playing out in a movie.

The word. Kitty. An inside joke from years ago. The word proof that all the little confidences and conversations held an attraction you were both willing to hide for the sake of decency

But.. you don't want to be decent anymore. You'd confided your fantasy, one that you had dreamt so many nights. Wished for it in the hot, comfortable haven of Laura's bed every time you'd stayed over. The thought of her older, attractively gruff father coming to you in the night and making you submit to his secret lust.

Of him pulling your panties to the side while Laura slept untroubled. Logan ravishing you while you whispered and mewled 'please, daddy, make me your filthy slut'

You've always been his filthy slut, haven't you? Deep In your heart. The thought is turning the wet spot between your legs into a soggen menace. You've been horny before, You've been needy before, but never like this- because you've never tried something like this.

Never wanted something badly enough to ask for it; or even beg for it. This was a dream, a dirty desire, a secret yearning never to be true.

Then you'd drunk texted. You told him and he'd responded, not with shock or disgust, but enthusiasm, cautious enthusiasm. But it was still only text messages. You haven't spoken to him yet, not properly at least. Even when you saw him walk in at the party, or in the limo on the way back to Laura's. You couldn't bring yourself to say a word. Your mouth was so dry, cheeks so hot. Laura had laughed and said you were flushed in the backseat- a lightweight to end all lightweights- when in fact you haven't had a drop to drink tonight.

You're going to throw your phone at the wall, you swear it. But No, that would probably wake her up. Instead, you conclude that you're going to find your pants, and you're going to leave this house and never come back. You love Laura but you can't bear it, can't believe you trusted him with this. You can't lie here and torment yourself about your decisions a minute longer about your need.

Then, your heart leaps into your throat. phone dropping onto your chest with a soft thud. Quickly you brush it off and turn onto your stomach. Your head hitting the pillow, eyes squeezed shut and pulse racing like you've run a marathon.

Through your closed eyelids, you see the glow of the hall light from the open door, only for it to vanish moments later. Either the door has closed or the light's been turned off, but you're not sure which because blood is racing so loudly in your ears. Breath escaping in overwhelming gasps.

Do you hear calculated heavy footsteps or is that your imagination? You struggle to listen for Laura. Is she awake or still sleeping? The tension so tight in your chest that you begin to feel dizzy, almost nauseous. Then comes the creak of the floor at the foot of your makeshift bed, the unmistakable presence of another person in the room, their eyes on you.

You can't stop your body from trembling slightly as the sheet is softly yanked away. Adrenaline courses through your veins, making your body buzz with anticipation.

Your legs are bare the cool air of Laura's bedroom. You're laying on your stomach. Face pushed into the pillow, eyes clenched shut as if you're locked into a deep, drunken sleep- like you should be.

Your legs are splayed out, dark lacey panties riding up the crevice of your ass. One of your ass cheek's indecently exposed... then a rough touch caresses over the swell of that exposed cheek, two big exploring hands, gliding over you.

You hear the grunt of a man, and you know it can only be Logan. He's the only other person home.

Your heart is beating so hard you're afraid you're going to pass out. Laura is on the bed, sleeping mere feet away, and her father is groping you in your supposed sleep.

So the question becomes: are you dreaming now? or are you praying this is as far as he'll go?

when Logan pull's the fabric of your panties to the side, you know he's willing to go much further. He's quiet in the darkness around you, but he's big and the house is old; the floor creaking and groaning as he readjust's his heavy weight.

Your panties are roughly hiked over one cheek of your ass, the sound of ripping lace filling your ears. Logan's hot breath roll's over your ass and the tremble in your limbs becomes a full shiver.

You can feel his scruffy face so close to your body, Feel his nose against the crevice of your ass as he roves lower. Dipping further until his mouth- his nose - is pressed into the folds of your bared cunt.

You hear how he inhales deeply, toes curling in response. Your fingers lay over Laura's spare pillow, the case tight in your grip. He's smelling you, nuzzling against your dampening skin not once, but many times. Lewdly breathing in your scent like a dog that's found something it likes.

His calloused hands spread you open so he can breathe deeper still and when hes as deep into your cunt as his face will allow, his wet tongue slides out to lick at you. You cannot stifle your moan at the feeling, immediately biting your lip to keep from growing any louder.

But with this the culmination of so many fevered late night fantasies, you dont know if you are dreaming.

His wide tongue laps at your swollen clit, swiping open the seam of your pussy and to the point just shy of your tighter hole. You hear logan growl into your wet slit like a monster unleashed from beneath the bed. Feeling how how his licks grow stronger, longer and twice as ravenous as he steadily turn your pussy into a drooling, dripping mess.

He laps at you in the quiet darkness of Laura's room, calculated and experienced as you fight to not to cry out. The pressure of an impending orgasm building so tight in your body that it feels time you woke up.

And so you take a deep breath, a rough gasped sound falling out too. Your fingers claw at the pillow as you flex your lower half.

"Hmm?"You grumble, pretending to bat away the cobwebs of sleep. "Wha-whats happening, What are you doing?" You ask, voice thick with mock confusion.

Within moments you feel Logan's tongue retreat from your pussy, a weight so much heavier than your own crawl over your half naked body. You feel him pressed tight against you, still clothed if the scratchy fabric tells you anything, but an unmistakable bulge is hidden inside. Hard and large against your ass you feel Logan's arm rub against your shoulder. A big hand sliding over your mouth.

"Quiet, sweetheart" he growls in your ear. "Daddy's had enough of your teasing"

Another large hand slides beneath your sleep shirt to cup your tender tits, The nipples diamond hard against Logan's palm. You cant help but moan into his hand as you plead.

"Please. Didn't mean to tease" its a wine, petulant in tone.

"Course you didnt.. Shame S' Too late now" he whispers against your ear, teeth biting into your earlobe. The hand on your breast trails down. Right the way down to his slacks.

"B-but Laura" You warn him in a whispered panic, hearing the sound of a zipper sliding down. you struggle teasingly, hips bucking back against him. Its not enough to cause a scene or enough to wake your sleeping friend- his sleeping daughter- but just enough to make him pin your body down. Enough for you to feel a fraction of his real strength.

Logan's muscles bulge from the effort of caging you against the floor and spreading your legs.

"Nuh uh, Stay still. Stay right where ive got you" he murmurs darkly in your ear, voice a low rumble. the words fire through you like liquid lightning as you bite into his palm, not to fight but to restrain a high pitched moan that you fear could wake the neighbors- not just Laura.

"nothing you can do now sweetheart, just gotta take it" Logan says and you hear the mocking smile in the words, feel the throb of his thick cock as it emerges from the confines of his pants. "Kept telling me you were a good girl, so show me"

With your stomach flat against the ground, legs spread wide beneath him, you can do nothing but tremble as his cock slips between your legs. The cock belonging to your best friend's father sliding deliciously across that little bundle of nerves that sparks a whimper of pleasure.

Your eyes roll back as Logans hips buck, cock brushing your clit again, running up and down your slit torturously slow. "fuuuck, you feel that? How hard you've got my cock?"

You're kicking your legs now, moving your hips. It could be viewed as a struggle but its not, not really, you're just so desperately excited you can't keep still.

"Don't need to fight me baby. Just let daddy in hm? let it happen sweetheart."

And then he's pushing inside your body in one heavy thrust; slow and impossibly deep. The weight of him inside your cunt making you mewl against his palm. All the years of secret yearning, wet fantasies and subtle flirtations have all led to this moment.

It doesn't take many thrusts before your tongue is rolling out of your mouth, licking wetly against his palm like a grateful dog- a bitch in heat. You try to use it to muffle the moan that follows, a pitiful sound mixed with pleasure, like you're ashamed to be in the situation.

Used and humiliated around logans cock.

Its push followed by retreat, a half thrust and then withdrawal over and over. "So fucking tight" Logan growls as you wiggle your ass, not certain if your trying to squirm further in to his grip or out.

He's stretching your walls apart, the burn of his size delicious with each heavy he offers. Each bringing a pulsing throb on your clit. "Yeaaaa, that's it, take it like a good girl.." he groans. "S' what you wanted isn't it."

Logans right, this is exactly what you wanted and more. His body trembles atop yours from the exertion, balls squeezed against your ass, his hand on and off clenching around your breast. His thrusts picking up in pace as you struggle and squirm to keep quiet even under his palm

"L-logan" you whimper as he pushes particularly deep, pussy squelching lewdly from your arousal, his hand barley muffling the word. He knows your close before you do, can feel your cunt clenching desperately.

"Getting fucked so good your gonna cum sweetheart?" he rasps in your ear, panting into it. "C'mon, tell daddy how good his cock feels."

"S-so good.. F-fuck yes daddy, please"

You whine and It is a struggle to pry his strong hand off your mouth to get the words out.

