#they fuck around with the airing schedule and then wonder why views on a new show go down

[verinarin]

𝙃𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨; 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

in which he lets her measure his body for a new set suit for him, riddling him with her innocent touches; his view meaning the fic is written in his point of view

fluff with a lot of tension, like drenched with it. Gallagher lowkey being obsessive and loves to tease and spoil his little lady; 2K words!!

It’s Saturday.

She said she wouldn’t be home until later tonight, so I’m alone for the rest of the day. I’ve been sharing my roof with her for around 3 months now. Funny, I seem to forget how quiet this place is without her. At this hour she would be on the couch with the television on, her favorite shows would air around this time.

Am I being a creep for knowing her daily schedule like this?

Hope not, I mean that brat has been stickin’ beside me ever since day one.

Ah shit, it’s supposed to be the other around. She’s my secretary, but here I am acting like I’m some sort of personal assistant of hers, ah that little minx had me all wrapped around her pretty little manicured fingers huh?

Can’t complain though, not when she does her job perfectly.

It’s just that I rarely wanted her to work, to begin with. Her day consists of following me around like an assistant yet she treats me like I’m her assistant instead. Ahahaha I ain’t setting up a good example as her boss, but then again no one could blame me.

I mean with those fucking doe eyes and pouty lips, she’s the type of woman people wrote on their poetry. At this point, It’s clear as day that I miss that little brat. Y’know I’ll just take a quick shower before she comes home, I don’t want her to drag me to the bathroom again like yesterday.

Stepping into the shower made me realize that every single thing here smells like her. Her vanilla-scented shampoo bottle sits next to mine, her body scrubs, her soap. Damn, I never realized how much product she used, no wonder she cooped up in her for a good hour or more, being a pretty lady like her looks like hard work, perhaps harder than my line of work.

She smells like heaven afterward though, so I won’t complain.

Never mind, I would actually complain about one thing.

The fact that her scent drives me crazy sometimes, not to mention the fact that while working she often clings to me like a second skin. The amount of questions I get asking about why my clothes smell like vanilla and roses is crazy. The other hounds, hell even Siobhan tease me for smelling like a lady.

Well, as long as I don’t reek of smoke and alcohol like I used to I guess it’s a good change. As the cold water rinses through my body, I start to worry about her. She’s an adult, she would be fine traveling around Penacony, but why am I worried about her like I’m her old man? Probably because she didn’t tell me where she was going, this girl goes on a shopping spree almost every week and the one thing she never forgets to bring is her walking ATM, which is me.

Should I go look for her?

Nah, she must’ve needed some time alone. She’s probably sick of an old geezer like me, all I could entertain her with is my crappy dad jokes and a little mixology classes here and there. She seems to like my cringe dad jokes though weirdly enough and she also learns quickly on mixing beverages.

Once I finished rinsing my worries away, I put on a pair of sweatpants. I sigh as I brush my damp hair back remembering that I forgot to bring my shirt inside, my age is starting to catch up on me. Oh well, it’s not like she’s coming home soon. I let out a small chuckle as I looped the small towel I used for my hair around my neck.

The mirror in front of me reflects my rugged face, my fingertips graze upon my stubble feeling the sharp little hairs protruding from my cheek. I’ve been thinking of shaving it clean off for a while, but I remember her weird fondness for my stubble. That girl loves rubbing the back of her hand across my face like I’m some sort of a dog, which in this case relates to my line of work funnily enough.

I figured I’d let it be for now, can’t have her whine about my appearance now like she did last month when I talked to her about cutting my hair short. Her argument was if I did cut my hair she wouldn't be able to play with it anymore, such a silly girl that one.

I should fix myself a cup of coffee before cleaning around the house, it ain’t like I have anything better to do other than waiting for her like a lost puppy. I let out a hefty yawn as I walked towards the kitchen. It's easier for me to find things these days since she arranges it in a specific way. Before her, it took me around 5 minutes to search for the coffee bean, but now I can see the labeled jar from far away.

I couldn't help but let my lips curve into a small smile as I twisted the jar open, the charming scent of the coffee beans she picked emanated through the air, that little lady has good taste I must admit. Heh, she must’ve learned it from me. She used to be a tea gal before she met me, but now it seems she quite enjoys a little more caffeine here and there.

Can’t help to let out a small smirk as I brew myself a cup of coffee. She utterly consumes me at this point, every single damn thing reminds me of her it ain’t funny. I never thought I could still feel this giddy like a teenage kid at my current age, but then again she had always said that I still have my child-like wonder.

I rest my body against the counter, the cold marble hits my bare waist making me wince at the sudden temperature difference. After this, I’ll do laundry and then afterward I should start preparing for dinner.

As I lost myself in my thoughts I could hear the sound of a key twisting inside the keyhole, ah she’s home. “I’m back. Miss me, old man?” she muses as she turns her head towards me.

“Nah, I’m starting to miss my short-lived tranquility though,” I smile, pressing the rim of my glass against my lips to hide my smirk. She on the other hand has her eyes wide open, her mouth wide agape.

She stares at me a little too long before I finally break the silence between us, “Why'd ya look at me that way kid ?” I ask as I gaze toward her small face, analyzing her expression.

“You’re practically half naked, but wait that’s good actually,” shit, I forgot about that. She starts to walk towards me with a nasty smile, oh she’s scheming something alright.

“What? why is it a good thing? you've never seen a man’s body before ?” I snicker, masking away my flustered interior.

“Oh because I could clearly measure it now,” she smiles. Now hold on, measure what ??!!! The seemingly ambiguous sentence drives my mind toward possibilities that would definitely put me behind bars.

“Measure what huh ?” I let out a small chuckle, I put my cup down and leaned towards her eye level.

“You definitely won’t fit a size XL,” she sighs. Well ouch! cut me some slack little lady. I might be slacking off on my training, but I’m still in good shape. “What a way to break this old man’s heart you little brat, fyi I’ll definitely fit a size L,”

“Said that to your shirt. The poor thing needed its button to be stitched back up yesterday,” okay maybe she’s right but it still stings, my lips curve downward as I look at her, she’s out here breaking my heart to pieces.

“I’m not saying you’re putting on weight, what I’m saying is I want to measure your measurements so that I can buy you something custom-made,” she caresses my chest as her eyes lock towards mine.

I could feel my heartbeat drumming against my eardrum as her touch burned against my skin, marking it as hers. Fuck, feels so fucking good to feel her touch. Is it greedy for me to want more of her?

Her pink ‘nd soft lips curve into this delicate smile.

Fuck, she looks so pretty like that.

“Oh, what’s the occasion for dressing up this old hound ?” I smile as I lean forward to close the gap between us, trying to take control of my not-so-innocent thoughts about her lips.

I can’t recall anything worth celebrating between us, maybe the fact that I’m cutting down on smoking, but that’ll be worth something when I fully ditch it.

She merely chuckles before lightly hitting my chest like I’m telling her a funny joke, “You are an old man after all, how can you forget that three months from now is going to be the annual family?”

Ah right….

I was never the person who enjoyed those fancy parties, but hey I have her by my side so maybe I might change my stance.

“Those types of events were never my thing,” I avert my gaze, my finger drums against my nape.

“Well those types of events are my thing, so you’ll come right?” I mean with those puppy eyes, of course I’ll come.

“Fine, I guess this year’s gala could be bearable with you by my side,” I could only sigh as I stroked her hair, truly she dictates the same way as an old friend of mine.

With a smile that rivals the sun curving on her lips, she pulls out a measuring tape from her purse. Ah, so this is the ‘measuring’ part she talked about.

“Since when you’re a tailor,” I snicker as her fingers trace the long tape to find the zero mark.

“Oww hush, you’ll be the first person I’ll measure so be kind,” she mutters as she unravels the tape, “Alright lady,”

She leans closer to me as her finger holds one side of the tape beside my bare ribcage, “Stay still,” she mumbles, easier said than done.

How can I stand still when her fingertips press against my skin? It’s my damn Achilles heel. She’s too close, way too close. I don’t know how to act nor what to think when she’s soo damn close to me, the air feels stuffy and the atmosphere feels way too intimate and somehow sexual?

Kill me now.

She almost has her small face pressing against my chest, my bare chest to be exact which made this seemingly harmless interaction so dangerous.

Her other hand still struggles to find the tape behind my back. “Your chest is too broad,” she complains, I just let out a snicker at her statement which made her lose her focus.

“M’sorry anything I could do to help ?” I couldn’t do anything though, I could only extend my arms to the side to let her in, closer to me.

“Just stay still,” she huffs. Alright then, I’m cool as a cucumber. Without any warning, her cheek presses against my chest as she hugs me.

The warmth of her skin seeps through my cold chest, now this warmth burns inside me. “Ah! This works,” well I’m happy for her but there’s practically no distance between us, not even an inch.

“Stay still ol’ hound,” I must’ve been moving too much. I look down at her, her fingers skillfully bring the other side of the tape in front of my chest.

Now her forehead rests against my chest as she struggles to read the number that transpires, “Uhhh how do I read this again ?” she huffs.

“Can’t read a simple measurement now ?” my hand finds its way back toward her head, brushing a loose strand back behind her ear.

“Don’t tease,” well of course I’m going to tease as if I’m not the one who's secretly flustered as hell.

“Alright got it, now I’m going to drag this down to your waist,” she smiles as she drags both of her hands down and tightens the tape around my waist.

I never thought of myself to be a squeamish person, but I am now. “Oh wow, your chest and waist ratio are quite something….”

“What d’ya mean by that ?” I ask as she looks up towards me, “Your waist is quite slim and also your shoulders are broad so you do have that hourglass silhouette…” she muses to herself.

Well, ain’t that interesting…..

“Oh yeah your shoulders and back !” she naps herself back from her trance, cute.

With that, she took a couple of minutes to measure my upper body to the best of her abilities. Albeit the fact that I need to crouch down a bit for her to be able to measure my shoulders and back.

She takes a couple of steps back with newfound determination exuding her. I guess it’s from the fact that she’s getting the hand of measuring me.

“Are we done now ?” I ask, rather impatiently. Her fingers still linger in any direction she wants. Mapping every single inch of me into her memory.

“Still a long way to go,” she huffs. I see that she wants me to be as still as a mannequin, the things I do for her…

She hums a familiar tune, a song I like to hum. She crouches down bringing the tape around my hips, then she circles back in front of me, “Pardon my intrusion,”

Well the sentiment is rather too late now, she had been breaching my personal space since the very beginning. She couldn’t help but rest her forehead against my lower stomach as she looked down, reading the tape.

“Take your time, s’not like I could go anywhere,” I sigh as I stroke her hair, letting her silky smooth locks stream through my fingers. “I thank you for your coordination,” she snickers as she looks up at me, pretty little thing she is.

So stinkin’ cute. I smile as I cup her cheeks, letting my thumb graze against his lower lip, “Anytime, Lady,” I reply, before casually folding my arms back against each other.

Why the fuck did I just do that?

“I’m going to go lower now, I need to get some measurements for your pants,” she continued her current action without any signs of discomfort, thank god. “Oh wow even a pair of pants, you spoil this ol’ hound too much,” I feel as though my chest cavities were filled with cotton, making my heart all warm and soft.

“We both know you spoiled me rotten, Gallagher,” she cuts me, the tape now encircling around my thighs.

“Have I now?” Honestly, she deserves more than I could afford.

“You have you silly hound. Now let me repay your kindness,” her face now rests against my thighs as the tape travels slightly lower.

“Heh is this your way into getting to my pockets again,” I snicker, knowing that it’s one of her best manipulation tactics. Acting all cute and then stealing my money.

“Hey! I’m spending my own paycheck on this mister,” she protests as she stands up. “Oh, she’s a big girl now. She doesn’t need my money anymore right ?”

“Well technically no,” she looks away to the side, biting her lips in annoyance.

“She doesn’t need my money, but I’ll give it to her anyway because she has me wrapped around her little fingers,” I cup her cheeks, guiding her face to see me. “Cuz she’s my lil lady,” I smile as I press our forehead together, I can feel a thin imaginary veil between us.

“Of course I am and you’re my old hound,” she wraps her arms around my neck as my hand rests on her waist.

The thin barrier that puts a blur in our relationship, but somehow it just feels right, whatever we are it’s perfect. I don’t need more or less, just her warmth against mine.

[missredherring]

Touch Me Touch Me Touch Me

Dieter Bravo x Fat!F!Reader

Rating: R

Word Count: 3.4k

Contents: pwp. established relationship. free use. dom/sub vibes. oral sex (f receiving). unprotected piv sex. creampie. breeding kink. dirty talk. audio erotica. sex toys. Dieter being dramatic.

Summary: “How long do you want this?” You adjust his kerchief to indicate your meaning.

“All day. We don’t have other plans.” He offers and shudders when you bury your nose in his neck, nuzzling at the skin at the edge of the fabric. 

“Good. All you have to do is take it off.” You remind him, as you always do. He nods and you reward him with a bruising suck right over his carotid artery that makes him whimper.

A/N: I guess not being able to sleep is good for something since my tired brain wondered why there isn't more character free use fic out there. I've always seen reader free use, and while that's hot, we shouldn't ignore the opportunities of turning the tables with our favs.

Of course Dieter was first in line. Happy NYE!

Does this still count as free use if she's not actually fucking him silly everywhere and makes sure he's on board with that she wants?

Many thanks and noisy cheek smooches to @covetyou for helping with brainstorming and feedback and being patient as I sent her snippets to gauge if I was on the right path with this or not. She's a gem.

This isn't a paid ad for the Quinn app, but it is a heavy recommendation. The bolded dialogue is from "First Time Staying the Night," written and performed by Hydrated Baritone.

Not beta'd, any mistakes are my own. Let me know if I've missed any contents.

Divider by @saradika-graphics.

He waits until you’re in the shower to put it on. It’s a scrap of fabric he accidentally took home from set one day. Hurriedly yanked off and shoved into the deep pockets of his robe, forgotten until you’d pulled it out later. 

It was just a kerchief, but now it’s a signal used between you two to indicate Dieter’s consent to be used in any way that comes to your delightful mind. He’s only had a handful of chances to wear it, but today is a perfect opportunity.

His dick is tingling with anticipation when you come into the bedroom, fresh from the shower. 

Dieter is even posed in the way he knows entices you the most: lounging on the bed, propped up on a body pillow with one leg crossed over the other to show off the curves of his ass and belly.

Any second now you’ll look over and see him, see what he’s wearing and pounce on him. He can’t wait… but it’s taking more than the few seconds he’d allotted for, you haven’t even glanced his way, and any patience he had is gone.

He opens his mouth to say something but shuts it just as quickly. His eyes narrow. This is a special occasion: thanks to the liminal space of time between Christmas and New Year’s your schedules have actually allowed you some time off at home. Together. For a week. A whole week. And you haven’t even noticed he’s wearing his Free Use kerchief!

He can’t even enjoy the view of you standing naked in front of the wardrobe while you decide what to wear today. The morning light is playing over your body, emphasizing the texture of your dimpled thighs and casting all that soft skin in warm tones he knows he could recreate with his paints if he got the mixture just right.

Now you’ve gone and covered up all that lovely skin he wants to feel against his own and everything is worse.

He’s pouting now, rolling out of his seductive pose to lay flat on his back and scratch at the sliver of skin exposed to the air when his shirt rides up. 

You’re making an annoyed sound, so you must be trying to put your socks on without sitting down first. You’re stubborn like that, but your balance is shit and you always end up leaning against something while trying to put on socks with one hand or hopping around to not fall. 

Hopping it is today, he thinks as you land face-first into the bedding next to him. You climb onto the bed and stick your leg up in the air to finish the sock job. One is half way on your foot and the other is caught on your toes. Once they’re on you wiggle your feet and finally- FINALLY turn to look at him. 

“You’re being too quiet over here, Dieter. What’s-”

His eyes snap to your face when your sentence trails off. Your mouth is parted and he can see the pink of your tongue peaking out. The urge to shove his own tongue down your throat is strong, but the fabric pressing against his Adam’s apple when he swallows is a reminder that this is free use for you, not him. He still wets his lips in an attempt to put the idea in your mind subliminally. He’s read about that. You do look up at his lips and lick your own in response, but just as quickly your eyes are back on the cloth around his neck.

“Oh, Dieter. Just waiting for me, huh?” You reach out and rub the tail of the fabric between two fingers. 

“Ye-hnngh,” His answer is gargled when you tug on the fabric, moving your fingers up under the knot, and leading him to close the distance between you. You tug him along, moving him right where you want him: draped over you. You don’t tell him to, but he takes the initiative to rearrange his limbs, spreading his legs wide so he can straddle you more comfortably and resting his forearms by your head. 

“Mm-mm,” You tsk at him and give him a disapproving look. You were being nice before, but now you yank on the kerchief and bring his full weight down on you, making you both grunt. He’s amazed by it every time, how perfectly the two of you fit like this: hips slotted together, chests pressed flat with no room between your bodies. Just how you both like it. “Better.”

Your eyes are blown wide and he can feel your quickened breathing matching his own as you trace his lips with a fingertip. A nail presses into the line in his bottom lip and his tongue darts out to touch it. You catch it just as quickly, pinching just a little. He winces. 

“Sowwy.” He mumbles and a bead of spit rolls down your fingers. 

“Kiss.” You order and let go. He nods and completes the circuit of lips, sending electric sparks through his body. 

He hasn’t made out so much since he was a kid and discovered what he could do with his dick and how good it felt to do it. Just like in other areas in his life, Dieter went full speed ahead into vice and hardly looked back. But since getting into a relationship with you, he’s slowed down and revisited those softer activities.

You’d told him once, looking at his earring instead of his eyes, when he’d asked you in a frustrated huff why you were so interested on the teenage crap when he was trying to get his dick wet, and you’d replied that you were making up for lost time. You were a late bloomer, making him think of some kind of exotic flower that takes time and dedication to show it’s unfurled glory, and by the time you were active all your partners were interested in were orgasms and not much else. The guilt had been intense, he was surprised his face didn’t melt off with how hot it’d gotten. Dieter had made a promise to himself to slow down and be the partner you deserved to experience whatever caught your interest on the sexual spectrum with. Sometimes he even keeps that promise and you are good enough(too good for him) to forgive him when he doesn’t. 

He finds he likes a nice make out session. It quiets his mind and puts him in an almost zen like state where all he has to think about is how to keep breathing and kissing you at the same time.

It’s starting now: that squishy feeling that starts in his chest and spreads and spreads and spreads until it changes everything and his body isn’t made of bones and muscles and connective tissue, but wet clay you mold into something new, something put together with care and affection out of the dripping mess of a person he is.

He gives you small sucking pecks that pulls at your lips and makes room for him to slide his between them. He doesn’t know who starts it, but a hum of pleasure is passing between you, exchanging on wet tongues and hot breaths. 

Hips start rocking together and your hands are stroking up and down his back, kneading the muscles of his shoulders when they reach them. You pull away and don’t allow his mouth to chase yours in an effort to recapture them.

“How long do you want this?” You adjust his kerchief to indicate your meaning.

“All day. We don’t have other plans.” He offers and shudders when you bury your nose in his neck, nuzzling at the skin at the edge of the fabric. 

“Good. All you have to do is take it off.” You remind him, as you always do. He nods and you reward him with a bruising suck right over his carotid artery that makes him whimper.

It turns into a whole body effort from you: your legs and arms holding him in a tight squeeze as you inhale deeply. You hold him tight for a handful of heartbeats and then you wiggle to the side, shoving him a little in your effort to get out from under him as you roll off the bed and onto your feet.

You straighten your clothes and pluck up your phone from the nightstand before leaving the room without another touch, glance, or word to him. 

Dieter gapes at you, his kiss-swollen mouth forming a truly impressive pout as he watches your swaying hips disappear. 

Nothing he tries to entice you into taking advantage of him works. 

He washes and dries all the dishes, making sure to put on a show of stretching to show off his body when he puts them away. He knows these pants makes his ass look great, and sure enough, he can feels your eyes on him, but when he looks up you’re still on the couch.

He exercises in the living room until he’s covered in sweat. The music the instructor picked for this segments would be good to fuck to, but you don’t push him down to the floor or even cop a feel when you walk past him to get a drink as he’s folding himself up into one of the more suggestive yoga poses.

When Dieter goes to clean up in the shower he leaves the door open but you don’t take the invitation. All that comes through the door is cold air and he shuts the water off after a quick scrub. The only things going down the drain are water and soap suds. 

With a heavy sigh he flops down onto the couch and grabs the script for the next project he’d signed up for in the new year. Cheaters are fished out of a decorative bowl and slipped onto his nose. He swears the font size kept getting smaller, but you’d only smiled and suggested an eye exam. These are the compromise and it only bruises his ego a little bit that they actually make learning his lines easier. Maybe the few gray hairs he’s noticed coming in would turn into the fashionable look and he could get some silver fox roles. It’d be worth it to ask his agent’s opinion. 

The plot isn’t bad. His character’s storyline and arc are solid with only a few holes that he’s sure can be fixed with editing. He blindly gropes for one of the pens he also keeps in the bowl to write down a few notes when the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

He’s being watched.

That’s all the warning he has before the script is tossed away and instead of paper, he has handfuls of you.

Naked you.

God, you’re hot. In looks and temperature. You’re burning and all it takes is a second for him to catch a spark and burn too.

There’s beads of sweat at your hairline and your face is shining with exertion. Your lips are plump and goosebumps are raising all over the skin he can see and feel. There’s a look in your eye that bodes well for his dick.

When you take the cheaters from him too and reach back and drop them back in the bowl the arch of your body pushes your big stomach out even farther. You make such beautiful angles that he just wants to put his mouth, his hands, his dick, his anything on if you'll let him. He wants to be good for you so instead he clamps his hands on your thighs to make sure you don't fall when you straighten up.

“The battery died in my vibrator. So I got another one. That one died, and so did the three other toys I tried. Did you purposefully forget to charge the toys, Dieter?”

“I mean, not on purpose.”

“Did you do it so I would use you as my toy instead?” You grab his cheeks in a firm one-handed grip. “Because you know what kind of plans I had today?”

Did he plan this on the day new audios released from your favorite erotic audio app? Yes, that definitely went into his decision making today. So did your throw away comment about breaking your personal orgasm record.

“I did actually forget to charge the–” His response is cut off by a hard squeeze of your fingers.

“Toys don’t talk,” You say, shoving his headphones into his chest. They’re already plugged into your phone and before you put the earbuds back in your ears you give him a warning. “Make sure you keep up.”

That’s enough for him to release his hold on your hips to put his headphones on. He’s been half hard since you left him dazed on the bed this morning and now he’s fully erect at the sharp press of your nails in his skin. He misses your heat and weight immediately and groans when you slide off him, dragging your thighs over his cock in the process. Pillows are packed between your back and the stylish but unfunctional arms and in order for you to get comfortable. 

Your legs open and he chokes on all the saliva that suddenly floods his mouth. Your pussy is soaked. Glistening with slick that pools at your entrance and around your clit. He knows you moved it up there yourself, teasing the head of a toy at your opening and bringing slick up to lubricate the area around your clit. It’s all kept in place by the swollen lips he wants to suck on. You must’ve been close with the toys, and he knows from experience how frustrating dying batteries can be. For a second he’s almost sorry he ruined your fun, but then you press play on the app and a man’s deep voice takes over. 

“How about I go down on ya? Yea, come on, please? I’d love to taste you. As a matter of fact, I insist. God yes, ok, let me just reposition here. Mm. Spread your legs a little wider for me? There we go. God, your pussy look incredible. Let me kiss my way up to your thigh like this. I can’t get enough of you. Your beauty, your scent, and now… your taste.” 

Ah, this is one of your favorite creators, the one who knows how effective a softly spoken fuck is and who does great Foley work. His kisses and little hums are hypnotic and Dieter has to shake himself when you raise an eyebrow at his lack of movement.

He wants to bury himself in your pussy. It all goes to his head like the highest quality drug. The texture of your slick as he holds your labia open. The scent of you that wafts up and clings to every olfactory receptor that hasn’t been burnt out of his nose. The taste as he collects everything he can see on his tongue to swallow down like a parched man at an oasis. He agrees with the creator: he’ll never get enough of you.

Dieter is a good actor, he’s got the Oscar to prove it, and that means he follows direction well. He’s a second behind the creator’s moves, dipping his tongue into your entrance and humming with his mouth pressed against the hot flesh there, making sure his nose brushes your clit in the process. 

With the headphones in he can’t hear any verbal cues, so he watches you as well as he can from between your legs. The way your hips undulate under his touch, it makes your belly shake and your breasts move up and down with heavy breathing. Your mouth opens on a moan and your eyes slip closed as your head tilts back in pleasure. 

The scene is moving away from the oral he could’ve spent another half hour on, easy. When penetration is mentioned Dieter’s eyes fly to yours to see if you also want that progression, or to stay with his mouth on your clit to make you cum. 

The audio creator is moaning in your ears now, low and unsteady, and it makes you grab your own tit, massaging your hard nipple in the palm of your hand. Making eye contact with him, you nod, and that’s all the permission he needs. 

“Oh, fuck, baby. You feel like heaven. Look into my eyes, baby. I’ve got you. I love you. Oohhhh fuck. Oh my god.”

The sincerity in the voice they’re both listening to is everything he wishes he had the courage to tell you outright and he can’t look away from you in any kind of casual denial. But the thing is, you’re looking at him too. Your hand is in his hair, guiding him up to your mouth to kiss him in the sweetest of ways. Like his tongue hadn’t just been doing circles around your aching clit like it was the F1 Grand Prix and his lead foot is gunning for first place. 

His dick is nudging at your pussy as you kiss and a tweak to his earlobe reminds him of the directions still coming into his ears, so he takes it in hands and finally, after waiting all day, feeds his cock into your hungry pussy.

Again you tilt your head back, but this time he can follow it and see every micro expression that crosses your face as he steadily pushes in deeper and deeper until your bellies are flush against each other. 

The shlock shlock shlock sound signals the creator’s use of a toy with so much lube that the movement of his dick through it is clearly audible in the recording. He’s sure his own dick is making similar noises with how wet you are. Back and forth he starts thrusting in and out of you. It won’t take long for either of you now.

“Yea, yea, fuck yes. Fuck, oh, yes, yea. Mmm. Fuck, I’m close, I’m close. I’m going to cum inside you, yea, yea, yea. Is that what you want? You want me to come so fucking deep in you? God yes, I need to breed you. Give you. every. last. drop. of my cum.”

Dieter almost yelps with how hard you clamp down on his cock at the filthy stream of consciousness coming through the headphones. The way your jaw is loose and your expression a little dazed tells him the breeding kink must not’ve been tagged. He loves surprises. He takes advantage of the few seconds of “fucks” and panting to add his own dirty talk.

“That what you want, baby? For me to fill you up? Give this greedy pussy everything I have?” He says as he mouths at your double chin and sweaty neck. 

“He doesn’t need a script doctor, Dieter.” You chide him and direct his mouth to yours for more kisses. It’s always more kisses with you and he loves it. He picks up the pace with his hips until he’s pounding into you. The sounds of the toy and rustling of sheets in the audio is making his brain tingle and he’s going to cum soon. So he dips his fingers into the friction hot mess between your bodies and slots the ‘v’ of his pointer and middle fingers around your throbbing clit, making sure it gets attention with every jarring contact of his hips. The wire of his headphones is getting stuck to his skin and are just on the verge of popping out of his ears, but he’s not going to stop and readjust them now. 

“Fuck fuck yea, oh that’s it.” The creator is drowned out by your own sweet moans now. You’ve given up your control and just cling to him as pleasure rolls through your body after the initial crash of your orgasm. The clamping of your walls on him and the sharp pinpricks of your nails in his back and bicep release the pressure that’s been building in his pelvis and he comes; emptying himself into your waiting pussy.

His lungs burn as he collapses on top of you, not bothering to hold any of his weight back this time. The soothing voice of the creator praising the listener for how well they did falls away as the headphones finally give up and fall to the couch cushions. This is how he’d thought this morning would end, but he has to admit to himself, as he toes the line of overstimulation with shallow thrusts just to hear the combined load of your cum squelch and suck him back into you, that the anticipation was worth it. Maybe he should work on his patience and give you a similar experience.

“That’s the first audio. We’ve got at least seven more.” You tell him.

He rests his head on your chest and lets you slip the headphones back in his ears while he catches his breath.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This is an old fic for a collab where my prompt was fucking in an alley. [ SYNOPSIS ] You’re the world’s cutest cleat chaser and your only wish is to grab the attention of your favorite ball player, Zeke Yeager. [ WORD COUNT ] 2.6k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, dubcon (power imbalance), exhibitionism, public sex, rough sex, finger sucking, degradation (whore, tart), vaginal fingering, impact play, oral sex, spit, creampie, Zeke's a bit of an asshole but it's fine alright like it's tolerable.

Night games were never particularly kind to you. A wind chill swept through the city and the fog rolled over the hills. You shivered outside the ballpark in your gameday outfit which consisted of dolphin shorts, thigh high socks, and your favorite team's jersey with Yeager emblazoned on the back.

A drunk man pondered, "Could our offense be any fuckin' worse, dude?"

It was another loss for your team. You listened to drunken fans lamenting another losing season. Another year dead last in the standings. Another year all the new players from the farm would disperse to better teams, greener pastures. Lucky for you your favorite was loyal; Zeke was committed. He like many players worked his way up through the farm system, toiling away in the minor leagues. But unlike others he was content to continue playing for a lackluster team.

When asked why he stuck around he answered, "Who knows? I'll probably leave once the lease to my place is up."

It later came out he in fact owned his penthouse apartment.

"At least our bullpen has their shit together," another drunk said, smacking the other on the back of the head. His hoppy breath visible in the cold air. You slowly stepped away from him and his stench.

"What's the point of a good bullpen if they can't get run support, dumb ass?"

You sighed heavily and kept your eye on the exit gate. It was a slow parade of luxury cars: a Lexus here, a Bentley there. But you failed to see the black Rolls-Royce Wraith that Zeke drove.

Going home was always an option; curling up like a kitten in your warm bed definitely had its appeal. But so did Zeke. I mean, you spent a greater portion of the game gazing at him longingly. And he even gave you a little wave after making brief eye contact with you.

Shelling out money for a seat by the dugout had paid off.

You were blessed with a perfect view. When Zeke took to the mound in the 9th inning to close out the game you salivated at the sight of his ass in his tight baseball pants. It was criminal how they hugged every muscle in his long legs. His entire uniform was perfectly fitted; none of that baggy nonsense for him. It made him standout in a team of leathered veteran players, desperately holding onto their careers, seemingly unaware they were washed up. They looked positively slovenly next to Zeke. You wondered if he wore the same intense, determined expression while fucking. The mere thought made your pussy throb.

A gust of wind brought you back to reality. You looked around and saw people starting to disperse. The two drunks wandered across the street, still shouting about the lack of run support. Disappointment washed over you. You desperately wanted to see Zeke, even if just a glance.

"Shit," you muttered. "Oh well."

You stood around, looking dejected as ever. You felt like an idiot shivering in the cold. You pulled out your phone and checked the bus schedule.

"Of course."

You had missed it. All because you wanted to make eyes at a star player.

"Oh god, were you really waiting around for me?"

You quickly spun around and saw Zeke. He was still in his baseball pants but now they were paired with a fitted black v-neck. He smirked at your doe-eyed expression, clearly relishing in your admiration.

"Uh—No, I."

Words escaped you. You couldn't tell if you were shivering because of the cold or the beautiful man that stood in front you. He was even better up close. His beauty was significantly more pronounced. You were transfixed by steely gaze, utterly enamored with his grey eyes.

Zeke looked you up and down.

"I like your jersey."

All you did was nod. He snorted at your inability to speak.

"Are capable of talking? Or should we pantomime?"

"I... I don't know what that means."

He rolled his eyes.

"I honestly shouldn't expect a baseball fan to know any words more than two syllables," he playfully asserted.

Speech eluded you. You certainly knew a significant amount of words with varying numbers of syllables, but that was neither here nor there. He stepped closer to you. His eyes lingering on your bare thighs.

"You must be freezing dressed like a little tart."

"A tart?"

"Let me redo that one." He cleared his throat. "You must be freezing dressed like a dirty whore. Could those shorts be any shorter?"

"I—I guess."

He stared you down. It never occurred to you he didn't expect or even want an answer.

"You're not very bright, are you?"

"I'm nervous. Not stupid," you said quietly.

He frowned and pulled you into a hug. His hands trailed down to the small of your back and then slowly put them underneath your jersey. The feeling of his rough hands on your bare skin was almost too pleasurable comprehend. It was a miracle you didn't faint or melt into a puddle.

"Aw, no need to be nervous. I promise I'm a nice guy 50% of the time."

"Not all the time?" You asked nervously.

"No, no, no. That would be too boring. Life's about excitement."

He lifted your chin.

"Don't you agree?" He asked.

"I mean, within reason."

He traced his thumb along your lips.

"What do you consider within reason, pet?"

Before you had a chance to answer he weaseled his thumb into your mouth. You eagerly sucked on it; your tongue gliding up and down. It was second nature. Almost like his fingers simply existed so they could be in your mouth.

"So this is within reason, huh? Is this?"

Zeke pulled his thumb out of your mouth and attempted to kiss you. There was a brief moment of panic when his lips touched yours. You hesitated.

"Open your mouth," he demanded. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

You parted your lips and accepted his tongue in your mouth. Who were you to deny your favorite player? You'd dreamt of this moment for so long. So many nights spent touching yourself, pretending his callused hands were the ones delving inside you. So many nights quietly moaning his name as you writhed on your bed in the midst of an orgasm.

His breath tasted like peppermint and tobacco, a combination that would normally make you gag. But this was uncharted territory; there was no reason to let something so trivial ruin the moment. If anything it was intoxicating. You moaned through the kiss and wrapped your arms around him. He held you closer to him, his grip tighter. You fidgeted a bit, attempting to ignore how wet you were getting, but lust overcame you. You reached down and felt for his hard cock.

"Whoa there. Let's go somewhere a bit more secluded."

He took his thumb and wiped away the drool near your mouth.

"And where would that be?"

"That alley over there."

Zeke gestured towards an alleyway not too far from the exit gate.

"Is—is that gonna be any better?"

You looked around. Sure, the street was deserted at this point but it was still woefully public. You failed to see how an alleyway would be a better option.

"Come on. Don't worry about it."

Zeke gently took your hand and led you to the alley. It was dark and dingy. The only light came from rogue cars speeding down the street. In any other circumstance this would have been horrifying. But it was him. The man you longed for. Nothing seemed horrifying with him around. He lit up a cigarette and offered you one.

"I don't smoke," you said, coughing.

He shrugged and took a drag. "Your loss. You might as well just get on your hands and knees then."

You looked out towards the street again, weighing your options.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No," you answered, lowering yourself to the ground. "I have ears."

The pavement was cold and unforgiving. Your socks did little to protect your tender skin from the concrete. However there was something invigorating about your discomfort.

"Pull your shorts down."

You did as you were told, slowly pulling down your shorts revealing your bare ass to Zeke.

"Nice," he said, getting on his knees behind you.

He gave you a firm spank. His hand was freezing. You shivered as he took his fingers and prodded your folds. He slowly slid his middle and index fingers inside you.

"This might sound weird but you have the cutest asshole," he said candidly as he continued to finger fuck you.

"Oh, th—thanks," you choked out.

"What would you do if I started fucking it, huh?"

"Probably cry, honestly."

"Is that supposed to discourage me?"

You winced as Zeke slipped yet another finger inside you.

"I w—would hope s—so."

"Hmm. I would hope my biggest fan would know I'm absolute filth," he chided.

"I'm usually too busy calculating, oh fuck... Calculating your ERA to think about that."

A blatant lie. It was true you did spend quite a bit of time figuring out earned run averages. But you constantly thought about the things you'd let Zeke do to you. Your go-to fantasy being one where he fucks you in the locker room while the rest of the team cheers him on as he fills you with his cum over and over again.

He chuckled. "You know your shit then, huh?"

"I'm a baseball fan fir—first and a whore second."

Zeke grabbed a chunk of your hair and pulled on it so you were forced to look at him. His glasses were slightly fogged up which made you laugh.

"You're pretty audacious. I like that. It's a pleasant surprise."

You flashed him a smile, proud that you impressed him. Your night couldn't have gotten any better.

Zeke leaned over you and whispered in your ear, "Are you ready for me, pet?"

The sound of him pulling down his pants zipper had you frothing at the mouth. You arched your back, presenting your warm, slick cunt to him. Zeke took his thick cock and guided it inside you. It was larger than you were expecting, you couldn't help but yelp as he started to thrust.

"Aw, is it too big for you? Do I need to be gentler?"

You nodded.

"Too bad."

He slammed his full length into you; your clit throbbed as he thrusted.

"Ah, please. I—it's too much."

"You're a big girl, aren't you? You did come here all by yourself."

Zeke was right. You had shown up to the game alone; none of your friends could give a shit about baseball, or sports in general. But you weren't sure how this related to you taking his cock. He gave you a firm smack on the ass.

"I asked you a question."

"I am," you whined.

"That's what I thought. You can take it."

Your knees were chafing against the concrete; you felt your socks tear from the friction. Zeke grabbed onto your hips and drove his cock deeper and deeper inside you. He dug his thumbs into your hips.

"You would've fucked whoever came up to you, huh?"

"No," you answered in between moans.

"Really?"

His tone indicated he didn't believe you. Frustration plagued you. You desperately wanted to explain yourself, to tell him, "No, you fucking idiot, I only wanna get railed by you." But that was wishful thinking, a pipe dream.

"I find it that hard to believe," he continued.

"I—I, shit." Words continued to fail you. You felt like you would never be able to communicate with another human again after he was through with you.

"Come on; you can do it. Use your big girl words, pet."

His hand came down hard on your ass as if he was trying to knock some sense into you.

"You—you're the only one," you choked out, reeling from the ache his callused hand left behind.

"Really?"

This time he seemed genuinely surprised. Your head was spinning, but you trudged on.

"Everyone else is kinda leathery and old. That's not my type."

He yanked on your hair, forcing you to crane your head back. You got a good look at his face; he was fucking smiling.

"Watch it, pet. Those are my teammates."

You let out a little laugh and he loosened his grip on your hair. He grabbed you gently under your chin and planted a small kiss on your lips. Your cunt had finally adjusted to his thick cock and you grinded up against him, sending it deeper inside you. Zeke moaned as his cock hit your cervix.

"Shit, you feel so good."

Your cunt tightened around his cock, almost holding it hostage inside you.

"Oh fuck, yes. Just like that," he moaned as he bottomed out, his balls slapping against your taint.

You clit ached as he praised you. His thrusts grew wild and his pace quickened. He gripped your hips harder, driving his cock deeper inside you. Your body was slack, totally limp. Drool pooled in your mouth and gradually dripped from the corners of your mouth. Zeke let out a groan and filled you with his cum. You welcomed its warmth inside you.

"Shit," you muttered.

Zeke pulled out and you collapsed on the pavement.

"I'm not done with you."

He flipped you over so that your back was against the cool ground. He slid his fingers inside you, and pulled them out slick with his cum.

"Open your mouth."

You did as you were told and licked the cum off of his fingers.

"Atta girl."

Zeke spread your legs and started to suck his cum out of your cunt. You ran your fingers through his soft, flaxen hair. He looked up at you, his grey eyes flooded with desire. It would have been pretty sexy had his glasses not fogged up again.

You giggled. "You're so cute."

"Hmm?" He looked up at you and wiped his mouth.

"Your glasses. I don't know, they're adorable."

He took his thumb and started to rub circles around your clit. You let out a heavenly sigh.

"Adorable, huh? Haven't heard that in a while."

"It—oh fuck. It's true."

Zeke went back to eating your cunt. His lapped at your clit. His beard was rough against your thighs.

"P—ple—please don't stop," you whined.

Zeke started to suck on your clit. Your body became deadweight and your skin grew hot. You panted as he continued to suck and you bucked your hips against his mouth. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, too heavy a burden to carry. Was this bliss? Had you ascended to heaven?

"I—I'm gonna."

"Say my name, pet."

You moaned his name over and over again as he traced his tongue along your folds. You held his head in place and rutted against his face, repeating his name like it was your mantra.

"Oh Zeke," you said breathily. "That—that was—"

"Incredible, I know," he answered, pulling your shorts back up.

He stood up and helped you to your feet.

"So, you need a ride home?"

"No, I'll probably just get a Lyft or something."

He took you by the hand and led you back towards the street. It was still empty, not a soul around.

"Fuck that. Let me drive you. It's the least I can do."

"I live about an hour away though."

Zeke shrugged and adjusted his glasses. "Fine with me. More time for you to help me figure out my ERA. I suck at math; I need that beautiful brain of yours."

He winked at you and smacked your ass. Calculating an earned run average wasn’t particularly hard so you assumed he was joking.

"Come on. You're really gonna turn down getting fucked again in the back of a Rolls?"

