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hearts4werka · 2 months

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Hot Tub Fun

Summary: You’re at a party, feeling confident in the outfit you’ve picked and you’re having a good time and think that nothing can ruin your night but then when you go to the bathroom you see your toxic boyfriend with your best friend. You run to Matt and he helps you with the newly break up in his new hot tub… Genre: ANGST & SMUTT, cheater bf (fuck him), party setting, toxic relationship, hot-tub smut, comforting, under the influence, friends with benefits? Warnings: swearing, cheating ( do not stand by it ), mentions of alcohol consumption along with drugs, toxic relationship, SMUT, use of pet names ( sweetheart, good girl ) unprotected sex ( bitch wrap that little pickle up ) , p in v, fingering, cowgirl, d riding, teasing, characters being slightly under the influence, aggressive kissing, smutty time in a hot tub, slight dirty talk

I was carefully applying my eye liner in the dimly lit bathroom, trying not to fuck up for the hundredth time now as suddenly someone decided to enter the bathroom.

It’s Matt standing in the doorway all dressed up and ready to go, rushing me to be quicker or we’ll be the last ones to arrive to the party one of our friends are hosting, Chris and Nick already went but I needed more time to get ready so Matt stayed with me and decided to wait.

“Scarlet, hurry the fuck up or I’m going without you” He says with slight warning in his tone but very evident annoyance, leaning against the doorframe to my small bathroom we currently reside in together.

“Jesus, I'm almost done. Have some patience for once.” I say, glancing at him and back at the mirror and continuing to apply my eye liner with precision.

“How can I have any patience left when you’ve been getting ready for a goddamn hour already.” I hear him slightly raise his voice, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently now.

I decide to not anger him further so I just drop the eyeliner into my makeup bag and put my hands up in mocking surrender.

“God, fine! I’m done now, you happy?” I say slightly annoyed at his impatience, turning my head to look at him standing in the doorway with his tall frame, his head almost hitting the top of the frame, would be funny if it actually did.

“Yes, now get your ass into the car.” He demands and motions for me to walk past him while moving out of the doorway, before I actually do what hes demanding me to do I do one last look into the mirror, making sure I look on how I intented on looking which is to look like the bad bitch that I am. ( outfit here )

| - 🍂 - |

We're in the car, driving to the party as Matt gives me a lecture to not get too fucked up nor black out drunk. I just listen, nod and shake my head at whatever he's saying and not really paying attention to the words currently leaving his mouth instead, I gaze outside of the window at the streetlamps illluminating the streets

"Do you understand me, Scarlet?" He asks after his small rant and glances over at me from the road, I nod my head again and keep not paying attention to him but my gaze is ripped away from the window view outside as he speaks again with more warning dripping from his voice.

"Don't just nod your head, use the words you like to use so often" Those words catch me off guard and my ears listen into the tone of his voice, my eyes finding their way to his face.

"Yeah I understand, Matt. I'm not five years old"

"You sure act like one sometimes" He mumbles under his breath which delivers him a soft punch on the arm from me, getting a little chuckle from him at how non-impactfull the punch was to his arm.

"Oh shut up"

And on that note, we finally arrive at our destination. Matt parking the car in the driveway among other cars, some look luxurious and some the polar opposite but here no one cares what you drive, you came here to have fun and not to slump about who drives what kind of car.

Me and Matt enter the party and our ears are Immediately assaulted by the loud music blasting through the speakers, my friend Tania as soon as she sees me she comes up to me while Matt excuses himself and goes to have a drink at the bar which I assume is because Chris or Nick is at the bar.

We both excitedly hug each other and when she grabs a hold of my hand she basically drags me to the dance floor once a song she likes comes up and we start dancing together, moving our bodies to the beat of the music.

As I sway my hips from side to side while the song keeps blasting from the speakers I feel Matt's eyes tracking my every move from the bar but I don't care and keep dancing, I'm gonna have a good night tonight and no one will ruin it for me.

| - 🍂 - |

After a few drinks and a molly with Tania, Matt and Chris that also joined us on the dance floor now, dancing to Pitbull songs blasting from the speakers I feel a need to take a quick piss.

"Hey, do you guys know where the bathroom is?" I ask trying to talk over the music, glancing between the d group dancing group. Tania doesnt even hear the question over the music including Chris who are gracefully taken over the curent song.

"It’s just down the hall to the left. last door." Matt finally answers my question, I give him a polite nod saying a small 'thank you' non-verbally as I go towards the hall to the bathroom.

I suddenly realize I haven't seen my boyfriend anywhere nor my best friend, shrugging my shoulders at the thought, ill go search for them later after I'm done with my bathroom break. Reaching for the door I attempt to open the door but its locked, I hear my boyfriends voice call out from behind the door but there seems to be something against it.