"Go on sweetheart. Cum, coat my fuckin cock. Show me this cute little pussy is mine"

and then his big hand clamps back over your lips as he begins to fuck you into the floor. Your orgasm crashes over you in burning waves. Every stroke becoming an ecstatic agony, overstimulation starting to buzz over your bones. Its a constant struggle to hold your moans and neither of you can move properly for the risk of waking Laura .

But Logans hips remain unrelenting, Fucking you prone on your friends floor. His balls swinging, swatting unbearably at your clit with every entry. The heat of him and being trapped against the floor is almost unbearable, but so is having to keep your whimpers quiet. sweat beads hot on your brow

you can hear his own desperate attempts at staying quiet. Broken only by muffled groans, grunts of exertion, and primal chesty growls as your cunt clenches wetly around him.

Yet the discomfort of overstimulation is no match for the absolute bliss of your submission. Your toes curling so hard you're on the verge of a cramp.

The friction between your clit, Logan's cock and the floor builds to an intolerable pressure. Something must give way. The temptation to lose all control and scream his name too great. Now that possibility of you blacking out is too dangerous to ignore. So you say it the word.

"Kitty!"

Not because you want to, but because in this moment you have to. Almost as soon as the word leaves your lips and sinks into the pillow, wet from saliva and tears, you feel his body shudder. muscles seizing while a heavy groan sounding out into the skin of your neck.

"you okay?" he pants softly worry creasing his brow. "Was it too much?"

Your wordless and it worries him. Making him pull back, cock slipping free with a hushed hiss as he helps you shift onto your back, so he can look at you properly.

Your hands rise, fingers caressing his scruffy cheeks. "M'okay" you pant, eyes on him. "wasn't too much. Promise."

No, in fact, It was just right- before it all overwhelmed you that is. Now? now you just want to hold him, make love to him. Hold onto something- someone that isn't really yours. Eye to eye, your mouth slides back over his, legs spread back open, ready to welcome his length back inside. Without a word you buck your hips down, beckoning him to fuck you again.

Things are much quieter this time. Pace slowed to deep grinds rather than shallow thrusts, pleasure once again coiling in your gut as you lean up to watch his cock disappear inside.

"Feel so good sweetheart, my good girl" he coos, lips against yours as his hand slips back to cup your breast. "My good girl with a fuckin perfect body"

You keep your eyes on logan, blissful smile across your face, and for this moment he's not your best friends father. Not with the way he's gazing down at you with a mixture of lust and long held affection. "always wanted you" he whispers, hand moving back from your breast to cup your cheek. "But I would have kept that secret forever.."

You squeeze him to your chest, heart stuttering at the admission as you lock your arms behind his neck, legs tight around logans waist. You whimper back his name, a plea on your tongue.

"Want you to cum logan.. Please, need to feel it"

You want it more than anything, to feel his cum pushed inside you; for it to drip out later as a downright filthy reminder. You kiss his neck, then cheek, and finally his lips. You want Logan to claim you right here on the floor, right under her nose and you know it makes you a bad friend. Your eyes roll back, hands clawing down his chest as you feel yourself giving up all thought to the rush that flows down the center of your body. The one that begins and ends in the wet, sticky place between your legs, Where the sensitive bud of your clit pulses like a dying star.

it's then he growls much too loud, and you respond back in a whimper, lips pressing tight as you cum together in panted kisses. Him pumping hot heady ropes of cum inside your cunt without reservation or regret as you clench in a vice grip around him.

Tomorrow you will be sore, you know it for a fact. But Tonight.. Tonight You can revel in a fantasy made flesh, your flesh and Logans wrapped around each tight. You drag weak fingers down through his damp hair, then his back, feeling the way his shirt is soaked through with sweat.

Logans panting has subsided by now, breaths no longer crackling besides your ear. He plants mouthy kisses at the juncture of your neck, ever so gently, like a sated wolf nuzzling at the muzzle of his mate. You giggle quietly as those kisses grow fiercer, teeth nipping at your neck.

"my good, great, naughty girl" he murmurs against your skin, voice soft. "you feeling okay sweetheart? sure it wasn't too much?"

You nod and he can feel the enthusiasm seep from the move as you grasp his face again. "Mhm, better than okay. Was perfect" you hum sleeplily, content in his hold, in the scent of him. Your eyes flutter, lashes tickling his cheeks as you kiss him long and deep, until the rub of his beard hurts your face and sleep begins to take you under.

You both know tonight was the culmination of so many fevered dreams. The breaking point of lust and its power that can't be fully expressed in words. So he holds you close- just as you do him in your rest- for a little while longer, until light begins to filter soft through the curtains and the reality of what you'd both done really begins to set in.

thats it!! lemme know what you thought anddddd yea! asks are always open to shoot the shit, drabbles and more! <333

#carbonsfics #old man logan #logan howlett x reader smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #dark logan howlett #dark wolverine #oldman logan howlett #logan 2017 #logan x reader

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woniefication · 2 months ago

Text

wanna tell you how I feel right now!

𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒂: 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘈𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯! ﹔𝘌𝘯𝘩𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘹𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳﹔𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨,hopelessness・・・ Fluff,crack Reblogs ﹠ FB appreciated 𓈒𓈒𓈒 Masterlist.

A/N﹔Sorry for my inactivity TT these are all pretty short but ive been busy preparing for my smau but enjoy!! for some reason some letters are bigger than others TwT ive tried fixing it but it doesnt work Im sorryy!

𝐿𝑒𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑔 (이희승)

Heeseung’s pretending he’s not even trying, but it’s written all over him. He leans near you, close enough for you to feel it, but not touching. He waits. Watches you out of the corner of his eye. Then he lets out the softest little sigh and says, “You’re really gonna ignore me when I look this good today?” You look over. He meets your eyes, smirks a little. “There we go,” he says, voice low and warm, like he’s been waiting for that moment all day. Then adds, “Was starting to think I had to kiss your forehead just to get your attention you little rascal.”

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝐽𝑎𝑦 (박종성) Jay walks in with full drama, as usual.but his extraness is actually covering up how soft he is when it comes to you. “Wow,” he says loudly, “Ignored. Betrayed. Left to rot.” He slumps into the seat next to you, fake groaning like you hurt his soul. “You used to care about me,” he says, peeking at you through his fingers. When you finally look at him, he softens instantly. “There you are,” he says, voice suddenly much quieter. And then, dead serious for once: “Missed your eyes. Don’t disappear on me like that again.”

𝑆𝑖𝑚 𝐽𝑎𝑘𝑒 (심재윤) Jake doesn’t even try to hide how much he wants your attention. He walks over, hair slightly messy, eyes bright, hoodie sleeves too long. He calls your name sweetly, then pouts when you don’t look. So he just slides his phone in front of you with a message typed out: “Hi. I miss you. Look at me pls :) ok I love you bai” You laugh, finally giving him your attention. He lights up so fast. “There’s that smile,” he says, gaze soft and full of something dangerously close to love. Then adds with a grin, “You’re not allowed to ignore me. You’re my favorite human.”

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑛 (박성훈) Sunghoon sees you’re focused, so he tells himself not to bother you. But then you don’t look at him for like, five whole minutes. So he casually walks by, trying to act chill, hands in pockets, pretending like he’s just stretching or whatever. Eventually, he sits near you, stealing glances until he finally whispers, “You’re kind of breaking my heart right now.” You glance up, confused. He smirks faintly, cheeks a little pink. “You haven’t looked at me all day.” Then quieter: “I really like it when you do.

𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑜 (김선우) Sunoo is not letting this slide. He calls your name in full sparkle mode, then adds a dramatic, “Are you… cheating on me with your phone?” You ignore him. He gasps. “Blocked. Unfollowed. This is emotional damage.” But then he leans in a little closer, a smile tugging at his lips. “Just kidding,” he says softly. “But I do get kinda sad when you don’t look at me.” And when you do look up he beams. “You have no idea how pretty your eyes are. I didn’t wanna go a whole hour without them.”

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑤𝑜𝑛 (양정원) Jungwon notices you’re focused, but he really wants your attention—and let’s be honest, he wants it because it’s you. He calls your name once. Twice. Still nothing. So he sits beside you, not saying anything at first. He just waits. Maybe even gently nudges your arm with his shoulder. “Don’t make me say your name again,” he murmurs, voice low and a little playful. When you finally glance at him, he smiles softly, kind of shy but also smug. “There you are,” he says, like he just found something he was missing. And then, just to be annoying (but also cute): “Was I not pretty enough to distract you, or…?”

𝑁𝑖–𝑘𝑖 (니키) Ni-ki starts with pure chaos. He tries to distract you with noises, dancing, throwing pillows—anything. When that fails, he disappears for a second… Then you get a text: “Turn around.” You do—and he’s there, holding a tiny note folded like a paper star. When you open it, it just says: “Missed you. A lot. Even if you were 3 feet away.” You look up and he’s pretending to act cool, but you can see how red his ears are. And he mutters under his breath, “Don’t make me say it out loud, I already risked my pride for this.”