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 243

The Witch’s Familiar

It was both a mistake and a wonderful decision to move my Sherlock viewing. It was completely necessary, but it did fuck up the schedule quite a bit (so did forgetting that I don’t have to watch Supernatural on federal holidays. I never said this was an easy schedule to follow. Because I’m still kind of ridiculously behind on Doctor Who from imdb forgetting like five whole episodes. It’s fine though because i gave myself a LOT of time off at the holidays and I can just plop an episode or two on those days)

“The Witch’s Familiar”

Plot Description: The Doctor is trapped and alone on the terrifying planet Skaro

One thing I forgot from last episode, I know I’m now in uncharted DW territory for me because the Doctor has his stupid sonic sunglasses or whatever now. And I remember a friend of mine telling me that has happened when I first fell off and thinking that was the dumbest sounding thing I’d ever heard. This was, of course, before Season 4 of Sherlock aired (THANKS MOFFAT)

Oh thank god Missy’s back IMMEDIATELY this episode. I do not know what I would do if I had to actually mourn the temporary loss of my two bad bitch milfs for longer than 24 hours. Clara is also back

Why did they do this to poor Clara? This is the least flattering angle I’ve ever seen for her. She’s absolutely gorgeous, but why would they do this?

Do I wish Missy and Clara could talk about anything other than the Doctor? Oh my god yes. I understand they’re trying to find him and all (and he thinks he’s going to die) but literally every conversation they have is about him. The talks they DO have are fun and interesting but I’d love some expansion. It’s not every day you get a team up of the Doctor’s companion and one of his greatest foes

Why is the Doctor sitting in Davros’s chair/like…lower half of his body?? Hang on why isn’t the Doctor back in Davros’s past like he was at the end of last episode. STEVEN! You have some explaining to do. Or is that HOW he gets to the past? He steals that and has a bunch of Daleks nearly exterminate him

Dalek sewers are SLIGHTLY ALIVE?! No because…I love that she gets to just be unrepentantly evil. Absolutely amoral. She just pushed Clara down into the sewer to gauge how far down it went

Skaro is horrifying….why is the Dalek word for sewer and graveyard the same, STEVEN? Make that make sense

Here’s the thing I like even less than the sonic sunglasses…at least the sunglasses were a step even further back from a weapon…why’s the Doctor holding an actual weapon, STEVEN?

Missy telling Clara to get in the Dalek…outer shell…ominous. Makes me wonder if they’re going to close that circuit of how we first met Clara or if whatever the fuck happened at the end of season 7 negated that, started a whole new timeline

Ooooooo, it’s been a moment since the Doctor’s been tempted to commit genocide. Allegedly, pulling on one or more of these cables would kill Davros, which would in turn kill every Dalek on Skaro. Do I believe it? I dunno, but the Doctor is at least interested

THAT’s more like it. He came here because Davros is sick and he asked. Because on a good day, he’s not some time lord who ran away, he’s the Doctor (I’ll admit, those were some good lines, Steven)

I’m not mad at Missy but omg I’m about to fucking sob at the Dalek outer shell closing up around Clara and hearing her words in the Dalek voice. I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it.

It’s terrible to hear “exterminate” come out when Clara is compelled to say three word she said she’d never say to anyone ever again. I know Missy couldn’t have had that context, and she’s having fun experimenting with what this Dalek armor actually does but GOD…

I’m trying so hard to not trust this very emotional scene from Davros. It’s BARELY working. Not knowing exactly what happened on that field or how he got there in the first place as a child IS muddying the waters

I did not expect to get worked up over Davros asking the Doctor if he did the right thing, if he was a good man. What the hell

I BET this nice moment gets ruined when the Doctor takes him outside

Of COURSE it was too good to be truuuue. I don’t know why the Doctor would give up ANY REGENERATION ENERGY TO DAVROS. Now, it’s being sapped out of him

Thank god Missy can be brutal and use weapons. Not that it has seemed to make much of a difference, but I suppose it could be worse??? I don’t know how. The Daleks have been made more powerful through gaining that regeneration energy

Of COURSE the Doctor already knew what Davros’s plan was….SOMEHOW. And how to combat it…SOMEHOW. (The Daleks in the sewer/graveyard also gained the regeneration energy and are now seeping into the walls of the city)

Omg…Clara is trying SO HARD to tell him it’s her and Missy’s trying equally as hard to deceive the Doctor

I don’t know how she’ll get out of that, but I know Missy will

Oh finally. We’re back to the end of last episode. He DID save Davros as a child.

[indynerdgirl]

Every once in a while I remember the 2016 show Pitch and then get angry all over again about how Fox canceled it after only 10 episodes AND how the show ended on several massive, unresolved cliffhangers.

[sanghyukstattoos]

SF9′s reaction: you comfort them when they are exhausted and upset

Characters: Sweet guys who could only appear in your dreams 

Word count: lmao

Genres: Fluff, smut, suggestive smut 

A/N: For more works like this one, click here

Hearing the front door open, you called out, ‘’Binnie?’‘, voice distinctly echoing in the walls of the hallway. They were ghostly practitioners because your husband did not answer back. Like you, he had just come back from work, his briefcase already tossed to the side and entering the storeroom turned jacket area, he hung his suit jacket. Unlike his morning attire, his shirt was crumpled from the sleeves to the back and the belt was quickly rounded, thrown into the basket of belts. 

You watched him sigh in overall discontent, chuckling at his need to just take a day off and relax. You excitedly stretched your limbs, setting down the numerous take-out fliers you had pulled out. Your eyebrows went up and your mouth puckered in question. Looking from side to side, you wondered, what is the rush?

He had not answered your call but upon seeing you, he lit up, quickly moving towards you as a rabbit would when it is cuddled and gave you a tiny, baby peck on the cheek. You smiled in delight, walking along with him as he asked, ‘’How was your day?’’. You hummed, stating that it was hectic yet good and he agreed with the former point. 

‘‘Mine was hectic too’‘ he pouted and you caught his attention with a gentle smile, taking him in your arms and giving him a hug. He settled into your arms, the tiredness looking familiar to you. You were sure that his head was hurting. His expression was similar to when he was in a fucked-out state- hazily staring at you through those beautiful half-lidded eyes, lips slightly parted as he gazed at you, but only this time he was dreaming. 

‘‘You know’‘ he whispered, leaning into your embrace. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his chest as he rested in the crook of your neck. He did not explain any further, choosing to rest in the silence of your comfort. ‘’We should have some wine.’’ he whispered, hugging you closely. ‘’Now?’’ you asked, purely curious. He agreed and you replied, ‘’How about after we do this?’’, motioning to the bath.

You found it evident that he was fatigued, saying, ‘‘Come with me, I’ll wash your hair’‘. He happily nodded, taking off the rest of his clothes and feeling the stickiness of the day escape him. He felt less stuffier now than when he first entered the house, smelling like the office he had worked in all day. His eyes reflected greediness as he stepped into the water, making you chuckle, pleased that he was looking more handsome than ever and in good shape. 

First on your list of things to do was to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him. Passionately, your lips settled onto his, lovingly holding him in place. He was enjoying it, gently gripping at your shirt. Although he had this innocent appearance to him, the strength and endurance he had in his ambition paralleled yours, one of the reasons why you had fallen in love with him. There was little lingering, yet feeling like you could be closer. 

Sometimes, you spent your lunch with him, overlooking the pretty white blossoms cornering your building. It crowded your view of the often busy street and sometimes went bald but in your office, you forsook the working relationship you had with him. Sharing your food, plotting the evasion of your higher-ups orders- How could you explain it? It was intimate, fiery and included a tingle of the senses. (Perhaps, all of the senses?)

You wanted to love him over and over again, like watching one episode after the other, late into the night. The two of you were intimately brought together, your feelings escalating when you made love on the bed, on the kitchen counter on a lazy morning or on the sofa while watching some boring movie, sometimes switching fast sex to casual. 

He leaned back, hands quickly motioning to you, ‘’Get in here please’’. You laughed aloud, excitement filling your system like blowing air into balloons at birthday parties. He breathed out a sigh of relief as your fingers tangled in his shampoo-filled hair, white, scrubby bits everywhere, some even floating in the air. 

He was relaxed, soothed by your touches before he started giggling and playing with the water, running his hands through it and smiling at the ripples that formed. ‘’Should I join you?’’ you teasingly pondering as he pouted at you, maybe thinking, get in here? Please?. Not caring whether you were ruining your clothes, you took them off with your soap covered hands and threw them in the basket. He admired your figure and the way it was enveloped by the warm water. 

He welcomed you with extended arms and you straddled him, comfortably settling on his lap. You could not choose what to liken his smile too. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pretending to be distracted because you were unable to to contain the heat that rose to your cheeks that in turn, rose with your smile. You wanted to give him some advice which got pushed back when he began to wander your body, delicately bathing your skin with warm water. 

You paused, purely curious as he rested a hand on your ass while you were brought close to him, his lips encasing yours in a touch that evoked a heated response from you. You rose with the kiss, unconsciously grinding your hips against his tip that brushed your inner thigh. You were taken back with his unexpected actions, very much enjoying the effects.

He parted your ass cheeks, arousal flooding to your sex as it was embedded within the two of you. Every time felt congruously new, like a passionate relish of red, plump apples or biting into a ripe mango, feeling the juice trickle into your mouth, encasing your tongue in something watery yet sugary. 

He left you little to the imagination: water spilt out of the tub, rippling with fast movements. You threw your head back, heavily breathing, both of you vicarious in the feeling of sounds. You let out soft cries of pleasure while he thrusted his hips up, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching down on his member. He felt the smooth curve of your ass, grabbing it as he buried himself inside you, kissing every part of your body that was accessible to him as you held onto him, bouncing unrhythmically. 

He roamed your body, over and over again. You were lost right now, gasping, moaning, crying out in intimacy as you held onto the tub. You lifted your hip, and then in a quick, repeated motion, you met his own. You could feel him trail your legs as you got off him and faced the wall, hands slipping for grasp as he entered you from behind. He was pleased to end his day with you, to feel you around him, habiting his nearest surroundings. And for you words of advice, he was thankful too. 

Today had been rough. Inseong was swamped in how people were treating him, the intentions behind their behaviour ambiguous. So he found it vague to explain it to you or rather, find a label for it. He said that it was complicated and you understood, telling him that many things were hard to justify too, because it didn’t fit the category of direct and explainable. It was the small things that either added up or didn’t. 

Then came the pressure that followed such things. The embedded attitudes of people felt relentless. It was similar to an unjustified attack, tiring Seong out from daily routines and schedules. He had informed you of what was going on. When you asked him what his plans were, he simply shrugged, sighed and gave you a smile (keeping hopes up that it would go away). Some things did not go away unless you told them too. 

You couldn’t tell him to ‘let it pass’ or ‘ignore them’ because although it did not seem like it, those words were inconsiderate. Instead you told him to stand up for himself, in small ways, like their behaviour. You refused to see him hurt like this- partly defeated and showing easy acceptance of something that could be changed. You did your best to encourage him, lightly scolding him for keeping such a mindset in the first place. 

As he sat on the sofa, suit still on and laying exhausted in your arms, nestling into the comfort he found in you, you combed through his hair, wanting to ask him some questions. He mumbled his answers sleepily, not bothering to hide the truth from you, saying it plain and simple. As it should have been told from the start, you heard it, brainstorming of how to combat this. But both of you were equally worn out and so you accidently fell asleep in the living room, waking up hours later in each other’s arms. 

The next time, you had come home some hours after him, daylight fading into the distance but the blues had already set in, much earlier than you had thought. You remember entering the house and placing your shoes in the stand. You had placed your stuff in the bedroom, quickly changing into home clothes. All the while, the air was silent albeit the presence of Seong who had already texted you that he had reached home. 

You were happy to see him, having kissed him in a hurry to feel him on you unlike the first half of the day when you had so dearly missed him. After a good conversation, he downplayed the events in a deflating manner. The story was malicious and you did not appreciate their insincerity. They had treated him more roughly then before and it occurred to you that Inseong’s tunnel of vision had narrowed. In hope he thought that there wasn’t much for the future but you were infuriated upon hearing his story. 

You were still on for fighting back, not hitting the knees or lightly shoving. There was no sugar-coating, making the relay barren but you had wanted him to understand what you had meant. Instilling some fight into him, he had understood, swallowing your advice to find others that disagreed with this type of treatment. To find like-minded people and rid himself of his problem, once and for all. 

It wasn’t easy for him but in the coming weeks, you noticed a change- that he was happier than before. He was giddy and you reflected on previous memories, thinking that he had always managed to be happy, those people had just dampened it. Today, you sat with an unopened wine bottle, texting your friends till Inseong came home. And when he did, your phone was flung somewhere (so precious, hopefully on the sofa itself) and he took you into his arms, giving you a hug. 

You excitedly returned it back and the familiar thudding returned when you saw him smile, gummy version and lit eyes showing. Although he was tired, he was brimming with energy, agreeing to your proposition of wine and cookies. He rolled onto the sofa, throwing the covers over your thighs and leaning on your shoulders. His legs ached from the walk to get home as quick as possible but it felt worth it.

You gave him a peck, grinning as he cutely leaned in for more. The more you gave into him, the more you smiled from ear to ear. The screen of the television greeted your eyes in the bright light of the living room, heart beat steady as you embraced Seong. Bringing his hair back, you chuckled at his facial expressions that immediately relaxed, taking a sip of his wine in the process. ‘’That felt good’’ he commented, feeling the rumble of your chest as you laughed. 

‘‘Including your whole day? That sounds good’‘ you replied, cross-legged as you grabbed a cookie, Seong’s eyes tracing the crumbly deliciousness. Breaking a piece, you plopped it into Seong’s parted lips, smiling at his quick response to the melted chocolate. ‘‘It was and things are looking up’‘ he happily motioned, responded and you listened as he spoke more, entailing you to the details. You firstly felt happy, secondly thrilled that you had won, unanimously. 

You could hear someone distinctly coughing in another room, its nature echoing and reverberating and hence catching the attention of JaeYoon as well. He kept silent, not a peep from his mouth when the familiar pain affected his temples, lighting up like red lights around his eyes and cheeks, inciting him to desire a cough. 

You watched from your spot at the door, his back hunched and eyes monotonously staring at the screen. You flinched as you thought of the pain of staring into something that bright in a room so dark. As you leant against the door frame, you saw him harshly rub the pain away from his heavy eyes that would not open as far as they usually would. 

He looked like he was having trouble looking up, heavily exhaling as he tried to resist the pain. They grew stronger like the thudding sounds of boots against a wooden floor that by the second neared closer to you. 

He gets up from the table, his chair scraping against the floor as it is pushed back with sheer force of his anger, annoyance, irritation. It takes him less time than swinging a baseball bat to launch a last-minute defence than to grab the chair he sits on and fling it at the wall. He believes that no one around as he sighs, then shamefully picks it up and sits on it again, reflecting. 

You wondered what he was imagining, looking lost in thought. His cheeks turned red like the sunset, a gradient of embarrassment. What he was feeling was understood by his team members and although you were blameless, a part of your decision-making process pricked at your mind. It started to gnaw until you shooed it away, tricking you into thinking that his pain was influenced by you.

You were mindful of your perception of his situation, understanding that if you did not have the full details, you did not have the right to serve him harsh words either. There could have been more to what he had told you because he was an excellent soldier and knew how to weave tales to best fit his situation, even to his team leader. 

He knew now that you were at the door, shadow having shifted due to the movement of light. When he faced you, he settled his hair down, even though it already was- a habit he had when he was nervous. He yearned for your comfort like a hug or a few words of advice. It was not selfish of him for it was human desire and unable to breach the relationship he had with you, he settled for your praise whilst watching you from afar. 

Under your gaze, he felt nervous but his thoughts overcame him because he felt hardened to the fact that he could not change the past and knew still, that it was useless to ponder over such things. As you scanned his form, the anger he felt was irreplaceable and you felt that you could not soothe him, yet. For the kind of person that he was, you knew that he would pull through. 

You made your move to give him time, giving him one last look as you turned back and walked away. Hours later, he must have been calm, rationally thinking of the situation when you saw him in the swimming pool on the roof. Leaning against the wall, he put his phone down upon seeing you enter. You said nothing, his eyes wide and suggesting something that could not be put into a sentence. You expected him not to question and he did not, waiting for you to speak first.

As you slipped into the water, a line of goosebumps trailed your leg yet you entered without flinching, letting a wave of water swallow your body. You were engulfed and while basking in the liquid, you moved towards him, coming together for camellias and carnations presently unknown.

Warm sunlight and the mindless singing of birds filled the air like filling water into a jug. You paddled towards him, watching him stand up straight, eyes never moving below your jaw. He waited and waited till you came to him, till your face was as close to him as two threads sewn one after the other. His system was frozen, back against the wall, water still, only small ripples forming as you moved towards him. 

‘‘We can’t let someone know about this’‘ you mumbled, regretfully looking at his confused eyes. His lips were parted in question, words barely coming out as he shook his head in agreement. Unconsciously moving closer to you, you smiled, exclaiming, ‘‘Should I show you the place where everyone goes to take a break without me knowing? And you too apparently’‘. 

‘‘Did I read that wrong? Or something? I thought-’‘ he asked, clearing his head and halting your movements when you began to walk away. You chuckled, replying, ‘‘Hold on-’‘. You disagreed as you continued, ‘’No, you didn’t. I just thought it would be better to be somewhere private than here.’‘. He came to the realisation pretty quickly, turning his opinion around at the open space for a lack of privacy or none thereof in the first place. 

As he followed you, it clicked to him and he didn’t stop himself from asking, ‘’There is a place where people go to relax?’’. You laughed, pointing to some place beneath the surface of land, carefully opening the door. You marvelled in amazement when it did open, exactly as you were told, your eyes meeting his affiliating gaze based on the way you smiled in wonder. Reflective, you looked around, laughing as you caught each other turning at the same time. 

‘‘I don’t know why we haven’t been introduced to this place as yet’‘ you stated, seeing a glint of something shiny in the background. 

‘‘I agree and shouldn’t you know about this? Given where it is’‘ he motioned, pleasantly unsurprised, figuring that you had your own place to relax. As he bent down to crawl you responded, ‘’If anyone, I might be the last to know’’, drawing a laugh from the both of you at how true it was. 

The entrance was wide, allowing you to swim without hitting the sides. Lights lit the sides and you were met with a staircase, droplets cascading down your wet clothes as you stepped out of the water. Neither of you bothered to comment on the spiral staircase or the enormous dry room, filled with private corners of games, food and drinks. 

You stared at with mouths agape until Jaeyoon broke the silence. After finding a place to change into fresh clothes, you met him at the massage chairs, twined in a corner that gave you a view of the doors. ‘’Here’’ you handed him a beer bottle, asking him, ‘’Aren’t you going to switch it on?’’, looking around for a button. He shook his head, popping open the cap between the bend of his arm and taking a sip from it. 

Well, you thought, Jaeyoon’s attention turning to the buzzing machine as you relaxed, sighing in content. He was bewildered, asking, ‘’You turned it on?’’ while trying to configure the buttons himself. You met his stare, trying to playfully kick him, exclaiming, ‘’Stop staring at me, turn it on!’’, drawing a laugh from the both of you as he slipped into the darkness of the massager. You were caught in the trap of the machine, its gentle massages turning sinister. 

Your bottles were left empty handed as you felt the soothing motions of the machine. The place was appropriately sized for a team of eight people and two people had managed to occupy a small corner of it. You smiled, thinking of the room itself, trying to enjoy yourself in the moment without thinking of anything else. Meanwhile, Jaeyoon was drifting off, pleasantly lost in the idea of starting something new with you.

Sanghyuk leant on his elbow, propped up by the pillow, peering at you with ambiguous eyes. You merely hummed at his offer and a small smile tugged at your lips. This proposition of his always stood, no matter the circumstance. You thought that there was nothing for you to lose but you were wrong. And so you shrugged, tossing the covers aside and getting in beside him. 

There was a gap in between, obvious that he was treading the waters carefully. You laid next to him, not touching his arm or leg, perhaps expecting him to pull you towards him. The gap was evident, but only to the both of you. He lingered next to your fingers and you interlocked it, turning on your side as you asked, ‘‘Are you worried about something?’‘

Strands of hair flopped on his forehead as he nodded, taking in a deep breath. In doing so, he swallowed his stress and looked at you. He flashbacked to your features, expressions, mannerisms, recounting them one by one. Your breath hitched as he grasped your waist, pulling you closer till your body was touching his. 

There it was. He did not say anything, evident that he didn’t have a reason to be with you today. Unlike his usual line providing you an explanation, he chose to forgo one this time. And he didn’t need to. There had been another fall today at work but he didn’t particularly care about it. Not until he heard you say in that tone of voice, ‘’It’s all the same, it doesn’t matter’’ with that look in your eyes.

It was as if you didn’t know each other that well, that you hadn’t been sleeping with each other all this time. Like he had once heard, there is an emotional component to sex. All he had done then was nod, but then began his doubts and he wanted to know if it was true. 

If you reciprocated his feelings. You cleared your throat, removing the strands of hair from his face. ‘’Say something’’ you murmured, and he only replied by caressing your cheek and bringing you closer to him. He wanted your lips, to feel you on every part of his body and for you to pull him close and hold him and tell him how much of a good boy he was for you. 

‘‘You look like you’re in a different place today’‘ you continued and he decided that he would tell you. His heart began racing and he got nervous, shifting his line of sight to the ceiling. You sighed in frustration, leaning a distance away from him, removing his hand from yours. 

There was no rule that you couldn’t like each other, you were adults and you could sort this out as it happened. But you hadn’t known why you did not speak about it all this time. You had purposely thrown him off these days, either by telling him that you were busy and you couldn’t meet up with him or that you just were not available. And like that, what was in sight was out of mind. 

But it hurt you. To see the look on his face was painful and you could remember crying about it once. But whatever your reason was, you wanted to settle this. 

Your friend could not understand why you wanted to turn Sanghyuk down. She was in disbelief over his physique and how sweet of a guy he was and the fact that the two of you got along very well. She was proud of you for finding someone whose intentions were good, inside and out. ‘’You need to say something Sanghyuk’’ you said, reaching out for his hand. 

‘‘I’m not sure how to-’‘ he started, waving his hands in the air. But he pulled you, planting his lips on yours. And you did this thing with swinging around on your decisions. You gave in, kissing him back. It was pretty, sure, because you had kissed many times. This time, there was a confession leaning over your head and Sanghyuk did not anticipate the fact that you would accept. 

You needed to think about it. ‘’Please stop thinking so hard. Tell me. I just want to tell you that I like you. You want to say, ‘’Although, I like you too, it’s complicated’’.’’. It was a gold-mine worth of information which shouldn’t have been worth its value. As you leaned back and told him, he listened and just when you had finished he groaned out a ‘’come here’’ and pulled you into his arms. 

In three moments, he told you some statements that began to mean so much more than some cheesy lines written on a paper. Perhaps, when those lines were written, the writer had empathised with the person and then understood the deeper meaning of those lines. You realised that you hadn’t read the text properly, skimping over it. But now, you gasped in awareness, his softness and gentleness bringing tears to your eyes. 

He wiped them away, pressing a kiss to each cheek. The two of you laid there in the peacefulness of being in each other’s arms, the threads of your relationships being folded by beautifully intricate knots. When the last hours of the week had arrived, Sanghyuk was so exhausted that he fell asleep in your arms. You had been watching tv as he sat there, persistently asking to eat you out. 

You had narrowed your eyes but you then as you looked at him, you remember caving in. The yes was fairly quick. He also moved quickly onto his knees, clearing telling you, ‘’Thank you’’ before he took off your bottoms, propping your knees on his shoulders. You had tugged his hair, making him go faster as your eyes absent-mindedly trailed to his messy nose and mouth. 

You had told him how much of a mess he was making and when you asked him if he liked it, he proceeded to giggle. He ate you out multiple times, ignoring the ache of sitting on his calf muscles and only focused on you. You cleaned yourself up, making a mental note to return the favour, in another way as you tucked him into the sofa, throwing your leg over him and falling asleep like a baby. 

'’Are you feeling okay?’’ you asked your boyfriend, whose sighing was aimless, less than distinct the fatality of the sound of giving up. He was constantly running his hands through his hair. However, to take the hair out of his face he was met with the bright sunlight that the open curtains let through, shining almost everywhere apart from you. 

You were barely covered by the warmth of the high-numbered tog cover. Each part of your body was warming up, leaving with something of an uncomfortable feeling. Seokwoo was rehearsing lines in his head, too many thoughts swarming, not permitting him to concentrate. He was unaware that you were watching him, almost losing him to a daydream. 

Attention on him when he discarded his slippers, you pulled the covers over him as he settled into your side. He grumbled nonsense words that made you chuckle, lovingly caressing his cheek, losing your grasp as he smiled. You smiled back, nestling into the warmth of his arms, throwing an arm over him and kissing each eye that blinked in wondersome, secretly glowing with love too.

He laid on his back so that you were on top of him and hence, earned a giggle from you. Looking at you, he softly spoke, not vague in his indication of what he was speaking about, ‘’You know how I’ve been working all these days?’’. It was unfair, that so many people in his profession had to deal with a distinct loss of sleep and fatigue.

You hummed, encouraging him with a nod, understanding that it was building up and today, he couldn’t seem to make it work with what he had in front of him. ‘’I can’t do it- No, I can but I’m too tired right now’’ he continued, heaviness not allowing him to continue. 

As he told you the details in a soft, whispery voice and light-heartedly neutral tone, you felt a deep sense of sadness overcome you. You wanted to help him so you told him many things. There was a story of your own work, wrapping the details with a snapping recovery from previously stimulated events. All the while, he listened carefully, not saying a word, occasionally asking a question or too. The latter especially made you smile as you carded your fingers through his hair, laying your head on his chest while speaking to him.

‘‘It won’t be the defining moment of your life, ever. It always feels like it in the moment but when you pass it, you won’t look behind. And when you do, it will be because you have already encountered something so difficult. ’‘ you spoke, peeking at him humming in agreement. ‘‘How much longer do you think you’ll need on it?’‘ you asked and he sighed, lost in contemplation over the calculation of the number of days he would need for this. 

You chuckled, grasping his fingers and softly nestling against his cheek, bringing him back to reality. ‘’Should we do something instead? Maybe you can take a break for a little while?’‘ you questioned, thoughts already forming in your head. He lit up at this idea, giving one last look to the work on his desk before you tugged him along to the kitchen. 

‘‘It’s good for you, you know. Like it’s good to get out and do stuff’‘ you said with a laugh, flailing your hands arounds to try and get him to understand that you wanted him to cook. You held back your laughter as he stood there with an apron on, utensil tilted at an angle, egg almost about to be whisked and an unamused expression adorning his handsome face. 

He had not thought that he would be the one to cook! The pearly whites of your teeth showed as he looked up, sighed, collecting himself while standing in front of the counter, holding in his laughter as he heard yours float the room. He shook his head stating, ‘‘You are so sneaky? When did you even put this on me?’‘ he laughingly questioned, motioning with an open mouth of feeling startled towards the apron that he had no idea how- landed on him. 

You whole-heartedly shrugged, smiling as you grabbed a handful of chocolate cereal, dipping them one by one in Nutella. ‘’Give me some’’ he salivated, opening his mouth as you filled it. He gladly received them, moaning in delight, instantly savouring the double-sweetness of the snack. 

His cheeks moving in cute, little circles as he crunched, flipping the sizzling pancake. Leaning back, he cleared his hair from his face and you admired his bare face. ‘’More’’ he said, bringing you out of your day-dream. You were watching the way he moved, licking his lips as you asked, ‘’Should we add some Nutella to the pancakes?’’.

He excitedly nodded, saying, ‘’And some bananas and that, what is it?’’, leaving you mid-state as you collected the ripe ones, peeling them open and slicing the softness. You began guessing, ‘’Caramel?’’ to which he replied, ‘’Similar!’’. You were suspicious, adding, ‘’Are you just going along with the first thing I say?’’.

‘‘No’‘ he stated, laughing, even more so when you said, ‘‘Yea, honestly, I can’t think of anything else. What do we have in the house?’‘. The pancake almost burned before you pointed to it and in a hurry he turned it over. The both of you sighed in relief because it could be eaten. It hadn’t been too far gone for it to meet the trash. 

‘‘The thing that people drizzle on their- oh! maple syrup!’‘ he exclaimed and it clicked in your head, saying, ‘‘That! Where is it?’‘. He threw his head back, holding back a playful groan, replying, ‘‘I don’t know. I have never tasted it’‘.

‘‘It’s been in our house for decades though’‘

‘’Don’t play. How did it taste?’’

‘‘I thought that it would really sweet you know?’‘

‘‘Uh-huh, like when they drizzle too much and the whole thing is just-’‘ he expressed distastefully with his mouth.

‘’Yea! But it wasn’t. It was kinda sweet and I ended up having some more’’

‘’What did you have it with’’

‘’Bananas and buttered bread’’ and he agreed, salivating in delight.

What a cutie, you thought, getting off your seat to pinch his cheeks and make cooing noises at him, then wrapping your arms around him and leaning into his side. When you looked up at him, he leaned to give you a kiss, beautifully wholesome and restrained, warm breaths exchanging as he comfortably moved against your lips, hands mid-air but lips softly pressing against yours. The pancakes sizzled, crisping around the edges as you softly moaned into the kiss, the thumping of your heart ever present in your ears. 

Almost as far as he could grasp the situation, he was also having trouble. The trouble to walk as he would occasionally stumble, he tried not to make a habit of it. He was sweating, mini droplets of blood splattered over the right side of his hair and face. 

He chuckled, muttering an incomprehensible set of words as he looked down at his right leg. It was bleeding, viciously. The blood was seeping from out of the wound and staining his trousers and he could feel it. He could feel its pain, jolting out his dream-like state when a car honked. 

He was surprised because it wasn’t that loud as compared to other cars. The sound was almost muffled and he smiled, clutching his leg as he continued walking. He shook his head, clearing his mind when he realised that he was supposed to be catching the suspect. 

Adrenaline flew through body, almost faltering but he wouldn’t give up. Sweat greatly stained his hair, dampening it to stick to his forehead. He stumbled, catching the corner of a wall to steady himself, and then he moved on. He walked and walked, not giving up and finally, the perpetrator was in sight. 

He weakly called out for you to stop. You had just taken a rough turn and although your muscles ached, you needed to keep going. The faint rustling of the detective’s steps and voices could be heard. You ran and ran, the distinct voices of cry ringing through your mind. 

You did not hear Zuho at first. He reached out for you in the darkness of the night, lightbulbs then collided with a huge trash can. The noise echoed and you jumped back, struggling to get yourself in the blind spots of the cameras that lined the alley. 

Breathing heavily, you glared at the figure that was crouched. You only figured that it was someone drunk or high, until the headlight lit up. You were taken back, your system freezing as you viewed the fatigued face of Zuho. Through the ups and downs of your career that had been impacted by the fall of various democratic powers, the two of you joined the resistance. 

In its early stages, when there were hardly many people, you slowly climbed the ranks, proving yourself to be an asset to the growing group. Zuho, on the other hand, remained close by, not desiring to engage in the ranks of the resistance. Instead, you kept your status as his mentor, teaching him how to hone his skills. 

He looked after the house that the two of you owned, taking on the role of domestic duties till you came home from work and made love to him. When the resistance wanted to utilise all their people to the best of their abilities, he gladly took on the role of househusband, even if they did not have a job opening for him.  

‘‘Shit’‘ you muttered, walking back to Zuho. The bells rang louder, the closer you approached Zuho. His lieutenant’s badge shone in gold and you crouched, desperately telling him, ‘‘I can’t take you back. They will find out about you’‘. He moaned in pain and when you pushed back his hair, you were overcome with the need to kiss him. 

You pulled yourself back, watching from the corner of your eyes about the detectives and in that moment, he collapsed. His weight gave way and with a thud, he hit the floor. You decided not to let him die on this floor. You adamantly shouted into your receiver, ‘’Help me!’’. You heard the footsteps rush behind you, pulling you off the floor and pushing you in the direction of the car. 

As you looked back, you saw them in a co-ordinated manner pick him up. Getting into your cars, you drove away, your colleague looking back at the soldiers who were scrambling to treat Zuho. ‘’This will fuck our plans’’ he muttered, holding back tears at Zuho’s state. You weakly chuckled, eyes dropping but you fought to stay awake saying, ‘’We will see from here on out’’. 

Handling businesses on the ground made you realise that your group had more power than you thought. The workers of the law were corrupt, not all of them though. Some of them fought against these dirty workers and while some slipped into the greediness of money, some held on, even if their hands were burned off. The pain that rotted the city was terrible and you were sure that you had not seen the worst of it.   

You were received by medics of a nearby camp and you woke up, shortly before the completion of two whole days. When you woke up, you reported to your boss first, then searched for Zuho. You walked the place by yourself, not wanting to answer any questions. Although, it was nice to know that people still cared for you even after your undercover disappearance for the last six months. 

You smiled, pausing when you saw Zuho laying on the bed, saline attached to his right hand vein and catheter hanging on the other side. You showed your badge to the cards and the barcode right above your right hand elbow. As soon as they verified both, you almost slowed down, tracing the board that held his information. 

You did your best to hold back your tears, repeatedly blinking, walking and turning around. Clearing your throat, you stood up and shook your shoulders in a motion that was similar to shaking the weight off. You sat back down, leaning on Zuho’s shoulder and grasping his hand, you softly squeezed. The last of your relief washed over you and you desperately wanted the feeling to come back. 

It felt good and after so long, you knew that your battles had only just begun. You had made a mistake by bringing him here. But it was either that or he would have died by the time they had gotten him to a hospital past the civilian areas. Zuho woke up, seeing your form peaceful. He was overwhelmed, mouth dry and a groan escaped his lips causing your head to snap up. 

You handed him a glass of water, his thirst as a result of the injection he had been given. You smiled, reaching over to place a kiss on his cheek. ‘’Should I just stay with you?’’ he groggily asked, gently squeezing your hand when you smiled, placing another gentle kiss to his cheek. ‘’You should stay’’ you commented, having already chosen a plan with your commander. 

It included Zuho and all you needed was his approval on his part. You pressed the button on the control and you kicked your shoes off, joining him. ‘’I was worried about you all the time, you know.’’ you spoke, breaking the peaceful silence. He had been stationed not far from you but you could never see him. Such meetings were prohibited. At the end of every three weeks, you did meet and bask in each other’s warmth in your provided house. 

But once every twenty-one days was not enough. He always wanted to be with you but there was the risk of your jobs clashing and interfering with your work plans. ‘’I was worried about you too. It was hard not to’’ he replied, nudging your cheek with his nose. He wanted to reunite with you right now, squeezing your arm as he slid down to your waist. 

You connected your lips, running through his soft hair, grasping the back of his head and pulling him closer. Your bodies touched, the warmness exchanging in your own space. You put a hand on his chest, smiling as you leaned back, whispering in his ear, ‘’ We can’t, you have a catheter on’’. 

Only for this context was it a moment of finality and his ears almost burned when he groaned, kissing you and leaning back, throwing his head back on the pillow. Your laughs mingled and you patted his better leg, getting off the bed. ‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked, eyes curiously wide and hand reaching for your presence. 

You hummed, a bounce in your step as you said, ‘’I’ll go get some food for us’’. He nodded, pausing when you spoke up once again, ‘’I was just thinking of how to pleasure you. Think about it while I’m gone.’’, patting the wall as you left. Upon hearing you, he groaned,  letting out a small cry. The catheter was the least of his problems because it was the wound that would take most time to heal. 

He smiled at your words, looking at the direction in which you left, thinking, what a person. However, he was filled with an even bigger sense of determination. He would live and see this problem to its end. And then he would buy a house with you and have kids. He could see himself eating the food he cooked and watching tv with them all day, smiling into his dream. Your relationship was never founded from this war anyways. 

It was never torn apart because of it and you always stood by each other’s side. He decided that he would fight beside you, taking your guidance and training himself for the final war to come. He imagined a gun in his hand, pulling the trigger over the perpetrators of violence against the civilians he had spent months building trust with. 

Taeyang came home bone-tired. His shoulders ached, joints unnecessarily struggling. There was a familiar tiredness in his body, radiating throughout. It seeped into whole wavelengths and he was sure that you noticed it. And it was hard not to as he mumbled something incoherent, resting his head on your shoulder, sighing as he inhaled the smell of home. 

Secure was the feeling that surrounded him, the one he realised was the most important after being in this industry for so long. So normal were some things that many didn’t even notice how invading it was. He found that it came from his members, his family and you. To get home after a long day and not be all alone in the house. It was the knowing that saved him from rolling his eyes and falling asleep on the floor. 

You awed, snuggling into him. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, hearing him whisper, ‘’I’m too tired, we should go to sleep’’. His stomach garbled, empty from hours of burning and burning, tirelessly or passionately, easy to understand that he had some sort of fire raging within him. All that fire was laying low now, needing fuel to rage. You chuckled, grasping his hand as you asked, ‘’How was your day?’’, leading him to the kitchen. 

He nodded, giving you a thumbs up and slumping on the table. You turned around in surprise as he whined a little, telling you belatedly, ‘’There are too many things to do. I have to shower, wash up, eat and then sleep. It’s like there is a never-ending list of things to do.’’. You cracked up at his statement, drawing some chuckles from him too.

‘‘I’m just saying, you know.’‘ he said as you placed noodles in front of him. The smell was enough to wake him up as he perked up, drooping eyes being set aside. ‘’I ate, you go ahead.’’ you said, motioning to his food. 

‘’What time did you get home?’’ he asked in between bites.

‘‘Afternoon’‘

‘‘Was it tiring? How was it?’‘, he questioned, slurping the noodles.

You hummed, nodding, ‘’Tiring and we did the best that we could. Anyways, I don’t have to leave until tomorrow afternoon. So, at the office-’’.

Twirling the noodles around, he listened to your story, commenting, ‘’You did it because you thought it was best. The important thing is that now they know. They don’t have questions and stuff.’’ 

You agreed, ‘’They don’t have questions and they aren’t confused’’, continuing, ‘’The competition is tough, you must be stressed no?’’

‘‘You know what I’m worried about. Although it is the same old, even if we manage to get something out of this, I will be proud’‘.

You wowed, replying, ‘’You should always be proud of your team. It’s not easy wanting something. When your own standards haven’t been met for a long period of time, you don’t realise that you’ve been trying to achieve even the littlest of things.’’

He was silent at your statement, inquisitive to your words, gears turning in his head. ‘’Between the both of us, it will be stronger if it comes from you. Aim higher, this is the real-world so be careful of what you want.’’

‘‘Fair enough, not everyone gets what they want’‘ he hummed, washing his bowl. 

Shifting to the bed, he joined you after his shower, bouncing on the mattress with a sigh of content. Like a child receiving their favourite toy, he smiled upon meeting the comforter, its warmth hugging him. You held him to your chest and he snuggled right in, lulling to the way you carded your fingers through his hair.

The night was pleasant, enough for him to kick the covers off, speaking to you with closed eyes, ‘’This competition will keep me awake forever’’. He chuckled, continuing, ‘’I’m buzzing right now’’. 

You lolled, ‘’Buzzing? You did the most activity around today and you are still awake? That’s remarkable’’. The comment drew Taeyang to open his eyes who gently poked your side, chuckling as he commented himself, ‘’Are you asleep?’’. You hummed, throwing your leg over him and asking, ‘’What do you want?’’. 

He lay awake, pondering over your question and you literally peeled open your eyes to tell him, ‘’Sleep Tae, nothing bad will happen. You’ll feel better after you get some sleep.’’. He turned around at your statement, bringing you closer to him. You were safely tucked away in your fiancé’s arms and the two of you slept until late dawn, only stumbling in the kitchen for some lunch.               

He groaned, over and over again. Ever since he had laid down to sleep, he felt nauseous, its grip vice in his stomach and throat. He tossed back and forth, side to side, changing positions to comfort himself. He was alarmed at the sensitivity of his body, aware that something was wrong, but was unable to discern till the last moment that he would vomit. 

He released the gruesome contents into the bucket he had prepared mid-struggle. He was scared. He did not want to experience the same thing again. The pain in his throat was like stinging, but from the inside. It was like something had clawed through, letting the marks fester. He kept wondering why this was, it had never happened to him before.

He grasped his head, the pain causing him to fall back onto the bed and close his eyes. Till the pain had passed, he did not move an inch, holding still. The pain faded away and after laying down some more, he picked up his heavy bones and made his way to the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

He called out to you in the darkness, cautiously entering to find you. For the type of person you were, he knew that you’d take action immediately, questions later but he didn’t think that mattered. It was more about the fact that he loved you and felt comfortable in your arms. 

He knew that it would be a heavy confession for you, if he ever got around to telling you about it. His feelings about you were big and complex, especially when he was unaware of how you felt about him. You were dead asleep, softly snoring but when a specific word like ‘’Noona?’’ floated in your head, your eyebrows furrowed and you wondered if you were really dreaming. 

Waking up with a jolt, you groggily asked him, ‘’Are you okay?’’, reaching out for him in the darkness. He shook his head and you pulled him to sit on the bed, him telling you in reply, ‘’I puked’’.

You awed, pulling him in for a hug. He looked so adorable as he said it, a small pout adorning his face, cheeks probably pink and cutely looking at you. He looked small in this moment and you couldn’t help but bring him into your arms, comfortingly running your hands through his hair while whispering soothing words of praise. 

You also could not help pouting yourself, deep sadness spreading within you as you thought of him in pain, thinking, poor baby. ‘’I should-’’, ‘’Huh?’’ overlapped as he quickly got up, starting to regret his decision to come here. You grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the bed. ‘’You can sleep here’’ you motioned, separating your pillows to give him one.  