"Who's there?”

"What are you doing in there?' I say so he hears me from behind the door, I hear slight whispering in there and a feminine voice but just assume I'm hearing something from somewhere else.

"Wait a minute" He replies, hearing slight commotion behind the door my senses become heightened and I try to hear whats happening behind the door.

"The fuck are you doing in there? are you with someone?" I slightly raise my voice annoyingly hes taking up more time then he should be, I start twisting and shaking the door knob to try and pry it open but something seems to be holding it in place.

"Wait a goddamn minute! I'm...um shitting!" My brows furrow at his obvious lie, why is he lying to me right now? and why do I keep hearing female fucking whispering in there?

"Open the fucking door, Kyle!"

More commotion and whispers are heard on the other side before the door finally opens and Kyle steps out of the bathroom, looking down at me and moving out of the way for me to go into the bathroom. He doesnt say a word and just glares at me as he walks away into the crowd of people on the dance floor, I simply roll my eyes and enter the bathroom.

Walking over to the toilet I hike up my dress and oull down my panties to sit down on the toilet seat, taking care of my business. when I'm done I reach out for the toilet paper and realize It's not there, I glance around the bathroom for any toilet paper and none is found. Cursing under my breath I see a small towel next to the bathtub civered with a simple curtain.

I quickly walk over to it and snatch it off the holder, when I sit back down on the toilet seat I could have sworn I heard shaky and nervous breaths. After I wipe my ass I pull my panties back up and my dress down to cover what it can of my ass.

Ripping open the curtain I see my best friend hidding in the bathtub with what looks like guilty tears falling down her face, I look at her confused before I start to connect the dots. All of the moving and the whispering when Kyle what in here...

"What the fuck are you doing in here, Kiara?" I question, waiting for her to start to maybe explain what hes doing hiding in the bathroom even though I already connected the dots.

She picks herself up and sits up, guilt and nervousness written all over her face. "Scarlet I swear its n-not what you think..." she starts and stumbles over her shaky words before continuing "Please don’t hate me for this..." I huff at her small plea, looking at her and feeling betrayed.

"Since when was this?"

"what do you me-"

"I asked since fucking when was this, Kiara!" I yell, expecting a better explanation than her acting clueless when she knows damn well what I’m talking about.

“It- it started a few weeks ago after your birthday party.” she admitted and my heart shatters , my mind starts to go into a whirlwind but I calm it down as slight anger washes over me.

“You dumb, fucking bitch! How could you do this to me?” I yell once again, this time feeling hurt and betrayed. How could she? I’m mentally getting ready since this might take quite a violent turn.

When she notices my state, she bolts out of the bathroom and I just let her run away. I sit on the edge of the bathroom and just let te feeling of being hurt as well as betrayal mix together inside of me.

I need to find Matt so he’ll get me out of here.

Picking myself up from the bathtub I also exit the bathroom, scanning the area surrounding me I find Matt at the spot he obviously would be in. At the bar.

Speed walking to him and as soon as I get a grip on his hand he’s being dragged away from whatever conversation he was having with whoever but I didn’t care anyway.

When I get him into a quiet corner I turn to look at him and I can see he noticed my distressed state under my tough and confident demeanor.

“Woah, calm down there. What happened?” He asks in an almost calming way, taking a small step closer to me and his tall frame towering over me which sends a shiver down my spine.

“Kyle cheated on me with Kiara, that’s what happened” I simply admit through the lump in my throat, my hands immediately finding their way around Matt and hugging him tightly.

Matt returns the hug as equally warm, rubbing soothing circles on my back and I melt into the embrace. Holding in my tears so my makeup doesn’t smear all over my face.

"You want me to take you home?" He says as he pulls me away from his chest and seeing the hurt and betrayal written all over my face. I shake my head positively and he wraps an arm across my shoulders and walks me through the crowd and to the exit.

This feels like an ultimate betrayal out of a movie or show, I cant believe the two people the closest to made crossed me over so brutally. Tears prick my eyes and they become glassy by the time we make it to the car and when Matt turns to look at me he notices.

"...why would they do that to me?" I murmur under my breath as Matt takes a step closer to me, looking down at me with sorrow and empathy, placing a soothing hand on my shoulder.

"Dont worry about them, lets get you home now" He says and opens the passenger door for me, letting me get inside of the car before he eaks around and sits in the drivers seat.

| - 🍂 - |

The drive to his place was quiet with unusual and unexpected tension occupying the air around us, he gets out of the car and walks around to open the door for me.

I follow behind him and step out of the car as he closes the car door and we make our way to the front door, his arm around my shoulder in a comforting way that made the pain slightly easier to bare with.

“Do you want to relax?” He asks as he opens the front door and we enter the house, closing the door behind him.