(♡)-- @orimuraa @douqhnxtss @chrrific @liwinly @fleuryns @leaderwon @pnghoon

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kilojulietsierra · 3 months ago

Text

Send Me An Angel - Chapter Two (Dr Jack Abbot x nursewife!ofc)

Summary : What do you do after a night like that?

If you missed Chapter One CLICK HERE

(Seriously, I can’t thank y’all enough for the love that chapter one received! Made my whole week!)

Warnings: 18+ content, depiction of a PTSD episode/panic attack, also depiction of two people who love each other handling the situation appropriately, angst, fluff, smut, just a tiny hint of kink mentioned if you know where to look (competency, d/s role play), dark humor, heathy communication, they talk a little shit but they love each other so much

~~~~~~~

The Next Day

Sam knelt down in front of the woman in the wheelchair, "Ok hon, that should kick in here in a second and you'll feel better okay?"

The woman nodded, her whole body still trembled, but her breaths were a little more even. "Thank," she gasped in a breath with a stutter, "You."

"Of course." Sam gave her hand a squeeze and stood up, "Keep breathing okay, deep breaths, and we'll have you out of here soon." She looked over the lacerations on her leg one more time before she moved on.

Bridget met her in the hallway, and they exchanged a look as they both surveyed the ED. "We're starting to get 'em cleared out."

Sam nodded as she snapped her gloves off. The whole department was still a disaster, dozens of patients remained and the EVS staff was busy mopping up as much of the blood as they could. "What else do you need?"

The night shift charge nurse, put her hands on her hips, "I need you to go home."

"There's still…"

"Honey, you don't even work here. They have a relief shift coming in, they'll be here by seven. Go home."

"Did Dana get out of here?" Sam asked as she stripped off her trauma gown and shoved it in one of the overflowing bins.

"I sent her home too, every nurse on the floor now is night shift. Students are gone, I even saw Abbot walk Robby out earlier." Bridget wasn't going to back down.

With a glance at her watch she saw it was in fact almost 7am. "Let me help 'till next shift comes in."

The two nurses stared each other down. Bridgett sighed, "You are the worst." She said it with a smile though, "I have Tina and Shad making a lap to check IVs, you can help with that."

Which is exactly what she was doing at 7:33am when Jack found her. "Let's go home."

She looked over her shoulder and then back to the kid in the gurney, "They are gonna come get you in a bit okay." When the kid nodded she gave him a smile and turned around to see Jack. "How are you doing?" She wanted to reach out and touch him but restrained herself.

He nodded, looked her up and down and nodded again, "Relief shift is here. Let's go home."

Sam nodded and went to follow him down the hall.

Bridgett met them at the counter and before she could say anything Jack held up a hand, "We're going. Which means you are too." He gave her a pointed look.

She snorted out a laugh, like she hadn't been trying for half an hour to get him to leave. "Right behind you."

Jack held an arm out to wrap her in a one armed hug. "Go home and get some sleep. Give the kids a hug."

"Mhmm." She wrapped her own arm around his middlle and squeezed. Then she moved to Sam and the two of them exchanged a hug of their own. "Love you, sweetie."

"Love you too." Sam held onto the hug a little longer. "Thank you for always taking care of him." She whispered.

Bridgett hummed and gave her another squeeze, "You know it."

When they pulled apart Jack was standing to the side with his backpack on one shoulder, and hers in his hand. "Ready?"

"Yeah." She grabbed her pack from him, "You grab the duffles?

"There in there. Night Bridge."

"Good night." She called after them as they headed for the ambulance bay.

It was jarring to see the nurses and doctors that had just arrived, not covered in blood, no goggles, no trauma gowns, just ready to work a regular-ish shift.

When Sam went to take the corner Jack grabbed the back of her scrub top and pulled her towards him.

"I had to park in visitor parking."

He just tugged her again and held out his hand, "We'll come get it later." Sam blinked and after a moment nodded. She smiled and let him take her hand. Jacks face was still stoic, but he gave her hand a squeeze and led her out to the MD parking lot.

As they approached the truck he dug the keys out of his pocket and hit the remote start, then pulled Sam's bag off her shoulder. While she walked around to the passenger side he tossed their stuff in the back seat. "Don't even think about it." He called to her as he saw her move to open the passenger door.

She made a face at him when he came around to open her door for her. Rather than say anything she just stepped up and gave him a kiss, then climbed inside.

~~~~~

Jack held her hand the whole drive home and didn't let go until he had parked the truck. The drive home had been silent except for the music. When they got inside they undressed in the laundry room in silence and climbed into the shower together in silence.

One of the things Jack had always appreciated about Sam was that the silence was never awkward or uncomfortable. It never had been. He found just as much pleasure, just as much comfort in her company regardless if either of them had anything to say or not.

At some point Sam had leaned back into him, her eyes closed and her skin flushed from the scalding hot water, and he wrapped his arms around her. It had been quiet for so long he almost felt bad to be the one that broke the silence. So, he tipped his head to the side and kept his voice soft and low as he spoke beside her ear, "Want me to help wash your hair, or want me to go find us something to eat?"

Sam groaned, conflicted by the choices he had offered, "Both?"

He chuckled, pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, "Gotta pick one." Then let his chin rest against her shoulder while he waited for her answer.

She took her time, apparanently more content to stand under the hot water and simply exist.

Jack smirked, too tired to smile, and kissed her bare shoulder, "Pick or I will."

His wife just groaned and grumbled again, let more of her weight settle against him.

"Ok," He kissed her shoulder, her temple, allowed himself one selfish caress of his hands over her naked body and told her, "Stay here long as you need to. I'll go make some dinner."

~~~~

When Sam had finally drug herself out of the shower, she threw on a pair of shorts and one of Jacks hoodies, and headed into the kitchen. She found Jack there shirtless in a pair of sweats with his back to her as he made two plates of spaghetti. Before she went into the kitchen she took a second to stop and be grateful for him. The reasons why where too many for her brain to process at that moment, but she was beyond grateful for him. Every day, but especially today.

"Quit staring, come eat."

She smiled and joined him to eat at the counter. As always Jack cleared his plate like it would disappear if he didn't. Something that he'd never grown out of even after more than a decade out of the Army. His choice of second career just as inhospitable to sit down meals as his first. For awhile he sat there with her, then got up and tidied up the kitchen and the small mess he'd made.

When Sam still hadn't finished her plate he grabbed his phone and kissed her on the top of her head as he walked by, "I told Robby I'd call when we got home."

Sam nodded and went back to her food. Chose not to acknowledge outloud that the call was a thinly veiled check in. He'd made a threat, or a promise, to Robby on the roof of the hospital early that morning. "I'm going to call you when I get home, and you better fucking answer."

~~~~~

By the time they made it to bed Jack threw the covers back and dropped into the middle of the mattress with a groan, "Jesus Christ, I'm getting too old for this."

Sam went to the closet and stripped the hoodie off over head and traded it for a UC Davis t-shirt. She didn't respond to him right away. Instead she shut the closet and sat on the foot of the bed. She sat there a long time, only half turned towards him, mostly her gaze stayed on her hands, "Am I a bad person?"

Jack groaned again as he turned on his side, propped up on an elbow, "Not usually." He waited for her to look his way, to give him some sarcastic remark, but she did neither. "Can I have some context?

She took a breath, still didn't look his way, but she did turn a little closer towards him, "Tonight was… a terrible thing. I'm exhausted… but, part of me… part of me feels like a shitty person…" She couldn't finish the thought out loud. She didn't need to.

"Felt good didn't it?" Jack kept his voice soft, compassionate. "It felt good to be knee deep in the shit again. To have a different life literally in the palm of your hands every five minutes. Down and dirty, think on your feet medicine. Save this guy, if you can't save this guy then save the next one." He paused to study her face closely, tried again to catch her eye. "To be one of the ones keeping your shit together, when people around you are spinning out."

When she looked up at him finally her eyes were a little glassy, but he knew she wouldn't cry.

"No Sam, you're not a bad person. You're someone that thrives in that chaos, and that is an incredible thing." He reached for her shirt and gave it a gentle tug, "C'mere."

She stared at him for a minute and then moved. First she stretched to switch off the light and then she rolled onto her side to cuddle up as close as physically possible to her husband.

He wrapped her up in his arms and pulled the blankets up over them. Jack tugged her closer, guided her leg over his and tucked her head against his chest. With his left hand he traced aimless patterns over her lower back and with the right he held her hand over his chest. Where they could both feel the steady rhythm of his heart. After a minute he added, "That was one of the first things I found sexy about you."

When she scoffed and pressed a kiss to his chest he knew he had her back from that dark place.

She chuckled a little bit and her fingers flexed over his chest, "Is it bad that I found it sexy watching you do that field crike on the cop?"

Jack smiled and tipped his head towards her, "Is it bad I think it's sexy that you found that sexy?"

That earned him a giggle and it was like suddenly they could both breath again. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she snuggled close as they settled in to try and get some sleep. It didn't take long before Sam broke the silence again, her voice a little softer, "Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you, can we keep talking? It feels good to talk?"