You got into the covers, leaving half the bed for him. He opened his mouth in question and you rested on your elbow, telling him, ‘’If you aren’t comfortable enough, you can go back. Trust me, I won’t mind. It’s all the same to me’’. You cleared your throat, laying back down, regretting your last set of words. He got into the bed, thinking at the same time, Alright, it’s all the same. 

After resting for a couple of seconds, you turned around, saying, ‘’I lied, it’s not the same to me’’. He hummed, snapping his head to you, taken aback by your taking back. Exposing his beautiful gummy smile in the near darkness, he replied, ‘’Just to be clear, I feel the same way about you’’. It was shorter than he had anticipated because you had given a response he had not thought would happen.

‘‘What’s on your mind?’‘ you asked and through some small words, it became a better conversation. He elaborated himself and under the softness of the light, you curled up into each other. You snuggled in each other’s warmth, some peacefulness filling this hectic lives of yours. You pressed a kiss to his temple as he slept like a baby, keeping a close eye on his condition throughout the night. 

Chani was asleep, amongst the fluffy covers that enveloped his frame from head to toe. Snuggled with an air of warmth around him, insulating him from the slight cold of the autumn breeze, he softly snored in the midst. The clock of his sleep was ticking for almost ten hours now and so peacefully did he look as he slept that you let him be. 

After running from pillar to post and staying up for filming, he was undeniably exhausted. His eyes would not open, heavy in their mood and feeling almost like tape held them together. Prying them open, he groaned, catching your attention. The refusal of his eyes were utmost and so he shut them and laid back down, comforting himself on the pillows. You moved from your desk to the bed and you laid a hand on his chest, softly calling out, ‘’Baby?’’. 

Hearing no response, you leant over him, giving him a kiss and gently shaking him. You repeatedly whispered your nickname for him, hiding your head in the crook of his neck and snuggling into the warm space. You chuckled as he hazily groaned, words indistinct to your ears, laying a hand on your waist. 

You had just finished completing your report, thinking nonsense vacation dreams to yourself of the things you could do if you had time off for the next few days. ‘‘I’m up’‘ he noted, pulling his eyelids open regardless of how much they hurt. When he found clarity, he switched your positions so that he was facing you. ‘’Go back to sleep but I just wanted to know if you were okay.’’ you stated, placing another soft kiss to his jawline. 

His cheeks were puffed from having just woken up and he looked adorable. If you had told him that he would have asked, ‘’Why?’’ and tossed his head back and forth in playful frustration. Even then you would have found him cute. You tucked a stray hair back into the softness, admiring his sleepy form, eyes barely staying open as he lingered over you. 

‘’I won’t go back to sleep’’ he murmured, making you chuckle, knowing that sooner or later he would lay on his back again and doze into another world. He shook himself awake as you replied, ‘’It looks like you need sleep though’’ causing him to roll his eyes. He hummed, throwing a leg over you and nestling into your neck, probably still in the state where he felt as if he was dreaming. 

You kissed his neck, peppering a trail of light kisses in the same area, combing through his hair. He could feel the touch of your lips leave a trace of warmth on every spot, gently urging him to wake up. After a couple of minutes, Chani inquisitively asked, ‘’How long was I asleep for?’’ startled at the answer you gave him. He poked his head out from the crook of your neck, staring at you with open eyes as he registered the double-digit number.

‘‘I had work to do...’‘ he said, trailing off. After two seconds of debating, he plopped back into your warmth, deciding that he could do it later. Lightly pushing his shoulder emitted a groan from him, one that resembled ache. Plopping on his back, your giggle turned into concern as you asked him, ‘‘Are you feeling okay?’‘. 

‘‘My back hurts, and legs too.’‘ he nodded, playing with strands of your hair. You hummed, asking, ‘‘Do you want me to give me you an oil massage?’’. He perked up at the idea, graciously kissing you and telling you that he would return the favour.

As he sat on the bed, you admired his toned back. Squirting a bit of oil onto your palm, you rubbed your palms together and at the first touch, he relaxed. You brought both your thumbs together, rubbing in circles and squeezing the ache from his muscles. 

He moaned in delight, hands on knees as he lost himself in the pleasure. It was like the pain was evaporating from his overworked muscles. You chuckled at his noises, his soft whines escaping when you touched a particular part in the middle of his back. When you were done, you grasped his face and kissed him passionately. 

His hands wandered around your waist, tugging at the hem of your top. You giggled in delight, breaking away from the kiss, meeting his eyes. He grabbed your legs that had been straddling his waist and leaning back from planting another kiss onto your neck, he asked you, ‘’Should I do you?’’. 

You squealed as he tossed you on the bed, motioning to your top and as you took it off, he began his lustful descent, starting by him dragging the whole thing out, leaving you in beautiful shambles. 

[mirukostallbabygirl]

BNHA boys after passing No-Nut-November

Yeah. It’s what it sounds like. Prepare to have your backs blown out folks 😌🤚

Characters: deku, denki, Kirishima, Aizawa, Hawks, Mirio

All characters are 18+

Warnings: Cockwarming, Overstimulation, rough sex, phone sex

Deku ~ Izuku Midoriya

Dude was literally DYING all of November

Because now that he has a girlfriend why wouldn’t he have sex??

But you seemed excited and suspicious of his ability to do it, so— like a true hero— he took on the challenge

He didn’t realize how used to sex he already was, and he sometimes woke up to himself humping a pillow in his sleep (but shh he didn’t tell you about that)

The two of you were texting during the night of November 30

And you could feel the desperation in his texts

Seeing the minutes tick by... 12:30... 12:45... 12:5

It was maddening

He didn’t want to come on too strong, so he decided that he would rather FaceTime you, because he though it would be less awkward (and there aren’t receipts if you say no)

But you were one step ahead of him

You had your alarm set to go off at 12:00 AM December 1st

He was startled when the annoying chime blasted out of your phone, stuttering on what he was saying

So you cut him off, turning your screen to show the time and asking “hey baby, do you want to come over?”

This mans eyes SPARKLED LIKE A KID ISTG

He didn’t even reply. You just saw a shaky view of his room and the sound of shuffling clothes and shoes, then the click of a door lock

He showed up at your door a few minutes later, after having hung up without another word on his way there

You opened the door and there were lips on yours, strong arms gripping your waist

Then groping your tits and ass

He never goes insanely hard

But that was the roughest sex you two had ever had

It honestly made not being able to have sex with him worth it for the absolute monstrous fuck you guys had

And it was a LONG session

You thought about calling in sick from work to stay with him and see if you could make your torn-apart body go for another round

Denki Kaminari

He gets zappy when he’s horny (like— literal electricity)

And he’s horny a lot because you refuse to let him have sec with you, and even worse— he can’t even Jack off to the thought of you

He tried to get away with it a few times only for you to feel the change of static in the air and come to his bedroom

He DEFINITELY would not have made it through if you hadn’t held him accountable the whole time

And even though at those times you were helping, you weren’t making it easy for him otherwise

You’d wear the short skirts that he liked and purposefully bend over to grab things from the floor, flashing yourself to him

It was funny to see how red he got and then how hard he got— smirking when you caught a glimpse at the tent in his trousers

So on November 30, he had it all planned out

He picked out an outfit for you, and set up his room all elegant

And he asked you to come over to spend the night

You were excited

It’s not like the two of always had sex impromtu, but there was never this level of preparation

You came in around 11 for a late-late night dinner (because what’s a sleep schedule— neither of you knew, that was for sure) of boxed macaroni

His lack of cooking ability was endearing

After dinner, he handed you a bag to go change into

It had thigh high socks, thigh harnesses, and a black and gold lingerie set

You looked hot— you couldn’t lie

When you came out you saw that the clock read 11:57

And Denki turned around, turning a bright crimson

You teased him “you picked this out, silly, why are you getting so flustered?”

He pulled you down to straddle despite how red he got

The two of you kissed until the clock hit 12

And it wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t kissed all month, but it felt special when you’d be intimate for the first time in a while

He brought you to the bedroom and the two of you spent a whole 3 minutes being romantic before both of you were ravaging each other

It was hard to tell who missed sex more between the two of you

But you were both relieved it was over

Red Riot ~ Eijiro Kirishima

During all of November, he decided that whenever he was missing your body, he would train

And he did OH HOW he did

He was big and strong and he’d taken on extra hours to work on his hardening quirk, and had shown a lot of improvement

You suddenly had to cope with the fact that your boyfriend got EVEN HOTTER, and you weren’t having sex with him

You even gave in a few times, begging him to fuck you, but every time he denied, “that’s not very manly of me to fail the challenge” he would explain and then head out to the gym

It’s fair to say that it sucked for you

So when November was ending, you made a plan

He worked long hours at his agency, so he wouldn’t be back until it was almost 12, which (you being the night owl you are) has never been a problem

But it was today

So, here you are at his agency, rapping on his office door during his lunch break

He hugged you and pulled you inside of his office like he’s done every day you showed up at his office since you started dating

But you were horny and so was he and the tension was high between the two of you

No one wanted to make the first move, because that would be admitting defeat

So you walked to the side of his desk, his eyes following your ass, and bend down to grab his lunch from the left drawer

You hiked your skirt up enough so that he could see a flash of your panties

You weren’t going to make this last day easy on him, but you weren’t trying to make him lose either

But he was on you after that

Hands on your hips, cock pressed against your clothed ass

And you were so in

You both lost your stubbornness quickly when the lust grew too hard to handle

So you let him pull your panties to the side and start thrusting

God you missed this

And he was so much stronger now

You let out moans as he co tinued, not caring if anyone out in their cubicles heard

You were Red Riot’s and he was yours

You both came, multiple times

And when he relaxed back on his desk chair which you collapsed on his chest

You decided to make the final blow

“You realize you lost, right babe?”

And deep red eyes met yours with a seriousness rivaling that of some prestigious heroes (which was hardly eijiro— everyone loved him as a refreshing kind savior rather than the usual aloofness of heroes)

“I could keep going if you want to be a brat.”

Eraser Head ~ Shota Aizawa

He’s not a very sex-motivated guy

But he definitely liked it every once in a while— especially with you

His baby girl struggling to take him, writhing in pleasure, cumming 2,3,4 times

He loves it

And he decides that he’ll still get to see his baby get pleasure, and just not get any of his own

So most of the month, if you were in the same room as him, you had a vibrator buried deep in your cunt

It didn’t feel the same as him feeling you up, but it was hard to sit still or focus when he was indirectly doing such lewd things to you

So November was long for you

And not in a bad way, but you were ready for it to be over, and you could tell he was, too

He was near his wits end from not getting to unload into his little girl, and it reflected on his teaching

You wondered if his students could tell he was lashing out because of sexual frustration

The thought made you laugh

So he cancelled or denied any plans anyone made that night, and so did you

You spent the afternoon together, watching tv mindlessly as you sat on his cock

That was something you two had done a lot more— cockwarming

It was nice to be so close to him

And he argued that the challenge was that he couldn’t cum, not that he couldn’t have his dick in you

So you agreed

And now it was nearing time, and he started slowly thrusting into you, both of your heads turned to the clock as you counted down the seconds until you could both cum

And when the clock finally shone 12:00, it was over for you

Brutal thrusts from underneath you left you with a cream-filled pussy, and then again on your hands and knees against the couch, and on the kitchen counter, and the bed

He had to make up for all the time he wasn’t able to pleasure you himself

So you let yourself be completely destroyed by his cock multiple times

Your legs were t even working past your 3rd orgasm, so he’d just carry you to his new destination

Hawks ~ Takami Keigo

He loved you, but this was not a hard challenge for him

He hadn’t got laid for most of his teenage years

And the two of you did it only on occasion before you teased the idea and he said that he didn’t think you could do it— not have sex with him

So it was more like no-nut-November for you

But you wouldn’t let his teasing be confirmed

So you stood your ground

The two of you made it through the first week with fire in your eyes— encouraged by the want to win against the other

Even the second week was fine

Then you walked in on him fapping like a teenager in your bedroom, surrounded by a few of your sentimental stuffed animals from when you were a kid and a pair of dirty panties

You didn’t intrude

You just let him

And your fingers made their way to the waistband of your panties

You were egged on by his moans seeping through the wall and to your ears

Gorgeous, erotic, and effortless moans that could make you cum without touching yourself at all

But here you are, rubbing your clit and dipping your fingers into your puffy cunt as he jerked himself off on your bed

The two of you never mentioned this

Neither of you were going to admit that that could t even last 3 weeks

You weren’t even sure he saw you, but you sure saw him

And it didn’t happen again, as much as you wanted it to

The sex wasn’t life changing when he could do it again

The real reason you two were together was because you love the other, and that didn’t go away just because you couldn’t fuck

So the two of you were solidified in the shared opinion that you would be happy no matter what happens

And you spend the night bare against his chest, wings brought around your body in a protective shield

Togata Mirio

He made it through the month just fine, usually too busy training and working to have time for you two to have sex

Instead the two of you work together and cuddle at night

And it’s satisfying, but it’s not mind-blowing for either of you

You’d much rather be able to have sex when he has an off night

He actually has a business trip spanning from November 27-December 3, which was a painfully long time for you

You had gotten your hopes up to be able to be destroyed by him

Instead you two FaceTime every night

And he’s too shy to mention it, but once November has passed, he’s aching to get back to you

Aching to get his cock back buried deep in you

You start touching yourself on FaceTime the night before his flight back

He didn’t notice at first

But he saw your arm flexing as you rubbed tight circles on your clit while listening to his voice

“Whatcha doing there sweetie?”

He asked it all innocent but you know better

You slide the phone down to show your pussy dripping with need

You hear him mutter a soft “fuck” before you hear the sound of unzipping and clothing falling to the ground, keeping yourself in view for him while he shows his equally needy cock on the camera

It’s blushing red on the top, so ready for you you wish you had a teleportation quirk

But the two of you were relieved to be doing just this after so long

And after you both came on your fingers, he promised he would give it to you so good when he got back

And he did not disappoint

[thefanficmonster]

Tell Me It’s Not Too Late

(Sequel to Switchblade)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Heartbreak, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: When is it considered ‘too late’ when it comes to expressing feelings? Is there even a time limit? Is the chance only momentary - is it a second that passes you by with no possibility of returning? All Corpse can do is hope that’s not the case. Cause if it is.....he’d rather not think about that.

Requested - sort of, but not in a typical way. Thank you to all the readers of ‘Switchblade’ that wanted to see the story have an ending that’d lead to a new start. Here it is, guys! Hope it lives up to what you expected. Love you all to the moon and back. 💖💖💖

I end my stream after almost three hours of constant scares. I sigh, slipping the headset off my ears so it’s hanging around my neck. I don’t feel that fulfilling feeling that I’m always met with upon ending a stream. I look at the countless scratches and little holes on the surface of my desk - evidence of the fear and frustration I experience while playing certain games. Not all of them are caused by that, however - Coming home after possibly the most humiliating night of my life, that desk and a few other pieces of furniture suffered my wrath and are now decorated with stab wounds that were a result of uncontrollable rage, hurt, self-hatred and self-pity. It took me a while to put an end to my hazardous, switchblade wielding rampage throughout my house, but the tears didn’t stop until the early morning hours.

I didn’t care that my feelings weren’t reciprocated. That was and is the least of my troubles. The most amount of hurt comes from the fact that I ruined something wonderful for myself. Corpse is the only person I’ve felt this close to all my life and now, due to my own poor decision making, I no longer have him. He no longer wants to be a part of the shit-show that is my life. Especially not now that he knows how messy things get when I show my forever-hidden feelings. I can’t blame him. I know I’d be running for the hills if I were him. He deserves a person who knows what’s going on in their life. Who has themselves and their surroundings figured out. Not someone who has an irregular streaming schedule and catches feelings for her best friend, ruining the friendship altogether in the process.

As I stand up from my chair, accidentally hitting the handle of the switchblade on the edge of my desk. I look down at it and how tightly I’m holding it. I seem to not be able to let go of it. Almost like I see it as my last bit of link to Corpse. The remnants of the connection I felt between us.

Maybe I should return it.

No, that’d be weird. I’d either have to go over there and give it back or send it via mail which is worse. It just feels like a harsh gesture - mailing something so meaningful as though it’s as worthless as the bills people get in the mail. I can’t send it through others, I don’t want anyone else getting involved. The more people know, the more real it is.

I’m aware I’m being both overdramatic and irrational, but you have to understand how much pain I’m in. I can’t guarantee the pain will go away or even lessen if I let this switchblade go, but it’s the only thing I haven’t tried.

Only problem is - I can’t let it go. I can’t find it in me to destroy it or throw it away. A part of me is willing to take the suffering of keeping it just cause it wants to hold on to that little connection it resembles. It’s evidence it existed to begin with. I believe it’s worth the pain. The hurt will go away eventually, but the memories are forever. I’ll look back at the time I had an amazing person such as Corpse to call ‘best friend’ and I’ll have something to prove to myself that it wasn’t a fever dream.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.“ I mumble as I finally uncurl my fingers from around the damn thing and put in down on my desk.

I take the headset off and proceed to head out onto the balcony to light what I call a ‘stress cigarette’. I’m not a regular smoker, but when everything just caves, I prefer to resort to a quick puff rather than grabbing a drink. I can say no to a second cigarette but not to a second drink. That second will then turn into a third and so on. And I don’t trust myself when drunk. I don’t personally know, but I’ve been told I’m rather unpredictable.

For the first few seconds while I’m standing there I don’t notice the pouring rain by some strange miracle. I can only focus on the chill of the breeze and the fresh breath that’s finally entering my lungs. I take a moment to breathe in the cool air before I start mixing it with the cigarette smoke. 

With my eyes closed, I hear more than I feel the rain on me. Storm noises always distract me from the actual storm, they calm me down. However, the sudden loud thunder causes me to open my eyes in a matter of milliseconds. I frown, slightly upset that I didn’t catch glimpse of the lightning that the thunder probably followed.

I’m not upset for too long, though. A lightning flashes right opposite me, creating the most mesmerizing of pattern you can see in the night sky during a storm. It’s so bright, it allows me to see my whole, usually unlit garden perfectly in that second or two it graces the sky. 

Wait

My balcony has a clear view of my entire front yard and all it takes a glance to the left to be able to see the front doorstep. 

Don’t freak yourself out, it’s just a trick of the light

I stay quiet and as still as a statue as I await another flash of lightning, my heart speeding past the point of a healthy pulse and into the realm of a near heart attack. The storm seems to be on my side because maybe a minute later another lightning bolt cuts through the black of the night. 

Sure enough, there’s a person standing outside my front door.

Fuck, what do I do?!

The person doesn’t appear to be moving. They are standing just as still as I am, facing towards the house.

I thank the universe the lights inside the house are off. I turned them off cause I wanted the ultimate scary experience playing that game. The only light is the faint glow of my computer screen which is, thankfully, barely visible. I slowly start backing up towards the sliding glass door, never taking my eyes off the figure that I can just barely make out now that my surroundings have fallen into darkness again. If it weren’t for the lightning I would’ve never been able to see them.

I manage to get back inside, soaked as though I just got out of a pool, without making a single sound. Just to be safe, I shut my monitor off. I grab my phone to use as a flashlight in one hand and the switchblade just finds its way into the other, my fingers curling around it tightly, more on instinct than to use as a weapon. I know I probably won’t be able to stab whoever’s out there.

I tiptoe my way down the stairs where all the lights are also off. I flick the blade out as I hesitantly and shakily make my way to the door to look through the peephole. I let out an unsteady exhale as I look at the the figure who is now standing further away and seems to have one arm in the air, curled at the elbow.

Just as I’m about to pull away from the door to dial 911 another flash of lightning illuminates the yard, the figure along with it. 

Can we go back to it being an intruder?

It’s no intruder, surprisingly - to my dismay. 

I turn my phone’s flash off and reach for the switch next to the door, flicking the light on before opening the door and walking out. 

“I NEARLY STABBED YOU WITH YOUR OWN BLADE!“ I yell in a desperate attempt to be heard over the waterfall of rain.

I can finally see him properly thanks to the light in my hallway. He looks like he hasn’t slept in years. He has his hood up but his black locks are sticking out in every direction from under the soaked material, not being protected from the droplets whatsoever. I read the shock in his eyes, almost like he didn’t know I lived there. He doesn’t make an attempt to approach or walk away from me so we just stand there, in the rain, staring at each other as though it’s the first time we’ve seen one another.

I snap out of the trance he has put me in, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of the situation as I step towards him, grabbing onto his wrist, “Come on, we look like drowned rats.” I don’t give him time to react as I drag him inside, closing the door once we enter. “OK, from the top now: Why were you embracing your inner serial killer on my front porch?” I keep blabbering, diverting my gaze to anything but him. “Fucking hell, I could’ve stabbed you! You could’ve gotten really badly hurt! I -...”

“You know, I wish you stabbed me.“ He finally puts an end to my sorry excuse for frustration, I’m aware I look and sound miserable. His voice drags my eyes straight to his, fixing them there. “I know you can’t kill a cockroach on your own, and I know you most definitely wouldn’t even scratch a person, but I wish you had hurt me. Inflict fifty stab wounds on me and you still won’t hurt me as much as I hurt you.“ His hand swiftly pushes the hood off his head, grabbing onto his drenched locks as an expression of pain paints itself on his face. He’s the one diverting his gaze now, “I know what you mistook my silence for and I want you to get that out of your head.“

I wince at the pang in my chest, barely restraining my hand from flying up to rest over my heart, “Don’t humor me, Corpse! I’m not a child and this is not a game!”

“I’m not humoring you. I’m telling you...“ he makes a step towards me, grabbing hold of my ice cold hands, “I’m telling you I’m an asshole that freezes up when it’s least acceptable. I’m telling you I’m the worst at expressing how I feel. I’m telling you I can’t open foil. But you already knew all that. And you still liked me.“ He breaths in, refilling his lungs before continuing his rant, “I know you can be very chaotic. A real handful. A fucking tornado. But I love you. I love you as every natural disaster you represent. And if you could humor me...“ One of his hands releases mine, coming up to push a strand of hair away from my face, resting his hand on my cheek. “...by giving me one more chance. You always let me try multiple times when I stumble over what I’m trying to say. Can you do that, for me? For us?“

I let out a dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes. “If I say yes will you stop showing up like that on my doorstep?“ Of course, my primal instinct is to act tough and cool when my heart rate is once again going at the speed from back at the balcony. The skin of face and neck is red and burning hot. My eyes are rimmed with tears, I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Yeah. I’ll start coming in through the chimney instead.“ He visibly relaxes, a smile dancing at the corner of his lips. He lifts the hand that’s still holding the switchblade, prying it out of my grasp. “No sharp objects, please.”

He drops it in the pocket of his hoodie, finally leaning down to erase any last bit of doubt I have left. This kiss teaches me a lot of things.

Love isn’t linear - nothing about it is linear. Not falling in nor falling out of it. Feelings aren’t digital or binary - it’s not always as black and white as we might want to believe. Feelings don’t just come and go. They are always present, but it depends on us weather they’re suppressed or expressed. We fear the latter cause we fear vulnerability and change. But we also crave the positive outcome we have a 50% chance of getting. It’s a fifty-fifty game, but here’s the thing: if you never express your feelings it’s a zero-a hundred chance that you won’t receive the outcome you’d like.

I took the fifty over the zero chance and regretted it for a day or two. It gave me closure if nothing more. It let me stand under the spotlight and carry my pride on my shoulders despite the tears in my eyes.

My feelings being reciprocated is just another benefit. But no longer being able to call Corpse ‘best friend’ cause he’s now got a bigger and better title is the positive outcome I have been dreaming of. 

He makes it all worth it. He is worth all of it. 

And if I had to go through all that again, you can bet your ass I would.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis

[aereres]

Loving You Is Easier Than I Had Expected - Matthew Tkachuk | Rock Band AU

Summary: Being one of the most popular rock band’s personal assistant was never easy: between rushing through traffic, running around, and listening to music, Chordback was part of Deborah Miller’s day-to-day life. As if her schedule wasn’t already busy enough, the band’s drummer - Matthew Tkachuk - stumbles into her life like a tornado, unexpectedly turning her world upside down. 

A/N: Oh. My. God. This fic has truly become my baby. No Joke. I’ve worked on this for almost a month and I’m so proud of what it came out to be. Hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 18,4k (damn)

Warnings: swearing (lots of it), anxiety, fighting, cockiness (also lots of it), drinking and partying, physical fights, wounds, blood, perverts, bad relationships with families, angst, mostly fluff

Chordback needed her. More than anything.

The thought made its way into Deborah’s head as she watched the band sluggishly walk around their shared penthouse, bags under their eyes as they scrambled for their luggage and important belongings. They moved without a care in the world, as if their schedule wasn’t packed with things to do, and she didn’t need to be a genius to realize that they had partied too hard the previous night.

“Move out of the way,” Noah muttered Johnny’s way, pushing past him with his suitcase in hand. “Deb, when’s the flight?”

“The flight isn’t the problem,” she stated, holding back a sigh as Elias came out of the bathroom with toothpaste still painting the side of his lips. “There’s a reason why you decided to fly privately,”

“Then why are we rushing?” Johnny said matter-of-factly, shaking his head sassily while he closed his own bass case.

“Because you have places to be after the flight,” the only woman in the house finally let her sigh out, pushing past the men to clean the white remnants off of Elias’ face, ignoring the smug smirk on his face. “Where’s Matthew, now?”

“Chucky!”

The room fell silent for a moment as she prayed - for anyone up there - that Matthew hadn’t fallen back asleep just when they needed to leave. His frame pushed past the threshold of his bedroom soon after his name was called, his signature drumsticks in hand as a relieved sigh left Deborah’s parted lips when their eyes met.

His phone was pressed to his ear, eyes far too awake for the early morning hour that made her wonder if he had gone to sleep the night before or just stayed up until sunset rolled around. His eyebrows were furrowed, the look she saw just so often painting wrinkles on his forehead as he stayed in silence.

“Taryn, I don’t have time for this right now. I’ll call you later,” the words were rushed, his voice dark and sporting a tip of annoyance before he pressed the red button on the screen. The phone was discarded in the back pocket of his jeans a second later, his eyes finding Deborah’s and making her realize she had been staring, pushing her back into action.

“Are we ready?” She asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. All she got as responses were a few grumbles, followed by the familiar sounds of the luggage the band carried around way too often moving through the penthouse.

The ride to the airport was spent in silence, a few moans and groans leaving the guys’ lips whenever something would be too loud or, in general, too exaggerated. Going through security was just as boring, with Deborah being able to share just a few hushed words with Jean - the band’s manager - before Elias or Noah would shut the two of them down.

“I told them not to drink too much,” Jean muttered under her breath, taking a look at the way Johnny’s eyes had closed. “God, is this what being a mother feels like?”

The older woman looked exasperated as she frantically walked around the boarding area, restraining herself from giving the tired men another lecture about partying like animals and how it affects their public image.

With her arms folded over her chest, Debby watched over the guys slightly older than her. She was still wondering why Matthew was carrying himself better than the rest of his friends, but it was the look on his face that truly left her curious.

His gaze was fixated on his phone, fingers tapping quickly as the wrinkles on his forehead stayed in their place. She was staring. Again. Frustrated with her own self, Deborah turned around to face the floor-to-ceiling windows of the airport, the early sun illuminating the world before your eyes.

She felt peaceful, mind clearing from the stress of the morning right before the flight attendants led her and the band towards the private jet. The luxury of its insides were nothing new to the personal assistant, and it was the same for the inappropriate glances the captain had been sending her way ever since she had started the job.

Noah dropped on one of the leather seats, eyes closing as he shut the world out, Johnny following his actions. Elias and Matthew settled in the seats opposite them, giving Deborah a clear view of the drummer’s features even from your position in the far back.

“We should get there on time,” Jean sighed, gracefully settling down next to the young woman just as the captain started to walk away. His eyes met Deborah’s one last time, a chill running up her spine when he sent her an unwanted wink, as he always used to.

To say she felt uncomfortable was an understatement.

With her heart beating loudly against her chest, she let her fingers play with the bottom of her shirt, eyes trained in front of herself. That man needs to take a hint, was all Deborah could think, so focused on blocking out the rest of the world she didn’t even notice Matthew’s eyes on her.

He had been glancing her way curiously ever since he’d noticed her body stiffen, right when she had walked inside the plane and greeted the conductor. Her demeanor had changed, and he wanted to know why.

He stayed in his seat, though. He watched from the distance, let his eyes trail over her features until she relaxed and hoped she wouldn’t notice. Because that’s what he’s always done: admire her from far away.

-----

“Listen, why can’t you just shut the fuck up and get in there?” Noah hissed, the heated conversation between him and Elias taking place inside the control room of the studio in New York. “You’ve argued about this track ever since I put it down- thank you, sweetheart,”

He grabbed the coffee Deborah handed him with a thankful smile, the flirty nickname not even impressing her anymore as she silently sat down on the closest couch.

“Dude, this track doesn’t represent us!” Elias said, pushing his sheet music around angrily before citing the words of the song. “Oh, why can’t I have you, sweet love of mine? Are you joking, Noah?! These lyrics are pop bullshit. New album is not gonna work if we write shit like this,”

The lead blew out a heavy sigh, fists turning into balls at his sides as his eyes closed. “Actually, you know what? I need to get some air,” was all Elias mumbled, pushing past his best friend with nothing but anger painting his features. Deborah was about to run after him to make sure everything was okay, but Noah’s hand dismissed her attempt.

“Let him go, he needs to cool off,”

The singer didn’t seem too pleased with his friend’s shenanigans, turning to face the empty booth in front of his eyes as another sigh turned his body stiff. Fights had occurred before: Deborah wasn’t new to arguments about where the group was going to eat, or even fights because of girls; but things had started to become too tense, too complicated between the four men.

“Chucky, your turn,” Noah mumbled, snapping the only woman in the room out of her trance to see Matthew walk past her, drumsticks in hand.

He was silent as he sat down in front of the drum set, pushing the pair of headphones over his nest of curls. His tattooed arms were in full display as he gave Noah a thumbs up, a cocky smile painting his lips. Matthew was the living description of a rock star, and Debby couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.

The drummer’s eyes closed as the music started playing in his ears, his drumsticks making a quick turn between his fingers before he began doing what he loved the most. Watching him play had Deborah mesmerized: the way he attentively looked in front of himself to catch Noah’s reactions, or just the movements of his hands as he gave his everything into the performance, even if his only audience were her and Noah.

Deborah was lost in his gaze, his light, stormy eyes making her heart skip a beat. The sounds coming from him came to a halt before she knew it, a satisfied smirk coating his lips as he waited for Noah’s judgment.

It was silent for a few seconds, heavy breathing coming from the singer as he revived the moment and the melody in his head. “Jesus, Matt,” he breathed into the speaker, trying to muffle the shock in his features by batting his eyelids. “You got it perfect on the first time, damn,”

Matthew’s smirk grew bigger, taking its usual cocky mark as he stood up and finally noticed the assistant. When he strutted back inside the control room to grab his belongings, he snickered at her mesmerized gaze.

“Close your mouth before you catch flies, honey,” was all he said, cocking his brow as his smug smile still sat on his lips. The remark had Deborah’s face turn into a scowl, his cocky words engraving themselves in her mind as he walked away.

She bit her lip as she turned back around to face Noah, trying to push Matthew and his cockiness out of her head, with no success. The lead, on the other hand, looked in distress: he was hunched over the console, clearly in his own head as silence engulfed the two of them in a stressful hug.

“Tell me you know how to play the guitar,” he mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes as he turned around to face Deborah. “Or at least how to book a place for us in a bar, tonight,”

“I can do the latter,” she sighed, knowing that Noah’s plans to finish the song would need to involve a night out, alcohol, and girls willing to drool all over Elias’ charm.

“And please, come out with us, Deb,” he continued. “Jean doesn’t want things to go too wild, so we might need you to keep us on track,”

She held back a sigh. Her plans for a relaxing night at the hotel had been crushed. Again. Though a night by herself looked way better than a packed club, Deborah’s job was calling, and she couldn’t refuse.

“Alright, I’ll be there,” she said, taking her phone out of her bag to start the search for the night’s location. “I’ll text you the details,”

“Drinks are on us,”

-

Debby’s ears felt like they were going to bleed soon, and the headache was making her head throb so hard she was hoping not to faint in the middle of the most popular club in New York.

The VIP area was everything she had expected it to be: leather couches that probably cost more than her apartment back in Calgary, enough drinks to make an army drunk, and the entire female population of the city. What could she say? It was Chordback worthy.

Elias’ cheeks were tinted a dark shade of red, eyes gleaming even in the darkness of the club as he held two blondes close to his body. The smirk Deborah knew so well was painting his lips - the one he reserved for flirting purposes only - as she watched him charm another set of girls in his hotel bed.

He was the second oldest in the band, but it hadn’t taken the assistant years to realize his maturity level wasn’t what every girl on the internet expected it to be. Clad in his tight, pitch-black skinny jeans and shirt - not exactly what people would expect a rock star to dress like -, he knew how to attract girls.

Noah had tried to convince him to record his guitar solo the moment their drinks were placed in front of them, but he had ended up with no success when the guitarist had left the table mid-conversation to go dance. The lead’s patience was running low, and Debby was sure his night wasn’t going to turn out as good as he had thought it would.

If that wasn’t enough, she felt stared at. Everywhere she went, a pair of eyes was following her. Debby would turn around to find scowls coloring the groupies’ faces, their orbs giving her disgusted once-overs whenever she’d go as far as to grasp Noah’s arm to avoid falling over, or even lean close enough to ask where Matthew had gone. She had never liked being the center of attention, hence why she had decided to work behind the scenes.

By the time midnight hit, though, she had had enough. The day had been tiring, the club was anything but enjoyable, and the glaring had gone from bearable to annoyingly uncomfortable. Almost stomping her way towards the couch, Debby’s arms folded over her own chest as she stood before Matthew Tkachuk’s relaxed body.

“Okay, I’m done with this bullshit,” she yelled loudly enough to be heard over the thumping bass of the music. “Do I have something on my face?”

Matthew’s smirk paired with his arched eyebrows did its job at making the younger girl feel embarrassed. In some ways, it sent her back to the days in high school, where the popular girls only needed one of their disgusted glances to make her shut herr mouth and feel embarrassed.

Deborah ignored his expression, waiting for a response as a girl sat next to him - so close she was almost straddling his lap. “No? Why would you think that?”

“Because everyone is staring at me as if I have shit smeared all over my face,”

The words snatched a chuckle out of his system, tongue wetting his lips as he gave Debby’s body a once-over. “They think you’re a new one. One of them,”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to unravel his riddle, but nothing seemed to make sense in her mind. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“They think you’re a new groupie, that you’re stealing their place,”

“I’m not a fucking groupie,” she said, confusion clear in her features as she watched him sling his arm over the girl at his side. “I’ve been your PA for two years now!”

All Matthew did was shrug, smirking as he watched the look of annoyance spread over the personal assistant’s face. She was done. She wanted to leave the busy club behind with all the nasty glares and go back to the hotel to sleep.

Skimming past sweaty bodies, she reached Noah’s side after a few minutes. She had expected him to be having fun, but his features were still sporting a bothered scowl. “Noah!”

His attention snapped towards her in a second, his eyes boring into Deborah’s as he waited for her to speak up. “I’m heading to the hotel, I can’t stand this club anymore,”

A small nod was all she got in response, her eyes falling among the crowd to see Johnny making out with a smaller brunette, his hair sticking all over the place. Glancing towards the side of the room, she found Elias sitting on the couch, enjoying the sloppy kisses being spread all over his neck by the two blondes from earlier. Matthew, on the other hand, was still sitting on the couch - this time without his companion - his light orbs focused on Noah and their assistant.

“Can you please keep an eye on the rest of the guys?” She asked Noah, looking up at him as she waited for his response. He gave you a curt nod. “And don’t stay out too late,”

She left the club soon after, strutting out of the packed room with relief. Debby still felt eyes on herself, but not the ones of the rabid fans that had hated her since the moment she had stepped inside the room. Matthew’s eyes.

They watched her walk away, ignoring the pair of manicured hands touching his arm to catch his attention. He had been the reason why everyone was looking at her, and it wasn’t hard to tell. Yet, she was oblivious.

They had thought Deborah was a groupie because of the way he looked at her, because what his eyes held whenever he’d let himself glance her way wasn’t just curiosity. It was fondness, hunger, a cocktail of emotions that he had been trying to avoid for his own sake.

But, that time, he had lost at his own game.

-

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

Jean’s voice was sharp, so shrill it sent bolts of pain through Deborah’s temples. She had watched the scene unfold in front of your eyes, starting with the unexpected awakening in the middle of the night, ending with all the band members getting lectured by their agent.

The woman in her forties looked like she was about to tug her dark hair off of her scalp, an angry look on her face as she looked at the men sitting in front of her. “Jean, calm down. It was just a fight,”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, boy!” Jean pointed her finger sharply at his face, nostrils flaring. “Just a fight, Elias?! It’s all over the internet!”

Guilt washed over Debby as she took in Noah’s beat-up face, including his cut lip and purplish left eye; Matthew, next to him, wasn’t doing any better. She was supposed to be there, to keep an eye on the guys.

Jean had woken her up in a rush an hour after coming back to the hotel, mumbling under her breath as she dragged Deborah to her personal room. Chordback was already sitting on the edge of her bed, their eyes cast on the floor as the assistant noticed their bruises and cuts.

“I hate to say this, Elias, but you’ve been causing problems for the past month,” Jean sighed, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand as her tired eyes focused on the landscape out of the hotel’s window. “First the schedule, then Noah’s song, now whatever happened at the club,”

She let another sigh slip past her lips before her voice took a gentler tone. “John, what happened?”

There was a beat before the bass player spoke, and Deborah took a moment to examine his face. He was by far the one that hadn’t been affected by the fight, at all. “I- uh… I don’t know,”

The assistant had to refrain from holding back a sigh herself, her tense body language catching Elias’ eye. “Why are we the only ones getting lectured? Deborah was supposed to stay with us,”

“This is not about Debby,” Jean stated harshly, sending him a glare. “She wasn’t getting paid to follow you at the club, and she had every right to leave when she felt like it. John, keep going,”

“I said I don’t know anything,”

“Matthew?”

The curly-haired man sighed, his head lifting upwards just then to let his eyes meet the wall briefly. “I was talking with a girl, people started yelling, and I heard Elias talking shit about Noah’s song”

Deborah’s stomach filled with an unknown feeling when he mentioned a girl, sending her head in a spiral to ask herself what the hell was she experiencing. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“And I just couldn’t take it,” Matthew stopped, his fingers ghosting over the cuts on his knuckles. “Man, that’s a heartfelt song and you went around to talk shit about it to strangers,”

Elias kept his mouth shut, jaw clenching as his friend continued talking. “Noah and Johnny also came in, but just in time to separate us,”

“Then what happened to your face, Noah?” Jean asked, concern evident in her voice.

“I- uh… I was seeing red,” Matthew mumbled, silence filling the room soon after the words left his mouth. Deborah was left to look at a desperate Jean - clearly close to having a mental breakdown - and hope things would get better by the time morning would roll in.

Her mind, though, couldn’t focus on anything but Matthew. He looked beaten up, both physically and mentally; he looked like he was holding so much on his shoulders, so much pressure she wanted to relieve him of.

“Matthew, John,” Jean sighed, looking behind his shoulders at the two men briefly. “You can go get some sleep. You too, Debby,”

She had never shuffled out of a room that quickly in her entire life, the tension being so overwhelming she needed a breath of fresh air. Johnny and Matthew were silent as they stepped out of the room, a physical and emotional distance separating them as they parted ways.

The moment was awkward, Matthew turning around just in time to see his friend shut the door of his room behind himself, a sigh leaving his lips. His eyes met Deborah’s for a quick second, a wave of shame flowing through them.

In some way, she felt like part of that shame was directed at herself too: his snarky, cocky words were still impressed in her mind, but she could see his regret. She wished her heartbeat hadn’t started picking up, but looking in his eyes, she couldn’t help it.

He was asking for forgiveness, and who was she to not give it to him? He was the only person she couldn’t stop thinking about day and night, anyway, for some reason.

“Come with me,” Deborah whispered, her voice shallower than she had thought it would be as her hand caught his. He didn’t ask questions when she opened her room’s door, he didn’t speak a word as she led him towards the en-suite bathroom, and he didn’t run away when she made him sit on the edge of the bathtub.

More silence settled between the two of them as Debby grabbed the first-aid kit the hotel supplied, wetting a cotton ball with disinfectant before letting her hand grab Matthew’s again.

There was a soft hiss when she first let the material touch his bloody skin, his jaw clenching as he closed his eyes. “I feel like a monster,”

His words made the woman’s heart clench, her stomach turning into jelly. “You’re not a monster, Matthew,”

“I hit my best friend because I couldn’t hold myself back,” he breathed out, voice unexpectedly shaky as he kept his gaze on the tile floor. “I’m a monster,”

Deborah sighed, letting her fingers grasp his chin so he could lift his head up. Their eyes met as she prepared another cotton ball, ready to clean the cut on his bottom lip as they let silence fill the room.