“Yeah, anything to stop my mind from spinning” I state and drop down onto the couch in the living room, feeling the effect of both alcohol and drugs flowing through my system.

“You can relax in the hot tub if you want” He suggests, walking over and sitting down next to me. The triplets got a pretty spacious hot tub for their house recently and already made a party in it a few days ago.

“That might not be such a bad idea actually” I state and look over at him sitting next to me, always when he’s near me I feel a warm and almost soothing feeling wash over my body each time, sometimes I even feel slight attraction towards him.

“Let’s go then”

| - 🍂 - |

After getting changed into a bikini i didn’t realize i left behind after the hot tub party a few days ago so I just put that one, it was weirdly left in Matt’s room for some reason but decided to not question it to not come off as nosy.

Grabbing a towel Matt lended me I make my way downstairs and outside where the hot tub is located, I asked Matt to join me since I didn’t want to go alone and just sit in silence so by the time I was downstairs he was already relaxing in the hot water of the hot tub.

I put down my towel nearby the tub and walk over to the tub, feeling Matts gaze run up and down my body taking in the sight of me in the bikini. Slowly entering the hot tub I let the hot water coat my skin and I let my body relax and as I’m about to sit down he suddenly grabs my waist and pulls me down onto his lap, making me straddle his hips with my legs each on the opposite sides.

A surprised look casts over my features as my head subconsciously tilts to the side in confusion but then I remember where I found my bikini which was located in his room.

“Matt, what are you do-?” As I try to finish my sentence he cuts me off by smashing his lips on mine, kissing me with slight aggression which makes a burning sensation create between my thighs as I try to squeeze them together but Matts knee is already keeping them open which causes me to let out a soft whimper into the aggressive kiss.

Hearing the noise leave my mouth he presses his knee against my core letting more noises escape past my lips and into his mouth like he’s feeding off of them, demanding more. My hips rock against his knee, my body desperate for any kind of friction but his hand grabs my waist and pushes me down onto his knee, making my movements stop.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m just here to comfort you…” He says in a suggestive tone, sounding sweet yet teasing at the same time. Matts others hand was moving up and down my sides before landing onto my thigh and squeezing it, putting his hand teasingly close to where I need him the most.

“Matt, stop teasing me like this” I state as desperation slips through my words and into the tone of my voice, my slight drunken state makes me not to think about my actions and right now is a prime example of that happening.

“Someone’s desperate for me, hm?” He asks, already knowing the answer to his little teasing question. God I don’t know how long I can take his teasing.

“Why ask dumb questions you already know the answer for?” I tease back but that desperation still evident in my tone but I try to shove it under the teasing but my traitorous body makes me fail miserably as the pleasurable sensation grows between my legs.

“Oh my, are you talking back to me?” He opined, releasing me from his grip on my waist holding me down on his knee and slides his hand now between my thighs, pulling my bikini bottoms to the side and pressing down on my clit with his thumb as one of his fingers enters my wet folds making a soft moan slip past my lips.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” His voice drips off mischief and small drops of lust, he slides in another finger inside and starts to pump them in and out of me causing me to let out a desperate whimper instead of words.

“I need you, Matt please…” My voice becomes more desperate and whiny as he increases his fingers pace, making me subconsciously rock my hips against his fingers for more friction as I clench around them and feel myself getting close to trip over the edge.

As I’m about to finish, he suddenly stops his movements and removes his fingers. A whine leaves me at the loss as he leans down and whispers into my ear teasingly.

“Oh you’re not gonna cum on my fingers, sweetheart. What we’re gonna do is you’ll slowly slide down onto my cock and then I might consider letting you finish…”

The erotic words leaving his mouth in such lust whisper makes me clench on nothing, his hand goes under the water and hooks his fingers on the band of my bikini bottoms and slides them down and tapping the side of my hip, signaling for me to lift them for him to remove my underwear and I oblige with his order.

He resurfaces his hand but now dangling my bottoms before placing them behind him, his hand submerges back into the water and sliding off his own swimming trunks. Taking them out from under the water and making them join mine behind him.

Placing his hands on my hips and guides me down into his cock, sliding it through my folds and erupting a juicy moan from my mouth. My hands slide up onto his chest for support as I lift my hips up and down, my head being thrown back as more noises come past my lips.

Noises of his own start to come out of his mouth, only fueling me to move my hips faster as his fingers dig into the skin of my hips.

“Just like that… ride my cock like the good girl you are” His voice comes out almost breathless as my movements speed up and become sloppier when a feeling of becoming closer to the edge I so desperately want to be pushed over.

I start to become even more desperate, moving my hips from side to side to throw myself over the edge but then he whispers into my ear again.

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my cock so nicely”

His words once again make me clench but now around his dick as I continue to ride him and desperately to finally finish and I can see he is becoming close to the edge as well.