He gave her a squeeze and moved his right hand down to stroke over her thigh where it was hitched over his. "Something specific?"

Fingers tracing patterns on his chest she hummed, "No, just… listen to you talk." She sounded almost sheepish.

So, he talked. He started with arriving at the hospital and then talked through each patient he saw, one by one. What they came in with, how they treated it. The whole time her fingers flexed against his bare chest, her thumb stroked back and forth as she listened.

Jack smiled to himself eventually. "DId you hear one of the med students IOed a guy while he was awake and talking?"

"Like on purpose?"

"Yep."

"Ohhh, no…poor kid."

"Poor guy that got drilled in the arm you mean." He pinched her thigh. "Then the Santos girl did fucking Reboa on her own."

"Yeah I heard that, and I heard you gave her an 'atta girl'."

"Like you never stepped out of your depths to save a patient."

"This isn't Afghanistan."

He paused before he responded, "Felt a little like it tonight." Jack pulled her thigh higher up over his waist and held her there, "I think she's got what it takes though, Santos, just needs reined in a little."

"Oh, gee wonder who has a favorite already?" She teased him. "Samira's got it too."

"Yeah she does." He nodded and twisted his head to look down at her, "Worst fucking circumstances," Jack started as he moved the arm around her up so he could play with her hair, "But it was fun to work with you tonight." He kissed the top of her forehead.

Sam tipped her head up to look at him, "Yeah it was," She moved her hand up to his jaw, "Forgot I was married to a badass for a minute there."

Jack huffed out a laugh and closed the distance between them. "Damn right you are." He kissed her even a she rolled her eyes. He pulled back just enough to speak, "So am I." He kissed her softer and slower. "Should get some sleep baby."

"Ok." Her answer was a whisper against his lips and she smiled when Jack kissed her again, "Love you."

"Love you too."

Sam woke up a few hours later with a start, her heart racing and her chest tight, she had to fight to breathe and clear her head. In the split second between asleep and awake she felt Jack jerk in bed beside her and then sit bolt upright. That was when she realized what had startled her awake. "Jack, babe… hey, it's okay."

Jack kicked at the blankets, sucking in air and shaking, one hand clutched as his chest, as his whole body trembled.

"Oh fuck, Jack, hey listen to me." She sat up on her knees and moved to his side of the bed as fast as she could and off the edge to kneel on the floor in front of him.

"Fuck," He was sucking in air, in shallow, uneven, breaths that rattled his chest and he repeated the curse over and over, "Fuck. Fuck."

"Hey, baby i'm right here." Knelt on the floor in front of him she braced one hand on his thigh as it nearly vibrated under her touch, "Jack. Jack, listen to me, look at me okay." His eyes jumped over the room all around them, but never to her. "You're home. You are home, with me, right?" She gave him an exaggerated nod and put her other hand over his on his chest where it still clawed over his sternum like if he tried hard enough he could rip a hole in his chest to breath.

Sam swallowed thick, her mouth dry and her own chest still tight. "You're safe, you're home, with me. You have to breathe. Right? Have to slow down and breathe baby."

He finally gave her a nod and tried for a shaky breath but he almost immediatly started to hyperventilate again as he started to rock back and forth on the bed.

"Hey… hey, hey, hey, nope. Deep and slow, right? Deep and slow?"

He lurched forward and Sam panicked briefly that he might be sick, but clung to the feeling of one of his hands as it wrapped around the back of her neck. "I'm right here, right here, with you. You're home. We are home. You're not there. You're here." She said it over and over again in the softest, calmest voice she could muster, as she moved closer to him and cupped the back of his head and brought it down to her shoulder. Careful to leave some distance, she'd learned the hard way, he could sit up suddenly and catch her in the face. Which hurt like hell and made him feel guilty later.

"You're right here with me, just gotta breathe Jack. Okay? Breathe." Sam drew in a long, deep, audible, breath through her nose as she counted in her head; 1,2,3,4. Then she held that breath and blew it out through pursed lips. Strong and steady to the same count; 1,2,3,4.

The whole time she stroked her fingers through his hair and continued to breathe with him, give him the rythym to follow.

In, 1,2,3,4. Hold, 1,2,3,4. Out, 1,2,3,4 Hold, 1,2,3,4

She felt and heard him fight for it. Fight for the air, for the control over his own mind and body.

She began to count it out loud for him, her voice soothing but firm in his ear.

In, 1,2,3,4. Hold, 1,2,3,4. Out, 1,2,3,4 Hold, 1,2,3,4

Jack spit out a shaky, 'Fuck…me…" His grip on the back of her neck tightened and released through the tremors.

"You're good baby, you got this. Just breath for me, you got this."

His trembling had slowed, his breathing had regulated some. Progress. Sam moved her hand from his hair down to the base of his skull and began to tap out the count and breathe along with him. In. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Hold. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Out. Tap, tap, tap, tap.

"I'm, sh-, shit." He fought through a breath, "I'm," His whole body racked with a tremor. "Fuck, I'm sorry." His voice was strained, painful even. "I'm s-sorry."

"Stop that. You're fine, you got this. We got this. Just keep breathing."

He nodded against her shoulder, his body still trembled almost constantly, but each breath got him closer and closer.

Sam didn't relax until she felt the majority of her husbands weight collapse against her and he let out what sounded like the last of the shaky breaths.

"Hey, you with me?" She whispered it into his ear and finally took a deep breath of her own when his fingers relaxed at the back of her neck and what had been a death grip softened to a gentle caress.

"I'm sorry, Sam. Baby…I'm sorry." Another shaky breath as he sat up straight. "Jesus…" He shoved a hand back through his hair. "Came out of nowhere."

Sam watched, still knelt on the floor in front of him, as his hand reached up to rub over the scar on his left shoulder. A nervous tick that he kept such a lock on that she would be the only one to recognize it. "Don't say sorry." She stroked her hand up and down his thigh in long firm strokes in an attempt to keep him steady, keep him grounded. "What you did today, what you had to do today," She ducked her head to try and catch his gaze in the dark of their room, "Of course it hits home."

He looked at her, hand still rubbed over the scar over and over again. "I was fine. Everything was fine."

"I know." She stood and stepped between his legs so she could tip his face up towards hers. "What do you need now?"

Jack didn't respond right away, he looked exhausted all the sudden.

"What time is it?"

"It's early yet," She glanced at the clock, "Not even noon."

He nodded, scrubbed at his face for a second, "You have to work tonight." When he looked up at her he looked sad, like he'd let her down somehow.

Sam shook her head, "I traded with Remi, for next Saturday. They're going to take the kids to the lake. I'm off all weekend." The relief on his face both made her heart flutter and broke it a little. "Let's go back to bed."

Almost immediately he shook his head, "No, I'm not going to be able to sleep."

"Okay, well, go take a quick shower," He was drenched in sweat, "And then we can go watch TV or something."

With a nod Jack stood up which brought them close together and she kept her hands on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something.

"Do you want your phone? Call Shane or TJ?" More than once she'd had to make a call on his phone in the middle of the night, her hand trembling, so one of his battle buddies could talk him down when she couldn't. More than once they'd woken up to his phone when it rang in the middle of the night so he could do the same for one of them.

Jack shook his head, "No, no I'm good." Still a little shaky as the adrenaline dumped out of his system, he put his hands on her waist and stared over her shoulder at the wall. "Just, give me a minute."

"Ok. I'll go make some coffee."

~~~~~

It was the middle of the afternoon, but the house was dark. They'd left the blackout curtains drawn so the only source of light was the TV on the wall as it played whatever show Sam had put on before she dozed off on the couch beside him. He honestly wasn't sure what it was, she knew he didn't care, that he just needed the distraction.

She shifted a little under the blanket, her legs stretched across his lap and her face buried in a throw pillow. Part of him wished he could go back to sleep like her. He'd spent the first twelve minutes on the couch with her feet in his lap, one thumb stroking back and forth over the arch of her foot while he stared blankly at the TV. It had calmed him down some, enough, and it had put her to sleep.

Jack shook his head and tried to focus on the show. He hated the feeling of the imbalance, the aftermath. It was like his thoughts were marbles on a perpetually rocking surface and he had no control over either.

Sam shifted again, "How are you feeling?" Her voice was soft and sleepy.

At first he just nodded, knew that anyone but her would see the scowl on his face and leave it alone. Then he rubbed a hand over his eyes and nodded again, "Better." He gave her calf a squeeze through the blanket. "Why don't you go back to bed."

"Comfy here." There was no hesitation in her response and she twisted slightly so she could see him better. "Need anything?"

He shook his head. Then for the first time since the day before he thought about the young vet, how he'd ended up on the roof of the hospital. He took a deep breath, his voice quieter, "The vet I lost, yesterday, the drunk driver hit and run victim. He was the same age as you." He didn't know why it mattered. He didn't know if he'd even registered it at the time.

She was quiet for a long minute, "I'm right here Jack."

He moved his hands under the blanket so he could feel her skin, warm and smooth, under his hands. He set one hand on her ankle, searched out that faint thrum of a pulse, and the other brushed lightly up her calf then down again. "I know."

For long enough he thought she might have dozed off his wife was silent. Then she let out a little laugh, "You know what I always think of? When we sit like this."

"In Kandahar when I'd go sneak into your hooch?" He gave her an honest grin at the memory.

"Mhmm. Every chance you got." She hummed happily and gave him one of her sleepy little smiles.

"Blame me?" He gave her a smile of his own and shifted on the couch so he could stretch out behind her.

She shuffled around for a minute until she could make room for him and then he pulled the blanket over them both.

He pulled her back, flush with his chest and wrapped his arms around her tight. Once she was settled she chuckled softly. "What?" Jack squeezed her tight and buried his face in the back of her neck.

"Just thinnking. Imagining if I could go back and tell 22 year old me that she does get to marry the sexy Army medic with the pretty eyes and the angry face." She giggled a little then continued, "That he loves her and treats her so much better than she'd ever imagined and she's going to be so fucking happy."

For a moment that tight feeling in his chest returned. but it was not the PTSD this time. He had to swallow a couple of times before he could respond without a lump in his throat and when he did he mumered it so soft and earnest it felt like the first time, "I love you." He pressed his lips to the spot behind her ear and left a kiss there that made her shiver. "So fucking much."