Cradling his head in her hands, Debby took a few minutes to wipe some dried blood off his skin. Matthew was tired, she could tell from the way his eyes were struggling to stay open, but regret was keeping him up, keeping his brain active.

She let herself gaze at him for a small moment before patting his shoulder. “Get some sleep, Matt,” she whispered. “Really,”

He nodded gingerly, following her towards her door. “Thank you, Deb,”

“Don’t worry about it,”

He took a moment to admire her, letting one of his hands gently push a strand of stray hair out of her face. Her body heated up, heart rate quickening as she watched him leave silently, a small smile on his lips.

In a trance, Deborah went back to bed, sleep not on her agenda anymore. Her mind kept repeating the moment she had had with Matthew, every single second of it, and it felt new, unexpected.

Matthew Tkachuk was making her feel things she had never felt before, and everything was so unknown to her.

That night, Deborah struggled to fall back asleep.

-----

“You’re gonna catch a cold,”

The evening air was making Deborah’s hair flow around herself, her eyes focusing on the sunset before turning around to meet Matthew’s. A small smile formed on her lips, her arms folding over her chest. “Nah, my body won’t betray me like that,”

The chuckle that left his lips was enough to push the butterflies in her stomach back to life. His body reached Debby’s side as he focused too on the setting sun disappearing behind the New York skyscrapers.

“Truly the best time of the day,” she mumbled under her breath. “Sunsets are just so beautiful,”

Matthew sent a quick glance her way. “But the night,” was all he said, voice holding a tone of fondness as he looked in front of himself. “The night is just so beautiful,”

“The night is lonely,” the assistant pointed.

“The night is peaceful,” he corrected her, the smile on his lips so tender it made her melt. “Everyone goes to sleep at night, and it gives you time to think,”

There was a beat of silence as she took in his words, heart racing as she unconsciously scooted closer to him. The question was risky. It rushed through Deborah’s lips, and her eyes almost closed in fear of rejection. “What do you think about? At night, I mean,”

“I think about good memories,” his answer was quick, no sign of discomfort on his face. “About my childhood, or people I miss,”

He glanced her way with a smile on his lips, the air from the top of the building making his curls move slightly. “And what do you think about? At night, I mean,”

“Life, I guess,”

There was a nod from his side, his eyes turning back to focus on the landscape as another round of silence filled the distance between the two of them. Deborah’s mind started to think about his words, pushing her away from reality as she tried to keep herself at bait. You weren’t his type, and what about Taryn?

The identity of Taryn was still unknown to the girl, but something was telling her she was eventually going to find out. She was so into her own world that she barely registered the soft material of Matthew’s leather jacket slipping onto her shoulders, his eyes glancing her way.

His body leaned against the railing of the terrace, slipping unbelievably closer to hers as the two of them admired each other. “God, Deborah,” he whispered, letting one of his hands graze over her cheekbone. Her heart was beating out of her chest so loudly she feared he could hear it, his palm slowly cupping her cheek as he let his eyes admire her. “I wish I could have met you earlier,”

His lips were extremely close to Debby’s, so close she barely even paid attention to what he had said. As the words registered, she opened her mouth to ask for an explanation, but the ringing of his phone interrupted the moment.

His eyelids shut in annoyance as he slipped the device out of his back pocket, answering as soon as he could. “I’ll be down in a sec,”

He was off the railing before he even ended the call, leaving Deborah on her own on the terrace of the building that hosted Chordback’s recording label. He turned around just when she called his name, voice strained by the sudden end of just what had been about to happen.

“Your jacket, Matt,” she pointed, starting to shrug it off just so she could hand it back to him. His hand rose in the air, putting her movements to a halt.

“Keep it,” he said, smiling gingerly before opening the door to head back inside the warmth of the building. “It looks better on you anyway,”

-----

“I wanna do it again,” Johnny said from the booth, looking at Noah as he strummed lightly his bass. “I fucked up the last part,”

From her spot on the smallest - and most uncomfortable - couch she had ever seen, Deborah watched Noah nod his head, pressing a few buttons on the console. The bass player’s head started bobbing when the music started filling his headphones, eyes almost closing as he started playing his melody.

Her tired eyes fell down on her phone, the brightness of its screen almost making her curse out. It was well past midnight, and Deborah’s day had been more than busy: the boys had to record a podcast episode with a famous producer, and she hadn’t even had a moment to settle down at the studio before a call from Jean pushed her up on her feet and around New York.

Her head was pounding, but she wasn’t allowed to leave the studio until the band decided to finish their session and go back to the hotel, so she sat in silence next to Matthew. He was silent too, glancing in front of himself as the faint sound of Johnny’s bass sent him in a trance.

As Debby’s eyes struggled to stay open, she stretched her back, holding back a moan when she felt just how tense her muscles were. Her movements snapped Matt out of his daydreaming, his orbs finding hers in the dimly lit studio as she settled back into her initial place.

“You okay?” He asked, voice uncharacteristically soft as he kept his gaze trained on the assistant.

“Just tired,” was all she said, pushing out a sigh as she folded her arms over her chest. Who turned on the AC, for fuck’s sake?

“Johnny prefers working in the cold,” Matthew murmured, almost reading her thoughts. “You want me to turn off the AC?”

Deborah shook her head, trying to hide a veil of shock at his unexpected words, kindness spilling out of them like a fountain. “No, no. It’s fine, don’t worry,”

Though she had been trying as hard as she could to keep herself awake, her body found itself scooting closer to Matthew’s, his warmth making her eyelids finally close. Debby’s head dropped to his shoulder, finally letting her relax for the first time of the day. A content sigh left her lips.

Matthew’s heart was beating out of his chest, emotions he had felt just once making him shiver. One of his arms wrapped itself around the girl’s waist, holding her close and hoping the moment would never end.

She was so close, so soft in his hold he never wanted to let go.

So he closed his eyes, putting his world to a stop just so he could hold her for a little more, just so he could imagine what it would feel like to be hers.

He was woken up after what felt like hours, Noah’s smirk being the first thing he saw after the midnight nap. Deborah’s head was on his chest, eyes closed and a relaxed smile painting her lips as she peacefully slept.

“And then I’m the obvious one,” Noah joked, referring to all the chirps he had gotten for always looking smitten, when he liked someone. “Should I be waiting for a love song from you?”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Matthew hissed, a smile forming on his lips even after the chirps. “What time is it?”

“One a.m.”

“Damn,” Matthew sighed, rubbing his eyes before looking down at Debby again. “I’ll wake her up. Just wait outside for us,”

“Don’t fuck on the couch,” Noah joked, making Matthew roll his eyes. The lead shut the door behind him and Johnny, leaving Deborah and the man able to make her heart skip a beat on their own.

Matt took a moment to admire her peaceful state, one of his calloused hands cupping her cheek before pushing a strand of hair out of her face. The movements had Deborah stirring, her eyes slowly opening just to see - and feel - Matthew close to her.

With her cheeks burning, she pushed herself off of him, an awkward chuckle leaving her parted lips. “I’m, uh- I’m sorry,” Debby stuttered, running a hand through her hair. “How long was I out for?”

“An hour, maybe?”

She looked down at her phone to check the time, nodding her head when she saw the digits at the top of the screen. “Everyone is done?”

“They’re waiting outside,” he said, voice tender as he watched her rise to her feet. With a nod, Deborah grabbed her purse and let her eyes meet with his. She didn’t know what to say, so the two of them were left in silence before she muttered something and left the room in a rush, heart beating quickly against her rib cage.

By the time Debby reached the rest of the group outside - Elias still missing in action -, she was faced with grins. Nobody talked, though, and by the time she shut the hotel door behind herself, she was a nervous mess.

What the fuck had just happened?

-----

The last morning in New York was sunny. Deborah’s sunglasses barely could do their job as she sat between the band on the outside of the overpriced café they loved. The slight breeze was bringing the first few hints of summer in the busy air of the city, and the woman enjoyed her last moment in the Big Apple by taking a sip of the warm drink sitting in front of her.

It was the first time Chordback actually sat down together after the fight between Noah and Elias, and it felt refreshing. Johnny and Matthew - who was sitting beside her - were talking, just like the old times, and Elias was taking a moment to admire the city. Noah, on the other hand, wasn’t paying much attention to his background: his eyes were focused on his phone, a smile that Debby could only refer to as smitten painting his lips.

“So, what are the plans for the day, hun?” Elias caught the assistant’s attention, the pet name making her chuckle.

“Hun? Oh my God,” she giggled, pushing the conversation behind herself before opening her mouth again. “We gotta catch the flight back to Calgary and then you’re free,”

A whistle came from Johnny, happy chuckles filling their surroundings. “A day off? Wow,”

“No partying, though,” Deborah warned, pointing a finger Elias’ way, who shrugged innocently. The moment was short-lived, being interrupted by a younger fan asking for a picture. The guys all put on a smile, rising to their feet and getting in position. Noah took more time than necessary to put down his phone, but eventually joined his friends and greeted the girl, who looked like she was about to faint.

By the time the photo was taken, the girl was running off to her family holding back happy tears. The band members sat back in their places to finish their breakfast, silence thickening at the table.

Deborah’s eyes met Matthew’s, remembering what had happened during the band’s last studio session, her cheeks heating up. There hadn’t been any moments where the two of them could discuss not only the cuddling, but also the time when she had helped him clean his wounds up after the fight at the club, and Debby was feeling torn.

She didn’t know why, but in some way she didn’t want to discuss the events. She thought it was ridiculous that she couldn’t figure out what she was feeling, what Matthew was doing to her. Debby couldn’t figure out her own feelings, and figuring his out was more difficult than she had expected.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the devil himself, pushing her back to reality with his voice. “Hanifin, what the hell are you doing with that phone?” Matt teased, his signature smirk painting his lips.

“I, uh-” the lead stuttered, finally putting his device on top of the table as he looked up at the assistant and his friends. “I was just sending a text,”

“Just one?” Johnny chirped, chuckling when Noah’s cheeks turned a dark shade of red. “I think he’s hiding something from us, guys,”

“I sent the demo of ‘As Long As I’m With You’ to the person it’s written about,”

There was a beat of silence as Elias, Matthew, and Johnny all took in their lead’s words. “‘As Long As I’m With You’ as in the song we fought over?” Elias asked, voice filled with surprise as he waited for a response. Noah just nodded, biting back a smile as his eyes met with Matthew’s.

“Chucky knew,” he mumbled. “That’s why he punched you in the face when you talked shit about it,”

“Oh! That’s what he meant with ‘heartfelt’,” Elias laughed, shaking his head before breathing out a guilty sigh. “I’m sorry, man. Should have just kept my mouth shut,”

“I told you, it’s fine,” Noah said, his eyes glancing down towards his phone when the screen lit up, the guys finally finishing their breakfast.

“What’s her name, man?”

“Aleena,” just the mention of her name made the lead smile. “She’s back in Calgary,”

“And you didn’t tell us?!” Matt exclaimed, dramatically holding a hand to his chest. “This one hurts, man,”

“Did she like it?” Elias asked.

“The demo? She loved it,” Noah chuckled, cheeks turning uncharacteristically red. He gulped down his coffee, eyes glancing Deborah’s way as he stood up. “Ready to go?”

And by the time they reached the airport, the band was back as if the fights, bickering, and internal annoyance hadn’t happened. She had always been surprised at how strong their bond actually was that she found herself hurting when the thoughts of them possibly separating even crossed her mind.

The wait at the gate was not as long as the one from weeks prior, the private plane already waiting for everyone by the time they had gone through security. Deborah had to repress a groan when she realized the pilot was going to greet her, just like every time.

His dark eyes were on her before she could even walk inside the aircraft, the edges of his mouth turning upwards into a creepy smirk as he shook Johnny’s hand. It felt like a routine: Debby would greet the two kind flight assistants, share a knowing look with them before sticking her hand out to shake the pilot’s. The wink he sent her way wasn’t new, and neither was his hand squeezing her waist before he walked back to his seat.

Her eyes portrayed the usual emptiness they always did after entering the plane, and Matthew was quick to notice. That time, though, he knew why she turned the world off as soon as they’d board. He had been guessing Deborah was afraid of heights, or that flying made her sick, but he would have never guessed it was because of the pilot.

He elbowed Noah without even thinking, his eyes still glancing the assistant’s way as his best friend hissed. “What the fuck, Chucky?!”

“We need to talk,”

Noah sent Matthew a confused glare, eyebrows scrunched together as he followed the drummer’s gaze. He looked at Deborah, then back at his bandmate with a look of confusion still coloring his face. “Well, talk, then,”

“Later,” Matthew mumbled. “We’ll talk when we land, this needs to stay private,”

Noah nodded his head, trying to ignore his friend’s weird manners before pushing his earbuds back in. Matthew, on the other hand, stared at the girl a few seats away. Anger made his skin boil as he thought about the man that had harassed her. If the fucker hadn’t been driving the plane she was on, he would have already been dead.

The newfound protectiveness sent a thrill of shock through his spine, but he ignored it. Deborah didn’t deserve it, and the man was going to regret every single glance he had sent her way. You don’t mess with a Tkachuk, Matthew thought. The man was going to pay.

-----

The city of Calgary held something Deborah couldn’t quite place. In her eyes, it looked like home.

Home, though, was back in Arizona - the complete opposite of what Calgary is. With the hot sun burning your shoulders almost the entire year and the endless summers, Arizona was the place Debby went back to just for her family. She had always preferred the cold, after all.

Thanksgiving was around the corner, the Canadian air was starting to thicken with the winter cold, and home was calling. And she was single, again. It wasn’t because of her parents - they truly knew she was one to put work before anything else -, but rather the rest of her family.

Deborah had grown up knowing that her father’s side of the family was ruthless when it came to getting back home alone, and it had been bothering her ever since she had first moved out. The snarky remarks coming from her aunt and her husband had always been following Deborah around the walls of her childhood home and, no matter how hard she tried to push them away, she just couldn’t.

And, God. She hated it so much.

In some way, it made the woman want to spend the holiday on her own, away from the prying eyes of her relatives and away from the stress they caused. But she loved her family too much, and leaving them behind wasn’t an option.

When Deborah walked inside the band’s penthouse, she was met with unexpected silence. The entry hall was tidy, the guys’ respective coats hanging one next to the other; the kitchen was clean, plates and cups stored in their designated cupboard; the living room, on the other hand, wasn’t empty.

Matthew was sitting on one of the two couches, a notepad in his hands as he looked out of the window. His eyes were glancing at the gray clouds painting the sky, covering the first few rays of sunlight of the morning.

“Good morning,”

Her voice seemed to shake him out of his trance, body snapping around to meet her eyes as she slowly pushed her coat down her shoulders. “‘Morning, D,”

“Where are the guys?”

“Still sleeping,” Matthew mumbled, watching Debby’s every move as she let her purse sit on one of the kitchen stools. She made her way towards the couch, sitting down next to him as she tried to ignore the tension rising between the two of them, just like it always did.

The trip to New York had seemed to make a big difference in what their friendship - if you could even call it that - was, even if anything barely happened. Seeing him play, falling asleep on his shoulder, taking care of him after the fight - in some way, it all made a difference, and Debby was sure Matthew could tell, too.

That night she had fallen asleep in the car and he carried her to her hotel room? The tea he had brought her that one morning when she was feeling sick? And the talk. The sunset talk.

He didn’t seem to notice the way her heart beat for him and him only, he was so oblivious it made Deborah frustrated.

“How are you doing?” He asked, the soft thud of his notepad hitting the floor making the assistant bat her eyelashes and bringing her back to reality.

“I’m okay,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair as her eyes focused on him. “Just thinking about Thanksgiving,”

He chuckled. “You going back home?”

“I mean, I probably should head back to Arizona,” she sighed, shaking her head before opening her mouth again. “I’m just not ready to have the ‘oh, why can’t a pretty girl like you find a good man to marry?’ talk again,”

“Oh, God,” the man in front of her chuckled. “Been there,”

“What about you? Are you going home?”

There was a beat before his voice darkened, eyes glazing with something Deborah couldn’t quite place as his hand toyed with the hem of his shirt. “No,”

He let his answer linger in the air, the penthouse turning silent again as he stared ahead of himself. From Debby’s spot next to him, it seemed like he was in his thoughts, his lips pushed in a straight line as he let the emptiness of the house hit the two of them.

Another beat. “My family and I are not too close,”

“Oh,” she murmured, eyebrows furrowing as she let her eyes focus on something else other than his face. He looked saddened, in some kind of way, but mainly pissed. “So, uh- spending it with anyone special?”

“Oh no,” his tense jaw slowly turned back to normal as he repressed a chuckle. “I’m single,”

Then who the hell was Taryn?

He seemed to catch on to Deborah’s confused gaze, an eyebrow cocking as he looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” her cheeks heated up, embarrassment making her heartbeat quicken as shee looked at her fingers. The look on his face spurred the woman on, her voice becoming shallow as she spoke. “I just- I heard you talking to a girl named Taryn, so I just kind of assumed-”

His laughter interrupted her, waking up the mass of butterflies in her stomach just when his head lulled back against the couch’s headrest. “Oh my God,” he laughed, holding his stomach before looking back at her. “Taryn is my sister,”

“Oh,”

Deborah erupted in a fit of laughter too, shaking her head before letting it lean against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I don’t even know why I thought that,”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “Some groupies went as far as to call her to tell her to leave me alone,”

The confession made her eyebrows scrunch. Girls did that to him?

Silence settled back between the two of them as Debby’s eyes focused on the city starting to wake up outside the window. The thought that crossed her mind felt wrong from the moment she even tried to phrase it. But there’s nothing worse than spending Thanksgiving on your own, was all her heart could say.

She glanced quickly at Matthew, who was scribbling something on his notepad. The light redness painting his cheeks had her heart clenching with longing, her hands tingling, begging to run through his messy curls. He was truly breathtaking, Deborah couldn’t get enough of him.

“Come to Arizona with me,” the words were rushed, unexpected. They had her surprised when they left her own mouth, and Matthew’s shock was evident as he turned his head around to glance her way.

“I-”

“Spending Thanksgiving on your own fucking sucks,” Debby pointed out. “And I won’t let you experience that on my watch,”

He laughed, shaking his head before letting their eyes meet. “I don’t want to intrude,”

“You would never intrude,” the woman said, voice gentle as she restrained herself from cradling his cheek. “And my mom has been begging to meet you guys ever since I started working for you,”

That confession made a laugh ripple out of his lips, the sound making her body feel alive. “So? Yes or no?”

There was a moment where he let his gaze meet Debby’s, his fondness hugging her warmly as she momentarily forgot how to speak.

“Only if the tickets are on me,”

She frowned jokingly, biting her lip to hide a smile before speaking. “We’re set,”

-----

“Oh my God, I missed you so much,” Deborah’s mother wept as she left her arms around her daughter’s frame, the crispy wind of Thanksgiving Eve making the afternoon air unexpectedly chilly. “I told you, you should come home more often,”

Debby chuckled at her comment, pushing herself away from her mother to introduce Matthew - her boss and her date. She was fucked. “Mom, this is Matthew. He’s the drummer of the band I work for,”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller. Thank you for having me,”

From the smile on her mother’s lips, Deborah knew she was sold. The older woman had never been one for tattoos, but Debby had caught her admiring Matthew’s full sleeves from the moment he had crossed her vision; he had helped his date carry her luggage, and she was sure her mom had also noticed that, hence why she was smiling at him as if he had just proposed to her only daughter.

“Come in already, guys. Grandma has just arrived, too,” she mumbled, waving a hand in the air as a signal for the two to get inside.

“Grandma?”

The sight of her sitting on the couch, eyes focused on knitting made Deborah almost tear up. Grandma was home. Her voice shook the elder out of her trance, her body slowly rising to its feet to embrace Deborah in a longing hug. “Oh, Peaches,” the nickname still held all the memories from her childhood, and her arms circling the assistant made her feel at peace. “I missed you,”

“I missed you, too, grandma,” Debby sniffled, pulling away to introduce Matt to her, too. Her grandmother’s eyes were curious as they scanned him, probably blocking out her granddaughter’s introduction to focus on him instead.

“Where are you from, son?” Her phrase - especially the name she gave Matthew, who was almost twice her height - had the youngest woman in the household repressing a giggle. Matthew, on the other hand, grew quite nervous.

“I was uh- born in Arizona, but grew up in St. Louis,”

The grandmother gave a curt nod, sitting back down on the couch and motioning for Debby to sit down next to her. Her mother joined the room with quick steps, her hand finding Matthew’s shoulder to push his eyes off of the woman that stole his breath away every passing day.

“Deb, I figured Matthew could stay in the basement? Would it be okay?”

The man in question nodded, a smile forming on his lips as he thanked Debby’s mother. He was led towards the stairs before she knew it, a reassuring smile being sent her way before she was left on her own with her grandma.

“He seems nice,” the older woman mumbled, eyes still focused on the hat she was making. “You said he plays the drums?”

“Yes, he’s great,”

There was a beat of silence before she looked up at her granddaughter, eyebrows wiggling jokingly. “You together?”

Deborah’s cheeks heated up, her head shaking quickly soon after as her eyes focused on her lap. There wasn’t a response from her grandmother, who silently went back to her previous tasks and letting her think.

What the hell were the two of them even doing?! Matthew was practically her boss, if something went wrong, she’d probably get fired, for God’s sake. Deborah’s life was literally walking on a thread: one wrong decision and she would be done.

No more working for Chordback, no more traveling with the band. No more Matt.

And she couldn’t let that happen. Her heart was beating for the drummer, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Whatever was going to happen during the holidays, she was hoping it wasn’t going to end everything between her and Matt before it even started. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

She felt like her happy ending might have been closer than she had thought.

-

The morning after Matthew and Deborah’s arrival was busier than the latter had expected. The loud noises coming from the kitchen woke her up from her deep, peaceful slumber, and by the time she made it downstairs, the house was in full swing.

Her mother and grandma were zooming around the family home, rushing around with pots and pans, not a care in the world when it came to waking up the rest of the household. Her father, on the other hand, was sitting at the kitchen island, a comical look of exasperation painting wrinkles on his face.

The stairs leading towards the basement weren’t empty either: a quite shocked - and still sleepy - Matt stood right on the last step, watching the net of nerves Deborah’s family had created unfold in front of his eyes.

“Well, good-fucking-morning,” the woman giggled, turning around just in time to catch him chuckle, his body clad in an old band tee and a pair of plaid pants she had never seen him wear. His arm lifted itself up in the air, hand signaling her to come closer before he could wrap the limb around her body, his relaxing scent filling her nostrils.

“Good morning,” he hummed, voice still hoarse after the multiple hours of sleep. “Looks pretty chaotic in here,”

“And you haven’t seen Christmas,” Debby giggled, the sound of his laughter making her heart skip a beat. “Dad’s having breakfast, I’m sure he won’t mind if we join,”

The curls on top of Matthew’s head bobbed along with his nod as he followed her towards the main source of sound - and chaos - in the household. Deborah translated her father’s grumble into what she could only guess was a ‘good morning’, and took it upon herself to make coffee for her and Matt.

Debby longingly watched him talk to her father as she waited for the warm beverage to get ready, realizing that with each day passing, she was falling for him even more. It was a shock to her, if she had to be honest. She was falling deeply in love with someone she hadn’t even shared a kiss with, but God, she was more than smitten.

The beeping of the coffee machine shocked her out of your lovesick trance, Deborah’s eyelashes batting a few times before she grabbed their mugs and headed towards the island.

“Yeah, the Oilers are definitely having a good season,” Matthew agreed to whatever her father had said. “Leafs have been doing pretty well too,”

“You’re right, son,”

“What are you talking about?” Debby asked, a smile on her lips as she sat next to Matthew.

“Hockey,” her father said, tipping his head back to finish his dark coffee. “Matthew told me his brother plays for the Senators,”

The girl’s eyes widened, searching for Matthew’s face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, eyes not moving from his coffee until he changed the conversation, leaving her utterly in the dark about his family situation. Deborah thought it was funny that just a few minutes prior, she was thinking she was falling in love with the man sitting beside her, when in reality she knew just a few things about his life. “So, uh- should I wear anything specific today?”

“Just something slightly elegant, mom doesn’t care too much,” she said, smiling when he nodded his head.

“Should I wear a tie?”

“Oh, God,”

“Hey, I brought one with me just in case!” He said, a hint of joking in his tone as he sipped on his coffee. “Ties are cool,”

“I’ve never seen you wear one in your life, Matt,” Deborah giggled. “And I’ve been working with you for two years,”

“Maybe I wear them in my free time, how could you know that?”

She laughed, shaking her head as the world came to a halt around them. It was just her and Matthew, joking in the kitchen at half-past-eight in the morning, voices still hoarse as they sipped on their coffee. Debby’s brain could only think that, maybe, she could get used to it.

By the time dinner rolled around, she felt nervous. She watched herself twirl one last time in front of her mirror, the flowered dress she was wearing moving with her as she breathed out a sigh.

Another Thanksgiving. Debby was secretly hoping it would be better than all the other holidays, and something in her was telling her it was going to be the best Thanksgiving of her life. Because Matthew came along.

Closing her childhood bedroom door behind herself, Deborah heard the familiar voices of her relatives coming from the first floor, her aunt’s shrill tone standing taller than the rest.

“And who’s the new addition to the family?”

Debby’s eyes widened, a muttered curse leaving her lips as she sprinted down the stairs, all the attention being lifted onto her when she almost fell face first in the middle of the living room.

“Debs! Happy Thanksgiving!”

The greetings were all quickly sent her way, followed by hugs and small talk as she greeted the new guests. Deborah’s aunt, though, didn’t take long before going back to Matthew, a mischievous look on her face as she gave him a once-over.

“Back to you, darling. New addition to the family? We haven’t met yet,”

“I’m Matthew,” Debby’s - well... - date said, a charming smile that would be able to make millions of girls swoon painting his lips. Your aunt’s hand moved in the air, spurring his presentation on in an embarrassing way. “I’m uh- I’m Deborah’s boyfriend,”

The silence that filled the room only highlighted the assistant’s shock even more. Matthew Tkachuk literally had told her entire family he was her boyfriend. What the actual fuck.

“Oh my God! And you weren’t gonna tell me, Debs?!”

Her aunt pulled her in a bone crushing hug, hopefully not noticing the panic evident on her features. “Finally! I thought you were going to stay single forever!”

Deborah pushed out a fake giggle, looking up at Matthew with confusion in her eyes. What she got in return was a wink, the smile on her fake-boyfriend’s lips spurring her to keep the act going.

“Dinner is served, everyone!”

Debby had to refrain herself from pushing out a sigh of relief, her hand lacing with Matthew’s as she tapped her mother’s shoulder. “I gotta talk to Matt, we will be back in a second, I swear,”

Without waiting for a response, Deborah pushed past the people surrounding them before reaching the closest bathroom, locking the door behind the two of them. “Matthew, what the hell are we doing?”

The chuckle that left his lips made her eyebrows furrow, arms wrapping over her chest. “This is no joke! Now my entire family thinks we’re together!”

“Let’s just act like we are, then,” he pointed, shoulders shrugging as he let his fingertips play with the edge of her dress. “You look beautiful, by the way,”

Ignoring the way her cheeks heated up and her heart started racing, Debby pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “God, why did you do that?”

“You said you didn’t wanna face the usual nosy questions, I helped with that,” Matthew smirked, his hands inching higher until they ended up holding her waist. “All we need to do is act as if we’re in love, and that’s not hard,”

Normally, Deborah wouldn’t have paid much attention to his last remark, seeing how easy it had been for Noah to fake a relationship for PR once, but his tone held something. She couldn’t quite place it, but it made it sound like the words had a deeper meaning. On the other hand, he was right: acting like she was in love with him would be easier than expected, because she looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky, and she couldn’t deny it.

Deborah smiled at the genius in front of her, though, taking one last look at his glacial eyes before letting their hands slip together.

“I knew you were trouble, Matthew Tkachuk,” but God, she loved him for it.

-

Dinner went better than expected, and for the first time in years, Thanksgiving brought a smile to Deborah’s lips. Was it because Matthew was by her side? She didn’t know. What she did know, though, was how good his arms around her felt, how addicting his lips on her cheek and temple were.

By the time her relatives left her house, Deborah was still buzzing. She had drunk a glass of wine, but she wasn’t buzzed on alcohol. She was buzzed on Matthew’s attention.

The two of them stood by her parents as they waved her aunt’s white car goodbye, his strong arm wrapped around her waist as he smiled oh so tenderly.

“Dad and I are heading to sleep,” Deborah’s mother mumbled. “We can take care of the dishes tomorrow morning,”

“Alright,” was all the daughter said. “I’ll be upstairs in a few,”

Matthew wished her mother goodnight, tugging Debby along inside the household as soon as the older woman reached the top of the stairs. His eyes filled with their familiar glimmer Debby knew too well, a smile forming on her lips as he twirled her in his arms. “We should get into acting,”

“Totally,” she giggled, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck as their eyes stayed in contact. “We slayed it,”

“I knew we would,” he admitted, head so close to hers his breath fanned over her nose. “Loving you is easier than I had expected, Deborah,”

The words were unexpected, but they engraved themselves in the woman’s mind as soon as her brain recepted them. The butterflies in her stomach were making every single muscle in her body tingle, and when one of Matthew’s hands cupped her cheek, Deborah feared her legs would give up on her.

His scent invaded her senses the second he came closer, his lips ghosting over hers as the newfound moment became sweet, tender. “Can I kiss you?”

The sudden ring of his phone snatched them out of their trance, Deborah’s lungs inhaling sharply after what felt like hours. The two of them separated, her cheeks feeling warmer than normal as she watched him look at the screen with what she could only call annoyance.

The device was vibrating in his hand, but he looked like he was contemplating on whether picking up the call or not. The screen read ‘Dad’, and the grimace on his face was what made Debby’s heart clench.

“You should take it,” the words left her mouth before she could even stop them.

“I probably should,” was all he mumbled, sending her a quick look before letting his eyes focus back on the device. Just as he swiped right, Debby pushed herself to the tip of her toes, pressing a swift, lingering kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Matthew,”

As she made her way up the stairs and towards her room, Deborah let her cold fingertips graze the spot where his hand had rested, right on her cheek. She felt like a teenager in love again, a frustrated one, though.

Though they had almost had their first kiss together twice, something had always been in the way. First Noah, then Matthew’s father. Why was everyone keeping her from kissing him?

She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him again and let their lips meet, but the universe had been thinking otherwise for what felt like ages. As Debby sat on her bed - still too happy to give up on all the newfound emotions -, she wondered what his lips would taste like, what it would feel like to be his.

After another moment of thinking, she forgot about everyone and everything and rushed down the stairs. The first floor was empty, but the lights in the basement were still casting shade over the stairs, inviting her to step closer.

As she rushed down that smaller flight of stairs too, Debby wondered if it was the right time to do it. To finally live her life a little. She swung the door open, Matthew’s light eyes rushing up from his dark phone screen to her face, a look of shock evident in them.

He sprung to his feet and caught her right before she could fall in his arms. She took a second to wrap her arms around his neck, letting their lips meet in the sweetest kiss she’d ever experienced.

His lips felt softer than clouds, so gentle against hers she thought she could faint; his arms - tight around her waist - were keeping Deborah close to his body, their warmth familiar. Everything about the moment was perfect, from the way their bodies fit together, to the way she started to struggle for breath.

They parted ways just when they couldn’t take it anymore, their foreheads meeting tenderly as they caught their breaths. “Wow,” the breathed exclamation made Debby giggle, Matthew’s plush lips painting with a smile as he admired her. “That was-”

“That was fucking awesome,” she finished his line, giggling at how childish she sounded. With a shake of her head, she let herself untangle from him, her body missing his warmth. “I uh- I probably should go to sleep,”

Deborah’s gaze was stuck on her feet, rising to meet his eyes just when his thumb and pointer finger lifted up her chin. There was a second before he leaned down to give the woman one last sweet kiss, his lips tenderly moving against hers before parting again.

“Good night, Debby,”

-

Deborah wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself as she leaned on the railing of the balcony overlooking her garden, watching the sunset longingly. The silence surrounding her was peaceful, and she felt relaxed, happy to be free for one last day.

“You’re gonna catch a cold, again,”

Debby turned around to face Matthew with a smile on her lips, jokingly rolling her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her. “I’m pretty sure colds don’t work like that,”

He chuckled, turning around to face the setting sun too. A feeling of déjà vu sent shivers down the woman’s spine, even if she knew that it wasn’t just a sensation: her and Matthew had experienced the sunset together before, it wasn’t just a feeling.

“Thank you for letting me come along,” he mumbled, a hand soothingly playing with her hair as he looked at the sky. “Your family is great,”

His words held a small hint of sadness, so subtle yet present enough to let Debby catch onto it. A part of her wanted to know what caused this sadness every time someone’s family was mentioned, the other wanted to let him take his time, talk about it whenever he was ready.

She had never been too patient in her entire life: as a kid, she’d stay awake during Christmas Eve’s night just to wake up as soon as the sun rose to open presents; as a teenager, she felt frustrated whenever she’d have to wait months to see her favorite artists in concerts. It was something she had always hated, but was never able to control.

For Matthew, though, Deborah was willing to wait.

“You know, I haven’t really had a Thanksgiving like this ever since I was sixteen,” he admitted, voice taking a gravelly tone as he avoided her eyes. “Ever since uh- the band grew famous, I guess,”

Debby watched his features take a bitter tone as he kept his gaze focused on the orange landscape. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t feel like it, Matt,”

“Someone needs to know,” he sighed, shrugging gingerly before glancing her way. “The guys know I’m not close with my family, but they don’t know why. I trust you, and I want you to know,”

Panic set Deborah’s body on fire as she realized she was the first person to know about his family situation. He trusted her.

“My dad played hockey professionally for almost twenty years, it was in my blood to follow after his footsteps,” he started, interrupting her inner panicked conversation. “I was on skates before I could even walk, had a stick in my hand before I learned how to write, skated behind a puck before I even made friends. He thought it was in my blood.

“But, fuck, when I first saw a drum set at the age of five and heard my first rock song a few days later, I couldn’t care less about hockey and what my dad wanted. I started playing at a friend’s house: his sister owned a drum kit and let me use it twice a week, and music made me happy in a way hockey couldn’t,” Matthew admitted. “I played behind everyone’s backs just so they wouldn’t get disappointed in me. I’d go to hockey practice and work my ass off to make my father happy, then I’d get on my bike and ride to my friend’s neighborhood to play the drums.

“I took music during High School, and my teacher saw me play. He wanted me to join the school’s band, but I needed my parents’ signatures for that, and I didn’t want them to know. Eventually, he accidentally told them I should have pursued my dreams and that night was a fucking mess,” he sighed. “My mom, she- she didn’t mind, she was proud of me. She was happy I was doing what I really wanted to do, even if it was behind their backs. My dad, on the other hand, was pissed that his firstborn son wasn’t following his father’s footsteps. He had never been one for music,”

Debby let one of her hands slip into his, squeezing his palm gently to send him a non-verbal message of comfort. He was safe to speak, with her. “You know, I was his pride and joy growing up. He saw me playing ever since I was a child, and when he lost all hope in me when he learned about me playing the drums, it hurt. He loves my brother and sister because they do what he did, my brother even plays professionally like his old man. I was the disappointment of the family, in his eyes.

“I barely even remember how Chordback got together, but we got famous quickly, and I moved out as soon as possible. I wanted to enjoy my life without being under his disappointed glares, you know?” He sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Now I barely go home, and my mom hates it,”

There was a moment of silence as Deborah took in his story, shock filling her body as she breathed out shakily. “Matthew, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be,” he chuckled, shrugging as he let his eyes meet hers. “Mine isn’t a sob story,”

“So, he called?” She asked, remembering Matthew’s father had called a few nights prior.

“He wished me a happy Thanksgiving. Mumbled the usual bullshit about the fact that they miss me, that I should go home to at least see my mother,” he sighed. “Same stuff Taryn said over the phone a few months ago,”

Debby bit her lip, watching his tense body as he ran a hand through his hair. She didn’t know what to say. She had never expected him to have a story like that: he always looked fine, not a worry in his eyes as he went along with the flow. Yet, so much was hidden behind the barrier that kept the world away from his fragile heart.

Debby did the only thing that seemed to make sense in her mind, which was wrap him in a hug. He didn’t reciprocate the embrace for a second, but when his arms wrapped around her waist and his head dropped to the crook of her neck, she knew he needed it.

He needed someone to stabilize him for a second, to silently tell him everything was going to be alright, even if he felt like life was not okay.

She held him until he let go of her, because she remembered her grandma’s words: you never know how much someone needs a hug, so don’t let go until they do.

And by the time the two of them went back to watch the sunset, the future looked clearer.

-----

Life went back in full swing the moment Debby set foot in Calgary, Matthew by her side. Her phone rang with a call from Jean when the two of them went to pick up their bags at the airport, and the overwhelming nerves that came with working in the music industry made their way back in her system.

Days went by before she knew it, her head living in a limbo where all that mattered was her job. And Matthew.

Thanksgiving night couldn’t leave Debby’s head, and she didn’t want it to. She found herself thinking about it at night, alone in her cold bed as she begged for some rest, but her mind always thought otherwise.

Seeing Matt at work wasn’t easy either: her hands tingled, wanting to touch him; her lips begged to be kissed again, and she couldn’t just take it anymore. Staying away from him was what she was bound to do with her job, but all she wanted was to be his.

But it almost seemed like he didn’t reciprocate the feeling. There was distance, a lack of communication that was needed between the two of them. How could she figure out what the two of them were, if he didn’t talk to her? That was what Debby kept asking herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar hand on her shoulder, Noah’s eyes the first thing Deborah saw after daydreaming. “We’re boarding,”

“Alright,” she nodded her head, inhaling sharply before rolling her suitcase behind herself. The band was headed to New York again, and her and Jean were coming along for the ride, as per usual.

Growing up, traveling was something Debby had always wished to do, especially when she had reached her teen years. Taking the opportunity to become Chordback’s PA meant that she would have been traveling non-stop, and she had been ecstatic when she landed the job.

Looking back at it, Deborah’s happiness was still there, and saying she loved her job was an understatement. Did she wish for a break every once in a while - even from traveling? Yes, but the music industry never went to sleep.

Debby followed the band towards the plane, her eyes focusing on the sunny sky until the back of a familiar hand ghosted over hers. She looked up to see Matthew’s side profile, a trail of warmth filling her chest when his skin brushed hers, the sleeves of their coats hiding the motions from everyone else surrounding them.

Shivers rushed down her spine as the cold wind pushed her hair out of her face and, eventually, Matthew left her side, her high hopes of seeing any kind of emotion from him slowly lowering. Debby walked up the few small stairs that led inside the jet, shock stopping her right on the last step.

The woman that was greeting the team was smiling widely, her brunette hair pulled into a tight bun as she sported the sharpest uniform Debby had ever seen. She looked beautiful, confidence spilling out of her body as she shook the personal assistant’s hand.

“I’ll be your new pilot,”

A smile broke out on Deborah’s face, so wide she was scared it might get stuck there. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,”

By the time she reached her spot next to Jean, she felt quite confused, though. Why had the pilot been fired? Debby was sure nobody had caught onto the way he had been acting with her and how uncomfortable he had her feeling, so why was he gone?

Jean seemed to read her mind. “Matthew fired the old pilot right before Thanksgiving,” she whispered as she touched up her signature red lipstick. “He said the guy was a perv to the flight assistants,”

Deborah nodded her head along, eyes meeting with Matthew’s. She knew he had been listening to her conversation with Jean all along by the smug look on his face. “Yeah Jean, I also beat him up. Just thought you should know,”

The lipstick in her hand almost fell to the floor, a smudge of red painting the corner of her mouth as her eyes widened. “You what?!”

“I gave him his last paycheck to make him keep his mouth shut, don’t worry,”

“Matthew, that’s even worse!” She screeched, hands shaking as she searched through her purse to find her phone. “Oh my God-”

“The guy deserved it, Jean,” Matthew continued, voice becoming serious. “He was harassing the assistants and- and Deborah,”

The attention inside the plane shifted towards the woman in question, her heart beating out of her chest as an infinite amount of questions rushed through her mind. How did he notice? Had it been that obvious?

“Debby, is it true?” Jean said in a whisper, shock evident in her voice as her eyes stayed on the assistant’s features.

“I-I mean,” she stuttered, shrugging slightly. “It wasn’t anything too big, but it sure was creepy,”

“You could have told me sooner,” the manager said, her warm hand resting on Deborah’s forearm in a reassuring manner. “I would have tried to fire him as soon as possible,”

Debby gave her another shrug before shutting up, not wanting to discuss the matter any further. She felt embarrassed enough to let a man do that to her and not react, but when Matthew - the man she had more than a crush on - found out about the entire situation? She had never been more embarrassed.

She popped her earbuds in and watched the land fly past her from her window, hoping that everyone would forget about the matter by the time they landed. It wasn’t the case, though.

It was almost night by the time the band arrived in New York, to say Debby was more than tired to reciprocate the kind smiles coming from the hotel clerks was an understatement. Her room card was handed to her after just a few minutes, and the thought of crashing on a bed almost had her yawning.

Matthew walked past her, sending a small smile her way before the doors of his elevator closed. She had been successful at blocking any thought regarding the flight, but the questions still kept her curious, even in her tired state.