With a violent thrust of his hips, burying himself deep inside of me before he paints my insides with his release and I follow behind him and the mixture of our releases start to spill out of my thirty hole as he removes his dick out of it.

A soft string of delightful curses leave both of our mouths as we ride out our orgasms together, I slump onto his lap and bury my face into the crook of his neck., feeling sensitive after the high just came down of.

He chuckles as he wraps alarm around my waist and pull me into his chest, enveloping me in a sweet embrace.

“Let’s get you washed up and placed into bed, hm?”

“Can we watch a movie together though?”

“Of course, sweetheart”

@hearts4werka

authors note: This fic was heavily inspired by the show ‘Euphoria’ and if you haven’t watched it yet (somehow) then you should for sure watch it if you love angsty and problematic teenager. I gave it my own little twist and I hope you guys enjoyed it!

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suddencolds · 5 months

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Purely Instinctive | Ki//ller Pet//er

Extremely competent assassin who handles every difficult situation inventively and with ease? What if he fell ill... 😭 (4.2k words)

This is a little different from what I usually write, but I've been reading Ki//ller Pe//ter on Webt//oon (link), and... um, this fic practically wrote itself. This might be the most self-indulgent thing I've written this year. Let's not talk about it 😭

For the sake of the fic, all characters are in their early twenties (aside from Peter, who is obviously a lot older). If you haven't read the series, they're all assassins who work for an organization called the Gl//ory Club. That's pretty much all you need to know :)

—

Here's Peter (under his current identity, Sun-Gu Kim) and Yuna:

—

The drive to the warehouse is unusually quiet.

The mission is simple—find an international spy, currently en route to escape via a ship which departs from the harbor at 6am, holding onto highly classified documents which he’s not supposed to have. The moment he steps foot off of Korean land, he will become much more difficult to apprehend—the ship the target is planning to take is a large cargo ship, its whereabouts easily tracked, but the Glory Club bounty has specified that the target will most likely part ways from the cargo ship on a small rowboat. There’s no telling at what point he’ll split off from the cargo ship, or where he’ll be headed next, which means:

They have only two hours to apprehend the subject before he becomes substantially harder to track down.

Yuna reaches up with a hand to rub her eyes. Of course, serving as part of Glory is no 9-5 job—she hadn’t expected volunteer missions to always take place at predictable times. But they’d gotten assigned to this particular mission on short notice, which meant that she’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep, tops, before having to drag herself out of bed for this.

They’d been whisked out on Sun-Gu’s motorcycle—the St. Petrus V4, she recalls. Somehow, Sun-Gu had known exactly where to head. How he’d known, with the entire city laid out in front of him, Yuna isn’t entirely sure. But he’d explained that the target’s trajectory would probably not be a straight line to the harbor—that would be too easy to intercept, and Sun-Gu had assured the target would be aware there would be someone on his trail. He’d probably avoid main roads, then, where there would be a higher chance of getting stopped by the police. Then, out of all the remaining routes from his last tracked location, it would only be feasible to get to the dock on time through six of them.

The rest had been intuition. Sun-Gu’s familiarity with the city is impressive. He barely glances at the street signs as he drives, the night warm and stagnant, his motorcycle dialed to silent, and not for the first time, Yuna wonders how he seems to know all of this.

Speaking of Sun-Gu—

Something is different about him tonight. Yuna probably would not have noticed, had she not spent the entirety of the motorcycle ride sitting behind him. He’s incredibly subtle about it. But it’s there, nonetheless—a slight change to his demeanor. Something nearly imperceptible, something she can’t quite pin down.

Had Yuna not known better, she might have attributed it to tiredness. But in the couple months she’s known Sun-Gu, she’s never seen him tired. He sleeps, like the rest of them, of course—he is only human—but for him, the transition between sleep and wakefulness seems like more of a formality. That is to say, he wakes up immediately alert, and she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him tired.

It makes her wonder, a little, if there’s a reason to it. If there was ever anything in his life which mandated being a light sleeper, that required him to be up at a moment’s notice. Either way, it’s not the reason why he’s—off isn’t the right word. Different is more suitable. Typically, he’s in better spirits. But Yuna has seen him pissed off, and this isn’t it, either.

Sun-Gu parks the motorcycle just outside of the warehouse, unclips his helmet in one swift motion, and—after Yuna gets off—takes her helmet from her and stashes them both under the motorcycle seat, which Glory has designed to be self-locking. Then, without waiting to see if they’ll follow, he makes a lap around the periphery of the warehouse.

The Dokgo brothers have tagged along too—they’re being quiet, now, which perhaps is mercy enough. Probably Sun-Gu had given them a challenge to shut up, and they’ve taken it in good faith. Now, even when they have something to comment, they keep their voices to a whisper.