~~~~~

He did fall back asleep, they both did, and when he finally woke up it was nearly midnight and the weight on his chest was long gone. The dread and the darkness at bay. They hadn't moved at all in their sleep. Sam was still wrapped up in his arms, her back to his chest. His shoulder ached from laying on it but he wouldn't move. He pressed his forehead into the back of hers and breathed deep and easy.

"Awake?" She sounded barely so herself, but her fingers curled over his forearm. It was like their internal clocks were synchronized, or that she was just so intune with him after all these years her body knew when he woke.

"Yeah baby." He squeezed her tight.

So tight that she let out a little groan and the breath of a giggle, "How you feel?"

"Good." He tipped his head to drop a kiss on top of her sleep tangled hair. "We slept a long time."

"Mhmm," She shifted and wiggled around closer to him and sunk deeper into his arms. "Felt good."

"Yes it did." He moved his free hand down to her hip and gave it a squeeze. Under the blanket his hand moved from her hip under the shirt she slept in. He stroked over her waist, her soft, smooth stomach and then up to cup her breast.

"Jack," She didn't stop him but her tone was clear.

He smirked, kissed the back of her head again as he swiped the pad of his thumb over her nipple, "Told you, I feel fine." Jack tipped his head so he could whisper into her ear, "Better than fine."

His wife hummed and then twisted around to look at him over her shoulder. She stared at him for a moment, studied him closely in the dark.

While she looked he pulled his hand out from under the blanket and moved it up to cup the side of her neck. "Sam, I'm fine." He traced his thumb up her throat, "Promise." He tipped her face up to give her a quick kiss. His thumb brushed over her pulse and he smirked when she arched up into it, "Trust me, I'm a doctor."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, ok Doctor Abbot."

"Watch the tone." He kissed her again, "Nurse Abbot."

His wife laughed into the kiss and nipped at his top lip, "Don't push your luck." Sam moaned as his thumb pressed a little firmer on the next pass and she turned onto her back. She nearly melted into the couch as Jack continued to kiss and caress her.

HIs hand slid from her throat, over her chest and then pushed the blanket aside so he could reach more of her. Jack swept his tongue through her mouth and the sweet little groan it earned him went straight to his cock. He kissed her harder and deeper, slid one hand back under her shirt and groaned a little himself when she angled her hips up off the couch. When he pulled back from her lips, a dangerous grin on his face he whispered, "What do you want baby?"

Sam shifted again, this time to wrap her arms up around his neck and pull him back, "Just don't stop."

The hand under her shirt slid up over her sternum and he stopped when his middle finger dipped into the suprasternal notch. He felt her swallow and then he trailed the tip of the middle finger down, slowly, as it barely ghosted over her sternum, down her stomach and dipped it into her naval. When she giggled and her stomach fluttered Jack leaned back in to kiss her. Her giggle turned into a moan as he slipped his hand into the waistband of her shorts.

He didn't stop. He moved until he felt her and only pulled his lips from hers to murmer, "Fuck baby." Then slammed his lips down over hers again as his fingers found the warmth and wetness between her legs. With one hand he dragged her shorts down her legs and smiled wide as she kicked them rest the way off herself and dug her hand into the hair on back of his head. As he pushed himself up onto his elbow, the hand beneath her cradled her neck, he used his other hand to pull her leg up over his hip. "Stay right here." He kissed her cheek, "Just like that." Jack whispered the last part against her ear before he sucked the lobe into his mouth.

The little shiver that rolled through her when he did that never fucking got old, so he did it again and again until she tugged on his hair. Hard. When he pulled back he could tell he was smiling, an honest to God smile, because she looked like she fell a little more in love.

"There's my smile." Sam leaned up to kiss him, a smile of her own pressed to his as they did.

It was her smile Jack thought. She was the only one that ever saw it anymore. She was the only one he gave it to. The first time she'd seen it, she'd smiled so wide herself it looked like it might hurt, then she had leaned in close and whispered, "Those dimples are dangerous." He smiled a little wider at the memory and then let his hand slip from the inside of her thigh down to her core.

"Jesus." Her breath caught, voice somewhere between relief and desperation, as he so very gently ghoted the pad of his finger over her lower lips. Her whole body trembled as he did it a second time. The third featherlight stroke earned him a whiny, "Ja-ack." as she raised her hips up to try and get him where she wanted him.

With a quick brush of his lips over hers he responded, "I said stay remember?"

Her hips returned to lay flat against the couch, but the whine she let out let him know she was annoyed. Jack smiled and kissed her again, Then because he felt alive again for the first time in days, he licked his lips and pulled back enough to see her face. He stroked that same, barely there touch over her again and whispered, "Be a good nurse and do as your doctor says." Then he waited that split second it took for her eyes to flash just beyond annoyance and then before she could argue or snap back at him he slid his middle finger knuckle deep and stroked that hidden spot that made her whole body tremble and her eyes roll back in her head.

"Ohh I'm," Her breath caught as he caressed that little spot again, "I'm gonna fucking," A second finger stretched her a little wider and she had to fight back a moan to finish, "I'm going to get you for that."

Jack just smiled, the one just for her. The big one with the dimples and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and he pressed his forehead to hers as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, "I know you will baby." He kissed her and laughed, because every now and then she'd play that game with him. She'd be his good little nurse and it drove him fucking crazy on the right day. Today though she was his feisty little wife and he wanted to get that rise out of her. See that attitude flash in her eyes and then bring her back.

The grip she had on his hair told him he wasn't quite forgiven just yet, but the rush of wetness and the quiver of her pussy around his fingers told him he wasn't far off. She kept trying to twist and turn, to press her thighs together, anything to get what she wanted, but Jack just kept her there on her back beside him as he played with her. "Jack, please…"

Jack sped up his movements and she arched up off the couch, chasing his touch. "Going to cum for me baby?"

She nodded and the hand in his hair jumped to his back where her nails dug in and reminded him he was hard as a fucking rock and he needed to be inside her, soon.

He moved his fingers slick with her wetness up to draw a lazy circle around her clit. "Goin' to be a good girl and come for me?"

Sam whined but her nails dug into his back and fuck it felt good. He knew they were on that dangerous line where if he wassn't careful, didn't play it just right, she'd turn on him. Then he would be the one on his back with her teasing him until his balls ached. That's not what he wanted tonight and neither did she, because she nodded. She nodded and whined so pretty and pushed into his fingers and he gave her that smile again. Just for her as he watched her, his fingers on her clit moved in hard, fast circles. The kind that always gave her just enough relief to feel good, but left her craving more.

When she came her mouth fell open in a gasp and her eyes snapped shut, Her hips arched towards him and this time he let her. "Good girl." He murmered it into her ear as he coaxed her through that first orgasm. He kissed her cheek, her ear, her throat and felt the rumble of a happy, satisfied moan as she relaxed.

Once her eyes focused he was there, with the smile he kept for her and a kiss that resonated down into their bones.

She wrapped her arms around him again and lost herself in it. "You're too good at that." She whispered as they finally pulled apart. By the time her brain had focused enough to notice Jack had her tshirt pushed up to her breasts and had kissed his way over her hip bone, "Jack," The whine carried more than his name with it. "What're you doing?"