Deborah headed towards her room, catching one last glimpse of the drummer disappearing behind her neighboring door. She blew out a sigh, getting inside her room and letting her suitcase fall to the floor, ready to slip into comfortable clothing and get in bed.

With the covers up to her chin, though, her eyes just couldn’t close. Debby found herself staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city still awake at the ungodly hour, just like her.

As pathetic as it sounded, she wanted nothing more than to know how Matthew had found out, or even why he had taken it upon himself to fire the pilot. Why had he been so selfless?

The questions kept her awake, and all she wanted was just to sleep. She knew, though, that her body wouldn’t rest until her mind shut down, too.

She pushed the covers away, slipping a pair of slippers on and leaving the room sluggishly, eyes tired. As Deborah stopped in front of Matthew’s door, she felt suddenly awake. Nerves started to make her anxious, and she had to push herself to knock before she could rush back to her room with her tail between her legs.

There was a second before the door opened, Matthew looking quite tired too as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “Deb?”

“How did you find out?”

From the look on his face, Debby knew she didn’t need to elaborate her words, to explain what she really wanted to know.

“Come in,” was all he mumbled, opening the door wider for her. She followed his instruction, entering the room that looked the exact copy of hers before sitting down on the corner of his bed.

There was a moment of silence as he stood in front of her, tattooed arms folding over his chest as he bit his bottom lip. For a second, Deborah’s body lit up on fire, craving to feel his lips pressing against hers. She came back to reality and cooled down when she remembered why she was in his room. She needed answers.

“I uh- I noticed you always disassociated when we boarded the plane,” Matthew started, the look on his face turning serious when his eyes met with hers. “And at first I thought you were just scared of heights or something, but it didn’t make any sense,

“Then the other week I boarded the plane behind you and that motherfucker started hitting on you,” his voice became darker, a hint of protectiveness in his tone Debby had never found before making her hands tremble. “And it was clear you weren’t reciprocating,”

“You didn’t need to do that for me, you know?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stand seeing you like that. I have a sister, and I wouldn’t be able to be at peace with myself if I knew something like that was happening to her and didn’t do anything to keep her safe, and same applies to you,”

Deborah tried not to acknowledge the warmth inside her chest as her eyes fell to her lap, a sigh leaving her lips. “It wasn’t worth it, Matthew. If people find out you hurt him, there will be chaos,”

“Everything I do for you is worth it, Debby,” he whispered, pushing her chin upwards so their eyes could meet, his orbs laced with fondness. “Even if it means I’ll have to punch a perv and ruin my career. Why can’t you understand that?”

The woman shook her head, repressing a small smile before sighing again.

“I need you to be safe, Deborah,” he whispered, voice as tender as a cloud as he spoke to her. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you without me even noticing,”

The words had tears well up in her eyes, but she fought the urge to let them streak down her face. Nobody had ever cared that much about her, and she felt full of something she couldn’t quite place. Love? Fondness?

“Promise me you’ll stay safe,” he asked, voice shallow as he cupped her cheek.

“I promise,”

His body inched closer to hers, the only thing separating the two of them being a thin layer of air. His lips fell on Deborah’s after a second, sweetly carefree as she got lost in his scent, his presence.

He was kissing her. She felt more than confused from all the times she felt like he had been avoiding her, but he was kissing her, and she ignored any red flag she could have possibly thought about.

Debby wished to never let go, but her body reminded her that she was more than tired by making her legs give out on her, her embarrassed laugh ending the kiss. “I’m uh- I’m exhausted from today, I should probably go to sleep,”

Matthew nodded, a silent smile painting his slightly swollen lips as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course you will,”

-----

Tomorrow was quite eventful, though. Deborah woke up late, the sound of her alarm not being loud enough to wake her from her deep slumber; she stumbled around her room to get dressed up, sending a quick text to the band to tell them she was going to be late to breakfast, receiving a string of messages explaining they were going to wait for her.

When she left her room, Debby was still half asleep. She registered the voices of the guys, and she registered Matthew’s soft smile, but she went on autopilot when she followed the boys towards the breakfast spot.

Her rough, real awakening happened in front of the café, where an unfamiliar girl was waiting for them - or, at least, Noah. She was tall, hair a beautiful shade of blond as a breathtaking smile painted her lips, directed to Noah and Noah only. It looked like she only had eyes for him, and from the way the lead didn’t shy away from her attention, Debby realized who she really was. Aleena.

There was a brief moment where they hugged, sharing a laugh as Noah bent down to press a kiss on her cheek before turning around to face Deborah and the rest of the band. As the assistant looked around in pure shock, she noticed that Johnny, Matthew and Elias all shared her same expression.

“Guys, this is Aleena,” Noah said, holding back laughter at the looks on their faces. “She’ll be joining us for breakfast, I hope this isn’t a problem,”

“Uh, no! Not at all!” Debby exclaimed, pushing herself out of her trance to shake the girl’s hand. “I’m Deborah, the band’s personal assistant,”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Aleena said, a gentle smile on her lips. The few minutes that followed the encounter were spent with introductions, a thin layer of shock still coating the air as everyone got inside the café to place their orders.

“Damn,” Matthew whispered from behind Debby, chuckling as they queued behind other people. “I wasn’t expecting him to introduce her this soon,”

“Me neither,” the assistant admitted, looking at him with a smile. “She’s nice, though,”

He nodded, agreeing with her as she moved forward, repeating her order in her head. “You think they’re going public?” Deborah asked, checking her phone for the time before looking back up, waiting for an answer.

“I think Jean is in the dark about this as much as we were,” Matt mumbled, letting his hands rest on her shoulders subconsciously, her heart skipping a beat at his touch. “So I think he has to tell her first,”

Debby nodded her head, a smile forming on her lips when she came face-to-face with the barista. She placed her order calmly, reaching for her wallet when the moment to pay arrived.

“I’ve got it,”

Matthew placed his order and paid for the both of them, not even giving the assistant enough time to fight and pay for her own stuff. “Well, thank you, then,” she said, jokingly rolling her eyes as they grabbed their drink and headed for their table, the drummer sitting next to her after a few seconds.

He had talked to her, paid for her drink, touched her shoulder. At that point, Debby was asking herself where they really were standing. There were moments when she felt like a stranger to him, when he barely even sent a smile her way; other times - mostly behind closed doors -, it felt like she was his, but just when it was needed, not always.

The empty table became quite crowded after everyone sat down with their breakfast. “So, new album and tour this year, boys,” Elias smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “Missed that shit,”

“Album drops in a month, so you’ve still got some time to put some final touches,” Deborah pointed out. “Then tour is in a couple of months,”

A few nods came from around the table, her eyes settling on Aleena as she silently sipped on what Deborah could only guess was a latte. “Are you coming along, Aleena?”

The new addition seemed to be shocked by Debby’s question, almost choking on her drink as she opened her mouth to speak. “I uh- we haven’t really talked about it, yet,” she said, looking up at Noah with so much admiration it made the assistant’s heart clench.

Debby nodded, smiling her way before sipping her drink, a hint of jealousy of what the couple had sending shivers down her spine. Breakfast went faster than she had expected as she found herself talking to Noah’s girlfriend with the group and enjoying her company, and by the time they left the place, Deborah was sad to leave Aleena behind.

The band needed to get to the studio to discuss the upcoming release and tour, though, and the group and Aleena had to part ways.

“I think we should celebrate,” Elias pointed out, leaning on his chair with his arm behind his head. “Have a few drinks, go to a club,”

“We haven’t even released the news, Elias,” Jean sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Why not, though? We could just have a party before everything gets released, just us,”

Jean spit out a laugh at the ‘just us’, making the guitarist scowl jokingly. “Back to the album. It’s done, then?”

“Almost,” Noah corrected. “We could pull an all-nighter tonight and just finish it,”

Matthew nodded, followed by Johnny and Elias. Everything seemed to be on board, and Deborah felt happy. The band was back to normal: the fights had come to a halt, they were about to release their newest - and best, by far - album, and they were going on tour again.

One thing was holding back her happiness, though, and it was confusion.

What the hell was happening with Matthew?

The walk from the café to the studio had been enough to send her in a spiral of thoughts, finally realizing that what was going on between the two of them wasn’t quite right. For some reason, she wanted nothing more but to know where she stood in his life, if she mattered or if she was just another groupie.

Bitterness filled her mouth as she found him staring, embarrassment making her feel numb. It had taken her so long to realize that he was playing a game, and she felt stupid.

Debby lifted herself up from her chair, grabbing her purse. “I’ll head out to take a breather,”

And when he didn’t even spare her a glance, she knew she needed to figure out what was really happening between the two of them.

Deborah wasn’t another fucking groupie, that she was sure of.

-

“Alright, we’re almost done, guys,” Noah mumbled, eyes cast on the laptop sitting in front of him as Johnny stood behind him, arms folded over his chest.

“Final touches?” Elias popped from the bathroom, still drying his hands with a paper towel.

“Yeah,” Matt murmured. The drummer was sitting on the couch right in front of Deborah’s, a look she couldn’t quite read painting his features.

The all-nighter the guys had pulled had been going on for hours, and she was quite tired. The moon was peeking over a thick set of curtains, wishing to get her attention by painting a white streak inside the studio. Her head was pounding, but she wanted to assist to the start of Chordback’s new era. Sleep wasn’t on her schedule, at least until the band finally was done.

The late hour was taking a toll on everyone, but even through their almost bloodshot eyes, Debby could tell the guys were more awake than they had ever been. The air felt exciting, and she felt like she had nothing to lose.

“And we’re done,”

Noah’s words had the entire room in silence, even the rustling of the wind outside came to a halt when he spoke. Debby’s heart raced, a smile forming on her lips as she looked up at the lead, nothing but respect in her eyes.

“Holy fucking shit-” Elias whisper-yelled, running a hand through his messy hair before breaking the silence with a shocked laugh. “Holy shit-”

“We’re done!” Johnny exclaimed, his voice louder than his bandmate’s.

“Fuck yes,” Matthew smirked, throwing a fist in the air in celebration before pulling Noah in a hug. “We did it, man,”

Deborah congratulated the boys, hugging each one of them like a proud little sister before she got to Matthew, her heart clenching. Where the hell did she stand? “Good job, Matt,” she smiled awkwardly, leaning in to give him a quick side hug.

“Deb-”

“Should we pop a bottle open?” Elias asked, his frame hunched over the minibar. When he rose back to his full height, he was holding a bottle of champagne, his familiar smirk keeping the left corner of his mouth up.

“Hell yes!” Noah chuckled, looking around to find some flutes only to find himself helpless: there weren’t glasses to celebrate with. Debby didn’t need him to even send a glance her way, her hands already gathering her stuff.

“Debby, can we-”

“I’ll go get someone for you,” she said to the lead, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I was heading out anyway,”

“Already? Darling, this is the best part and you’re leaving,” Elias said, voice holding the flirty tone that she knew he couldn’t even control.

“I’m sure we can celebrate when the dates will be released,” Deborah winked his way, opening the door and stopping right before she could walk inside the fancy hallway. She turned around, facing all of them before pointing a finger their way. “Don’t do anything stupid,”

“Yes, ma’am,” was the only answer she could hear as she stepped out of the room, reaching the closest desk where Maria - the kind receptionist she grew to be friends with - was smiling, not a trace of tiredness in her dark eyes.

“Maria, can you please send some flutes to Chordback’s studio?” She asked, slipping her coat on just as some footsteps started to sound behind her. “They just finished their album,”

“Of course. Heading out?”

“Yes,” she sighed, stopping in her tracks just when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

“Deborah, wait,”

Matthew was rushing down the hallway, hair stuck in an unusual nest as he sported a confused look. Another sigh left Debby’s lips, her eyelids closing as she turned around to face him. “What, Matthew?”

“What’s up with you? Did I do something wrong?”

“What do you mean what’s up with me?”

“You’ve been acting weird, today,” he pointed out. “You were okay this morning, and then you gave me the cold shoulder the entire day. Really, what the hell have I done?”

“What the fuck are we doing, Matt?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he received a question, instead of an answer. His mouth opened but closed again, only to leave the woman with silence. She took it upon herself to keep the conversation going. “Because our points of view are clearly not the same,”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

The pet name made Deborah flinch, her heart doing a forbidden cartwheel as she cursed herself for even feeling that way during an argument. “I’m talking about the fact that we kissed on Thanksgiving, you protected me from that fucking asshole of a pilot, asked me to promise to be safe, and I still don’t know whether you want this to happen or not!” The words came out louder than she had expected, but she didn’t care. She was exasperated and she needed to know. “And, for God’s sake, don’t call me sweetheart,”

Deborah was faced with another moment of silence, Matthew’s face taking an expression she couldn’t quite read. She had never heard silence that loud, and his lack of words was enough to answer every single question of hers.

“I don’t have time for your silence, I’m heading out,” Debby spat out, clutching her bag closer before muttering her next words. “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

When she had first thought about confronting Matthew, she thought it wasn’t going to affect her. But by the time she left the tall skyscraper, remembering the conversation the two of them had had on its top at sunset, she couldn’t tell if the wetness on her face was formed by the rain or the tears.

She felt empty, even if the argument was for the best. She had done nothing to deserve to get played by a man like Matthew - rich, with nothing to lose - and she knew her worth. But God, did it hurt.

Deborah’s hopes had been over the roof from the start, but he had just led her on, like men like him do with groupies. He needed to figure out what he felt and where he wanted things to go, because she already knew where she stood about that.

Noah and Aleena were happy, so happy. They looked like they were fitted perfectly for each other. Naively, she had thought she and Matthew could have been the same.

But clearly, a happy ending in her love life still wasn’t planned.

-----

“Okay, so Rolling Stones interview on the fifth?” She asked Jean, eyes stuck on her laptop as she scrolled through Chordback’s schedule. “The day after the album release? Wow,”

“Yeah, they were begging us to be the first ones to get an interview,” Jean sighed, sipping on her coffee before looking down at her own papers. “Then we have a few more interviews,”

“And all the radio interviews during-”

“Flowers for Deborah?”

The words had the assistant frowning in confusion, her eyes turning up to see a delivery man standing on the doorway of the meeting room. He held a large bouquet of flowers, the composition looking lovely even from the distance.

Debby rose from her chair with uncertainty clear in her features, grabbing the bouquet from his larger hands. “You sure it’s for Deborah? I haven’t received flowers ever since graduation,”

The man chuckled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes as he checked his watch, probably in a rush. “100% sure. Have a nice day, ma’am,”

He was out of eyesight before she could even thank him - or ask him to check again -, her eyes focusing on the gift in her hands as the room filled with silence. Who the hell could have sent her flowers? A small whistle brought the woman back to reality, making her turn around to face Jean. “Secret admirer?”

Was it her ex? “I didn’t even know I had one,”

Deborah’s fingers caressed the delicate petals until something sharp came in contact with her skin. The small piece of paper was looking up at her as if it was begging to be read, her heart hammering as she let her fingertips graze over it.

I know this isn’t much, but it is the start. - M

“Oh my God,” she muttered under your breath, sighing loudly. Matthew?

And he didn’t lie in the note: with each and every passing day, gifts were waiting for Debby at her hotel door, at the recording label, even in her bathroom. She had received multiple bouquets of flowers, a cute tote bag she had seen on a specific Etsy store and mumbled about for weeks, skincare products she still was missing, and what the hell?

Every single present was paired with a message written in Matthew’s chicken scratch, his words meaningful even through paper, and what the fuck was happening?!

Jean would strangle out a laugh every time she’d see a new gift waiting for Deborah, muttering about the fact that not even her ex-husband was as passionate about forgiveness after cheating as Matthew was. Though she looked completely fine on the outside, Debby didn’t know how to feel.

In some ways, she felt childish for even arguing with him: he was a busy man, he didn’t have time for relationships. At the same time, though, she felt like she deserved more than to be played like a game, like she was nothing more than a stranger to him.

Certainly, getting spoiled by the man she almost yelled at really didn’t help with making Deborah feel like what she did was right, especially since it looked like he was trying his everything to get one last chance.

“Are you ever going to forgive this poor secret admirer?” Jean asked, eyes not even leaving her paper as Debby sat in front of her, miserably looking at the pins she had just received. The pastel-colored items she had liked on Instagram just a few days prior felt cold in the assistant’s hands, and it wasn’t the first time she’d started questioning her life choices. “He looks like he’s desperately trying to win you back,”

“And he is,” Deborah sighed, burying her face in her hands before looking up at the ceiling. “I feel like it was stupid of me to start a fight, you know?”

“Why don’t you just talk to him, then?” In some ways, the assistant was thankful Jean didn’t know Matthew was the main character of the conversation.

“Because I’m scared he’ll hate me,”

The woman laughed loudly, making Deborah turn as small as an ant right in front of her. “Open your eyes, will you, girl? The man is whipped. A man who doesn’t know a woman’s worth wouldn’t chase or wait for her,”

Her words engraved themselves in Debby’s mind, their truth so candid she couldn’t even question it. She remembered what her grandma had told her after her first big heartbreak: there’s plenty of fish in the sea, but Deborah knew her gran’s advice wouldn’t apply with Matthew’s situation.

“I just- I don’t know what to do,”

“Has he been good to you? Has he treated you well?” Jean asked, her eyes boring into Debby’s when she nodded her head. “Then don’t think and do whatever your heart tells you to do,”

The assistant watched her for a swift second, lifting herself up from her chair and grabbing her purse. “I’m heading off,”

“Use protection!” Jean yelled behind her, a laugh leaving her lips before she mumbled under her breath. “God, when did I start being so poetic?”

With her heart hammering against her rib cage, Debby rushed through the busy streets of New York, meeting Matthew being the only thought on her mind. To her luck, the hotel the band was staying in was not too far away from their studio, and by the time she opened her room door to get rid of her coat, she wasn’t too exhausted.

She was confused, though. Sitting right under her feet was a piece of paper, the writing so familiar. She grabbed it from the floor, skimming through the words before realization struck her like lightning.

It was a song.

Matthew had written her a song.

Tears welled up in Deborah’s eyes as she read, hands shaking as she bit her lip. She couldn’t let him go.

It was a love song, the words so gentle and heart-clenching. Admiration, love, and passion were spilling out of them in waves Deborah wasn’t ready to let go of yet, so she read it another time. And then another, and another, and another.

She walked out of the room with tears streaming down her face - not caring if other guests saw her in the meantime - still holding the notebook page in her hand. As she faced his door, something inside her seemed to turn on: nervousness.

What if he wasn’t at the hotel? What if her silence had made him give up?

All her questions got an answer when Matthew opened the door, a tired look on his face. His hair was a mess, and he didn’t look like his normal self, like Matthew.

“Deborah?”

“You wrote me a song?”

The drummer sighed, opening the door wider to let the woman in. “I uh- I started writing it a few months ago, when everything started, you know-”

His room was dark, but Debby could make out his half-packed suitcase, his clothes sitting messily all over the floor. The thought made its way in her head, but it seemed so out of character for Matthew that she couldn’t even believe it was real. The whole conversation about the song dropped. “You- are you leaving?”

“I have no reason to stay here,” he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair before slightly cleaning up. “Album is done, and we have a few weeks before our first interview. Also, I kind of grasped the two of us are actually done, so I really didn’t have a purpose here,”

His lonely words had Deborah’s heart clenching, her smaller hand clutching his as she turned around to face him. “I love you,” she breathed out shakily, the three-worded sentence she had been thinking about for months finally slipping out of her parted lips. “I love you so much, and I fucked up,”

Matthew looked shocked as he took in her words, eyes slowly widening. “Deb-”

“I know it’s too soon, you don’t have to say it back, but I felt like you should have known,” she said, breathing out a sigh of relief as a weight she didn’t know she was holding was pushed off her shoulders. “You’re a busy man, relationships probably aren’t what you want at the moment, and it wasn’t my place to get pissed off,”

“I love you, Deborah,” he admitted. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that loving you was easier than I had expected,”

Another set of tears had her eyes burning, her hand intertwining with his as she looked up at him. “I’ve never been good with words, or emotions, and that’s why there was miscommunication between us,”

“Fuck-” Deborah closed her eyes, guilt rushing through her. “I’m fucking awful, this is all my fault,”

“Hey, it was bound to happen, at some point. To be honest, I probably should have made it clear that I loved you a long time ago, I don’t know what was holding me back,” Matthew said, gently cradling her face. “But we’re here now, and we’re fine,”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, emotions spilling from her words as she watched him through her teary gaze. “I’m so sorry,”

“I don’t want you to be,” he murmured back, letting his thumbs brush a few tears away. There was a beat as his warm breath fanned over her features, her eyes focusing on his stormy ones as silence settled between them. She was in his arms, the two of them were okay. “Debby?”

“Hm?”

“I want the world to know how much you mean to me,” he whispered in her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “I want to make you mine,”

“Say the words, Matt,” Deborah murmured, arms wrapping around his neck as her lips ghosted his. “Say the words and I’ll be yours,”

There was a beat, a long one, before Matthew let his lips brush hers in a gentle - but desperate - kiss. The drummer’s hands were everywhere as the two of them kissed, not a worry in the world as her back hit the soft comforter of the room’s bed.

“Be mine, Deborah,” Matthew breathed out when his lips left hers, his orbs maintaining eye contact. “I’ll find a way to give you my world,”

She bit her lip, smiling as she watched the man in front of her - the man she loved - offer her his love with just the power of his words.

“You already do, Matt,” Debby whispered, bringing him closer to press another kiss to his slightly-swollen lips. “I’m yours,”

-----

“Why the fuck am I nervous? I’m not even going on stage,” Deborah mumbled, words coming out rushed as she stood outside the green room with Aleena, her friend’s laughter filling her ears.

“They’ve been doing this for years, hun. They’re probably not even nervous themselves,” Noah’s girlfriend said, voice gentle as her arm wrapped around Debby’s. “And we both know they’re going to kill it,”

“That’s true,” the personal assistant nodded her head, taking a sip of her water just as the door of the room opened, Chordback coming out looking as mesmerizing as ever. They were a mess of tattoos and pearly white smiles, ready to take on the first stage of the tour and make the crowd go wild.

Noah, in his old-school-love fashion, wrapped Aleena in his arms, owning a little squeal as he lifted her off the floor. “Put me down, idiot!”

Elias and Johnny, too busy talking to each other about their improvised solos, didn’t even glance Deborah’s way, heading towards the stage by following the staff. Matthew, on the other hand, took a moment to let his eyes focus on his girl.

“You look beautiful,” he said, voice low as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Debby’s sundress clung to her body the way she knew he loved, and the smile on his face was enough to make the butterflies in her stomach start their never-ending dance.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she giggled, taking his hand and leading him towards the side of the stage, where everyone was standing. The other band that was opening the concert was still going strong, the crowd enjoying the background music as they waited for Chordback to start their tour with a bang.

The last few notes of a song she had heard many times before owned claps and screams from the public, a few whistles also shaking the arena. Debby stood next to Aleena as she smiled, the feeling of hearing the public again making the assistant’s legs almost give up on her.

She had started her job when the band was already almost at the end of their second tour, and it had been a chaotic way to start her first job in the music industry. She hadn’t been able to get to know the band members, and she hadn’t been able to enjoy even a bit of traveling.

That time, though, it was different. She was there as Chordback’s personal assistant, but also as Matthew’s girlfriend. The experience itself was going to be new, unexpected.

“Good luck,” she told Matt just as the opening band started to leave the stage. Debby leaned up on the tip of her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I don’t need that,” he smirked, winking down at her before kissing her again, this time passionately. “I already have my lucky charm with me,”

Deborah shook her head, pushing out a giggle as he backed off, tugging the drumsticks from his back pocket. “Cheesy, Matthew,”

“What do you expect from me?”

As the stage grew dark, the band entered the stage, filling their designed spots just as a few yells and cheers filled the air. The first sound came from Matthew’s drumsticks, and the place lit up as the opening song started, the song that had brought the newest album to the top of the charts: Aleena’s song.

Matthew smiled Deborah’s way gingerly as he started to play, her heart skipping a beat. As she watched him play, she couldn’t exactly tell why all the fondness inside her body seemed to come out just then. It felt strange.

Though after a few moments of wondering, she realized what it really was. Proudness. Deborah was proud of the little kid that snuck out of the house to practice the drums in a house five blocks away, she was proud of the teenager that followed his dreams even when his father was disappointed in him. She was proud of Matthew and the man he had become.

She was proud of him, and she loved him, more than she loved herself.

Matthew was her home, her safe place. He was a part of the life she was hoping to bring along in the future, and he was the person she wanted to wake up next to every morning.

Back at her childhood home during Thanksgiving, he had said that loving her was easier than he had expected.

He hadn’t realized, though, that loving him was the easiest part of Deborah’s life. A part that she was willing to carry with her for the rest of her life.

Taglist: @thirstyybitch​ @bellaguarneri​ @boqvistsbabe​ @trashforbarzal​ @tonguetiedstan​ @keithseabrook27​ @heatherawoowoo​ @tysonsjosty​ ​

[fruitcoops]

Hey I was wondering if you could write something kinda angsty but with a pretty ending with the cubs, I’m trynna project getting stood up and turning it into something nice and good, even if it’s just in my head. No pressure but I just wanna smile for a bit and your work always makes me do so :)))

Hello lovely! I’m so sorry that you were stood up--that feels awful and whoever did it missed out on a wonderful person. I’ve combined this with some other asks in the same vein (y’all wanted my boys to hurt) so I hope you don’t mind. Sending love and hugs your way! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove​ <3

1. Bad mental health day for Finn + pushing himself too hard + passing out (ft. Bee anon!)

2. O’Knutzy boiling over with a fluffy ending

3. Insecure Leo

TW for internalized guilt, vaguely implied self-harm (pushing himself too hard at practice), and relationship arguments

Finn had a few bad habits. He left dirty dishes in the sink, could never remember which setting the laundry was supposed to go on, and barely wiped his shoes on the doormat before entering the house. He wasn’t proud of his flaws, but he acknowledged that everyone had some—as long as they didn’t hurt anybody, it wasn’t the end of the world.

This one…this one was different. Even Finn knew that.

He gritted his teeth for the next set of squats, ignoring the ringing in his ears and the climbing nausea in his gut. The chart only said to do three reps, but he had been beating himself up for slacking a set earlier in the week and decided to do five to make up for it.

That, it seemed, was a poor decision.

His thighs were shaking when he finally put the weight down and he leaned on the wall to stabilize himself. “Fish? You okay?” Logan asked from the yoga mat to his right, staring up at him in concern.

“I’m fine,” Finn lied. “Just straightened up too fast.”

“D’accord.” He could feel Logan’s eyes on his back as he left the gym and headed toward the showers.

Finn’s worst habit was taking care of himself, and it wasn’t something that could be explained away as “oh, silly Harzy” like the washing machine. He made a mental note to take some ibuprofen before driving home so he would be marginally less sore in the morning, but he had the sinking feeling it would be a rough practice the next day.

Remus and Talker were playing some sort of volleyball with an old balloon between their stalls when he entered; he missed getting nailed in the head by a narrow margin and waved off their apologies with a forced smile.

A hand closed around his bicep as he passed, snapping him back to reality as Leo’s bright eyes came into focus. “Hey, lovey, is Lo with you?”

“He’s finishing up.”

A small furrow appeared between Leo’s brows. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” Finn faked a yawn and stretched his arm over Leo’s shoulder, dragging him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Cap’s workout just kicked my ass today.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to do,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes playfully as he passed. “You’re not a rookie anymore, O’Hara.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.”

Logan entered the locker room a few minutes later; Finn closed his eyes and breathed in the thick steam of the shower until the fog in his head cleared a bit and he couldn’t feel the skin on his shoulders. It billowed off him as he dressed again and tossed the keys to Leo, who raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“You. There’s a little bit of slush left, and you still need to learn how to drive in it.” And I feel like I’m going to pass out at any minute. He swallowed down the last thought and pasted a teasing grin on his face—what Leo and Logan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It was his own fault for being lazy in the past.

-----------------------

What Leo and Logan didn’t know apparently did hurt them. In hindsight, Finn should have seen that coming before he passed out in the middle of a scrimmage.

The lights of the coach’s office made his headache even worse. “Care to explain?” Arthur asked in a voice like frost. To his left, Sirius was glowering.

“I already told Hestia—”

“Yeah, I know what you told Hestia,” Arthur interrupted. “I want to hear it directly from you.”

Finn sighed through his nose and picked at a stray thread on his jersey. “I…I pushed myself a little too hard at yesterday’s practice and didn’t say anything when I started feeling bad.”

“Why.” Sirius’ eyes were hard as flint.

“Because I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass! I can handle some aching muscles, it’s not a big deal!”

“Not a—”

Arthur put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “That’s enough, Black. O’Hara, I want you to look me in the eyes.” Finn raised his head. “This was a dumbass mistake and all of us expected better from you. Your safety and health come before any workout routine, and it is your responsibility to speak up before you scare the shit out of us by dropping like a rock.”

“I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Apology accepted. I also want you to call Heather when you get home and schedule an appointment with her.” Some of Arthur’s frustration melted into genuine concern and guilt crawled up Finn’s throat. “Doing that to yourself isn’t healthy, Finn. You’re a good man, smart, and I know you know better.”

“Can we talk for a second?” Sirius asked quietly, glancing at Arthur. He nodded and left the room.

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Finn?” Sirius ran a hand down his face, suddenly pale. “What the fuck was that?”

“It was stupid.”

“Yeah, no, I got that part.”

“I slacked off a set on Monday.”

“Wow, nobody’s ever done that before,” he said sarcastically, sitting down in the chair by the wall as Finn resumed messing with his hem. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

“I know.”

“You know I’m not mad at you, right? I’m upset that you thought you had to do that at all.”

Tears prickled the backs of Finn’s eyes. “I know.”

“I’m sure as hell not your coach or your dad, but I’m going to say this as your friend, okay?” Sirius leaned over into Finn’s field of view. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. This team wouldn’t be the same without you. I wouldn’t be the same without you. We need you to take care of yourself, Harzy.”

Finn nodded silently and Sirius gave his hand a quick squeeze, which he returned. “Does everyone know?”

“I told them you were under the weather, nothing more.”

“Classic media answer.” He tried and failed to crack a smile. “Thanks for not telling on me.”

“That’s not my job. My job is herding cats on ice skates for five hours a day.”

Finn’s smile was real that time and he managed a light laugh as he swiped away the dampness on his cheeks. “Love you, man.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius helped him stand up and hugged him tight for a second before letting go. “Speaking as someone who used to do the exact same thing, talking to Heather makes a world of difference.”

“I’ll give her a call.”

The cold feeling returned to Finn’s gut when they stepped out of the office; Leo and Logan were waiting by the opposite wall, looking angrier than Finn had ever seen. Sirius patted his shoulder once before walking off down the hallway toward the locker room, where he would no doubt deflect even more questions.

“Hey,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. Logan continued to stare at the ground.

“You lied to us,” Leo said bluntly. “Several times. Both of us asked if you were alright and you told us you were fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology, but I don’t understand.” He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Finn, this isn’t how we deal with things. We agreed to be a team.”

Finn bit his lip. I fucked this one up. “We did. I am so sorry for scaring you—”

“We’re not mad that you scared us,” Logan snapped, still looking anywhere but his face. “We’re upset that you refuse to take care of yourself and then lied to us about it.”

Leo nudged Logan’s shoulder before turning back. “Why did you do that, Finn?”

“I didn’t want to fall behind. I was just trying to make up for the set I skipped on Monday.”

“What? Twenty squats and some pushups? That’s not worth your health, honey.” The pet name soothed the terror clutching Finn’s heart and he took a deep breath. They still loved him. This wasn’t the end.

“It was a stupid thing to do and it won’t happen again.”

“Good. Let’s go home.” Logan grabbed his duffel bag off the ground and started walking toward the door; Leo looked like he was going to say something, but Finn gently took his elbow.

“He’s going to need a minute,” he said under his breath. Logan was a hothead about many things, but lying was in the top three. Finn knew he hurt him deep.

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and pressed his lips together as they followed Logan into the parking lot. “Did you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

Finn shook his head. “No. This was all on me.”

“It’s just that I know I’m younger than both of you and I’m new to the hockey lifestyle, but I never want you to think you can’t trust me—”

“Leo.” Finn stopped walking and tugged on Leo’s hand, turning him around. Worry was painted all over his face and it sliced to Finn’s core. “I trust you and Logan with everything, but I got into my head about this and I wasn’t thinking about how it would hurt you. Please believe that.”

Leo sighed. “I do. I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I, to be honest.” Logan was already sitting in the car with his headphones on as they crossed the lot. “It’s going to take him a while to talk to me, isn’t it?”

“He was really upset.”

“We’ll figure this out.” He tightened his grip on Leo’s hand. “We’ve made it through worse.”

-----------------------------

The apartment crackled with tension until Finn literally had to stick his head out the open window to get a breath of fresh air. Waves of frustration and hurt rolled off Logan, though he still refused to look Finn in the eyes.

After dinner, Leo slid into the armchair before Logan could get there, leaving only the couch available. They carefully sat on opposite sides—Finn stole glances at Logan out of the corner of his eye for the entire first half of the movie. Ninety minutes of action later, he felt something chilly poking at his calf.

Logan kept his gaze trained on the TV as he scooted his freezing toes under Finn’s legs. Relief flooded Finn’s veins; he felt a little like crying, but instead schooled his expression into a small smile and rested his hand on Logan’s ankle, where it stayed until the movie ended.

Leo had fallen asleep by that time, splayed out sideways on the cushion with his face smushed against the armrest. “Il est mignon,” Logan said softly. There was a beat of silence and he looked over at Finn. “He’s cute.”

“He is.” Finn cleared his throat and met his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Lo. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry.”

“Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I won’t.”

Finn had a few bad habits, but backing out on his promises would never be one of them.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [4]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: greetings everyone!! how are we all doing? i have nothing to say here tbh so anyway stan sam wilson being a lil shit whenever possible. 

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You hung up the call, trudging back to the house, discarding the battery along the way.

The air had a chill to it and there was an occasional breeze that went past, rustling leaves providing an eerily comforting background score. The temperature tended to rise as the day went on but nights were especially cold due to the abundance of trees. 

Even though the stress of the situation you were in constantly consumed all your waking thoughts, you still found the time to appreciate how beautiful your surroundings were. 

The last few days were barely memorable. Sam and you tended to stay out of each other's way unless your meal time coincided or you watched the local news together. The schedule had worked out favourably.

He wasn’t very hard to live with.

Most of the time.

His commentary and small jokes were never-ending but were not as unwelcome as you initially thought. It brought some much needed light into your otherwise dreary day. When it came to figuring out how to do laundry due to your now extended stay or whose turn it was to do it, things got a bit messy but were resolved quickly.

He used to disappear often for hours on end. You never concerned yourself with going after him to find out where he went, figuring that unless he was hatching a plot that led to your demise, he was entitled to his own privacy. He’d return a while later, calmer than when he left.

It was fine. Nothing to write home about. Neither of you were dead yet.

“What are you doing on the bed?” You were reconsidering your last thought when you walked into the bedroom to resume your self-interrupted sleep, only to find him face down on the sheets. “It’s my day today.”

“Just give me some time. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the sheets.

“You can take all the time you need tomorrow when it’s your turn.” You swatted at his legs, earning a grunt of chagrin from him.

“Go eat some soup and maybe you’ll calm down,” he fired back, unmoving.

“Today’s not soup day. Which you would know if you paid attention to our schedule. That we made. Together. The same schedule which says it’s my turn today.”

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “My back’s killing me. Just give me a few.”

“Why, what’d you do?” you asked curiously, letting go of his leg.

“Combat training. Took a few beatings, fucked up my spine.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“It comes and goes.” Sam finally rolled onto his back, giving you a view of his face. His bone structure was amazing, even from quite possibly the ugliest angle you could have over him. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

You just stared at him as he linked his arms behind his neck, elevating his head to look at you. He had a small stubble that was starting to grow longer. You wondered if he would shave it. He looked good regardless.

“How’s your beloved?”

“Huh?”

“The person you keep sneaking around to talk to on the phone. I’m not your dad, y’know. You can talk to them inside the house, ‘m not gonna ground you,” he quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face.

“He’s not my lover. Just... an acquaintance.” You felt the awkwardness starting to set in after you trailed off. “Anyway since you’re awake, we need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“What happened that day. We’ve been avoiding it but we need to figure out what went wrong. Or at least a clue.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, wincing as he sat up straight. “How do you want to do it?”

“Just talk me through how you got put on this mission and what exactly happened that day, I guess.” You took a place on the bed, leaning backward on your hand for support.

He nodded, delaying for a second to collect his thoughts before beginning.

“So basically-”

The sun was particularly relentless that day.  

The ringing bell above the door of his favourite coffee shop was a welcoming sound. The barista smiled at him in greeting, asking if he wanted his usual to go.

His park bench was empty as it always was. Sam liked to think of it as a small gift from the universe; the fact that it was perpetually unoccupied.

He liked to sit there and watch people’s day go by. His iced coffee-

“I don’t really require that much detail.”

“Patience. I’m getting there.”

It was arguably one of the most peaceful days he had had in awhile, and he was hoping to keep the streak going. Nothing seemed like it would phase him, not even the phone ringing, drawing his attention away from the scene in front of him. Caller ID didn’t trace who it was.

“Hello?”

“Wilson.”

Sam gripped the cup so hard he thought it might spill over onto his jeans.

“I told you not to call me, Ransone.”

“But honey we had such a good time last night,” he faux cooed, “You know I have needs-”

“I’m not getting involved in your stupid organisation, Vincent. I told you I’m done,” Sam broke in, not wanting to waste time listening to his stupid dramatics.

“Listen here, Wilson.” The swift change in his tone was looming, threatening. “You’re done when I say you’re done-”

“Wanna bet?” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I thought we made it clear in Detroit that we’re done. Honey.”

He added the last part out of pure spite just to get a rise out of him. Much to his glee it seemed to work as Ransone let out a deep exhale before continuing.

“That was before we found out there’s a mole in my gang. I want you to kill him.”

“This is way below my pay grade. Have one of your interns do it. Your shitty murder warehouse hasn’t seen much action in a while.”

“This is Pierce we’re talking about. If he’s working for another organisation, his ass is going to be so guarded, these kids couldn’t wouldn’t even get past the gate. Besides, you know my murder warehouse is for special guests only-”

“Man, it must suck real hard to be you right now,” Sam didn’t wait for him to complete his sentence. He finished the last bit of the drink he had left, gathering his things before standing up. “Find someone else. I’m out.”

“You might want to reconsider that. We found him.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said steadily, grip on the phone tightening.

“I think you do, though. Had us fooled for a while there, thinking he’s dead. A little more research, some cash into the right pockets and boom! There he is, clear as day.”

Sam felt a chill go up his spine.

“He doesn’t know we know. We’re just keeping an eye on him for now.”

“If you even fucking think of touching him-” his fists were balled up, struggling to keep his anger from rising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Ransone laughed. “I’ll just have one of my interns do it.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ransone. It’s not somethi-”

“Do this hit and I’ll leave him alone,” Ransone interjected. “You’ve worked so hard to pull him from our radar, Sammy. It would be a shame if it all went to waste.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. Suddenly the day didn’t seem as bright as it was a few minutes ago.

“I’ll text you the details. You tend to leave me on read so I thought I’d make it more fun. Do you want the confetti with the message or the lasers-”

Sam just hung up the call, feet firmly rooted in his spot. He had no idea what he was going to do.

The notification of a new text alerted him. Pierce’s address along with the exact timeline of when he’d be home.

It was across the country. If he botched the mission on purpose, Ransone wouldn't be able to find him for a few days at least, much less reach him. He could go on the run-

‘Do it or he dies.’

His train of thought was interrupted by a picture that made his blood boil.

Especially when it exploded with the stupid confetti effect.

“Okay, basically he threatened you with something to go do the hit.” You didn’t ask him what exactly he was threatening him with and Sam didn’t really elaborate.

“Yeah. Didn’t leave me with much of a choice. He’s batshit fuckin’ crazy anyway, I knew he’d do whatever he felt like.”

“So you ended up going.”

Pierce didn’t seem to get many visitors. Not that anyone could be blamed, this guy was one of the biggest pieces of shit Sam had had the misfortune of meeting.

Over the two days he had staked out in front of the mansion to find out if this guy had as much security as Ransone had boasted of, Sam had come to the conclusive truth that no, he very much did not. He had a standard home security system which was lacklustre compared to the rest of the house.

Maybe he just assumed that being a senior member of the mob would garner some fear to his name. Dumbass.

He found the tall shrubbery surrounding the property to be out of the line of sight of the camera, and climbing it wasn't very hard. He landed softly on the manicured lawn, adjusting his gloves and checking his surroundings before pulling his gun that was secured in the waistband of his pants.

He removed the safety, keeping it close to him as he stalked through the front yard.

The red car parked at the side earned an eye roll from him. If he had one, there was no doubt there’d be more. He just had to find a basement or garage.

Walking around the house, he kept close to the wall, searching for any opening to the basement.

It didn’t take long before he found a set of stairs to the exterior entrance of the basement. He checked to see if anyone was around before making his way down them. The lock was unsurprisingly easy to pick.

The basement was mostly dark save for a few strategic lights placed to highlight the magnificence of his several race cars. The man was moved slower than the second coming of Jesus. The cars just seemed like an overcompensation.