“What do you think he’s off doing?” Biggie says.

Junior shrugs. “Maybe taking a walk, to relieve some stress.”

“He’s looking for signs of entry,” Yuna tells them. Then, because she can’t help it, and because she’ll be a little pissed off if they’re the ones who end up jeopardizing the mission—“Remember what he said about being quiet?”

“Ah, shit,” Biggie says. “I am quiet. Maybe you should be quiet. Have you considered that?”

She ignores the both of them and heads over to the spot where Sun-Gu stands, now, his eyebrows furrowed. A slat that’s out of place. He pushes it, and it budges.

Underground, the ground rumbles underneath them, and then settles to reveal a trap door.

Sun-Gu beckons for them to follow him, but he doesn’t wait up for them. Yuna quickens her pace to keep up. The trap door leads them down, down. The air underground is much cooler—Yuna finds herself wishing that she’d brought a thicker jacket.

Ahead of her, Sun-Gu—

Takes in a sharp breath. But no, it’s not just a breath. As she watches him, he lifts a hand, pinches it to the bridge of his nose. His shoulders jerk forward, though only slightly; his back muscles tense. All in all, the entire display is soundless.

Yuna’s feels her eyebrows creep up.

This is certainly… new for him. But she doesn’t have time to think on it right now.

When they get to the bottom of the steps, the stairway opens out into a deserted hallway: cement walls, cement floors. It’s dark, and cavernous. This whole place feels empty. It’s a little creepy, really. Why Sun-Gu suspects that their target is hiding out here, Yuna isn’t sure. It seems counterproductive to hide out somewhere like this when, according to their intel, the subject has limited time already to make it out to the harbor.

That is, unless Sun-Gu suspects the intel that they were given might be wrong.

Sun-Gu switches on a flashlight he’s carrying and heads deeper in. It’s not until he stops, looking down the hallway to survey his surroundings that he hesitates, only for a moment. He lifts the collar of his shirt over his face, his shoulders tensing.

“Hh’—nKTtt-!”

The sneeze is practically soundless. That makes two times in one night. Something is definitely up, then. Yuna looks around. Perhaps the underground space is dusty, or perhaps it’s not well-ventilated and it’s grown mold, and he’s allergic. Except, the air down here feels remarkably dry—not the sort of environment mold would thrive under—and the floors look suspiciously well-maintained. It wouldn’t make sense for it to be something else, either—some other universal irritant. Sun-Gu is the only one here who’s sneezing.

Yuna isn’t sure she’s ever heard him sneeze before, out of the months that she’s known him. Could it be some existing condition, then—not a product of their environment, but something from earlier?

“Man,” Junior mouths, from somewhere. “How much longer are we going to have to head down these hallways? They all look the same.”

Yuna turns to glare at him, puts her finger to her lips. “Longer if you aren’t quiet about it.”

“I don’t like this,” Biggie mutters. “When can we get to the fighting? All the lead-up is boring. It feels like we’re in some kind of horror movie.” Yuna squeezes her eyes shut, prays that they’re far enough from Sun-Gu—and, by extension, the target—that they can’t be heard.

Sun-Gu stops, abruptly. He holds a hand up behind him, as if to say, stay back.

Yuna doesn’t know what he’s noticed, at first. But a moment later, she hears it—the click of a latch being undone, somewhere overhead.

Above them, a small trap door opens, and then pulls shut. A cylinder drops from the ceiling, leeching violet plumes of smoke. On instinct, Yuna pulls her shirt up to cover her nose and mouth.

Tear gas, she realizes—or something chemically similar. It’s some sort of aerosolized compound, meant to render them both less capable of seeing and—partly by extension—less capable of fighting. Her eyes tear up almost immediately, so much that she can barely keep them open. Her lungs burn in protest as she takes in a breath.

They’re in a long corridor. There’s a finite amount of smoke coming from the canister—if they wait it out, it will inevitably thin out. So this was more just a distraction, then. A flashy entry. Just enough time for whoever they’re up against to—

It takes her a few seconds to spot the figure through the smoke.

She thinks back to the files on the subject. Medium, reddish brown hair, pale blue eyes. 182 cm. Trained in combat. The stranger in the hallway has their face obscured by a gas mask, their hair hidden under a hood, but she can tell by the musculature of their exposed arms that they appear to be well-trained. In their right hand, they are carrying a long, slender weapon. From one end—attached to a metal chain—is a sphere, lined with spikes, each of them carved down to a sharp point.

It must weigh half a ton, from the way it drags the chain down, but the figure wields it easily, as if it weighs absolutely nothing.

“That’s our guy!” Junior yells, at the same time as Biggie shouts, “Stop right there!”