Jack couldn't help but smirk into the soft, silky skin of her inner thigh, "Something else I'm very good at." And then with a wink he ducked his head and his tongue made the first firm swipe through her still wet and quivering pussy, ready to show her time and time again, just how good he was. That he was happy, he was alive, as long as he was with her.

~~~~

Chapter Three

#dr jack abbot #the pitt #dr jack abbott #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #Jack abbot #jack abbott #jack abbot x ofc #dr Jack abbot x ofc #Jack Abbott x ofc #dr Jack Abbott x ofc #shawn hatosy

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luvseisagi · 2 months ago

Text

— return her favor.

ft. sakura haruka x reader. wc. 3.4k

summary. when he got sick at the beginning of the week, you took care of him. now, it's you who's sick —and it's his turn to return your favor. content. fem!reader, fem pronouns used, pure fluff, boy next door!sakura, everyone likes teasing the poor boy when he blushes. inspired by s2 ep17. a bit ooc, i think. author's note. im whipped. im down bad. im head over heels . i knowwwwiknow but hes just so cute icant.. love him sm.. little kitty boy (kaji too)... :(( also im not 100% happy with how this turned out but ive been thinking about a scene like this so much i needed to write it

𝜗𝜚 english isnt my first language, so any corrections or advice are highly appreciated, as well as feedback (please) ! enjoy

you are sick.

not figuratively —you really are. you’ve caught the flu, a nasty cold, or whatever virus that's left you bedridden, feverish, for so many hours that they feel like eternity.

when it started, you thought you were sneezing so frequently because you were allergic to something, since spring had just begun. however, it only got worse as the week went on, until you ended up in the state you’re in now.

body sprawled on the futon on the floor —your arm is folded in a weird way, your legs half under half out of the blanket—, it’s the only position you’ve found that lets you be even a little comfortable and breathe without choking every two minutes. your skin is paler than usual, except for your face, flushed pink and covered in a thin sweat layer.

you’re on the edge of delirium.

you should have seen this coming. no, you actually did see it coming, but you had such a busy week —working extra hours at the restaurant at nights, repainting the facade of the establishment after some vandals had graffitied the wall, assisting all your classes and doing all your homework—, you'd had no time for worrying about getting sick or getting medicine.

besides, taking into account that your daily life is on the other side of the city —you live in your apartment, if it can even be called like that, only because the rent is affordable for you—, the time you spend just going to school and work and coming back home takes a considerable part of your day.

plus, at the start of this week, your next door neighbor had gotten sick too —and every free time of your days had been spent on taking care of sakura.

you didn’t even think about the possibility of him giving you the flu until you woke up this morning. work was already hard yesterday —even your boss had sent you home before your shift ended, since he could see how tired you looked—, and you hadn't slept more than two full hours, so all you were able do in the morning was send a text to your coworkers to ask for someone to cover your shift today and fall asleep again.

four hours later of feverish dreams and a very uncomfortable mix of heat and cold going throughout your whole body, you are so thirsty and hungry you could eat a whole menu from the restaurant you work in. however, getting up seems almost impossible in the state you are in, so you let yourself lay under the blanket a while more.

you’re about to fall asleep again, ignoring the cries for help of your stomach, when you hear the door of your apartment open.

there’s no greeting, no warning, no announcement about who just entered without permission. but only a few people have a key to your place, so the list of suspects is short —still, of all the possible people, you definitely didn’t expect to see sakura haruka standing in the cramped little space that makes up your room.

“i brought you something.” is all he says before sitting cross-legged on the floor beside you, placing a plastic bag full of things in his lap and beginning to pull things out one by one.

sakura is your next-door neighbor. he moved to the apartment beside yours at the beginning of the school year, just as alone in his place as you were in yours. at first, he came off as cold —maybe even a little rude— but it didn’t take long for you to realize he was just shy, especially around people who offered help without expecting anything in return.

your first interaction had been on an especially cold evening during his first week living there. you had heard him through the wall, cursing softly and clearly frustrated —mumbling something about not figuring out how to get the hot water working. you were pretty sure he even punched the wall out of frustration after his third cold shower.

so you showed up at his door, holding a slice of leftover cake from the restaurant as a welcome gift and offering your help —partly because you’re a decent person, but mostly because you were worried the building might not survive more than a couple more punches.

“i can’t cook anything for you,” he's saying now. a few months have passed since you met “but i brought instant soup. i didn’t know what flavor you liked, so i grabbed one of each. just in case.”

he spreads the contents of the bag on the floor —six different packs of soup, a few bottles of water and sugary drinks, cold compresses for the fever, some medicine, vitamins, and a single flower.

you manage a weak smile.

“thank you” your voice is thick with congestion. it requires you making a great effort to extend your arm, and point to the end of the row of things on the floor “i get the food, the clothes and the pills. what’s the flower for, though?”

you are too exhausted to lift your head and look at him, but you’re sure he’s blushing when he answers.

“umemiya told me to give it to you. said it would help you feel better.”

he’s clearly flustered —you can hear it in his voice— and probably grateful you can’t see how red his face is right now.

you chuckle softly.

“it does.” you say “it’s really pretty. thank you, sakura.”

and the poor guy is now blushing even harder.

he found out you were sick this morning. usually, he would hear your door every morning before he left for school —you always left earlier than him, since your classes and your job are both on the other side of the city. but today, there was only silence. no sound of the coffee machine, no rustling clothes, no soft curses about running late.

he might’ve ignored it, but he remembered you telling him how busy this week would be, how you couldn’t afford to miss classes with exams just around the corner. you had said all that while taking care of him when he was sick —thinking he was asleep. but he heard every word.

so when he saw light under your door and knocked with no response, he panicked. he didn’t care about being late to class, no one in furin would really care. so he grabbed the emergency key you’d given him just in case and let himself in.

the apartment was dark, except for the faint glow coming from under the door of your bedroom. you didn’t answer when he called your name —quietly, not wanting to startle you— so he stepped inside.

then he saw you

you were huddled under the blanket, your phone still in your hand like you’d fallen asleep waiting for a message or a call. your limbs stretched out across the futon, half uncovered, as if the heat was unbearable —but you were shivering like you were freezing.

it was more than obvious you were sick, but he didn’t want to wake you. you looked anything but peaceful, but you also looked exhausted, and he knew how hard your week had been. so he just stood there for a moment —then quietly stepped back out.

later, across town at furin, sakura was so distracted thinking about you, he tripped over suo twice during patrols.

“what’s bothering you, sakura?” suo asked, catching his arm before he could fall again. “you look worried.”

the two-colored-hair guy stood up straight, freeing himself from his friend's grasp —again, and mumbled a "thank you", avoiding his gaze.

“it’s nothing. just...” he’d told them about you before, but mentioning you in front of his classmates still made him go red. “yn’s sick, and i want to help her”

suo raised a brow.

"oh, i see." he said, a grin growing on his face.

“i mean, because she helped me when i was sick. and i want to return her the favor, i owe her.” sakura added quickly, now flustered.

it’s tsugeura who intervened then.

"yn? the neighbor you're always talking about?”

“i don't always talk about her!" sakura protested.

right then, as if summoned by some invisible signal, nirei, kiryu, and the others turned around, stopping dead.

"she's sick? seriously?" nirei asked, already pulling out his phone like he was about to write down a shopping list.

overwhelmed, sakura could only nod.

"i want to bring her something to help her feel better."

so, when returning to the class with the rest of his classmates, sakura found himself stuck in the middle of an impromptu meeting, surrounded by half his class in a discussion about what to bring you to feel better.

“we should buy some medicines and vitamins for her!” nirei was saying, his concern genuine.

he didn’t even know you personally—none of them did. but since their grade captain seemed completely smitten for you, they were all too happy to help out on his behalf.

“she was shivering but looked flushed?” suo asked after hearing sakura’s description of how he had found you “sounds like a fever. we should get some cold compresses, and medicine too”

“eating is important too, in case she wakes up hungry” kiryu added “soup could be good. and a drink she likes, sugary for her to regain strength.”

the conversation spiraled for a while, everyone adding something new they should bring to their grand captain’s neighbor —who was, definitely, not as excited as them.

it was not only the worry for your wellbeing now, it was a tight, bitter feeling in his stomach. if he had to define the sensation, he would have catalogued it as very uncomfortable and very weird.

because he didn’t like the idea of his classmates —his friends, he reminded himself— taking care of you, or buying things for you, at all. he knew they were just trying to help him, but going to your apartment and looking after you personally?

no. he didn’t want that.