The switchboard was not difficult to find. He pulled open the cover, glancing at the switches before turning all of them off, plunging the whole basement into darkness. If his security system was as outdated as Pierce was, it would have turned off along with the rest of the house.

“Oh, that’s why the cameras weren't working when I showed up.” Bits that seemed amiss were beginning to place itself together the more his story progressed. “I assume you entered the house through the window on the side?”

“Sure did.”

Your guess was right. He’s the reason why it was ajar by the time you arrived.

As soon as he entered he had his gun raised. Scanning the room as he went past, his senses were dialed up to eleven. If he was really under the protection of Serpentine, they were doing a terrible job. He had gotten in completely unscathed.

As he made his way deeper into the house, the sound of some movie playing became louder. But he had cut off the power supply to the house.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly into a frown, he made his way down the hall towards the sound. No one was in the dining or living room he canvassed.

Finally, Pierce’s silhouette became clearer. He appeared to just be sitting there idly while a smaller screen played in front of him. It wasn’t a TV, just an iPad.

If Pierce was asleep it would just make the job easier. Gun raised, Sam made his way into the room silently.

Pierce was still. Sam raised the gun, taking a step closer.

A floorboard creaked.

He immediately cringed, shoulders tensed as he came to an immediate stop. It seemed like forever as he waited for Pierce to wake up, to brandish a gun and try and defend himself.

He didn’t.

Taking a step to the side, Sam moved diagonally. Each one was slow. Ready for any sudden movements from his end.

He finally stopped in front of Pierce.

A bullet hole in his forehead. Eyes open. Chest still.

He was dead.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sam breathed out, lowering his gun. Pierce’s glassy eyes stared blankly ahead. He didn’t look like had been dead for too long.

A soft thud in another room made his head snap up. It was in the same direction from where he came.

He silently moved backwards to the corner of the room, hoping that the darkness was enough of a disguise as he saw someone stalking down the hallway.

“And that’s when you come in. Thought you were comin’ back to make sure he was dead.”

“I had just got there. Saw that everything was off, and just assumed it was a power outage.”

“What about you? How’d you end up there?” Sam had his legs crossed, leaning forward to listen to you.

“Ransone told me that there was a spy who was sending information out for nearly two years. Needed him gone and he wasn’t sure if his other agent would show up-” you mentioned to him- “I guess that’s you. Told me I had an opening at 8pm. When I got there, the CCTV was off. Found the window open so I just used that.”

You were replaying your memory, step by step to remember what exactly you had seen. 

“Heard the movie playing, found no one when I went down the hall. I saw the car keys on the island, which came in handy later. Entered the room, pushed his head with the gun and he just slumped over like a damn rag doll. That’s when you made your grand entrance.”

“Got one chance to make an impression. Had to make sure I looked cool, emergin’ from the shadows and whatnot.”

“It doesn’t make sense though.”

“Ouch. Thought it was pretty legit, actu-”

“No, no-” you waved him off. “Not your entrance. The henchmen thing.”

He paused, mulling over what you said. “If he was working for Serpentine, he would have been more careful. Why did they show up after he’s dead?”

“I don’t think they work for Serpentine. If Pierce was giving them information, they wouldn’t kill him.” You had good reason to be confident about that. You thought you did, from previous assessments.

“Unless they were scared that he’d switch again,” Sam suggested. You looked up from your fidgeting fingers to him. “Didn’t want any of their secrets going back to Ransone. They got to him before we did.”

“Why’d they shoot at us then? If they killed him and left, why’d they wait for us to show up? Why did they try to kill us?”

“I think we’re ignoring the important thing here,” he paused. You looked at him expectantly, prodding him on. “How did they know we were coming? They should have killed him and disappeared but they expected us.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying-”

“There might be more.”

“Pierce might not have been the only one,” you finished. “There are more spies.”

“Tipped ‘em off. Told them we were going to be there.”

“And killing us was just to poke Ransone with a stick,” you murmured, eyes downcast, fidgeting with your fingers again. “But that just seems random. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense, sweetheart.” Sam scoffed, leaning back again.

“We’re missing something. There’s something wrong.” You looked at him. “If it’s just a random attack, why did they release our face to the whole fuckin’ country? Why are they specifically targeting us?”

“Finishing what they started. Covering all their tracks from that day. If we’re not dead, we’re a liability.”

“What if it’s not Serpentine at all? What if it’s another gang?”

“Serpentine has the most motive.”

“We don’t know that.”

He looked at you incredulously. “I think there’s substantial evidence to suggest they fuckin’ hate us. Besides, they’d want me dead specifically.”

“Why?” you inquired, eyes narrowing.

He opened his mouth like he was going to explain but closed it a second later, leaving you guessing.

“Fine, but it doesn’t mean they’re the only ones who do.” You made a point to ask him later or at least conduct your own research into it. 

“Okay,” he said, shifting to lean on his elbows, “who else could it be? If Pierce was working for Serpentine and Ransone found out, sends someone to kill him, it’s essentially an attack on one of their own members. I’d say that's a pretty good motive.”

“I don’t know. Hydra doesn’t like us either. There’s Ten Rings too. But Serpentine just doesn’t work out.”

“How are you sure?” he asked. “You a spy for them too?”

You rolled your eyes at him as he raised his eyebrow. “It doesn’t make sense. What if we’re missing something? Did we go through everything?”

“I just went through my entire story down to the most irrelevant details. Twice. Nothing’s missing on my end.” He pushed himself off the bed, taking a long stretch before looking back at you.

“I think we should do it again. Just to make sure.” You rotated your torso to look at him. “We can figure it out-”

“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep at this any longer for today. Take a break.”

“I can’t take this lightly. Everyone’s out there looking for us and there is no one we can trust-”

“And going through our stories for the third time today is going to solve that how?” He had his hands crossed over his chest like a stern parent.

“I’m sorry but our faces are probably plastered in every damn police precinct in the country,” you snapped, “And I think that us remembering something some stupid detail might actually help rather than, I don’t know, taking naps and eating sandwiches. So no, I’m not going to drop it. Because I actually want to get out of here.”

You didn’t mean to sound so angry with him. He had told you everything twice already and patiently answered questions that you had. You didn’t think he was lying. You had no way of knowing but you hoped that some sort of allegiance was being formed between you both.

There was silence for a minute, leaving enough time for the guilt to creep in when he didn’t fire back. It’s what you expected.

“I’m not asking you to drop it. I’m saying take a break,” he said calmly. “You’re thinkin’ enough for the both of us anyway.”

You let out a small exhale, forcing the edge to retreat from your voice.

“I’ll be back in a while.” With that he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later you heard the backdoor open and shut.

Great.

You massaged your throbbing temples, eyes closed. He was right. Your mind wasn’t clear and you had been at this for hours. You wouldn’t be able to think critically.

Or at all.

You dropped back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to your face. The coolness of the fabric felt nice.

You just let out a sigh, turning to your side to hopefully get some sleep.

_____

You woke up what seemed like hours later to a dark room.

It took your eyes a while to adjust stepping out into the hallway illuminated by the light in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice rang out. “Made you a sandwich.”

You rubbed your eyes groggily, looking where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a sandwich on the table. He sat at the seat adjacent to it.

“Thank you.” You contemplated sitting next to him for dinner. It would be a first.

In the end you just grabbed your plate, giving him a half smile before making your way to the couch. You settled on sitting on the floor instead, leaning your back against the foot of the sofa.

The TV was already halfway through playing Megamind so you just let it continue, mindlessly chewing on the bread. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, it wasn’t all that bad.

“Wilson,” you called out sheepishly, eyes not leaving the movie. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay.”

How he let go of it so easily was beyond you. The sandwich was surprising too, but you took it, not wanting to change his mind. He couldn’t have poisoned it. You had checked his stuff.

You sat in silence for the rest of the movie. Your mind kept slipping in and out of thought but it was a comfortable atmosphere you found yourself in.

After the credits started rolling, you went to leave your plate in the sink. Sam brushed past you, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the couch, launching himself onto the cushions.

“What are you doing?” you asked, puzzled as he snuggled in.

“Going to sleep?” He tilted his head to look at you.

“Use the bed.”

“It’s your turn today.”

“Your back’s fucked up. I’ll take the couch.”

He didn’t budge.

“Go on.” You mentioned to the room with a shrug of your shoulder.

“You’re not going to let me argue, are you?”

You pressed your lips into a straight line to hide a smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Well, okay.” He let out a small noise as he got up. “Guess I’m sleeping business class tonight.”

Sam walked past you, careful not to bump into you. You swapped places with him, making your way to the couch, readjusting the blanket that was haphazardly left there.  

“Y/N.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to fully turn when you caught his gaze. “I appreciate it.”

You just nodded, tossing the blanket over yourself as he switched off the light.

Next part

[indynerdgirl]

Every once in a while I remember the 2016 show Pitch and then get angry all over again about how Fox canceled it after only 10 episodes AND how the show ended on a massive, unresolved cliffhanger.

[satendou]

⟼ makes the heart grow fonder

⍣ 365 days of sun series | previous | 2/2

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi hajime/reader/oikawa tooru

⇢ au: 365!au, poly!au, college!au, pro!oikawa

⇢ summary: prequel to 365 days; everyone always calls paris the city of love, but love can come anywhere, especially the unlikeliest of places

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: pre-relationship, polyamory, fluff, kinda angsty, alcohol use

⇢ word count: 11375 (oops)

Oikawa was nothing if not a creature of habit. He woke up, texted the two of you, showered, ate, went to classes and left for practice, which had been nonstop since he arrived in San Juan. When he got home, he would text you and Iwaizumi-- if he remembered between eating and crashing-- letting you know how practice had gone.

Sometimes he would get home to find some endearing, supportive message from you, letting him know you were going to sleep but that he needed to eat or pay his phone bill. You knew him too well, even from across the globe, and it made him smile, the stinging pain of something missing never stronger than in those moments. It was something he could ignore most days, exchange it for the radiating heat of a ball meeting his palm and forget for a while, but when he was slapped in the face with reminders of what he’d left behind, they were almost impossible to deal with.

He didn’t get to talk with the two of you half as much as he wanted, the 12 hour time difference making it nearly impossible to sync your schedules up, but on the rare nights where everyone was still awake and not quite tired enough to fall asleep yet, he lit up in ways he’d never experienced when he lived with you. 

It made him wonder how much he’d taken for granted.

He couldn’t deny that a part of him was jealous that the two of you got to stay together. That same selfish part of him had come close to picking up the phone and saying he was coming home multiple times after he arrived in Argentina, the feeling was so strong. But the other half, the part that was equally selfish in a different way, couldn’t give up his dreams, not when he’d worked so fucking hard to get there.

On those days, you seemed to know what he was thinking and either you or Iwaizumi, with near psychic accuracy, would call him on his bullshit and things would be okay for a while. Those days had slowly grown less frequent the longer he stayed away, but the jealousy had simply been replaced with longing.

So when you had mentioned a break from school that just happened to coincide with his very first game, he couldn’t resist. Besides, he wanted some familiar faces in the crowd, and who better than you and Iwaizumi? Or his family, but they hadn’t been able to swing it for a myriad of reasons.

Then you had said yes, which was why Oikawa was standing up on his tiptoes at the luggage carousel, trying to see over the people for a glimpse of familiar faces. If he wasn’t looking at the crowd, he was staring at his watch.

Your plane had landed nearly twenty minutes ago, so you should have already disembarked. So why weren’t the two of you there in his arms yet?

“Oi, Brattykawa, you’re looking the wrong way,” a familiar voice sniped from behind him, and he whirled around, nearly losing his balance in his excitement.

“_____! Iwa-chan!” he yelled, throwing his arms around your necks and sending you faltering backwards. 

Only Iwaizumi’s strength kept the three of you up, his arm wrapped around your waist and legs braced under Oikawa’s weight.

“You damn idiot, quit making a scene,” he snapped, but only pushed his friend back far enough to rebalance before squeezing him tight, his fingers curled in the back of the thin t-shirt Oikawa wore.

Your free arm came up around him as well, not nearly as strong but just as familiar and welcome and even though you all secretly swore you wouldn’t cry, tears still spilled over. The feeling of relief, of being whole again was overwhelming, and you linked your fingers with theirs as you moved through the crowd. Oikawa carried one travel case, Iwaizumi the other, and you lugged the shared carry-on bag you had brought. 

Coming out of the airport after a twenty hour flight was a bit jarring and, though the two of you had prepared for a few days in advance and even slept on the plane, you could still feel jet lag kicking in. San Juan time was directly opposite Japanese time, so though you had gotten on your plane in Tokyo in the pitch black, Oikawa had carefully planned the flights and layovers so that you had arrived early in the morning.

The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, and you started sweating almost immediately.

“I can’t wait to show you guys around. But first, you’re probably hungry, right? There’s this cafe right around the corner from our apartment that has the most amazing churros I want you to try,” he rambled as the driver loaded your luggage in the trunk. Iwaizumi slid into the backseat beside you with Oikawa on your other side, all your fingers still linked together. “Oh but I guess we could go after you unpack. Don’t want you to have to drag your luggage everywhere.”

“Thank you for realizing, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi griped, and Oikawa laughed.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just so excited for you guys to be here! It’s only been a few months but it feels like a part of me has been missing,” he said, and his fingers squeezed around yours tighter. It was exactly how you had been feeling since he left, like things were off kilter.  

The conversation after that was mostly questions about the flights and the layovers, and how the jet lag was. The longer Oikawa watched and listened, the more he thought something was wrong. 

It wasn’t...wrong wrong, it just seemed like there was something new and different to your interactions with Iwaizumi and vice versa. He would just have to keep an eye out for it, to see if he could discern what it was.

The apartment was the one Iwaizumi had picked out for him months ago, not that anyone was surprised. Usually when he suggested something, Oikawa took it without question. 

As soon as the door was open, you were slammed with the familiar smell that you associated with Oikawa. That light and airy cologne permeated everything, like he had spritzed it everywhere, mixed with the detergent you used at home, or as close as he could get, you would guess. It was a double whammy-- you realized what you had been missing as soon as you got it again, and realized that when you left you would lose it.

It made you wonder what walking into your own apartment would be like.

Before you could get too lost down that train of thought, Oikawa put his hand to your back, leading you further in. Almost absently, Iwaizumi took your hand, letting Oikawa lead both of you to one of the large windows.

Light flooded the large combined kitchen/living room area. He had put curtains up, but they were currently tied back, leaving the windows exposed. The view was breathtaking, just high enough that it rose above most of the other buildings and gave you a long view of the city, marred by other highrises here and there.

He pointed out a large, strange dome shape in the distance, light reflecting off the top back into the city. 

“That’s our stadium. I’ll show you around it later today, if we have time.” he said with a lopsided grin. “Anyway, your rooms are this way! You can pick which ones you want.”

His fingers linked with yours-- it seemed as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling your hand in his-- as he led you down the hall opening first one door and then the other.  Both rooms filtered plenty of light, curtains tied up and exposing the decent sized rooms. A bed and dresser decorated each, but that was it. A simple beige color coated the walls and a ceiling fan spun slowly while the air conditioner kicked on. You set your bag down beside the bed and turned to face them again.

“I didn’t expect them to be this big,” you said, looking around. It was across from Oikawa’s, versus Iwaizumi’s, which was right across from the bathroom and closest to the kitchen.

“Sorry they’re so sparse. I figured I’d let you decorate them how you saw fit,” he said, leaning against the frame of the door. “The master is even bigger, but I said the same when I saw them the first time.”

Iwaizumi stood behind him, peering over his shoulder as you surveyed the room, close enough that Oikawa could feel his chest brush against his back. “Are you sure you should be giving these rooms away to just us? You’ll have other guests, won’t you?”

As nonchalant and almost coldly, he shrugged. “They can sleep in here when you aren’t, and there are hotels around the corner. But these rooms were never meant for anyone but you.”

With that, he steered Iwaizumi back down the hall to his room with you hot on his heels. Rifling through his closet, he threw two sets of light aqua sheets at you and Iwaizumi.

You stared at them for a moment, and then Iwaizumi coughed. “Did you pick these colors for a reason?”

Oikawa, busy restacking the things in his closet, stopped and gave him a quizzical look. “Uh, not really. Why?”

The two of you snickered behind your hands, sharing a knowing look before you held the package up higher. “Doesn’t this remind you of anything. A certain uniform, perhaps?”

The color faded from Oikawa’s face just before it all returned in force, a pretty shade of red covering his cheeks. His hand met his face with a loud smack, and he groaned. “I cannot believe I did that. I really did though, didn’t I?”

More snickering met his ears and his lips turned down in a pout. Before he could start to really get into it, you looked up at him and said, “It’s fine, Tooru. They’re very pretty anyway. I like them.”

Beside you, Iwaizumi sighed, his lips quirking up just the slightest bit. “They’ll do. You probably just closed your eyes and picked though, huh?”

Stomping his foot, Oikawa stuck his tongue out, pulling one eyelid down in a very familiar move. “Did not, Iwa-chan! Don’t be mean or I’ll kick you out!”

But Iwaizumi had already turned and headed back across the hall, missing Oikawa’s childish display, while you tried to breathe through your giggles. “Sure you will. You can try, Brattykawa.”

“Poor ______, how have you put up with him without me all this time,” Oikawa asked loudly as he followed you back down the hall, his fingers gripping the back of your shirt. There was this an urge to constantly be near you or touching you in some way ever since he’d first seen the two of you at the airport. It was like there was a magnet, drawing his hand to your back or your hand, a small zing of anxiety and a desire to make sure you were really here. It even extended to Iwaizumi, which he found unusual. Separation really was playing havoc with him.

--

As the day progressed, Oikawa slowly began to realize that your interactions with Iwa weren’t just different, they had changed. The way the two of you revolved around each other was new and a part of him felt shut out as he watched you go about your day. The conversations you had, the stories you told, he didn’t understand any of it and it left an empty feeling in his chest as he realized that in the few months the three of you had been separated you and Iwaizumi had started living a whole new life.

“Oikawa,” you said for the third time, and watched him blink as he refocused on you. You frowned, putting your hand on your hip as you stared up at him. He had been showing you around some of his favorite spots in the city with little enthusiasm and it was starting to worry you. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been out of it for hours now.”

The sun was relentless, so you had stopped at a street vendor for some shaved ice and moved to the shade of a large oak tree. Most of his had melted as he stared off into space, making the paper cone soggy and you watched it drip to the grass. Iwaizumi had thrown away your own garbage and was now staring at Oikawa, waiting for his answer.

But he hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain the foreboding feeling clutching at his heart. It had never occurred to him just how much things would change when he left Tokyo, too focused on himself to consider anything else.

His mouth opened and closed several times, his chocolate brown eyes wide and swimming with an emotion you could only describe as sadness and your stomach clenched. When you reached out to him, he drew you into his arms, burying his face in your hair in a familiar gesture, but even your shampoo had changed.

“Tooru, what’s going on?” you asked, feeling another hand land on your back, overlapping Oikawa’s. You turned your head to look up at Iwa, your heart pounding in your chest. Oikawa’s fingers were twisted in your shirt, and you could feel his heart racing under your hand until you wound your arms around his neck.

Iwa looked down into your face, taking in your wide, nervous eyes asking him to help, but he shook his head and shrugged. He had no more idea of what was going on than you did, but knew that Oikawa would explain when he was able. Whatever had gotten into him was clearly big, and he just needed time to figure himself out.  

It was a few minutes before Oikawa moved, and you were sweating in his hold. There were other people walking by, whispering and pointing, but they quickly scurried off when Iwaizumi turned his ferocious scowl on them. When he did finally shift, it was only to stand up a little straighter and set his chin on the top of your head, locking eyes with Iwaizumi.

“It feels like so much has changed since I left. Like there’s some space between us now that wasn’t there before, and you two are standing on one side and I’m standing on the other,” he said at last, and he sounded as empty as his eyes looked.

Iwaizumi knew that look, it was the “I’m about to shut down and refuse to acknowledge that I’m an idiot and overthinking things” look. If it wasn’t stopped in its tracks right now, the rest of the day was going to be miserable.

Before Iwaizumi could smack him upside the head though, you piped up, voice small and fragile as you clung tighter to Oikawa. All the pent up worries and emotions you had hidden from Iwa flooded out, and he was a little aggravated that the two of you had decided to do this right now in the middle of ninety degree weather.

“I know how you feel. I’ve felt the same for the last few weeks, wondering what it was going to be like seeing you again knowing that you have a whole new life here. I was afraid that-- that you would have changed so much that-- I don’t know,” you tapered off, and then whispered, “I thought you wouldn’t want us anymore.”

He laughed at that, a tight, high noise that carried no humor, but the cold feeling in his chest abated and he relaxed, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head and suddenly he was comforting you. “Never ever in a million years, _____. You’re too precious to me. Even Iwa-chan, who’s done nothing but bully me all day. I’d never try to replace you. I’d never let anyone replace you.”

And it was so easy to believe he meant it when he held you like that. Rubbing your face against his chest, you smiled. “You’re still such a sap. I should’ve known you hadn’t changed.”

He whined and pinched your side. “Don’t you be mean to me too, _____. I couldn’t take it.”

Squealing, you pushed him away, but he didn’t let you get far. It was hot and your palms were sweaty and it was uncomfortable, but when he laced his fingers with yours, you didn’t complain.

Iwa did though.

“Are you two done? It’s like, 100 degrees and I am melting. You two are such idiots,” he said, scowling at the two of you. His face was red and shiny with perspiration, and he looked seriously annoyed but he was also watching you with a fondness you’d only recently begun to notice. Since that night a few weeks ago, he had been far more affectionate and open, which was saying something because you were already so casually affectionate to begin with.

Poking his tongue out at him, Oikawa tugged you along down the sidewalk with renewed vigor. Iwaizumi grumbled behind but allowed himself to be led by the hand as Oikawa told you about the next place he was going to bring you and about the game in a few days.

“Unfortunately, I have to go to practice tomorrow, but feel free to wander the city, of course. Just please don’t get lost,” Oikawa prattled on, turning a corner onto a street lined with shops. 

The rest of the day was spent investigating every one of them, Oikawa insisting that you get whatever you wanted to decorate your rooms and you obliged only to appease him. It was a little uncomfortable having him pay for everything, but you were weighted down with bags by the time you left the last store. It was mostly clothes, so that you wouldn’t have to pack so much when you visited again and some other small knick knacks that he bought even though you argued against it.

Iwaizumi was carrying far less bags-- at least until he took yours-- mostly because he refused to give into Oikawa’s puppy dog eyes and threatened to maim him if he continued to nag. But Oikawa couldn’t be stopped completely and picked up the things Iwa expressed interest in anyway. Iwaizumi wasn’t happy about it but the look of happiness on Oikawa’s face as he chatted with you, the bags swinging lazily from his arm, made up for it, and he found himself smiling.

The walk back to the apartment was considerably more pleasant without the heat of the sun cooking you alive, and the way first Oikawa then Iwaizumi laced their fingers with yours only made it that much better. There was an indescribable pressure in your chest as you took in the city lights and chatter of people around you. The sounds of sizzling food and smells wafting from street vendors made your mouth water, and Oikawa stopped to purchase a plate of kebabs from one as you passed by.

“You really don’t have to do all this, Tooru. We aren’t poor, you know,” you commented as he passed one to you and then Iwa. Grease dripped down your fingers, and the first bite you took was an explosion of different flavors over your tongue, making you groan. “Shit, this is so good.”

Oikawa watched you with a soft grin, holding his own kebab in his hand but not eating it just yet as he said, “Well there’s not much I’d rather spend it on than you, my little _____.”

The wonder in your eyes as they reflected the lights crisscrossing the street was doing strange things to his stomach, and when those eyes landed on them and the wonder deepened to something more intense, it exploded into butterflies. Something in his head clicked as it changed and he realized you were absolutely beautiful right then and there.

“Shit,” he muttered, and your brows furrowed in confusion as he shook his head. What a weird thought to have, and an even weirder reaction overall. Of course you were beautiful, he had always known that, so why had it hit him so powerfully all of a sudden?

“You alright?” you asked, wiping your mouth with a napkin. Setting your empty stick back on the plate in his hands, you picked up your second one. “You look like you’re in pain.”

He blinked and took a moment to answer, locking eyes with Iwaizumi, who was watching him with curious amusement. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve run all over town like this. The heat must’ve gotten to me.

The heat, huh? Iwaizumi smirked, watching Oikawa watch you with a newfound fascination. He wondered if he even realized he was doing it and how long it would take him to recognize it for what it was.

“Oh, well,” you said, your cheeks heating up for reasons you couldn’t identify. The look in his eyes had changed, emotions you couldn't identify swirling around in his soft brown irises, but it caused your heart to stutter. “Maybe we should go home then. You have practice tomorrow and I’d hate for you to get sick or something. And just before your game too.”

You began to walk as you polished off the last of the food, still struck with wonder at the liveliness of the city. It was different than Tokyo, if no less crowded. Your city was quiet in a lot of ways, tame, whereas this one was wild and loud and raucous. It was enough to make your head spin, and you wondered if you were experiencing culture shock. Only the pressure of Iwaizumi’s and Oikawa’s slightly greasy fingers kept you from wandering off into the crowds, absorbed as you were with the lights and music.

Oikawa understood all too well, having experienced the same thing when he first arrived as well. He had been grateful for his guide, who had kept him from getting lost and probably mugged or worse in his first few weeks there. Now he knew the layout of the places he most frequented, at least, and he mainly stuck to those.

The street his apartment was on was quiet, the streetlamps casting soft light on the dark buildings with the sun just barely visible on the horizon. You could still hear the faint sounds from the main street, but it was muffled and filtered and you were surprised to find it was almost comforting. It was only nine o’clock, and he wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep yet, even though he knew he really should. He would be up early tomorrow morning and busy all day and probably into the night getting ready for his big game.

There was a sudden rush of nervous energy, one he was used to just before a game, and it never failed that it would keep him up for a while longer.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asked, gesturing to the TV. He had a wicked setup, high definition, ultra-surround sound, the works, along with a collection of DVDs and probably every streaming service imaginable to boot. 

But he looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes that you had failed to notice before, and you kicked yourself for not realizing sooner. Stupid, stupid, Oikawa!

“I-- maybe we should head to bed, instead,” you suggested, giving Iwaizumi a pointed look. 

He was quick to catch on and gave Oikawa a once over as the three of you stood in the kitchen The man looked ready to collapse, his hands trembling ever so slightly, but there was some manic glint in his eyes that he recognized as pre-game jitters, and he groaned internally. Oikawa was going to work himself to death, same as usual, only here there was no one to tell him when to quit because it was his job.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, glaring at him. Dealing with Oikawa really was a full time job, even from halfway around the world. Louder, and to your annoyance, he said, “Actually a movie sounds good. I’m not tired quite yet.”

Oikawa perked up from the slump he had gone into and nodded, scurrying across the room to the TV, and you used the opportunity to turn on Iwaizumi.

“Hajime, he looks like he’s going to drop dead. He needs to sleep,” you whispered, eyeing Oikawa. But he was so absorbed in setting up the sound system that he didn’t even realize you were still in the kitchen. “I-- I’m worried.”

Iwaizumi sighed, cupping your cheek. His other hand squeezed your shoulder, and you realized he was no less worried than you. “I know, but what can we do? He’s an adult and not our responsibility anymore.”

Both of you had been with him through his overzealous competition with Kageyama, one or both of you having to literally pick him up from the floor when his knees wouldn’t hold his weight more than once. There had been too many fights and sleepless nights with him about overworking himself and his obsessive need to defeat both Kageyama and Ushijima that you didn’t want to think about what he was doing to himself without someone to yell at him now.

And the way Iwaizumi talked hurt because it was true. He wasn’t, and hadn’t been for months. You hadn’t even really stopped to consider what he might be doing to himself without you and Iwaizumi to knock some sense into him, but it was plain as day that he was working himself to the bone when you stopped to really look at him.

“I know that,” you muttered, but you didn’t really believe it. It was second nature to take care of each other, and that didn’t change just because of a few months apart. Years of friendship trumped that by miles and you weren’t sure that would ever change. “Still…”

“Look,” Iwaizumi said, glancing at Oikawa again. He was still messing with something and in a rush Iwa continued. “He’s too worked up about the game, so he won’t sleep anyway. Let’s just stay up and maybe we can help him relax--”

Oikawa’s voice cut him off, playful but a little suspicious, making the two of you jumped. “What are you two whispering about?”

Feeling guilty at the betrayed expression on his wan face, you opened your lips but no sound came out. There were words stuck in your throat-- worried reprimands and demands-- but you knew they would do no good. Not with his very first game on the international circuit looming in just two days time. Nothing you said would make a difference, and to stress him out with a fight before that wouldn’t be fair, or at least no more fair than he was being to himself anyway.

Picking a fight right now would only ruin your vacation and make everyone miserable, so instead you closed your mouth and reached out to take Iwa’s hand, which squeezed yours so tight you could feel your bones grinding. “Sorry, Tooru, just chatting about tomorrow. Didn’t realize we were whispering.”

Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, though, and Oikawa’s narrowed, his lips turning down. Everything had been fine until you had gotten back to the apartment, but now you and Iwa both looked withdrawn and distant, unable to look at him for more than a moment before finding each other. “Are you...sure?”

The air filled with a tense silence, and once again you felt like a chasm was between you, with you and Iwaizumi on one side and Oikawa on the other, and you wondered if it would ever truly close up again. He looked so alone on the other side, drawn into himself and insecure, that you had to clos the distance to him and took his hand. It created a chain between the three of you until Iwa reached out for Oikawa, and you breathed a little easier for it.

“Everything is fine, Tooru, if you are,” you said, and he heard the pointed question in your tone. 

Iwaizumi groaned internally. He should’ve known you wouldn’t just leave it alone.

For Oikawa’s part, he should’ve known you would notice, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. But he didn’t feel like getting into it with you on your first night in-- if at all-- but he knew he would have to let you fawn over and get onto him following the game. He just hoped you would drop it until then.

“I’m tired, _____, but I’m okay. Things will slow down once the game is over, I promise,” he said, and you picked up on the thin warning in his voice. 

Another tense silence followed as they waited for you to make your decision, and you ultimately sighed, dropping his hand. You understood his sentiment all too well, and knew that Iwaizumi was right when he said it would be better to wait, but that didn’t mean you were happy with what Oikawa was doing to himself.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he gestured to the collection of DVDs lining the shelves. Ultimately, it was left up to you and you picked out something you knew everyone would enjoy: The X-Files. The way Oikawa’s tired face lit up was a testament to that, even if Iwaizumi huffed in exasperation. At least you hadn’t pushed the issue with Oikawa, letting it devolve into a fight. He really didn’t feel like having to mediate between the two of you tonight.

Three episodes in and Oikawa was drooping onto your shoulder, eyes fluttering with the effort to remain open. The hand he had been using to hold yours was slack, fingers loosely intertwined, and he whined when you pulled away, reaching out for it again. But you were pushing at his shoulder, guiding him down to lay in your lap, and he hummed in contentment. A blanket landed on him, the one from the back of the couch, then your fingers were brushing through his hair, nails scraping his scalp and he was drifting, images of the day flickering through his mind’s eye. They mixed with some weirder things, like a giant cat and running through Tokyo away from an alien, and he stopped fighting to bring the other images back.

His breathing evened out, his full weight coming to rest on your legs, and your fingers stilled. Eyes locked on the screen, you said, “Sorry, Iwa, for earlier. I know you’re right, but I can’t help but worry.”

Iwaizumi already had the remote in hand, fiddling with the buttons until he could figure out how to switch the screen over to Netflix, and he sighed as he flipped through the shows. “I know how you are, ______, but you know how Oikawa is. He’s always been that way.” He wasn’t patronizing as he said it, just pointed, making you flinch.

“I know that, but is anyone down here going to keep him from killing himself? You know he doesn’t know his limits,” you said, watching as he clicked into the info screen for Mad Max. The opening title played and you relaxed into the back of the couch, propping your legs up on the coffee table.

He sighed, eyes fixated on Charlize Theron coming down on her platform. He loved that movie, watching it almost as often as Godzilla. “Yeah, I do know. But there’s nothing we can do, is there? He’s halfway around the world from us and texting him about it will only get ignored.” His arm came down around your shoulders, squeezing you to his side, and you let your head fall to his shoulder. “He’ll be alright, _____. Once this game is over, he should settle down. He’s probably just desperate to make a good impression.”

You chuckled at that as you watched the movie, Iwa’s warmth surrounding you and the steady rise of fall of Oikawa’s shoulders lulling you into a stupor. You knew he was right because Oikawa had always been like that-- desperate, for some reason, to make sure everyone knew he was worthy of the praise he received. As if you didn’t already think he was.

You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until Iwaizumi was nudging your shoulder. The weight on your legs was gone and you jerked awake to find Oikawa sitting up, rubbing his eyes and glaring at Iwaizumi.

“I was comfortable,” he whined, draping himself over you dramatically. You giggled, your eyes stinging with sleep, but pushed him off you gently. “Not you too, _____.”

“We should go to sleep,” you reprimanded, letting Iwa help you up off the couch. Holding your hand out to Oikawa, you were almost pulled back down by his strong grip, and heard him snicker. “Don’t be a brat, Tooru,” you said, pinching his side and listening to him whine.

You parted ways in the hall, the resonating click of three doors closing before silence reigned, and you changed quickly. Collapsing onto the bed with a sigh, you breathed in the fresh smell of laundry detergent and smiled as you realized that, somehow, Oikawa’s damn cologne had stuck to the sheets too.

--

The next day, you and Iwaizumi wandered around the city again, following Oikawa’s suggestions of sites to check out. The city center was beautiful but packed, the fountain gurgling away happily, and that’s where the two of you had lunch. Following that, you went around to a museum, taking a tour where the guide explained the founding of the city and other interesting facts. Iwa accidentally ripped the pamphlet, causing you to laugh at the confusion on his face as he tried to figure out how it happened.

The last place you visited was an absolutely beautiful park. There were people everywhere there as well, sitting in the grass and on the benches littered around the lake. Iwa casually reached out, taking your hand as you walked down the riverwalk, gazing at the serene blue waters, and your heart skipped a beat. 

When you returned to the apartment, greeting the doorman on your way by, it was still dark, and you set the ingredients you had purchased down on the counter. On the way back, you had mentioned how Oikawa had probably not had any homemade food since he moved there, so Iwaizumi had suggested making onigiri for him. 

The two of you worked in quiet tandem, putting the rice on before turning to help Iwa make the fillings. You had opted for a few different ones, and you were overflowing with rice balls by the time you were done. To an outsider, it would look like too much, but you knew your boys all too well-- they would eat every single one of them before the night was through.

As you worked, you asked, “How long do you think he’ll be?”

He shrugged in response, molding rice around a tuna filling. His muscles flexed with the effort, veins popping naturally all along his forearm, and you found yourself lost in watching him work. It was something you were always prone too, but lately thoughts of a different nature were popping into your head, thoughts you really, really didn’t want to be thinking.

It took him a moment to realize you hadn’t said anything more, and he looked up to find you staring at him intensely. “See something you like?” he joked and watched you jump, your face flushing as you turned back to your own work. His eyes narrowed at your unusual reaction-- normally you would come back with a defensive “No,” or some quip about how there was nothing to see at all. 

“Anyway, I can’t wait to see the game tomorrow,” you said, and he could hear the strain in your voice. You were packing the rice balls with more tenacity than normal, obviously determined not to look at him again, and something about it soothed the low burn in his chest that had been there for some time, diligently ignored.

He nodded, even though you weren’t looking, and picked up the next onigiri. “Oikawa is gonna be amazing out there, like always. I’m glad we get to be here for him.”

“Me too,” you said, and then laughed. “Imagine if we hadn’t come. He would be blowing us up right now, whining about how nervous he is and how we don’t love him anymore.”

He laughed with you, imagining Oikawa stomping his foot as he complained about being abandoned. “Thank god we came then. We would never survive his wrath.”

When the onigiri was done, you plopped down on the couch, putting on Family Guy on Hulu for background noise while the two of you played on your phones. Your feet were in Iwa’s lap as you tapped away at a game on your screen, the sound drowned out by Peter’s loud laughter, and that was how Oikawa found the two of you an hour later.

The sound of his entry was covered by the TV, and something heavy settled in his stomach when he opened the door and called, “I’m home.”

He snickered when you both jumped, twisting around to look at him. A smile lit your face while Iwa just looked unimpressed.

“Welcome home!” you said, throwing your arms up with dramatic enthusiasm, and Oikawa snickered.

“Awe, you even cooked. My little housewives,” he cooed, picking up a rice ball from the plate on the counter. He took a bite, nostalgia and longing filling his heart at the familiar flavors. It reminded him of home-- not Japan, not Tokyo, not Miyagi, but you and Iwa. 

“Watch it, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi growled, scowling up at his friend, and was stopped short by the expression on his face. It was so tender it was almost painful as he stared down at the rice ball in his hands, and then he turned it full force on the two of you.

“I really missed you guys,” he said, and then laughed. “And onigiri, and takoyaki, and Japan.”

He brought two more over and squeezed between you, practically sitting on top of you, slinging his arm over Iwa’s shoulders. You exchanged a glance with Iwaizumi, who just shrugged in amusement.

“What’re you doing home so early anyway?” you asked, returning to your game. You were only 500 points away from beating your highscore, and you tapped away to get there. Oikawa watched over your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your ear, and a shiver ran down your spine.

He was unusually quiet and focused as your character moved across the screen, avoiding obstacles and slashing at small blob monsters in your path. “Uh, they wanted us to rest for the big game. Speaking of which, I have your passes in my bag, so don’t let me forget to give them to you otherwise they won’t let you in.”

You hummed, avoiding a blob only to get killed by an arrow on your last life. “Goddammit.”

Exiting out of the app purely out of spite, you locked your phone and looked up at Oikawa. His face was closer than you had realized and your face heated up when your nose bumped his. He seemed as startled as you and jerked back, his cheeks turning a pretty red underneath his tan. His brown eyes were wide with surprise, lips parting slightly, and his arm slid off Iwa’s shoulders.

Iwaizumi watched the whole thing with something that could have been amusement, but he couldn’t quite tell. There was a flareup of something in his chest, and he might have named it longing if he hadn’t been trying to ignore those feelings. Clearing his throat, he continued to scroll through his phone and watched the two of you shift, trying to ignore the tension in the air.

“Anyway,” you said, picking at the hem of your shorts. You picked your phone back up and unlocked it, clicking into Twitter. “Do you know where our seats are?”

Back in familiar territory, Oikawa perked back up. “Well...I got you front row seats! And you’ll meet me in back after the game is over to go to the afterparty.”

“Oh, we get to party with the great Oikawa still?” Iwa asked, snickering at the way Oikawa huffed.

“Not with that attitude, Iwa-chan. Maybe I’ll just take _____ and leave you at the stadium,” he said, wrapping his arm around you possessively. It seemed whatever strangeness had occurred earlier was wiped from his mind as he pulled you into his chest.

You laughed into his shirt, fingers wiggling against his stomach until he squirmed and let you go. “You can’t be that mean, Tooru,” you chided, curling your legs up underneath yourself. Liking one of Bokuto’s tweets, you continued, “What would we do without Iwa there to keep us from getting too drunk?”

“And going home with the wrong people again?” he piped up, and Oikawa flushed bright red again.

“It was one time, Hajime. Stop bringing it up!” he whined, hiding his face in his hands. “_____, help me!”

Instead, you snickered and said, “That was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You should have seen how confused they were when you stumbled up to them screaming Iwa-chan, _____ I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Iwa burst into laughter while Oikawa groaned. 

“I hate it here,” he said, muffled by his hands. “Why does everyone hate me?”

Patting his back, you choked out, “It’s because you’re pretty.”

“Ugh.”

--

The game that day was absolutely fantastic. Oikawa was flawless, encouraging his teammates and commanding everyone’s attention-- then again maybe that was just you projecting, but if anyone asked you would say it was true-- and it seemed they won the game without effort.

They all clapped him on the back in the middle of the court, laughing and cheering and, when they turned to acknowledge the crowd, Oikawa’s smile was all for you.

A security guard approached your seats a few moments later, gesturing you towards the set of doors the team was heading towards, and Oikawa fell into step beside you, slinging a sweaty arm over each of your shoulders.

“God, Oikawa, you’re disgusting. Get off us,” Iwa snapped, shoving at his arm, but Oikawa was undeterred.

Still regaining his breath, he asked, “How was I out there? Amazing, right?”

“If you already know,” Iwaizumi said, giving up the fight with his arm, “why are you asking?”

“Because I want to hear you say it, of course,” he answered, guiding you towards the locker rooms. There was a series of benches lining the hall and he stopped in front of them, grinning. “Wait here. We’re gonna have to do a few more interviews and then we’ll go to the venue,” he said, turning towards the locker room.

It was almost thirty minutes before the team finally trudged back out, still in high spirits, and another thirty to deal with the throngs of reporters and news crews who wanted interviews. Finally, you loaded up onto the bus, stuck between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The whole ride was loud and you laughed at the antics of the team. Iwaizumi was right at home amongst them, as if he were right back in highschool, riding the high of a win.