Both of them charge forwards. It all happens in a split second. The figure adjusts their grip on the weapon to turn the wooden handle of it outwards. Then, before either of the brothers have a chance to react, they’re swung outwards by the sheer momentum of the rod. Biggie hits the ceiling with enough force that the concrete above them rumbles, the impact spiderwebbing the ceiling above them. Slabs of concrete rain down from the point of contact. The figure drives Junior straight into one of the walls at an awkward angle which renders him almost immediately unconscious.

Yuna can feel her own heart pounding in her ears. She slinks back into the darkness, pressing herself to the ground so that hopefully, the stranger will forget that she is there—or that she is even a threat to begin with. Seeing what they’re capable of, she isn’t sure she could do much in this situation to begin with.

How long has it been since the last time the path split off into multiple routes? When Yuna turns to look, the hallway before them and after them seems to stretch on and on. An endless concrete tunnel, with the white, sterile lighting of a laboratory space. Nothing to shield themselves with, and nowhere to hide. It’s a strange location to pick a fight in. What exactly was this place built for?

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the figure says to Sun-Gu, grinning. Half of their teeth have been replaced with gold tooth crowns. When they grin, the gold catches the light, winking. “Thirty seconds, huh? Your teammates couldn’t even hold their own for that long? It’s a damn shame. I didn’t even get to use the weapon as it’s intended to be used.” They tilt their head, staring down at Sun-Gu with a look of contempt. “I guess you could thank me for being merciful. But if I’m honest…”

Their smile darkens into something sharper, something hungry. “I just didn’t want to stain a flail of this quality with anyone’s blood but yours.”

Was this entire mission a setup, to get Sun-Gu into one place? Is the subject really in possession of any classified documents at all?

Sun-Gu twists away—not to evade, or not in preparation to attack. His shoulders hunch forward, his expression twisting. He coughs, roughly, down towards the ground. It’s the kind of cough that suggests that he’s been coughing like this for some time now—harsh and throat-scraping.

That’s when it registers for Yuna.

He’s ill. It seems painfully obvious, in hindsight, now that she’s realized it.

During the motorcycle ride here, he’d been careful not to touch her, Yuna realizes. Sun-Gu is always careful with his own space—he has an awareness of it, even outside of combat, that she thinks would be unusual for most. Even with small things—the ways he gestures, the way he holds himself—she gets the feeling that none of it is accidental.

When she looks at him now, she notices—a slight, near-imperceptible flush to his features. He’s breathing a little more heavily than normal. Instincts he can hide. Instincts he can cover for. But there are some things which no amount of physical awareness can hide.

He has a fever, then. That’s probably why he hadn’t wanted her to touch him. He’d known that if she’d made contact with his skin, she would’ve felt it, and she thinks he probably hadn’t wanted to raise any concern.

Sun-Gu is here, on a mission, fighting a well-trained stranger on his own, equipped with nothing but a pocket knife, with no armor and no with no reinforcements. On any normal occasion, Yuna might trust him to be able to hold his own—she’s seen what he’s done, alone against a crowd of hundreds—but this time, it’s different, because Sun-Gu is unwell.

The figure looks surprised, at this. “Ah,” they say. Yuna can’t help but think they look like a predator, honing in on their prey, only to find that said prey is already bloodied and limping. Like someone surprised—but pleased—to find their job already done for them. “Don’t tell me you’re already not in tip-top shape? That’s a shame.”

Sun-Gu coughs, again, his chest shaking. Yuna feels a pang of worry in her chest. He really does look unwell—and he hasn’t said as much of a word to deny it, which is telling. She looks around for anything to help him with— If she were to call for reinforcements, she thinks it would take too long for them to find them all here, underground, in the elaborate array of tunnels.

The weapon they’re holding is heavy, which affects its maneuverability, and to some degree, its speed. But Sun-Gu’s knife is much more of a close-range weapon, which means that while Sun-Gu will have to get up close to them to even make a mark, the stranger would be theoretically able to fatally wound him while standing a meter away.

The figure presses forward. With the swing of one hand, the metal ball and the chain arc outwards neatly, directly towards Sun-Gu. For such a heavy weapon, Yuna is surprised to find that this person wields it with impressive speed. It’s nearly too fast for her eyes to track. Sun-Gu evades, easily, but the figure swings again, and again, and again. At this speed, it almost looks as though they’re slicing the air into shreds.

If Sun-Gu were to be hit, his body would stop all of the momentum at once, and the spikes would easily puncture skin, drive themselves into tissue and skin and bone. Worse, Yuna realizes, if the weapon makes it to Sun-Gu’s body—even if it’s lodged in a relatively nonfatal area—the figure will easily be able to drive it directly into a vital organ. That means that if Sun-Gu fails to dodge cleanly on just one occasion, this fight will be over.