first of all, sakura didn’t want them to meet you at all. yes, he’d told them about you several times —when you helped him with the hot water of the shower, the times you’ve brought him leftover desserts from your restaurant because you know he likes them, or when you went to his house, despite having a very busy day and being tired, to make sure his fever was going down and that he was eating properly.

sakura never let on how much you meant to him —but you’re precisely that: part of his life, not theirs. and maybe it wasn’t fair, but he didn’t want to share you.

second of all, he didn’t want you to meet them either. he would never say it out loud, but the thought terrified him —that you’d fall for suo’s kindness, nirei’s soft smile or kiryu’s charm; that you’d just realize that everyone has something better than him.

more than anything, he just wanted to stay your favorite.

was that selfish?

“i will do it.” he said, then, cutting off the class' whole conversation “i’ll buy everything you said, and go take care of her myself. after all, it’s me who gave this virus to her.” all the eyes moved to him in this new silence. then he realized he might had appeared ungrateful, so he added —“and, um. thank you all. for your help.”

none of his classmates answered, though. he felt a little intimidated by the silence.

suo was grinning, kiryu had raised an eyebrow, and tsugeura was the one who asked out loud what everyone was thinking —“¿what do you mean you gave the virus to her?”

sakura found himself out of words for a few seconds.

“well, she took care of me when i was sick, too.” he finally said, looking away “i told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted on staying the night with me in case my fever raised while asleep. i think she got it then."

“oh. so she stayed the night at yours?”

suo laughed. tsugeura asked again.

“and how close were you two, for her to get your sickness too?”

sakura realized then what they were implying. his cheeks got tinted by a pale shade of pink when he shook his head, panicked.

“no! no, it’s nothing like that. she just… she helped me, that’s all. i didn’t event want her to, my plan was to wait until i felt better, but she insisted on staying…”

but there was no turning back now. during the rest of the morning, the only thing sakura received was a constant teasing from his classmates —it was so bad, that at the end of the school day, before going back home, umemiya reached him to give him a flower for his sick girlfriend, who would definitely appreciate it, and it would make her feel better.

so here he is now, telling you how all his classmates —all his friends— helped him to choose what he had to bring for you, his cheeks and nose slightly flushed and his hand absentmindedly on the back of his neck.

and, even after the soup and emptying a whole bottle of water, your forehead is still hot and the fever remains blurring your thoughts. so, now looking him at his eyes —thinking how cute he looks when he isn’t able to hold your gaze— you don’t rethink it when straightly saying out loud:

“you look so pretty when you blush.”

and you know you’ve messed him up, because he’s blushing even harder, and he stutters when telling you about his journey on the search of the best soup flavor.

you can't but let slip a low giggle when he finishes his story.

“thank you so much for coming, sakura.” you thank him, knowing well he isn’t able to say anything right now —you've never seen anyone get so timid after a compliment “i mean it.”

still shy, he lowers his head and looks at his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“it’s nothing, really. i’m just returning you the favor, for helping me when i was sick.”

you both know that’s not true at all, but none of you mentions it. you play along, then —“still. im glad you’re taking care of me, even if it’s just because you feel you owe me.”

sakura waits a few seconds before answering this one. he has stopped playing with his shirt, and is now distracted folding the clothes he used as cold compresses.

he mumbles, almost unintelligibly, his reply.

“i’m taking care of you because i do care about you.”

you giggle at his cheeks becoming even redder after his word.

“what did you say? i think i didn’t hear you, sorry.” you ask, teasing him a little.

there's a moment of silence after that—not awkward, but warm, lingering.

sakura has gone quiet again. you’re both still, the soft hum of your room’s air-conditioning the only sound between you. his gaze flickers to yours for a second, then drops to his hands again. you can see his fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt again, then still, as if trying to gather courage.

the air feels different now —not fever-warm, but tender.

to your surprise, he suddenly raises his head, and fixes his gaze on yours —grey and gold eyes shining under the warm light of your room. looks like he's lost all shyness, even if only for a moment.

“i said i do care about you. not only for a favor.” sakura repeats, now louder. and right after, all the courage he gathered seems to disappear from his body, because he, again, looks away “and i want you to feel better… so that you can, uh, come with and try that omurice im telling you about all the time."

you raise a brow. he does the same, but he looks funny, because his gaze is on the door of the closet —it looks like he's trying to tease your clothes, and not you.

“unless you don’t wanna come, of course, but i assure you you’d be missing the opportunity of a lifetime.” he adds.

a soft chuckle leaves your lips, and you can’t help it —mirroring his, your cheeks turn a pale shade of pink that has nothing to do with the fever that finally starts disappearing.

since he opened your window, the birds’ whistling fill the room as background noise, sun rays tickling your exposed skin —you have long forgotten the blanket, due to the heat of the apartment, on a corner of your room.

you’re sitting on the futon now, hands playing with the only compress he didn’t yet fold. you are not really sure of how, or when, has the atmosphere become so intimate, but you feel the need to whisper the next time you talk.

“yeah, sakura.” you say, eyes lingered on his black and white down eyelashes. suddenly, you feel too flustered to look at him in the eyes.

it's an answer to the question he hasn't yet asked.

“yeah, what?” he asks, looking at you again. “you don’t wanna come?”

you shake your head, then smile sweetly.

“yeah, i would be missing the opportunity of a lifetime if i didn’t try that omurice you tell about all the time, going on a date with you.”

sakura doesn't respond immediately.

in fact, you’re pretty sure you just broke him —he just stares at you, stunned, as if unsure if whether you just said was real or part of your fever's delirium. but then, very slowly, he smiles.

it's small, shy, but completely sincere. and for a second, it feels as if the warmth in your face isn't from the fever anymore—but from him, and the way he looks at you like you are his opportunity of a lifetime.

you both stay quiet for a while, wrapped in warmth, in sunlight, in something that feels a lot like a beginning. small smiles in both your faces, as if sharing a secret no one but you know about.

you can’t help but stare.

he looks so pretty —cheeks tinted pink, two colored hair disheveled, pressed reddish lips due to bashfulness, the collar of his white plain shirt revealing part of his collarbones.

you had thought he was handsome, the first time you saw him, carrying boxes into his new apartment. then you discovered he was more on the cute side, after getting to know him and learning how sweet he is —even despite his tsundere personality.

as if refuting your trail of thoughts, he breaks the eye contact and you let out a sincere, soft giggle.

“cute.” you say, a smirk on your face.

“shut up.” his face is, again, all red under the black and white frame of his hair. he mumbles “you’re cuter.”

then he gets up, still avoiding your gaze —that follows him, entertained, as he picks up the empty bowl of soup and carries it to the kitchen. after leaving it on the sink, he takes the medicine and a bottle of water, and passes them to you.

“come on, now, take your meds,” your expression says it everything, disgust clear on your face when he brings the pill to you. he raises both brows, and now it’s his turn to smirk “or, i will not be able to take you on that date you talk about.”

you groan as a complain, but still take the pill he’s offering you, and swallow it with a long sip of water, obediently.

as he walks back toward the kitchen, you can’t help but smile softly.

“if this is how you’re going to take care of me, i might have to get sick more often.”

sakura chuckles, and doesn't hesitate before replying —his voice coming lightly from behind the kitchen door, where you can’t see his face.

“are you sure about that?” he calls back “that’s a shame, ‘cause my mom always said sick people couldn’t get kisses —and i’m not really the type to go against her advice.”

you roll your eyes, grinning, with no comeback on the tip of your tongue at all. he wins this one, surprisingly.

you never thought you’d end up falling for the shy kitty-looking boy next door —but your heart’s not exactly complaining.

masterlist.

pls lmk what u think in the comments, reblogging, through messages, asks or wtv!! feedback is important to me in these first posts and i'd appreciate it a lot 🤲🏼

﹫luvseisagi, may 2025.

#archive 📁. ۶ৎ #wind breaker #windbreaker #wbk #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #wind breaker x you #wind breaker x y/n #wbk x you #wind breaker anime #wbk anime #sakura haruka #wind breaker season 2 #wind breaker sakura #wbk sakura #haruka sakura x reader #haruka sakura x you

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abvsz · 14 days ago

Text

somebody new.ೃ࿐prohero!katsukixmom!reader

summary- Dynamight saved your life but he couldn’t seem to get your picture out his mind. Either can you, until he saw you and your 2 year old at a cafe near by his apartment.

a/n; kind of sad in the beginning so sorry and REALLY BAD IM SORRY I HAVE TO STEP IT UP😣

masterlist!

chapter 1

There you are. Cold. Rainy. And Gloomy. He only took a glimpse at you in the air. You’re on the ground unlike him. He could barely even see you anyways so he doesn’t think about it. But why would he pay attention to you? Why would you pay attention to him? He’s busy, you’re busy. But it’s different this time. It’s cold, rainy, and gloomy. Lips pale while your little boy is playing with his nanny warm in a big nice blanket. But you’re cold. Wall only supporting your head down to your back. You can’t see anything. Oh. Well you can for a bit. The men who took off your clothes in the freezing cold, walking away slowly. Maybe to get something? Or, i hope, to get in a car and drive away far from here? Phone ringing in the rain. All you can think about is your boy. Izumi. You can hear footsteps. Oh no, you think. Are they going to drug me again? Are they going to hit, and punch me again? Or is it.. someone else? You try to open your eyes, really hard.