The party was being held on the rooftop of a nearby hotel, complete with an open bar, DJ, and more athletes, friends and family of said athletes, and reporters than you could count. You were introduced to the team and their spouses before being dragged off by a few of them to dance. Iwaizumi found you a little while later, three drinks in and giggling maniacally with the libero’s wife, Trish. She was telling you about when she first met her husband at a party just like this one and how she threw up on his girlfriend at the time’s shoes. He had laughed so hard she broke up with him right then, and you couldn’t help but laugh even though it was kind of sad.

“Hey, princess,” Iwa said, and you shouted his name happily at the sight of him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes slightly unfocused, and when you took a sip from his cup you were overcome with the taste of vodka. “Oikawa was looking for us.”

“Oh,” Trish teased, pushing you a little harder than intended in her drunk state. You fell into Iwaizumi, who only caught you out of habit. “Are you dating our little all star?”

“W-What?” you shrieked over the loud music, shaking your head wildly. Your hair fell into your face and the sky spun, then you started giggling again. “No, no, it’s-- nothing like that?”

“Are you asking or telling, _____?” she asked, but Iwa was pulling you away, pushing through the pulsating crowd towards the bar.

Oikawa was standing there, eyes bright with drunkenness as he chatted with someone you didn’t recognize, and he waved as you stumbled up. Pulling you from Iwa, he said, “_____, this is Andre. He’s from the Swedish team. This is my best friend from Japan.”

You straightened up, the haze of alcohol clearing as you focused on the tall man in front of you. He was smiling kindly at you, a cup in his hand like everyone else, and nodded at you. He spoke with a Spanish accent as he said, “It’s nice to meet you, _____. You’re very beautiful.”

Eyes widening, you stuttered as you said, “T-Thank you.”

His grin grew bigger, and you missed the way both Iwa and Oikawa tensed to either side of you. If he saw it, he ignored it, asking if you wanted to dance.

Your friends let you go with reluctance, a pained expression on Oikawa’s face as he looked to Iwaizumi. Neither knew what to say-- they knew it would happen eventually, you couldn’t remain unnoticed forever. 

“She’ll be okay,” Iwa said, pouring himself another drink. It was his fourth so far, and he was careless as he poured his alcohol. “We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Oikawa didn’t like the calmness in his voice when something ugly was raging in his chest, something he had been ignoring all this time whenever you talked about other people you expressed an interest in. But alcohol made him loose and the jealousy reared up sharper than ever as he caught glimpses of you twirling and swaying with the beat of the music. Andre’s hands were on your hips and you were laughing at something he was whispering-- at least as far as Oikawa could tell-- into your ear. 

His hands were tight around his cup, squeezing and crinkling the cheap plastic, then it was being tugged from his fingers and another was replacing it.

“Drink,” Iwa said, sipping from his own cup. “Jealousy looks ugly on you.”

“Iwa,” he snapped, watching your arms loop around Andre’s neck, “how can you be happy about this?”

Iwa tensed beside him and pinned him with a glare that would have cowed him if he was less drunk or less irate. “What makes you think I am, Oikawa? But she isn’t-- she’s not ours.”

Ours echoed in his head, and for the first time he really looked at Iwaizumi. He realized that the jealousy never flared when he was around, and watching the two of you curled up together on his couch never elicited the emotion either. It felt like home watching the two of you, and yesterday was the first day he had actually looked forward to coming home. Seeing Iwaizumi’s spiky black hair over the back of the couch and your smiling face as you welcomed him home had made all the difference to him, and he took a large swig from his cup, the rum burning on the way down before he spoke again.

“She could be.”

It was said so quietly that if Iwa hadn’t been standing shoulder to shoulder with him he wouldn’t have heard him. His head whipped around, swimming a little with the alcohol, and narrowed his eyes.

Oikawa could feel his eyes on him, meeting his gaze head on. He wasn’t joking, the mix of jealousy and alcohol wouldn’t let him. Iwaizumi’s face was blank, but he could see the gears turning as he processed his words as best he could with his level of intoxication. 

At last, he seemed to reach a decision, the blankness morphing into a calculating look and he said, “What about her? Does she want that? And us? Oikawa, we can’t hold her back because we don’t want to let her go.”

Oikawa looked back to you and sighed. You were now dancing with Andre and one of the other wives whose name he’d already forgotten, laughing without care. “If she doesn’t want us, then we’ll let her go. But I can’t-- Iwa, you feel the same, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he said, admitting to it at last. It felt like the weight of finally confessing was lifted only to be replaced with the weight of acknowledgement, and he wasn’t sure he liked it any better. “For both of you, but it doesn’t mean anything if she doesn’t want it. What will you do if she rejects you?”

“Then I’ll beg her not to cut me out of her life, of course. And she’ll forgive us because even if she doesn’t love us, she loves us,” he answered, and said it with such certainty that even Iwaizumi believed him. He sighed, clapping Oikawa on the shoulder and, as if the gods were listening, you disentangled yourself from Andre and approached them.

Even in the dim light they could see how happy you were, skin flushed with a light sheen of sweat. A few strands of hair were sticking to your forehead, and you pushed them back as you greeted them. “Hey, guys, what’re you just standing here for? This is a party for you, Oikawa!” You were shouting over the music and reached out, taking Iwa’s cup from his hand. Taking a swig, you grimaced. “How are you still standing, Haji?”

Iwa chuckled while Oikawa took a long swallow from his cup.

“You’re right, princess. Let’s go dance!” he said, and took your hand. You grabbed Iwa’s at the last minute and pulled him after the two of you, his drink sloshing as he stumbled to keep up.

You found yourself pinned between the two of them, the heat radiating off of them and everyone around you making your brain fuzzy. Your arms looped around his neck when you handed Oikawa’s cup back after stealing a sip, body swaying to the beat of the music thudding from the speakers. Andre was all but pushed from your mind as his hand settled on your waist, Iwa’s landing on your other. His back was pressed flush to your back, your chest touching Oikawa’s, and suddenly nothing else existed.

The smell of his cologne filled your nose, mixed with the heady scent of alcohol and sweat. Your head spun when Iwa pressed his nose into your hair, pulling it to the side to expose the back of your neck, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

The song changed, more intense, and you lost yourself in the feel of their bodies against yours, tall and protective. Spinning around, you wrapped your fingers around Iwa’s neck now and his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Having fun, princess?” Oikawa whispered, a breath of air ghosting over your ear making you shivered. His hand was low on your hip, squeezing as he pulled you back into him, and you nodded. “I could use another drink. Keep her warm for me, Hajime.”

His warmth disappeared and you instantly missed it and the feeling of security. Nuzzling closer to Iwa, the beat shifted again, slowing down and going darker, and you shivered as the bass thrummed through you. His hand drifted lower, settling just below your hip, and you looked up at him. Both their drinks were a lot stronger this time around, and you could feel the effects on you in the way everything swam. You couldn’t focus on anything but Iwaizumi and the way he was staring at you with dark, hooded eyes. You were sure he was as drunk as you, but you didn’t even realize you were leaning up until he stopped you, giving you a soft smile.

“Not here, princess, not while you’re drunk,” he said into your ear, and you flushed under the spinning strobe lights. You were too important to him to do this when you weren’t sober, and he wanted to talk before you made any decisions.

His words held a promise you didn’t expect, and you swallowed thickly around the cloying taste of vodka.

“But when I’m sober?” you whispered, and it was only because you were still right by his ear that he heard you.

He chuckled, nodding as he rested his sweaty forehead against yours. “If you remember, princess. Yeah.”

“What have we here? I thought you had more chivalry than that,” Oikawa said from beside you. He slid back into his place behind you, resting his cheek on your shoulder, lips a hair away from touching Iwa’s forehead. “By the way, Andre is not happy. Isn’t it great?”

Iwa snickered, kissing the tip of your nose before he took in Oikawa’s shit eating grin. Leaning in close, his nose brushed Oikawa’s. “You take way too much pride in that, Shittykawa.”

“Don’t you? Our _____ is a desired woman, after all,” he said, eyes narrowing as they dipped down to look at Iwa’s lips. The temptation was strong enough that it caused him to lick his own before meeting Iwa’s again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He was following the beat of the music, swaying side to side with you. It had shifted once again but remained low and resonating, the others around you pushing and pulling you with the flow. Your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and amused.

“What do you mean our?” you asked, teasing. You snatched the cup from his hand and took a drink, playing keep away from Oikawa when he reached for it. You weren’t expecting for Iwaizumi to take it from your hands and drink from it, both of you laughing when Oikawa whined. 

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to him while Iwa held onto the cup, laughing brashly. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was feeling lighter than air, and he looked at you and Oikawa, draped around you like a blanket. Love flooded his system, mixing with the drink and his head spun at the intensity. He wondered if he would feel that way tomorrow, but decided that was a problem for another Iwaizumi. He came back to you, arm slipping around you both as far as the could to curl in Oikawa’s shirt.

The party was still raging, and he was going to enjoy it with the two of you.

--

You didn’t stumble into the apartment until the early hours of the morning, when the earliest risers were getting ready for work, and half-assed the removal of your makeup. Hands had grabbed you the minute you exited the bathroom and dragged you back to the living room, where you collapsed in a pile on the couch. You passed out until mid afternoon and woke up tangled in long and muscular limbs, remaining makeup caked and the lingering taste of alcohol in your mouth. How you had managed not to throw up was a miracle, and the men only groaned when you untangled yourself from them.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you cleaned the rest of the makeup off your face and snagged some of Oikawa’s facial cleanser before hopping into the shower. Flashes of last night came back to you. Dancing with Andre, listening to him whisper into your ear and laughing at things that weren’t that funny now, then finding Oikawa and Iwa and being dragged back into the crowd. That caused your heart to race, remembering the way they had pinned you between them, hands groping at your hips and moving against you. Oikawa had disappeared and it was just you and Iwa, the intense look in his eyes as he stared down at you, leaning up and--

God, you had almost kissed him. And he had-- he had said if you remembered when you were sober. Your heart was thumping so hard that your hungover brain was spinning. The question was, did he remember?

Feeling marginally less dead but more nervous than ever before, you dressed and headed back into the living room to find Iwaizumi and Oikawa both sitting up with their heads in their hands.

“I haven’t gotten that drunk since my last party in Japan,” Oikawa groaned, massaging his temples. He remembered a surprising amount about last night, but most clearly was the conversation with Iwaizumi, and he knew without asking that he remembered it too. Neither of them were drunk enough to forget, but after that was a different story. All he remembered was dancing with you for the rest of the night, your hands in his hair and on his chest, body moving against his, and his heart throbbed in his throat.

Iwa chuckled at that and then winced when the action made his head throb. “Weak. But same.” His schedule was always too packed to get that blitzed, so he stuck to two drinks and then went home.

The door to the bathroom opened and you came out into the living room wearing one of their shirts-- they didn’t even know whose at that point-- and sat down between them on the couch.

“You look like trash,” you said, snickering when they grumbled.

“I’m gonna go shower now,” Iwa said, standing up from beside you. He gave the lightest touch on your cheek before disappearing down the hall. The sound of water running met your ears, and you fidgeted with your hands.

Oikawa groaned and flopped sideways down on the couch. “I ordered takeout already. It should be here soon. I need something greasy, so I hope you don’t mind burgers.”

Your stomach grumbled at the mention of food, reminding you that the only thing you had eaten were some hors d’oeuvres at the party. “That sounds absolutely amazing.”

You put on Netflix while Oikawa replaced Iwa in the shower, the air tense between you two. The words from last night replayed and you were working up the courage to see if he remembered as well when he turned to you.

“Hey, uh, _____, do you-- I mean, what do you--?” he said, and the doorbell rang, indicating the food was there. “Well, nevermind.” He stood up and answered, the smell of greasy food hitting you after a moment.

“Gimme gimme,” you said, taking the box he handed to you. 

The shower cut off and a few minutes later Oikawa joined you, groaning as he took a bite of his burger. “Nothing has ever tasted so good.”

You continued to eat in silence, a tense weight hanging over the three of you and the longer it went unacknowledged the more nervous you got. The scene kept playing over in your head, exhausting you more than the hangover, your stomach rolling with anxiety. At last, you couldn’t take it and pushed your burger away.

“Listen, guys, um, I have something to say and I really hope that you don’t freak out but I--”

“Do you remember last night?” Iwaizumi asked, cutting you off. You flinched beside him, eyes wide as you nodded, and he reached out, taking your hands. “Was that real? Is it something you want?”

Your mouth went dry as he moved closer, leaning in like you had last night, and your lips parted, but no words came out. Oikawa shifted behind you, unaware of what you were talking about, but Iwa’s eyes locked with his over your head and he understood that whatever it was, it was promising. 

Heart in your throat, you nodded, and that was all Iwa needed. 

Your first kiss with him was soft and sweet, his hands coming up to cup your face, and he tilted his head to the side to deepen it. Oikawa groaned, fingers digging into your sides and letting his head drop to your shoulder. Somehow, what he had talked about last night was actually happening, and he fought the urge to pinch himself to make sure it was real, just in case he was in the midst of an alcohol induced dream. 

When Iwa pulled back, his eyes were hazy as they stared into yours, hands rough and warm against your cheeks. He dipped in again, stealing one more before letting go, and Oikawa wrapped your hair around his fingers, guiding your face around so he could get his.

That kiss was heavy with unspoken emotion, needy and hot and you reached up behind you to tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing back into him to get closer. His arm wrapped around your stomach, hauling you into his lap and when he pulled away, he was panting. It didn’t stop him from diving in several more times, moaning at the taste until he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed and lips swollen.

“I love you, princess. And not just as one of my best friends,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing your stomach through your shirt. You gasped at that, eyes misting over as you stared up at him.

“I-- really?” you whispered, and he chuckled at the disbelieving tone of your voice.

He nodded, and Iwa distracted you by taking your hand and lifting it to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn and then pressing your palm to his cheek. “I love you too, _____, if that’s okay.”

“W-Wait, I don’t-- I don’t want to choose between you,” you breathed, and they snickered at the panic in your voice. Dumbfounded, you fell silent, looking between them and waiting for an explanation.

Pulling your hand down, Iwa set it in his lap, stroking the back of it with callused fingertips. “You don’t have to choose between us, if you want both of us. We’ve already talked about it.”

“When?” you asked, overwhelmed by the information. Your two best friends, both of whom you’d managed to fall in love with over the course of the last few months, were confessing they both loved you and both wanted to be with you. It was almost too much.

Iwa colored red while Oikawa snickered again, turning your face to him again. “Last night, actually. Speaking of which, what were you talking about that happened last night?”

It was your turn to be embarrassed, and you hid your face in his neck, mumbling it to him.

“You tried to kiss him?” Oikawa laughed, rubbing your back. “Oh, _____, you little minx.”

“Shut up,” you whined, smacking him in the arm. 

He continued to laugh at you, locking eyes with Iwa again. He looked amused, his cheeks still faintly pink but the smile he was wearing was so beautifully genuine that it almost hurt to look at, and Iwa’s words from last night flashed back to him.

Of course I do. For both of you.

His eyes dipped down to Iwa’s lips and, when he looked back up, he was wearing a knowing smirk. He shifted you slightly to the side, keeping you steady with an arm around your waist, while Iwa scooted forward. His knee pressed between yours as he leaned forward, cupping Oikawa’s cheek before his fingers slid up into his hair.

Your mouth fell open as he pulled his head down, slotting his lips against Oikawa’s. It was tentative at first, testing the waters, but then Oikawa’s fingers curled into his shirt and tugged him closer, groaning into the kiss.

Their pupils were blown wide with wonder when they pulled apart and, when they looked back to you, they found you wearing the widest grin imaginable. There was a pause where no one said anything and then Oikawa pushed you into Iwaizumi and threw himself on top of you. Iwaizumi grunted at the impact as his back hit the couch while you laughed loudly.

“You fucking brat,” Iwaizumi snapped without malice, while you wiggled around trying to get Oikawa off of you. He fell to the side between you and the couch, and Iwa held you to his chest, hand rubbing your back.

Oikawa braced himself up on his elbow, gazing down at the two of you with a bright smile, radiating happiness. He finally understood the ache that had sat in his chest since he announced he was leaving for Argentina, the fierce longing to see you and touch you ever since you had arrived explained by the fact that he was unconditionally in love with you. He wondered how he had only realized it after he left, when the signs had been there for a lot longer than that. Maybe he had simply taken what he had already for granted, or maybe he had just been blind to it.

Knowing him, it was probably both.

Your eyes had closed, listening to the steady beat of Iwa’s heart in your ear, but you suddenly jerked up, looking excited.

“Does that mean I can call you my boyfriends? Everyone is gonna freak,” you said, and Oikawa snorted and burst into laughter. Under you, Iwa groaned, clapping his hand to his forehead.

“You are unbelievable, _____,” he huffed, but he was smiling again, and you could see he was trying not to laugh. “But yeah, I guess you can. I will revoke the right if you abuse it, though. Both of you.”

Oikawa’s eyes lit up at that, and a mischievous smirk lit up his face. “Wonder what we’d have to do to make that happen.”

“Oh, no. I am not gonna risk that,” you said, pushing his face away as he leaned forward. “I just got the right, I’m not gonna lose it already.”

“You’re no fun, _____,” he pouted, grabbing your hand. He kissed your palm, listening to you giggle at something Iwa whispered into your ear. “Already keeping secrets from me, hm? I’m not sure you--”

“I love you, Tooru,” you said, and he sputtered and turned bright red, dropping your hand in favor of covering his face with his, whining in the back of his throat. You burst into laughter while Iwaizumi snickered, high fiving you.

“Why are you two so mean to me?” Oikawa asked through his fingers, though he was grinning hard enough to hurt. His heart thumped in his chest at what was probably an unhealthy rate for an athlete of his caliber, but if he died of a heart attack right then, he’d be alright with it.

It was Iwaizumi who answered, pulling his face down into his neck. Oikawa went willingly, listening to the deep timber of his voice as he said, “You didn’t really think anything would change did you, Brattykawa?”

“Well I had hoped, since you love me and all,” Oikawa admitted. He was starting to feel tired again, his eyes heavy as he soaked in the warmth of your hands on his back and Iwa in general. 

“Nope,” you said, popping your lips on the ‘p’. You settled yourself on Iwa’s chest again, pushing your fingers through Oikawa’s hair. He seemed to purr at that, murmuring as he snuggled closer into Iwa’s side. “I could go for a nap.”

“Same,” Iwa said, proving his point with a yawn. Tucking his arm beneath his head, he let his eyes close with a sigh.

Oikawa was already asleep, his breathing deep and even and warm against Iwa’s neck, and he thought you were too until you murmured a sleepy, “I love you too, Haji.”

His lips ticked up, his heart skipping a beat at the quiet confession. They were words he had been longing to hear for a longer time than he cared to admit, and he sighed again.

“Love you too, princess. Now shut up so we can sleep.”

⇥ masterlist

⍣ 365 days of sun series | previous  

[hansolmates]

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment  w/c; 3.3k  a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse​ and @woozisnoots​ for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right. 

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right. 

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right. 

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?” 

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get. 

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right. 

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left. 

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out. 

Billiam has Super-liked you! 

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam. 

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick. 

Billiam is typing… 

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment. 

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.” 

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!” 

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!” 

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly. 

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!” 

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep. 

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.” 

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?” 

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen. 

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky. 

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder. 

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask. 

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer. 

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off. 

He’s getting an incoming call. From you. 

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard. 

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up. 

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this. 

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up. 

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?” 

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it. 

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.” 

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.” 

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity. 

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?” 

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?” 

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.” 

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit. 

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?” 

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.” 

“Good night.” 

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence. 

The waning starts today. 

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time? 

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep? 

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe. 

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night. 

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal. 

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies. 

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.” 

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy. 

“Who is it?” 

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.” 

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard. 

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder. 

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?” 

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship. 

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.” 

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you. 

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.” 

Liar. He’s a liar. 

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.” 

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.” 

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?” 

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—” 

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s. 

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—” 

“Uji?” 

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm. 

“Uh, hey?” 

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement. 

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!” 

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away. 

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?” 

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together. 

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down. 

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?” 

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him. 

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.” 

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look. 

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?” 

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch. 

“It’s—” 

“Complicated.” 

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly. 

“There’s things you’re not telling me.” 

“Right.” 

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add. 

“Yes.” 

“Then what are some things you can tell me?” 

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.” 

“Paperwork?” 

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life? 

“Okay,” you finally say. 

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens. 

“Really.” 

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease. 

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.” 

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle. 

[lovesanmotion]

Still Here - Wooyoung

Summary: But why did you have to go? 

A/N: Hello! This is an advance gift fic from me to reaching 400 followers! And yes, this is the mystery fic I was talking about and at the same time the discussion I had with you a few weeks ago. The gif is also not mine, credits goes out to the rightful owner. 

Two years after success found the boy group, ATEEZ, KQ decided to debut a girl group for a change. Originally, they wanted the girl group to debut in Seven Seasons - a subsidiary company of KQ - debut a seven member girl group called 7S or short for Seven Seasons. However, the plans fell apart and the casting and recruiting was given to KQ, what kept intact was to debut a seven member girl group, but with a different name. 

KQ decided to name this girl group as Girls’ Paradise. It was an ambitious project brought to you by KQ, having used half a million just to bring in seven individuals into the company and laying down each girl a million won to train. The company’s best trainee? You. 

You were a breath of fresh air to the company, a trainee they have never seen before. When the choreographers teach you all of you the basics of dance steps, you were quick to pick all of it up. The vocal and rap trainers were impressed at how clear your vocals and good your pronounciations are. Quick to master the english language, be able to compose lyrics overnight and quick to adapt to the hectic schedule given by the company. The company started to call you “the female hongjoong”. But you brushed that nickname of, saying that they are just too humble to give you that nickname. 

You were excited to hear the news that Girls’ Paradise is finally set to debut. What shocked you more was that it was your senior idols ATEEZ Hongjoong and Mingi who majority produced the songs for your mini album. Hearing this news, you couldn’t help but thank them everytime you get the chance to meet them inside the company building. And on one particular day, Hongjoong and Mingi invited you to go on a dinner with them. Ecstatic to get close to your senior idols, you agreed. What you didn’t expect is to meet the whole members of ATEEZ at a restaurant their road manager pulled up at. 

You were so shy to join in dinner with eight males in a private room at the second floor of the restaurant, but the boys made you feel welcome. It was safe to say that you had gotten close with Seonghwa, San and Mingi. What the fans were saying were true, Seonghwa is very motherfly and San and Mingi were childish yet mature. Jongho cracked a few jokes with you that helped you open to him, and it did. And beside you, Wooyoung has this look on your face that you couldn’t explain. But that was only the beginning. 

You began to see Wooyoung around more often unlike before. If you say its because you both are from the same company, it doesn’t guarantee that you would always run into each other. You tried to brush it off at first, but then the unthinkable happened. Tensions arose between the two one night in the practice room, and from that night on, it continued to happen. 

"Ms Y/N is ready for her makeup” You smiled upon hearing that voice, you opened your eyes and found Wooyoung standing behind you in the changing room. He picked up the hairbrush and gently brushed your hair gently. 

“Relationship aside, you look pretty without make up on” He smiles at you through the mirror, you felt your inside tingling, Woo made sure not to brush your hair too hard. 

“And I like your hair longer. It suits you.” You smiled, turning your head up to smile at him. Placing a hand under your chin before he leans down to capture your lips with his. Pushing his tongue inside your mouth while his other hand gripped on your waist. Tasting the wine being offered at the awards show from his mouth, a cold hand wrapping around your neck, shivering at the contact. As you two slightly pull away, eyes looking at each other intensely. There is a long pause, hearts pounding inside your chests were the only sounds visible to hear. 

“My stylist doesn’t come back in fifteen minutes, if you’re wondering.” Biting your lower lip flirtatiously before standing up and teasingly removing the white robe around you. Wooyoung’s eyes darted around your body that he loves. The sight of your pink panties already has his cock erected, wanting to come out of his pants. 

A smirk paints his lips he removes the robe and hoists you up the table, back leaning the vanity mirror. Brushing your hair back before he attaches his lips once more with yours, a hand holding the back of your neck to deepen the kiss while his other free hand wanders on your leg, hoisting it up and wrapping it around his waist. 

That’s what you and Wooyoung are - nothing more than just friends with benefits. And it seemed that it was the best relationship for the two of you, neither wanting to be committed with someone and only to be wallet and emotionally drained after a few months or a few years. Apart from that, you both love performing on stage, no other person holding you back from what you both love doing. 

The invigorating hands that touches between your legs sends a twinge of pleasure through you as he traces a hand over the fabric of your underwear. “Look at you, so beautiful and addicting” he whispers, taking in your view with his eyes. 

“But you’ve always been beautiful - covered or bared” with that, Wooyoung attaches his lips on the crook of your neck that sends out a soft moan from your lips, his hand slipping inside the fabric of your underwear to palm your dampened pussy. You quickly arched your back and rubbed his erected clothed cock with your free hand, the harder you rub your hand through his clothed cock, the faster his lips slide up and down your neck. His lips were then fastened at the nape of your neck, not letting go as he gave a gentle bite on your neck, sending chills all over your body. 

“We have to be quick, Y/N” he pauses “and I think you’re ready for me” he unbuckles his pants along with his boxers down, letting them slide down to his ankles and before grabbing your legs, teasingly poking the tip of his cock to your tight entrance. 

“Stop teasing” you whined, slightly swinging your legs to which Wooyoung laughs softly, amused by your reaction. 

“Even if your stylist walks in on us, do you think I would stop fucking you here? Not a chance. Let’s get caught in the act together” and with that, he plunges his cock inside your entrance. No matter how many times you and Woo have done it, it still surprises you how seeing him alone is already enough to make you this wet for him. 

Wooyoung begins to pump fast and furiously, making his cock very happy to be inside you again and your pussy wanting to melt. Gently caressing your outer thighs and up to your hips, hearing his low moans in your ear, 

“Faster...please...” you begged. Woo increased his pace, feeling his dick move and harden inside you had you a moaning mess. Your pussy pulsating and contracting all around his throbbing cock when all of a sudden, the door slightly opens and suddenly closes down, but the two of you were lost in the moment of pleasure. 

“I’m gonna cum...” you mewled. Wooyoung bit down on your shoulder and you came over and over, rocking his hips against his. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” Wooyoung said, sweat beading his brow. He gritted his teeth as he slammed into you hard. 

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!” you shrieked as hot cum shots all over your pussy walls. Wooyoung came inside you, filling your pussy with his cum. As the two of you catched your breaths, the room smelling of sex and rose water. 

“I love you” you confessed out of nowhere. You knew it was risky saying those three words to him, knowing too well what you two just are. But you were hoping that, despite this kind of relationship, he would, at least, just feel a small percentage of love for you. 

“Y/N....you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wooyoung said as he slowly pulls away from the hug. You suddenly felt a wash of shame run over you. Maybe it was best that you didn’t confess. You thought he would at least feel something for you, but apparently not. 

Weeks turned into months, you and Wooyoung have not spoken or seen each other. It was awkward. Whenever you knew ATEEZ was in the building, you’d skip entering the company building and call in sick instead. Promising your managers and members that you would double your efforts in practising the following day. But there were days wherein you couldn’t help but cross paths together. For example, music show promotions. Whenever Girls’ Paradise is standing besides ATEEZ, you would always stand farthest, just to be able to be away from him. You hated seeing and mentioning his name. It tasted sour now in your mouth. 

“Congratulations! The company has confirmed sixteen cities for your first European tour! After the European tour, you will be given a few days off before going to your North American tour which the company has also confirmed eight cities!” 

The news of the tour sounded pleasing in your ears. You were happy to see the growth of your girl group right before your eyes. You couldn’t wait to leave the country next week. 

Wooyoung hated to admit it, but he was scared of falling in love. He didn’t know if it was also right to say “i love you too” to someone whom he harbored feelings for but was scared to admit of falling. He hated it how he felt like he was at fault. But he was determined to talk to you. 

He was about to march into the dance room you and your group often used to practice, but he was met with an empty and clean room. 

“Uh....what are you doing?” Hongjoong asks, eyeing Wooyoung while he held a cup of coffee he picked up from the 7/11 downstairs. 

“Are they not here?” He asks, tilting his head before slowly closing the door. 

“Oh you didn’t heard?” Hongjoong sighs before taking a sip on his hot americano. “They’re on a tour and they’d be home two months from now.” Hongjoong takes another sip before entering the other dance room that ATEEZ often occupies, leaving Wooyoung standing alone outside. 

[silverlightqueen]

Satiate

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

incubus!Jisung x human!reader ft. itzy yeji and ab6ix daehwi - smut again, a little bit of comedy and fluff, jisung tries his hardest to be soft but it’s a struggle bc he wants to corrupt y/n lol I’m a slut for corruption kink

Word Count: 11.2k+ words (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary -  y/n needs to lose her virginity before her date with Sex God Seonghwa, and what better way than to enlist the help of a soft dom sex demon? Except the soft dom was fully booked, so she got a hard dom sex demon instead. But it’ll be totally fine. Right?

Warnings: discussion of virginity, explicit sex, unprotected sex, harddom/softdom!jisung x subvirgin!y/n, explicit dirty talk, soft and rough sex lol, corruption kink, marking, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), facefucking, guided blowjob, cum swallowing, gagging, hair pulling, teasing, brief nipple play, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, crying during sex, virgin sex, it hurts her a lot at the start, asphyxiation, degradation and praise lol, overstimulation, aftercare, I think that’s it but please let me know if you notice I missed something!

a/n: and here is the fifth instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and thank you to my sexy best friend for proofreading this filthy monster of a fic lmao, you’re the best! please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts too! x

taglist: @kodzu-ken​ @cloudsgathering​ @silverlightprincess

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‘Did I just hear what I think I heard?’ Daehwi says from Yeji’s bedroom door, mouth wide open in shock, and I shoot Yeji a dirty look for talking so loud. We’re sat on her bed opposite each other, both of us with legs crossed and a half empty pizza box beside us. ‘What did you think you heard?’ she asks him, obviously not wanting to admit anything she doesn’t have to. ‘You saying that y/n is a… virgin,’ he says, whispering the last word, and Yeji winces as I let out a loud huff, dropping my head into my hands. ‘Please, Daehwi, kindly never ever mention that again. To me or to anybody else,’ I wail embarrassedly, voice muffled by my hands, and Daehwi lets out a little laugh, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

‘Why did I not know this?’ he asks, throwing himself down on the bed between Yeji and I, sprawled out on her covers, and I lift my head from my hands. ‘Why would you? It’s not like I’d mention it to my best friend’s boyfriend.’ ‘I would’ve thought Yeji would’ve told me,’ he says pointedly, Yeji rolling her eyes. ‘I’m not gonna spill my best friend’s secrets to you. It’s none of your business anyway.’ ‘Well, no, but I could’ve helped,’ he says, my eyes widening as Yeji chokes on thin air. ‘Not personally, obviously! I could’ve set you up with someone. Loads of my friends think you’re hot,’ Daehwi says, Yeji and I exchanging a glance.

‘What?’ ‘I’ve told you this before. Well… I thought I did. But, yeah, they mention y/n a lot. They’ve all got little crushes on you – who wouldn’t? You are pretty hot, y/n. From an objective point of view, obviously,’ he adds as a panicked afterthought, the scowl on Yeji’s face softening as she rolls her eyes. ‘I’m not looking to… lose my virginity, though. I’m quite happy being a virgin,’ I say, Yeji and Daehwi both raising their eyebrows at me, and I let out an annoyed huff. ‘Okay, maybe I’m panicking about it!’ I exclaim, Daehwi laughing as Yeji pats my leg comfortingly.

‘Why are you panicking?’ ‘You know that guy in your Wednesday morning seminar, Seonghwa? Well, she’s been crushing on him for a while, and he asked her to go to Jackson’s Halloween party with him! But she’s worried he’s gonna want sex, because she feels like she’s gonna fuck it all up and it’s gonna really hurt because she’s really inexperienced and doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing and-’ ‘Okay, Yeji, god, don’t sugar-coat it!’ ‘Sorry, sorry. So yeah, she’s panicking,’ Yeji explains, Daehwi nodding as he listens. ‘So… just don’t have sex with him if you’re not comfortable with it. You don’t owe it to him,’ Daehwi says, and I sigh. ‘But I want to have sex with him. God, I really wanna have sex with him. He’s so goddamn hot,’ I say dreamily, Daehwi raising an eyebrow. ‘He’s not that hot.’ ‘He is,’ Yeji says, ignoring the hurt look Daehwi throws her way.

‘So lose your virginity to him,’ Daehwi says, Yeji and I looking at him in disbelief. ‘You think Seonghwa The Sex God is gonna go easy on her? No, he won’t. And she needs someone to go easy on her the first time, so she can get used to it a little,’ Yeji says, Daehwi nodding. ‘So… you need someone to take your virginity and teach you about sex before Jackson’s Halloween party?’ Daehwi asks, Yeji and I nodding. We’re all silent for a moment, a thoughtful look on Daehwi’s face, and then he sighs.

‘Okay, this probably isn’t a good idea, but I’m gonna suggest it to you anyway,’ he says reluctantly, and I exchange a look with Yeji. ‘Have you heard of incubuses before?’ he asks, and I frown in confusion. ‘Um, yeah. They’re demons, right?’ ‘Yeah. Sex demons.’ ‘Oh. Sex demons,’ I repeat in surprise, and he nods, looking like he’s holding back a laugh. ‘Yeah. I know one. He’s a really nice guy actually – people usually summon him for their first time, or if they’ve just broken up with someone and they need to feel loved. He’s super soft and sweet. Well, that’s what I’ve heard,’ he adds at Yeji’s suspicious look, and I hold back a laugh.

‘So you’re telling me you can set me up with a soft and sweet sex demon to take my virginity?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘But… I wouldn’t advise it. It should be your last resort. You can get addicted to incubus sex, and that’s never good.’ ‘I’m sure Seonghwa would be able to satiate her cravings,’ Yeji says with a wink, both of us dissolving into giggles as Daehwi looks between us unamusedly. ‘I’m being serious.’ ‘But it sounds like a good idea, Daehwi. What does he look like?’ I ask, and Daehwi hesitates before sighing, getting his phone out of his pocket. When he holds the screen up to me a few moments later, my mouth falls open.

‘Oh, my God. He… is fucking gorgeous,’ I murmur, butterflies in my stomach at just seeing his face on a screen. It’s a group picture but Daehwi’s zoomed in on him, stood in the middle of the group of boys. He looks quite tall, very well-proportioned with long limbs, a small waist and thick thighs. His hair is long and blond, and he has half of it pulled back into a ponytail in this picture, a few strands framing his perfect face. His eyes are dark and sparkly, his lips are plump and pink, his bone structure is strong and defined, and his skin is smooth and tanned. ‘Oh. Wow,’ Yeji says when she sees the picture, Daehwi huffing in annoyance. ‘Sorry, but he is hot. Hotter than Sex God Seonghwa.’

‘What’s his name?’ I ask, unable to keep my eyes off him. ‘He goes by Hyunjin. That’s his human name, anyway. I could text him to ask if he’d help y-’ ‘Yes. Text him. Please.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Hundred percent.’ Yeji and I watch as Daehwi sends Hyunjin a text (didn’t know demons had phones), asking for a favour, and then the three of us wait eagerly for a reply, half-focusing on the film playing on Yeji’s tv. ‘He’s typing!’ Daehwi exclaims, Yeji squealing as we stare at the screen, waiting for his reply to pop up.

Daehwi: hey bro, how you been? looking forward to seeing you at Jackson’s. wondering if you could do me a favour?

Hyunjin: hey bro! I’m good, looking forward to it too. anything bro, what you need?

Daehwi: my girlfriend’s friend has a date to the party, and she wants to lose her virginity before the date. I know you… deal with stuff like that a lot, so we were wondering if you could help her out?

Daehwi: she’s hot

‘Daehwi, you idiot! Why would you put that? Now we look desperate!’ Yeji exclaims as I hit my head with my hand. ‘Sorry. But Hyunjin has a weakness for a pretty face! There’s no way he’ll say no,’ Daehwi says, Yeji and I exchanging an exasperated glance as his phone pings with a new text.

Hyunjin: bro if you’d texted me like an hour ago, I could’ve helped 😭 my schedule is literally packed bc it’s so close to halloween, I literally can’t fit anyone else in

Hyunjin: how hot is she tho 👀

‘Send him that sexy picture I took of her on that night out. The one where she’s smiling and she looks all glowy and she’s got her tits out,’ Yeji says, Daehwi letting out a little noise of disgust as he opens my Instagram. ‘Do her tits disgust you, Daehwi?’ Yeji demands angrily, making me burst into laughter. ‘Her… tits make me feel nothing. Let’s hope they make Hyunjin feel something, so he moves his schedule around,’ Daehwi says as he sends the picture, successfully deflecting Yeji’s accusation.

Hyunjin: bro you’re killing me here, she’s so hot 😭

Hyunjin: I wish I could move my schedule around but I just can’t. apparently people like fucking soft doms at halloween

Hyunjin: I’ve got a friend who might be able to fit her in tho

‘He’s a soft dom? Oh, my God, he would’ve been perfect,’ Yeji says miserably, and I can’t help but feel miserable myself. This gorgeous specimen actually finds me hot but is too busy to have sex with me. How is this fair? ‘Ask about his friend,’ I say reluctantly, and Daehwi begins typing out a message.

Daehwi: what’s your friend like?

Hyunjin: he’s apparently really good but he’s not um as soft as I am

Hyunjin: he’s kinda a hard dom

Hyunjin: but he’s been wanting to uh expand his skill set for a while

Hyunjin: I can’t believe I’m giving up this opportunity but this might be good for him

‘What’d you say, y/n?’ Daehwi asks, and I feel a little reluctant. I’m supposed to have someone go easy on me for my first time and instead I’m gonna have a hard dom sex demon who’s trying to ‘expand his skill set’. I’m not sure this is a good idea, but showing up to that party with Seonghwa as a completely untouched virgin is a worse idea. ‘Fuck it. Tell him I’ll do it.’

Daehwi: she said she’ll do it

Hyunjin: great! jisung will be happy

Hyunjin: what’s her name?

Daehwi: y/n y/l/n. she lives in the same accommodation block as me

Hyunjin: great, I’ve just spoken to him and he said he’ll be there tonight

‘Tonight?’ Yeji and I chorus in a loud shriek, Daehwi covering his ears with a wince. ‘Girl, let’s get you back to your apartment now. Shower and shave and put on something sexy,’ Yeji says excitedly, jumping out of the bed and pulling me towards the door. ‘Yeji, wai- Thank you, Daehwi!’ I shout over my shoulder as she drags me out of the room. ‘No problem, y/n,’ I hear him call back, ‘have fun with Jisung!’

‘Wow. My first virgin and she’s fast asleep,’ a dry voice cuts into my slumber, and I peel my eyes open, blinking in the low light of my lamp. ‘Oh, maybe she’s not,’ the voice says again amusedly as I push myself up into a sitting position, the bedsheets still covering my half-naked body, and rub at my eyes to wake myself up. When I reopen them, they focus on a boy stood at the foot of my bed. ‘Wakey wakey, sweetheart,’ he murmurs, a smirk on his handsome face. ‘You’re Jisung, right?’ I ask, words a little slurred with drowsiness, and he lets out a gentle chuckle, sitting at the foot of my bed. ‘The one and only, baby,’ he replies with a grin, and I don’t reply, taking a moment to look him over.

He’s a little on the short side, but I’ve never really cared for height all that much, and his body is very much in proportion, his small waist giving him a nice figure. His hair is blond – dyed, I’m guessing. It doesn’t really look like it’d be natural with his honey complexion – and his eyes are dark brown. He’s very… very handsome, in his tight black jeans and plain white t-shirt, simple silver jewellery adorning his neck, ears, wrists and fingers.

‘Are you just gonna sit there staring at me, or are you gonna talk?’ he asks, pink lips quirking up into an amused smirk. ‘Sorry. I’m still a little… sleepy,’ I mumble, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘I can tell. I’m sure Hyunjin told your friend that I was coming tonight.’ ‘He did. But I thought tonight would mean at, like, 11, 12, maybe 1. Not… 3.57 in the morning,’ I say pointedly as I read the time from my phone screen, raising an eyebrow at him, and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m a busy guy. I just about squeezed you into my schedule.’

‘Because you want to expand your skill set?’ I ask dryly, and he laughs quite loud at that. ‘Is that what Hyunjin told your friend? Fucking liar. I’m a hard dom, sweetheart, and quite happy being one – I’ll leave the heartbroken and the virgins to Hyunjin. I only accepted this because I owe him one, and because you… well, you’re hot,’ he says bluntly, and I feel myself starting to panic. ‘But… I’ve never had sex before. I need someone to be gentle and careful. I can’t h-’ ‘Woah, woah, baby, relax. I’m not gonna, like, tie you up and punish you and stuff. I’m not evil. But I might not be able to do all the nice stuff that Hyunjin does, like the soft kisses and the compliments and shit,’ he says, and I let out a frustrated huff.