That’s another thing, too. Sun-Gu’s radius of attack is limited by the length of his own arm. But the figure can stand in one place and swing the weapon anywhere that the length of their arm, the long rod, the chain, all put together, can reach.

“If I had a little more patience, I might even have waited for you to get back to full health, so that this could be a more memorable fight,” the figure says.

Sun-Gu’s breath hitches. His opponent is not kind enough to pretend not to notice. They drive forward, intending to use the moment of temporary weakness to their benefit, just as Sun-Gu jerks forward with a forceful, “hHh’EEZschHH-uH!”

Sun-Gu evades, but only barely. How he is able to predict the trajectory of the metal ball, even distracted, even with his eyes closed, Yuna isn’t sure. But it’s clear that he isn’t done, and by the time his eyes are already falling shut for another. He’s afforded a sharp, desperate breath, before his shoulders jerk forward again. “hH’nGKt-! Hh… hh-IIIH’DZSshH!”

He coughs, after, as if the sneezes have somehow irritated his throat further.

The stranger grins. “...But I suppose having your head as a prize would be consolation enough.”

They sweep the chain in a wide arc, directly for Sun-Gu’s neck. Sun-Gu crouches for a moment, then takes a running leap up into the air, righting his trajectory with one foot to the wall to land behind them. He’s put his knife away, Yuna realizes. But there is nothing here—no props, no furniture—for him to repurpose into a weapon.

“Sorry,” Sun-Gu says. The expression on his face is not one of remorse. It’s one of clear, bitter irritation. He’s annoyed, she realizes. “You’re right. I’m not feeling my best today.”

It’s an admission, loud and clear, but the way he says it, it doesn’t sound like an admission of weakness. Up until now, he has been observing, Yuna realizes, as he’s done before—passively taking in the stranger’s fighting style, their handling of their weapon, their habits, their tells.

“So,” Sun-Gu says, flatly. When the stranger swings again, Sun-Gu snags hold of the chain while it’s in mid-air, and—as if it’s weightless—yanks the stranger towards him. He takes hold of the chain with his other hand, testing its weight. The smile on his face is utterly cold. “Let’s get this over with quickly.”

—

Afterwards, when they leave the warehouse, the sun is starting to rise. Yuna finds a text from Glory Club on her phone from an hour ago, presumably from the chairman. It’s curt: Do not proceed. We have reason to doubt the motives of the group which supplied the intel. Ironically, there was not enough reception underground for their warning to reach them in time, but she thinks that Sun-Gu must’ve realized much earlier.

Biggie and Junior are a little worse for the wear, but other than that, neither of them is concerningly injured. Biggie claims that he doesn’t have a concussion, but he doesn’t put up too much of a fight when Yuna insists that when they get back, their first stop will be to the medical ward to get fixed up.

Speaking of Sun-Gu: he is quiet, which is not unusual. Sun-Gu has never been the most talkative person, but Yuna suspects that today, there’s more to it.

“I can take us back,” Yuna says, trying not to make it sound pointed. It’s usually Sun-Gu who steers, but Yuna has enough experience with the St. Petrus V4 to handle a forty minute trip on paved roads, and enough experience too to know how to speed just enough to stay in control of it.

“It’s fine,” Sun-Gu says, flashing her a distracted smile. “It will be faster if I drive, because I won’t have to navigate.” He retrieves his own helmet from the seat compartment. Yuna spends a moment to watch him. He isn’t injured, nor does he look any less alert—he’d gotten out of the battle without so much as a scratch to show for.

But there are little hints, here and there, to exhaustion. The way he clears his throat before speaking, so quietly she can’t tell except for the slight bob of his throat, the slight furrow of his eyebrows. The way he pauses to clip his helmet, shielding his face with one hand from the gleam of the rising sun, as if his head is already hurting. The way he looks relieved to be sitting down, the way his hand lingers, a little shaky, on the motorcycle handles before he steadies it, looking faintly annoyed.

Of course, for someone like Sun-Gu, where—on the battlefield—any sort of slight miscalculation could be the difference between life and death, where trusting his body to function exactly as he’s used to is crucial for his success, Yuna isn’t surprised that any sort of bodily inefficiency would be an annoyance, even more so for Sun-Gu than for most.

At the same time, as she stares at him, she has to wonder—just how long has he been unwell? Had she not been awake during the battle—had she been unconscious, then, like the other two—would she even have noticed? How many times in his life has he been ill and just proceeded? Yuna doesn’t know what his relationship to Peter is—whether he’s a long lost cousin, or someone who trained under him before, or something else. But she knows, from the way he fights, that he must’ve had years of combat experience even before he joined Glory. No one is born with that amount of expertise, that level of near-inhuman intuition.