“shit you’re freezing, it’s okay, I got you.”

warm.. so.. warm? Rough pads of someone’s fingers pick you up. You’re wearing clothes again.. you think.. he’s just so.. warm.. you open your eyes to look at him. You don’t recognize him, or know him. Your eyes flutter shut leaving to the warm hands you were in.

You gasp for air, like you haven’t in years. Eyes wide open, but you’re in a hospital? You were hoping what happened was a dream. It felt like it.

The hospital light hums above you, cold and clinical. You're awake, but the world still feels distant. You don’t remember how you got here—only the rain, the pain, the fear—and then a voice. A voice that pulled you from the edge.

“It’s okay, I got you.” Keeps repeating in your mind like a throb.

And warmth. A kind of warmth that didn’t feel real. Not like the sun, but like protection. Like safety.

You try to ask the nurse who brought you in, but they only offer vague answers: A pro hero found you. You were lucky. That’s all they’ll say.

But he’s gone. No name. Just a silent ghost in your memory.

Across town, Bakugou leans against the glass window of his apartment, scowling at the rain. Again. The same kind of night he found you.

He tells himself he’s imagining things. That the flash of your face—half-frozen, eyes dazed—isn’t burned into his skull. That he didn’t check the café twice this week. That he didn’t ask his agency if they knew your name.

He did, of course. And they didn’t.

No report filed. No ID on record. No thanks left behind.

Bakugou clenches his jaw. He should forget about you. He should let it go. People are saved every day. That’s the job.

But he can’t shake it—the image of your pale lips, the way your body went limp in his arms, how you gasped like you hadn’t breathed in years.

That wasn’t just a job.

He doesn’t know your name. You don’t know his face. But something is pulling the thread tighter.

And he’s not sure how long he can keep pretending he doesn’t want to find you.

Your hands shake even under the hospital blanket. Not from the cold—it’s long gone now—but from something else. Something that settled in your bones and won’t leave. The nurse says you’re stable, that the IV will help, that you’ll need rest. You nod like you’re listening. But all you can hear is that voice.

“It’s okay, I got you.”

Not the voice of a stranger. Not anymore. You cling to the sound like a rope keeping you tethered. And you wonder—how long did he carry you? Did he look away when they found you like that, bruised and broken and stripped of everything but shame? Did he look at you at all?

You want to believe he did. You want to believe there was kindness behind those words. Protection. Because for a moment—just a second—you felt safe.

You press your palm to your lips. They don’t tremble anymore, but they’re still pale. The nurse catches your gaze again.

“Do you remember anything?” she asks gently.

You swallow. Nod. Then lie. “Not much.”

Because what would you even say? That someone warm found you in the rain, and you don’t even know what he looks like?

You trace the word hero in your mind. Could’ve been anyone. But your gut says otherwise. Whoever he was, he didn’t just pass by. He stayed. You remember his grip. Steady. Strong. Gentle.

Some part of you wants to find him. Not for answers. Not for closure. But because something inside you won’t rest until you do.

Across town, Bakugou hasn’t moved from the window in hours.

He doesn’t notice the sweat cooling on his skin after his evening training. Doesn’t notice the missed call from Kirishima. Doesn’t notice the tea on the table gone cold.

What he does notice is that every time it rains, he looks out the window. Every damn time.

He tells himself it’s just instinct—heroes are trained to watch, to listen, to stay on alert. But he knows that’s a load of crap. He’s not just watching the city. He’s waiting for a ghost.

You.

He’s tried to rationalize it. Maybe it was trauma talking. Maybe it was just the adrenaline. Maybe he was just doing his job. But nothing about that night felt routine. Nothing about you felt forgettable.

Bakugou isn’t good with delicate things. He never has been. He breaks things by accident just by being too much. Too loud, too harsh, too honest.

But when he touched you, when he lifted your body out of the mud and filth and hell—he was careful.

You were so light. Too light. Your breath barely there.

He’s haunted by the way you blinked up at him—once—and then passed out like your soul had given up. Something about that one blink undid something in him.

He doesn’t even know your name, but it’s like you’ve taken up permanent residence in his mind. Like the rain, like the cold, like the nights where sleep doesn’t come.

Bakugou finally pulls away from the window, grabs his jacket. Not because he knows where he’s going.

But because he has to go.

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he knows it when he feels it.

And he felt you.

It’s been weeks since the hospital. Your body’s healing faster than your mind, but your son—Izumi—is too young to see the fractures still stitched across your thoughts. He just knows Mama holds him a little tighter now. That she’s always watching the door.

But today is different.

It’s the first time you’ve taken him to the little corner café by the bookstore. The one with the honey-colored lighting and old jazz humming low through the speakers. It’s quiet. Safe. You’re tucked into the corner booth, Izumi coloring with fat crayons while you sip lukewarm coffee like it’s some kind of anchor.

You’re trying. That has to count for something.

You do your research on this hero and find out who he is, Katsuki Bakugo-Pro Hero Dynamight, you know it’s him, you can feel it in your heart.

The bell over the door rings.

You glance up out of habit—and freeze.

It’s him.

You know it’s him. You’d only seen his face for a moment, through slitted eyes and pain-thick haze, but there’s no mistaking that energy. That presence.

Tall, broad shoulders visible in his dark hero costume, heavy boots drag through the cafe. Blonde hair spiked and wind-swept from the weather. A sharp gaze that flickers across the café, lands on you for a heartbeat—

And skips past like he doesn’t know you.

Your breath catches.

He walks to the counter like nothing happened. Like you’re not there.

But you saw it. The pause. The flicker in his eyes. He recognized you. You’re sure of it.

Izumi tugs your sleeve. “Mama, you okay?”

You nod, blinking fast. “Yeah, baby. I’m fine.”

But you’re not. Because now your heart is racing in that same frantic rhythm it did in the rain. Not from fear. From something else.

He orders something black, no sugar. Sits across the café, back to the wall. Not facing you—but not not facing you either.

And then he leaves.

He comes again the next day.

Doesn’t say a word. Just walks in, orders, stays for twenty minutes, and leaves. Sometimes he glances over when he thinks you’re not looking. Never when your son’s watching.

You don’t know what you’re expecting. For him to walk over and say something? Anything?

But he never does. Not with Izumi there. Like he’s waiting for the right moment. Or maybe he thinks you don’t remember him. Maybe he’s protecting you by keeping the distance.

You start going to the café more. Not because you’re hoping. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But you always sit in the same booth. And your eyes always flick to the door when the bell rings.

And Bakugou? He keeps showing up.

Same time. Same drink. Same silence.

And yet, something keeps growing in the quiet between you—something fragile and electric.

Until one day, Izumi’s home sick. You almost don’t go, but something in you says: today.

You walk in alone.

He’s already there.

And this time, when he looks up—

He doesn’t look away.

The café is quieter than usual.

Rain slips down the windows in steady trails, and the jazz playing overhead sounds softer today, more distant. You’re alone. No crayon marks on the table, no tiny voice asking for another cookie. Just your coffee, cooling in your hands.

You don’t even look up when the bell chimes.

You already know it’s him.

Footsteps pause. You can feel it like a shift in pressure.

And then—

He walks toward you.

You glance up, breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.

He stands at the edge of your table, fingers tapping against his coffee cup. Jaw tense. Eyes locked on yours.

For a second, neither of you speak. Just… watch each other.

Then, quietly—like he doesn’t want to startle you—he says,

“You remember me.”

You nod. “I do.”

He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for weeks.

“Your kid,” he says, clearing his throat. “Didn’t wanna bother you when he was around. Figured you’d—” he stops, clicks his tongue, looks away, “—didn’t wanna make shit weird.”

You give a small smile. It doesn’t quite reach your eyes, but it’s real. “You didn’t. You don’t.”

Bakugou hesitates. Then pulls out the chair across from you.

“Can I—?”

You nod again. “Yeah. Please.”

He sits down slowly, careful in a way that doesn’t fit the reputation you’ve heard of him. Like he’s not used to doing this. Like maybe this is harder for him than charging into a fight.

“I tried to find you,” you admit, voice low. “I didn’t even know your name. Just your voice.”

He shifts, glances out the window. “Didn’t leave it. Wasn’t thinkin’. Just… saw you there and—fuck, you were barely breathing.”

You lower your gaze. That night lives under your skin like frostbite. But his voice—hearing it now, real and close and steady—melts some part of it.

“You saved me,” you whisper. “You didn’t have to.”

He looks back at you, and this time, there’s nothing guarded in his expression.

“I wanted to.”

The silence stretches, but it’s not heavy. Not this time. It’s warm. Familiar.

You toy with the rim of your mug. “You never came over before. Why now?”

His hands flex on the table. “Didn’t want to scare you off. Figured… maybe you didn’t wanna see my face. Not after what happened.”

You look at him, really look. He’s not the same kind of warm you remember. That warmth was emergency. This one is steadier. Like heat in winter.

“I did want to see you,” you say honestly.

His eyes soften, just a little. The hard edges don’t vanish—but they ease.

“…You got a name?” he asks, rough but not unkind.

You smile for real this time. “Yeah. It’s y/n.”

He nods, like he’s memorizing it.

“I’m Bakugou.”

“I know.”

Of course you do.

He smirks faintly, a hint of relief in it. Like maybe this doesn’t have to be so hard.

And for the first time, the weight of that night doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

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