In the past, when Sun-Gu found himself in life-or-death situations, had he proceeded like he is now—as though everything were normal? As though any affliction he was suffering through privately was not even worth the attention of his own team? It makes sense, she thinks—that he wouldn’t broadcast any weakness openly, especially for any potential adversaries to listen in on. But if he’d been so careful to hide it from all of them, how would he take it if she acknowledged it out loud?

“Is something wrong?” Sun-Gu asks, watching her now.

“No, nothing at all!” Yuna says, quickly. Think, she tells herself. She returns his smile, a little sheepishly. “I was just thinking… I’m a little hungry. Do you think we could stop at a convenience store on the way back?”

Sun-Gu blinks, a little surprised. But then he nods. “Of course,” he says.

She fiddles with her own helmet until it’s securely on. Then she gets onto the motorcycle, behind him, and waits for him to take off.

—

True to his word, Sun-Gu stops at a 24/7 convenience store on the way back. But when Yuna asks him if he wants anything to eat, he waves her off with another smile. “Not enough time has passed after that fight,” he says. “I’m still too worked up to eat something.”

Bullshit, she thinks, but she steps inside the store nonetheless. Inside, it’s heavily air-conditioned, pleasantly cool. She picks out a sandwich from the fridge for herself, and one for Sun-Gu, while Biggie and Dokgo—who have followed them here on their scooters—load up on containers of cup ramen and ready-made hot fried chicken. Yuna snags a bottle of water from the fridge. Then she’s sure no one is looking, she takes a blister pack of aspirin off the shelves, along with a travel pack of tissues, and pays for it through the self-checkout station.

Biggie and Junior are still inside by the time she’s done shopping, so she heads outside, the plastic bag in hand.

She finds him still seated on the motorcycle, his helmet still on. He’s sitting ramrod-straight, his shoulders stiff, his head ducked slightly to avoid the sun. To anyone else, he might look alert—perhaps even nervous—but Yuna knows better. It looks as if he is doing everything in his power not to fall asleep.

His breath hitches. He gasps, his body jerking forward with a loud, “hHHD’TSHhh-Uh!”, which seems ridiculously unrelieving for how loud it is, and sighs, tenderly massaging the bridge of his temples. So the headache from earlier hasn’t gotten any better, then.

She watches him for a moment longer—watches him duck forward into his arm with another ticklish sneeze, and emerge with a liquid sniffle—and wonders when this had all started to feel like second nature.

Caring about him, that is.

When he hears her coming, he looks up to her. “Done with breakfast already?”

“Not yet,” she says. “But I got you a sandwich.

“Ah, thanks,” he says. “Though, didn’t I say—”

“You’re not hungry right now, I recall,” Yuna says. “You can save it for later. But I have something else for you too.”

She hands him the aspirin and the bottle of water. Sun-Gu stares down at them for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I am not injured,” he says, at last.

“I know,” Yuna says, casually. “The aspirin is for your headache. That’s been bothering you all morning, right? It might help with your fever, too, but I think the best antidote for that would be some proper bedrest.”

For a moment, Sun-Gu just stares at her, his eyes a little wide. Then he laughs. “You really don’t let anything past you, do you, Yuna?”

“That’s right,” she says, crossing her arms. “So you were trying to hide it.”

“Not exactly,” Sun-Gu says. “I just didn’t deem it worth mentioning.”

“Three to five days of bedrest, and lots of warm fluids!” Yuna says, jabbing a finger into his chest, accusingly. “That’s what people recommend for illnesses like this. Not a killer mission first thing in the morning!”

“You are very prudent,” Sun-Gu says, looking mildly amused.

“You don’t think it might’ve helped to mention your illness to someone you trust? The chairman, or even me?”

“I fail to see how that would’ve made any difference. It’s not as though the mission could have waited.”

“Fine, then.” Yuna says. “You might not agree to take it easy. But I’ll keep noticing as long as you keep being irresponsible.” She means it as a threat—that in the future, if he ever dares to be so reckless, she’ll be the first to notice. And if Yuna thinks he should be resting, instead of on a mission, she’s not going to keep her mouth shut about it.

But when she looks over at Sun-Gu, he is smiling.

#sneeze kink #snz kink #sneeze fic #sneezefic #snzfic #this was really fun to write 😭😭 though writing the action was certainly an experience #i love yu//na so much... half the fun was writing everything from her perspective and thinking abt what she might notice and how #this fic is influenced a lot by y//una and pet//er's dynamic in ep14; specifically his acknowledgment of her perceptiveness and #the covert act of kindness he shows her at the end #i am kind of scared this fic might only appeal to me because people aren't familiar w the fandom 😭 i was actually not intending to #write anything initially for that very reason. but then my d took the wheel #but this was a good break from my more serious writing (yvverse) and a fun character study in general; life has been really rough this week #and so it was nice to have an outlet #my fic

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