‘So I’m about to lose my virginity to a ‘hard-dom’ demon who won’t give me any kisses or compliments or any of the stuff that makes your first time actually enjoyable? Great!’ I exclaim as my eyes fill with tears, voice shaky, and his face drops with panic. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart, don’t cry!’ he says, moving up the bed to wipe the tears from my face, ‘I’ll try my best, I promise, but that stuff doesn’t come naturally to me. You might have to just remind me to go a little slower on you, or be a little gentler.’ I nod, wiping away my tears embarrassedly, letting out a little laugh.

‘God, this is so humiliating. We’re supposed to be having sex, and instead I’m crying to you,’ I say miserably, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘Don’t worry about it, baby. I have girls crying all the time. Usually it’s when I’m fucking them, but it’s still tears. Crying, I can deal with,’ he says gently, making me laugh. ‘We don’t have to have sex straight away. You’ve got me for a few hours, sweetheart, so we can slowly work up to it. This is new for both of us, remember? So it’s best we don’t rush straight into it. Don’t panic,’ he murmurs, brushing my hair back from my face with a soft hand, and I nod, feeling a little better. At least he’s nice.

‘Why’d you wanna lose your virginity, sweetheart?’ ‘Did Hyunjin not tell you?’ ‘He showed me the picture of you, said you were a virgin and asked me to do him a solid. I didn’t ask for the backstory.’ ‘I’ve got a date with this guy, Seonghwa, in a few days. He’s taking me to our friend’s Halloween party – apparently Hyunjin’s going too – and he’s like this absolutely gorgeous Sex God. I want to have sex with him, but I doubt he’ll want to fuck an inexperienced virgin,’ I explain, Jisung listening intently, nodding in all the right places. ‘Ah, right. So you need to know at least a little about what to expect with Sex God Seonghwa?’ ‘Yep, and I literally don’t know the first thing about sex.’

‘Not a single thing?’ he asks, and I shake my head sheepishly. ‘Someone as hot as you has never had any… sexual encounters?’ ‘Nope. By choice, because I’ve never met a man that’s interested in me that isn’t trash, but still.’ ‘No boyfriends or girlfriends, nothing?’ ‘None.’ ‘Have you at least kissed someone before?’ he asks, sounding a little surprised, and I shake my head. ‘Never.’ ‘Have you masturbated?’ he asks bluntly, the question making me a little flustered. ‘I tried a couple times, but I never made myself… cum,’ I tell him shyly, the last word coming out quieter, and his eyes widen. ‘A couple times? Seriously? You’re, like… totally pure. Fuck, I don’t know if this is a good idea,’ he says slowly, making me panic again. ‘Hyunjin would’ve been perfect for this. I can’t take your first kiss, let alone have sex with you for the first time. Maybe I should ask Hyunjin to swap his schedule with me, he should be the one to do this,’ he says, as though he’s thinking out loud, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

Something makes me stop him, my hand reaching out to cover his phone without a second thought, and he looks up at me in surprise. ‘I… I want it to be you, though. This… might be a learning curve for you. Might be good for you to try something new,’ I say hesitantly, and Jisung raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re so innocent, sweetheart. The fact that you think that makes it even more obvious that it shouldn’t be me. You’re the perfect girl, y/n, and I’m not the perfect guy. Hyunjin is,’ he says, an echo of… sadness in his voice, and my heart goes out to him. ‘I don’t want the perfect guy, though. I know we only just met, like two minutes ago, but I want it to be you,’ I say quietly, and he just stares at me for a moment, in deep thought, before he sighs.

‘This isn’t a good idea,’ he murmurs gently, hand coming up to my face. ‘Losing my virginity to a sex demon of any kind isn’t a good idea, but I’m still doing it,’ I reply gently as he caresses my face tenderly, fingers splayed on my cheek and thumb resting on my bottom lip, and he lets out a little laugh. ‘Okay. If this is what you want, who am I to deny you? Just… remember to tell me if you need me to stop,’ he murmurs, hand still on my face, and I nod at him, trying to calm my nerves.

‘You’re… so fucking pretty. I’d love to fucking ruin you, sweetheart. Turn you from a pure innocent angel into a desperate little cockslut. Tease you and edge you and play with you for hours until you’re begging and crying for my cock, and then, only then, would I absolutely fucking ruin you. Make you cum so many times you can’t see straight, make you forget everything in the world other than my name,’ he says in a low voice, brown eyes becoming tinged with a red glow and hand tightening slightly on my face as he speaks, and I can feel my underwear dampening more and more with each word. I gulp loudly, trying to hide my arousal, but the sound knocks him out of his reverie, his eyes focused on mine.

‘You like the sound of that, huh, baby?’ he asks with a small smirk, and I can’t even bring myself to speak, just giving a quick embarrassed nod. ‘I can tell. I can smell you, how wet you are, how much you want me. Fuck, you’re so fucking innocent, sweetheart. A little bit of dirty talk, and you’ve melted in my hands. If I wasn’t so nice, I’d rip off your clothes, cover you in marks, make you squirm under me, have you screaming and crying and begging for me to let you cum, do anything and everything I wanted to do to you, baby, right this second. But I’m nice, so I won’t, because I’d probably make you pass out if I did. So we’ll start easy, and maybe, if you enjoy tonight… we can save that stuff for round 2, or maybe even round 3. Might be a little too intense for round 2,’ he says gently, and all I can do is nod, too embarrassed about the fact that the filth he’s just spoken about has turned me on so much.

‘Can I take the covers off you, angel? Wanna see you,’ he murmurs gently, and I hesitate. No boy has ever seen me in my underwear, and he must have seen so many naked women before, women that are much more beautiful than me. ‘Oh, no, sweetheart, don’t you dare start thinking things like that. You are fucking gorgeous. You think I’d be here if you weren’t?’ he asks, almost angrily, and my eyes widen with surprise. ‘I can… sense what you’re thinking. Not quite a mind reader, but your scent changes with your thoughts and emotions. So I know that you’re doubting yourself right now, when you shouldn’t. You’re so beautiful, angel,’ he says softly, and I feel a little better after his encouragement, nodding my permission.

The grin that transforms his face is so sexy – dark, and almost evil, but so sexy – and I focus on his handsome face when he takes the covers into his hands, slowly pulling them off me. ‘Sweetheart, you’re in a dressing gown,’ he says amusedly, and I look down at myself, realising that, yes, I am. ‘Oh. I forgot about that,’ I say sheepishly, hands moving to undo the satin cord that I have tied in a bow, but he moves my hands away. ‘Wait. Let me kiss you first,’ he whispers, eyes locked with mine, and he stills, waiting for my permission first. I take a deep breath before nodding, and a small smile lifts his lips up at the corners, his hands coming to rest on either side of my face. My eyes flutter shut when his face comes closer to mine, and it feels like a lifetime before his soft lips brush against mine briefly. My first kiss.

He pulls away, as though to check I’m okay with it, but I lean forward, following his lips, and he lets out a gentle chuckle when our mouths meet again. It’s a foreign feeling – that’s all I can think the first few seconds – and it doesn’t exactly feel amazing. It’s intimate, and comforting, I guess, but not as brilliant as the books and films make it out to be. And then he parts my lips with his, tongue slipping into my mouth, and the world melts away. Pleasure explodes inside me, my body lit aflame with hot desire, and it’s magic, absolute magic. The caress of his lips against mine is so soft, and the warmth from his mouth spreads through me, making me melt into him as my arms come around his shoulders.

The kiss quickly becomes more firm, passionate and hungry, and I just try to follow his lead, feeling my breathing quicken when his hands slide down my body and snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him as our mouths move in sync. His essence floods my senses, and all I can think is that he tastes, smells, feels like night. Crisp and comforting, dark and soft, with the calm of the moon and the beauty of the stars. I’m filled with lust, wanting to feel everything from him if he’s this good at kissing.

He eventually breaks away, leaving me breathless, and when I reopen my eyes, he’s grinning at me. ‘For a girl who’s never kissed someone before, you’re damn good at it,’ he observes, and I must admit, the praise gives me a confidence boost. At least that’s one less thing to worry about with Seonghwa. ‘I’m gonna take your dressing gown off now, okay?’ he says, hands still around my waist, and I nod, keeping my eyes on his as he pulls open the bow. My dressing gown falls open slightly and he slowly slips his hands under the satin, hands landing on my stomach, the contact sending a shiver down my spine.

His hands slide up my torso, quickly passing my boobs and making their way over my shoulders, taking the dressing gown with them, and the satin falls off me, pooling at my elbows which are bent around his shoulders. His breath catches in his throat as his eyes trawl over my exposed body, adorned in the black lace lingerie that Yeji made me buy a few weeks ago. ‘Fuck, wow, you’re so pretty,’ he breathes out, hands trailing down to my waist, ‘Sex God Seonghwa’s a lucky guy.’

He leans in again, my eyes fluttering shut when his lips press against mine, harsher and rougher this time. His hands slide around my back, pulling me down against the bed so he can hover over me as his tongue glides over mine, making me feel numb. He holds himself up with one forearm pressing into the bed beside me, hand curled up into a fist, whilst the other hand roams up and down the side of my body, the satin of my dressing gown gliding across my skin with each movement he makes. He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, so hard that I feel him drawing blood, and my mind turns to mush as he laves his tongue over where blood blooms from the sensitive skin, making me let out a gentle whimper against his lips.

‘Fuck, you’re so cute,’ he says against my lips, voice laced with amusement as he rolls us over so that I lay atop him, my body fitting into his like puzzle pieces. His hands slide down my back, squeezing my ass and making me let out a little gasp into his mouth. ‘You sound so pretty, baby,’ he says as he breaks away from me, lips landing on my jaw and slowly trailing down my neck. He sucks and bites at my skin as he travels down my body, leaving faint marks in his wake. I let out shaky whimpers and whines as he kisses and bites my skin, fingers tangled into his soft blond locks.

His mouth trails past my chest and down my tummy, and my stomach clenches with nerves when he reaches the waistband of my pants, the boy stilling and looking up at me with his big eyes. ‘Are you nervous, angel?’ he asks softly, and I hesitate before nodding, feeling like an idiot, and his lips quirk up into a small smile. He lifts himself up into a sitting position and pulls my legs into his lap, running his hands up and down them soothingly. ‘Stop feeling embarrassed about being nervous. It’s normal – you’re not weird. Just relax,’ he says gently, and I nod, trying to take his words on board. It’s normal. It’s totally normal.

He removes my legs from his lap and moves up the bed, sitting beside me with his back against the headboard. ‘Come sit here, sweetheart,’ he says, patting the space between his legs, and I move myself into the space, my hands resting on his thighs as he snakes his arms around me, pulling my back against his front. I feel his lips land on my neck, making me tilt my head to allow him better access, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his kisses, and his hands slide down my stomach and under my legs. He pulls my legs up to bend at the knee before slipping his hands between my thighs, parting them. ‘You know the colour system?’ he asks, and I hesitate before replying, ‘yeah. Green to say I’m good, yellow to say I need a break, and red to say I need to stop.’ ‘Good girl,’ he replies, rewarding me with a gentle kiss on my cheek.

‘I’m gonna finger you, baby, loosen you up and prep you for my cock. Is that okay?’ he murmurs against my ear, arousal flooding my underwear as I nod. ‘Words, sweetheart. I wanna hear that you’re okay with it,’ he prompts, and I breathe out, ‘yes. It’s okay.’ His hand slips down between my legs, fingertips gliding across my saturated underwear, making me shiver in his arms. ‘Oh, angel, you’re so wet,’ he whispers in wonder, my breaths already becoming shaky with his finger gently running up and down my pants. He doesn’t waste much time before sliding his hand beneath my underwear, his teasing promptly finishing with his fingers gliding across my wet folds. He quickly finds my clit, finger pressing against the bud, and I let out a high whimper, head falling back against him.

He lets out a gentle chuckle, warm breath fanning across my exposed neck as he rubs at my clit in slow circles, exhilaration filling me. He quickly becomes bored, moving his hand out of my pants and opting to pull them aside instead, exposing my glistening wet pussy to the cool air of the room, a shudder running through me. He slides a finger in slowly, my body reacting to the unfamiliar intrusion by clenching my walls around him, and he doesn’t move at all for a few moments, letting me getting used to the unusual feeling.

‘Fuck, you’re so tight. Gonna break my finger. Shit, can’t wait to stretch out this tight little virgin cunt,’ he whispers against my ear, cutting my whine short when he starts to slowly slide his finger in and out of me. The feeling soon starts to become pleasurable rather than weird, my walls not clenching as hard so as to let his finger in, and he takes advantage of it, sliding in another finger with the first. ‘Jisung!’ I moan out desperately, eyes falling shut at the feeling of him rocking two thick fingers into me, arousal gushing out onto his skin.

He curls his fingers inside me, the intense pleasure making me clamp my thighs shut around his hand as I whine, and he chuckles, pushing them apart. He hooks one leg with his own, keeping it restrained from meeting the other, which he holds with a strong hand, cold rings digging into my skin. ‘So sensitive, sweetheart,’ he says amusedly, curling his fingers again and hitting the spot inside me that makes me whine his name pathetically. And then he begins to rub his palm against my clit with each movement of his hand, making me lose my mind, my mouth falling open as my head presses into his shoulder, back arching away from him.

I squirm between his legs, but he holds me in place, fingers continuing to thrust into me at a gradually quickening pace, whine after whimper slipping out from my lips as Jisung whispers filth into my ear. ‘Look at you, baby, grinding down on my hand. Feels good, huh?’ he asks in a cocky tone and, sure enough, when I force myself to open my eyes, I see that I’m grinding against his fingers unconsciously, each movement of my hips resulting in his hand brushing my clit and sending a gentle wave of pleasure through me. ‘So good, Jisung, so good. Want more,’ I whine, and he chuckles, pressing his lips to my neck and sucking the skin into his mouth, making my eyes flutter shut once again.

‘You want more? Don’t tempt me, angel, because I could give you a lot more right now. We’re taking it slow, remember?’ he whispers against my skin, but the words barely go in, my focus on unfamiliar feeling of my stomach tightening. ‘Jisung, I feel weird,’ I say, feeling nervous, and he lets out a gentle laugh against my neck. ‘You’re getting close to your orgasm, sweetheart,’ he tells me amusedly, the revelation making my eyes widen. I’ve never heard of a girl having an orgasm her first time. ‘Baby, you really thought I was gonna leave without making you cum a couple times? I’m not like those pathetic little human boys. I know how to make a girl feel good, angel, so good she’ll only ever want me. We’ll see how Sex God Seonghwa compares, huh?’ he laughs arrogantly, fingers beginning to pump in and out of me furiously fast, obscene squelching filling my ears along with my own high-pitched whimpers and moans.

‘I’m gonna…’ I breathe out between moans, clenching around his finger sporadically as my body twitches against his, and I can feel him grinning against my skin. ‘That’s a good girl, cum over my fingers for me, angel. It’s gonna feel so good, baby, just let go. Cum for me, y/n,’ he murmurs softly, voice just about discernible over my loud moaning, and when he begins rubbing at my clit with his free hand as he curls his fingers inside me, I feel the knot in my stomach undo itself.

I cry out his name as my vision blurs, walls clenching around his fingers and holding them in place with an iron-like grip. He works me through my orgasm with quick circles at my clit, lips sucking and biting at my skin, providing me with a gentle bliss in comparison to the intense pleasure burning low in my stomach. When I feel myself coming back down from my high, I let out a gentle sigh, body relaxing back into his, and he slowly pulls his hand from inside me. I crane my neck to watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, slipping the fingers that were inside me into his mouth, eyes closing as he lets out a low groan. ‘You taste so sweet, even sweeter than you smell,’ he says once he’s pulled his fingers out of his mouth, sliding his arms around my body and pressing his lips to mine in a brief kiss.

‘How did I do?’ I ask, voice coming out a little quieter and hoarser than I expected, and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘So well, angel. You took it so well. Like a pro,’ he says in a tender voice, holding me close in his arms, and I find it hard to believe this guy is a hard dom. He’s a total softie. ‘You did well too,’ I say to try and deflect from how I’m preening at the praise, and he laughs as though I’ve surprised it out of him.

‘No, don’t laugh! I’m being serious! You were super soft and gentle and nice to me,’ I tell him, and he nods, lips curled up with amusement. ‘It took a lot of self-restraint, believe me. If you weren’t so… fragile, and delicate, I’d have shoved my cock in you before you’d even finished cumming,’ he says, gentle tone a total contrast to the words that come out of his mouth, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure? You seem… relaxed. Not worked up at all,’ I say honestly, trying not to let on that I feel a little embarrassed about how calm he is (aren’t boys supposed to get all riled up and desperate the second they see your bra?), and he raises an eyebrow in return.

Without warning, he grinds against my back, and I feel something hard poke against me, making my eyes widen. ‘Does that feel like I’m relaxed, baby? Does that feel like I’m not worked up?’ he whispers, eyes flickering red, and I’m rendered speechless for a moment. He must have been so uncomfortable, pleasuring me whilst he was that hard in those tight jeans. ‘Let me help you,’ I breathe out, and his lips quirk up. ‘Help me?’ ‘Mmhmm. Tell me… tell me what to do. Wanna make you feel as good as you made me feel,’ I say softly, and he grins at me. ‘You’re so sweet, angel. I feel bad doing this with you. Feel like I’m… corrupting you. Tainting your pure soul,’ he murmurs, eyes flitting from my eyes to my lips and back up to my eyes, mouth curled at the corners as though he doesn’t feel as bad about it as he claims to. ‘Maybe I want you to… corrupt me, and taint me,’ I whisper, and his grin grows even wider, eyes flashing red and making my stomach turn. ‘Well, I suppose… your wish is my command, baby.’

I turn over and sit on my knees, eyes wandering down to between his legs, and the massive bulge in his jeans makes my heart stop for a moment, Jisung smirking at my reaction, leaning back against the headboard with his arms behind his head, as though he owns the place. I realise then that he’s expecting a blowjob that’s at least half decent, and I don’t know the first thing about giving a blowjob except for the fact that it goes into my mouth and I suck on it (I think?). ‘Want me to talk you through it, sweetheart?’ he asks, voice soft, and I know he can sense my uncertainty. He lets out a gentle chuckle when I nod, trying to hide my embarrassment.

‘Unzip my jeans, angel,’ he prompts, and I shuffle forward, slowly reaching for the zip on his jeans, and pulling it down carefully. He lifts his hips up from the bed, and I get the message, slipping my fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down along with his boxers, leaving them bunched at the tops of his thighs. My eyes widen when I see his cock, the long, thick length springing up against his clothed t-shirt, the tip red and swollen with small beads of precum leaking from it. I can feel his eyes on me, watching my reaction with thinly veiled amusement, and I try to hide my… surprise.

Every cock I’ve ever seen before has always been kinda ugly – all those unsolicited dick pics taken in shitty lighting with feet in the background always made me feel a little sick – but Jisung’s is… a little different. My mouth actually waters looking at it – it’s the most aesthetically pleasing dick I’ve ever seen. ‘Take it into your hand, sweetheart, and spread my precum over the tip so it’s not totally dry. Or the friction will hurt,’ he instructs in a gentle tone, as though he’s telling me the steps of a recipe or reading from the manual of an Ikea wardrobe.

I do as he says, taking his cock into my hands and using my thumb to spread around the precum, feeling a little bit of pride when his breath catches in his throat, his body tensing very slightly. ‘That’s it, that’s a good girl. Okay, now put the tip in your mouth, just swirl your tongue around it a little and suck on it,’ he says, and I nod, taking a deep breath before lowering my head to his cock. Yeji gave me some advice before leaving earlier, and so I do as she told me, pressing a kiss to the tip, and he lets out a shaky laugh, followed by, ‘you’re so fucking cute, baby.’

I take the swollen head of his cock into my mouth, his salty precum gliding across my taste buds as I slowly swirl my tongue around him like he’s a lollipop, before gently sucking. ‘Yeah, that’s it, angel, good job. Fuck, that feels nice,’ he murmurs, hands coming to tangle into my hair, pulling it back from my face. I carry on doing what I’m doing for a little while, his little sighs and shaky breaths making me feel like I must be doing it right, and then I look up at him for guidance on what to do next.

‘Lick underneath from the base to the tip – feels good on the vein,’ he says, sounding slightly breathless, and I’m surprised he’s so worked up from having a virgin suck on his cock for a few seconds. I do as he says, placing my tongue at the base of his dick and dragging it along the vein on the underside of his cock, and when I reach the tip, I kitten lick the slit where he’s leaking with precum. ‘Ah, shit, you’re good at this, baby. Sure you haven’t done it before?’ he asks, voice twisting into a groan when I sink my mouth onto him, sucking on the tip briefly before taking him back out with a pop.

‘My friend gave me some tips,’ I say, deciding not to tell him about how she demonstrated with a banana, and made me copy her. Yeah, it’d probably ruin the moment. ‘Good tips. You don’t even need me to talk you through it.’ ‘No, no, I do need you to!’ I say hastily, not wanting to be in the deep end without any arm bands, and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘Okay, okay. You gotta take me as far into your mouth as you can, angel, okay? Just wanna see how much you can take,’ he says gently, and I nod, readying myself as I duck my head. I take his tip into my mouth and slowly sink further down onto his length, until he hits the back of my throat. He’s so big, too big, and I feel like I’m suffocating, a gag forcing its way up my throat.

‘That’s not all you can take, is it, y/n? Come on, baby, surely you can do better than that?’ he teases as I try to stop myself from gagging again, and I realise that there’s still a few inches of him I haven’t managed to take in. ‘Take me out, sweetheart,’ he says, and relief floods through me, making me pull my mouth off him instantly, holding him with my fingertips as I gulp down air. ‘That’s it, take a nice, deep breath. Good girl. This time, breathe through your nose,’ he tells me, and I nod, preparing myself to take him into my mouth again.

I wrap my lips around his length and slide my mouth down onto him, desperately holding back a gag when he hits the back of my throat again. ‘Okay, good girl. Now swallow – it’ll let you take me further,’ he instructs, and I inhale deeply through my nose before swallowing, his tip inching down my throat. ‘Good job, baby, well done. You gonna suck for me, now?’ he asks, and I nod, sucking on his length and bobbing my head up and down like Yeji taught me, tugging on what I can’t fit into my mouth in my hands gently. ‘That’s it, angel – fuck, just like that,’ he urges, and I try my hardest to maintain eye contact with him, looking up through teary lashes.

I continue at a steady pace, gradually taking more of him in as my throat gets used to the intrusion, and I feel myself thinking that this isn’t… the most pleasant experience. I mean, I’m not getting much air, he’s tugging on my hair quite hard, his cock is so thick that my jaw is already starting to ache, and I feel a bit dirty with the way saliva drips down my chin. But his reactions make it all worth it. He lets out soft grunts and groans, the blood vessels in his neck protruding with the strain of holding himself back – I assume – and his head is thrown back against the headboard.

‘Ah, shit, you’re so good, baby. Feels so good,’ he groans, and I can feel that he’s slowly losing his resolve – his hips twitch every now and then, forcing him even further into my mouth, and his grip on my hair becomes harsher and harsher, his moaning becoming more and more frequent. I’m trying my best to keep up with him, keep him satisfied, but it’s clear he wants more. It’s only a matter of time before he takes control.

He grips onto the roots of my hair, hard, and he begins to thrust into my mouth. My eyes begin to water as he lets out curses and moans, hips bucking up frantically, and I try my hardest to throat him and hold back gags. He suddenly pulls out, and I take the moment to gasp for air, feeling him grinning at me. ‘That’s it, angel, breathe. Gonna fuck this pretty little mouth,’ he says, barely giving me a chance to do as he says before he pulls me back down onto his cock, the tip sliding against my tongue and hitting the back of my mouth harshly, a loud gag forcing its way up my throat as I look up at him, his eyebrow raised.

‘Come on, baby, you can take more than that. Can’t you?’ he asks amusedly, and I want nothing more than to please him, to impress him, and I try to hum out a response, the vibrations making him buck further into my throat with a low groan. ‘One tap on my thigh for yellow, two taps for green. Practice,’ he instructs, and I rush to do so, tapping once, and then tapping twice, before looking up at him for praise. ‘Good girl. Well done,’ he murmurs, pride swelling within me, and he takes the moment of me being distracted to start the onslaught on my mouth.

Using the hands tangled in my hair, he pushes my head down onto him, all the way so my nose hits his skin, and I choke around him as he thrusts in and out of my mouth, treating me like I’m just a hole for his pleasure. Maybe he’s not such a softie. ‘So good for me, baby, letting me fuck your mouth like this. Love hearing you choke on my cock,’ he groans, tears streaming down my face as I throat his entire length, nose hitting the soft skin of his groin with each of his thrusts, loud gags and chokes making their way out of my mouth every time he hits the back of my throat.

‘So pretty with my cock in your throat,’ he grunts, dick beginning to twitch in my mouth which, according to Yeji, means that he’s getting close, and I moan around him at his words, the vibrations making him moan out too, the sound heavenly. ‘Doing so well, sweetheart, taking me like such a good girl. You like choking on my cock, huh?’ he asks, and I realise that, yes, I do like it. It’s painful and I’m desperate for a deep breath, but listening to him moan makes me wanna suck his cock for hours on end. ‘Love it,’ I mumble around his cock, the words just about discernible, and he chuckles. ‘Gonna turn you into my little cock-hungry slut, always desperate to suck me. Is that what you want, angel? Wanna be my little cockslut?’ he asks, and I mindlessly moan at his words, arousal dripping out from me as I feel my head getting light with a lack of oxygen.

‘Shit, I’m close. Gonna let me cum in your mouth, sweetheart?’ he asks, and I hum out permission, his pace increasing again, and my neck hurts from the way he bobs my head up and down on him, my jaw also aching from the girth of his cock. His thrusts are becoming messy, hips jerking erratically as his cock twitches in my mouth, and I suddenly remember a piece of Yeji’s advice. I lift my hand from where it rests on the bed and reach for his balls, rolling them in my palm, playing with them to bring him to his edge. ‘Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna-’ he groans, words cut off with a loud moan as he pushes my head down onto his cock and cums, his hot and thick release hitting the back of my throat. He thrusts shallowly through his orgasm, my hand still playing with his balls, and it’s like he has an endless amount of cum, my mouth full of it when he pulls out, a little bit of it trickling down my chin.

‘Open your mouth,’ he says, and I tilt my head back slightly, opening my mouth to let him see his release. ‘And swallow it all for me.’ I let it glide across my taste buds, and it tastes… fruity, almost – a little hint of sweetness in it. I swallow it down in one big gulp and open my mouth to show him, a smug grin settling on his face. ‘Come here,’ he says, holding out his arms and I practically fall into them, letting him pull me against his chest. ‘You did such a good job, angel. I’m sorry for going so rough on you – I lost control a little bit – but you took it so well, baby,’ he says tenderly, hands rubbing soothing circles on my back through my dressing gown.

‘No, it’s okay. Don’t apologise. I… liked it,’ I say shyly, my voice very hoarse, and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘I know you did, sweetheart, I could smell you getting wetter and wetter the entire time. You can’t even smell it, but your scent is… fucking amazing. I felt drunk on it. The harder I went on you, the stronger your scent was, which made me go even harder. It was a vicious cycle,’ he says amusedly, and I giggle into his chest.

He holds me for a little while, my head buried in his chest and tucked beneath his chin, his hands drawing patterns on my back, and this intimacy I’ve never felt before is just so nice, but I feel myself getting a little… eager, and he must feel it too. ‘You want me to fuck you, baby? Or wanna wait a bit?’ he asks quietly, and I can’t answer quick enough; ‘want you to fuck me.’ ‘You do, huh? Is that how you ask?’ he teases, and I think for a moment before replying in a small voice, ‘please fuck me, Jisung. Just want you.’

‘So forward, angel,’ he murmurs, making me feel even more humiliated than I already am, my face heating up. ‘Don’t be embarrassed. I like you all needy and cute,’ he breathes out, hands coming to my dressing gown and pulling it off me. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he tells me, throwing the satin gown to the floor before he presses his lips to mine in a quick and hot kiss, lying me down so my head rests on the soft pillow. He climbs up from the bed and I can’t stop myself from watching as he quickly undresses himself, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal tan skin pulled tight over hard abs and biceps, and pushing his jeans down his legs to reveal smooth, lean legs. He keeps his underwear on, a grin on his face as he joins me on the bed, climbing over me.

His hands slip beneath my back, fingers coming to the clasp of my bra, and it snaps me into reality, making me panic. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. Wanna see all of you… if you’ll let me. What’s your colour?’ he asks, and I hesitate. I could end this all now – surely I’ve got enough experience for Seonghwa, and he’ll probably be too drunk or high to even look at my body the way Jisung wants to. But I find myself wanting to. Not for the experience but… because it’s Jisung. I want him to see me, and I want to see him… feel him.

‘Green,’ I whisper, his lips curling into a grin as he unclasps my bra, helping me to pull it off. He throws it over his shoulder and doesn’t instantly ogle my chest as I expected, instead ducking his head to add to the marks that are already beginning to purple. He slowly kisses down to my chest, lips attaching to one hard nipple and sucking on it as he takes my other breast into his hand, alternating between tugging at the nipple and groping it gently. I let out gentle whines, his attention on my breasts making my head light, and he brings his mouth the other nipple, swapping his hand to spread the saliva he left behind across the soft flesh of my breast.

‘Such pretty tits, angel. Wanna worship your body,’ he murmurs as he leans back with an admiring gaze, my nipples hard and peaked in the cool air. ‘But that’ll have to wait. Wanna fuck you more,’ he grins, hands sliding down from my chest to my underwear, checking with me again that I’m okay with it. ‘You can take them off,’ I breathe out and he wastes no time before tugging them down. He runs his hands up my legs before slipping them between my thighs, slowly parting them with his eyes on me to watch my reactions, to make sure I’m okay. When I don’t react, his gaze flits to between my legs, eyes darkening.

‘Fuck, such a pretty little pussy. Soaking wet. So tiny, and tight. How am I gonna fit in you, baby?’ he muses teasingly, and I feel desperation seeping into me, my hands reaching down to his and guiding them towards where I need him. ‘Please. Need it, Jisung, please,’ I whimper pathetically, and he lets out a gentle laugh, warm breath fanning across my stomach. ‘What do you need, y/n?’ he asks, and I whine, too embarrassed to say the words. His fingers appear at my folds, gliding between them and gathering up my arousal before he pushes two in, making me moan with the stretch. ‘I asked you what you need, angel,’ he prompts, voice less light, and I whimper as he scissors his fingers inside me, trying to loosen me. ‘Please, Jisung, want you to fuck me. Wanna feel your cock in me, want you to stretch me out, make me cum,’ I mumble distractedly, saying what I need to say to get what I want, and I hear him take a shaky breath.

‘Dirty girl. Pretended to be so innocent when you’re really a dirty little slut desperate for cock, huh? So desperate for Sex God Seonghwa’s cock that you’ll lose your virginity demon. Such a little whore,’ he murmurs, and even though his words should hurt, all I can do is moan, feeling more arousal gush out around his fingers. ‘You really want me to fuck you? Little angel wants a good fucking?’ he teases, the pace of his fingers thrusting into me quickening, and my hips buck up against him as I whine, ‘yes, want it, Jisung, want it so bad.’

‘Want me to stuff my fat cock into this little virgin cunt? Stretch out your tight little pussy, fuck you so hard you can’t walk, fill you up with my cum?’ he asks, voice strained as he fucks his fingers into me, and I squirm on the bed desperately, needing to feel him. ‘Yes, Jisung, please, want it so bad,’ I whimper pathetically, and he pulls his fingers out of me, lifting them to his fingers and licking them clean, making my stomach turn with arousal. ‘Not as much of an angel as I thought,’ he considers with a small smirk, eyes trawling over my body indulgently as I lie there, on display for him.

He climbs over me, pushing down his boxers and tugging on his length with one hand, anticipation filling me. ‘Legs around my waist, sweetheart,’ he murmurs, suddenly nice again, and I do so, hooking them together at the ankles, giving him full access to my core. ‘Ready? It might hurt a little, okay, so use your colours if you need to, angel,’ he says tenderly, and I nod, feeling a little bit of anxiety grow in my chest.

He runs the tip of his rock hard cock up and down my folds teasingly, spreading his precum over me, before he slowly pushes in. I try my hardest to stay quiet, to brave the pain of the burning stretch, but I can’t help the little yelp that escapes my lips. ‘You okay?’ ‘Hurts, Jisung,’ I whisper, tears appearing in my eyes, and his face softens. ‘The tip’s the worst bit, angel, and it’s nearly in. Want me to hold on a minute?’ he asks, and I think before shaking my head. ‘It’s okay, you can… go all the way in,’ I say gently, and he gives me a gentle smile, ducking his head to my collarbones to press soothing kisses on my skin as he pushes further in. I whimper in pain, tears sliding down my face, because it hurts, so fucking bad. My walls are clenching around him, desperately trying to get his cock out of me, and my head is starting to get a little dizzy with the pain, crying audibly now as I clutch onto his strong back.

‘You’re doing so well, angel, so fucking well. Colour?’ he asks, and I sob out, ‘yellow.’ He instantly stops moving and I try my best to stop clenching around him, eventually becoming used to the stretch as my walls relax a little, Jisung kissing away my tears and whispering gentle praise against my skin. ‘Okay, green. You can move now,’ I breathe out, voice hoarse and he presses a little kiss to my lips. ‘Good girl. I’m nearly in. But don’t look. Just trust me,’ he says quickly, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘How much left?’ I ask, and he winces. ‘About half,’ he replies, and I feel my face fall as he sighs. ‘We can sto-’ ‘No, no. I want it. Want you,’ I whisper, and he nods with a small smile.

He suddenly slips two fingers into my mouth, making me look at him in confusion. ‘Suck on my fingers to distract you from the pain,’ he says, and I nod, doing as he says and tasting something sweet on his skin, realising with a start that it’s my own arousal I can taste. He begins pushing further in, slowly, and it doesn’t hurt as much now, the stretch only burning a little. I can feel it when he bottoms out, a sigh of relief escaping my lips, and he grins at me. ‘You’ve done so well, angel, I’m so proud of you. Tell me when I can move,’ he says, and I nod, taking a few deep breaths. It takes a little while to get used to being so full, and arousal suddenly fills me at the thought that he’s buried in me balls-deep, my walls clenching tightly around him.

I don’t realise the effect it’s having on him until he speaks, taking me by surprise. ‘Fuck, y/n, you gotta stop clenching around me. Gonna make me cum quick like I’m the fucking virgin here. Can I- fuck, I gotta move. Can I move? Need to fuck you,’ he pleads, voice strained, his head resting on my shoulder and his hand digging into my waist, and I’m shocked at how… submissive he sounds, begging me to fuck me. He’s got all the power here – he could fuck me dumb right now – but he’s asking me for permission. It’s so hot that I nearly moan out at his words, pussy gushing with arousal. ‘Yes, you can move, please. Fuck, please move,’ I whimper around his fingers, the words coming out all garbled, and I’m so desperate for him now.

He removes his fingers from my mouth, both hands digging into my waist now, and he doesn’t waste much time before pulling out slightly and rolling his hips against mine, making me let out a moan of his name. I can sense he’s restraining himself – opting to thrust shallowly rather than slamming into me as I’d expected him to do – and it seems it’s taking every inch of his self-control to do so, his entire body tensed and little grunts falling from his lips. ‘You’re so fucking tight, angel. Wanna pound your tight little virgin cunt,’ he groans, and my head falls back against the pillow. ‘Do it, please. Want you to ruin me,’ I beg, and he lets out a strangled moan. ‘Use your colours if it’s too much,’ he forces out, waiting for the reply with a small, ‘okay’ before he loses himself.

He pulls all the way out of me before slamming back in, my mouth falling open in a silent scream as he lets out a moan of my name. He sets a bruisingly fast pace, the bed hitting the wall loudly with each of his thrusts. ‘So fucking tight around me. Gonna stretch out this tiny little cunt, gonna make you my little cockslut,’ he growls, forcing the words out with effort, his energy being taken up by thrusting into me, and it’s the most painful pleasure I’ve ever felt. I’m rendered speechless, unable to make a noise other than the little breaths that escape my lips, not even having enough sanity to moan for him.

One of his hands comes to my throat, roughly squeezing my airways and cutting off my breathing, making me choke and gasp as he hammers into me, heavy balls slapping against my damp skin. My nails dig hard into the skin of his back, the soreness between my legs slowly melting away into unadulterated pleasure, tears dripping down my face as a release for how overwhelmed I am. ‘Fuck, need to go deeper,’ he grunts, grabbing one of my legs and moving it between our bodies, the ankle resting on his shoulder, and this new angle allows him to go even deeper, brushing against the spongy spot inside me and making me let out a loud shriek of his name.

‘Found your voice, angel? Thought I’d fucked you stupid. But my good little slut can handle it, right? You can take my cock in this tiny virgin pussy, can’t you, baby?’ he growls, and my eyes roll back at the feeling of his cock dragging against my walls deliciously. Obscene squelching and skin slapping against skin fills the room along with my moans and whimpers, and his grunts and groans, the smell of sex heavy on the air as he abuses my pussy, the pleasure that’s coursing through my veins drowning out the pain of how much my body is straining to accommodate him.

‘Fucking gushing around me. Soaking my cock little a good little slut. Bet you’ve dreamed of being fucked like this, huh? Tried to fill your little pussy with your fingers, imagining yourself as a desperate little whore stuffed with a fat cock? Am I right, angel? Not as innocent as you pretend to be, huh? Just needed someone to come corrupt you,’ he growls against my ear, cock hammering into me relentlessly, my walls clenching around him as he lowers his mouth to my neck, kissing beneath where his hand is still gripping me tightly, my head light with the lack of air. He obviously takes my unrestrained moaning as an answer, pushing me down into the mattress and pounding into me bruisingly hard.

‘So fucking tight around me, baby, I can’t cope. Wanna stay buried in this tiny little pussy forever. Scream out my name, angel. Let everyone in your block know how good I’m making you feel, how hard I’m fucking your tight cunt. Let them know you’re not the pure little girl you claim to be,’ he growls, loosening his hold on my throat, and I can’t help but do as he says, crying his name repeatedly like a mantra. I can feel the knot in my stomach tightening again, knowing my orgasm is approaching again, my walls clenching around him and my nails raking down his back viciously. ‘You’re close, huh, angel? You gonna cum for me? Gonna soak my cock like a good little slut? Come on, baby, cum for me. Cum all over my cock,’ he prompts, hand snaking down to rub at my clit, and when he hits the spot inside me head-on, I reach my high.

I scream out his name, so loud and raw that it feels like it’s being torn out of my throat, my own voice filling my ears as I cum around him, walls clenched around him so tightly that he can’t move, and so he rubs at my clit to prolong my orgasm, release gushing out around him. White hot bliss courses through me, my vision completely blurring as tears stream down my face, mouth hanging open as I rake my nails down his back, breaking the skin.

When I finally begin coming down from an intense high, my walls loosening around him, he starts to chase his own high, no concern for me beneath him. He slams into me, again and again, the bed probably denting the wall, and I feel overstimulation setting in, making me sob as I thrash beneath him. But he doesn’t care, one hand pressing into the bed and the other reappearing at my neck, pushing me down into the mattress as he fucks into me, grunts and groans falling from his lips, and when my vision finally clears, I nearly cum again at the sight of him.

His blond hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, his skin drenched with perspiration, a glistening honey colour, mouth open and letting out whispers of my name, lips swollen and shining. His eyes are glowing red, blood red, and his face is flushed, contorted with pleasure. His biceps ripples with the effort of thrusting into me, desperate whines escaping his lips as he chases his high, body tensed and strong. He looks like sin incarnate.

He’s nearing his orgasm, I think – his dick is twitching inside me, and I tighten around him, his hips stuttering with erratic thrusts. ‘Fuck, angel, I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum in your tight little pussy! So good for me, baby, so good,’ he moans loudly, making my lips curl proudly, before he buries himself deep in me, head dropping to my neck as he lets out a cry of, ‘shit, y/n, I’m gonna cum!’ He bites down on my skin as he cums, his thick release painting my insides. And there’s so much of it, an endless amount of cum flooding into me, and my sensitive walls fluttering around him help prolong his high, milking his cock for all he has as he whines desperately, thrusting shallowly.

Once he’s done, he pulls his softened cock out of me, looking down at me with concern all over his face. His eyes have returned to their warm chocolate brown, and they’re full of worry. ‘I’m so sorry, y/n, I wasn’t supposed to be that rough. Are you okay?’ he asks, and I just smile tiredly. ‘I’m fine, Jisung. I would’ve stopped you if it was too much, but it was perfect,’ I reply, a yawn interrupting my last few words, and he heaves a sigh of relief. ‘If you say so, angel. But still, I shouldn’t have been that rough. Hyunjin’s gonna kill me,’ he mutters before leaning down to press a kiss to my sore lips.

‘Right, let’s clean you up,’ he murmurs, and I’m already half asleep when he climbs off me, pulling his underwear back up over his cock. He scoops me up into his arms, carrying me to the bathroom, and he makes me do a wee first, so I don’t get a UTI. I nearly fall asleep on the toilet. Then he carries me back into bed and cleans over my whole body with a soft towel, soaking up all the tears and sweat and cum.

‘You’ve done so well, angel, such a good job. You can sleep now,’ he whispers as he pulls the covers over me, but I grab his hand when he turns to leave, barely able to keep my eyes open enough to look at him. ‘Are you leaving?’ I mumble, and he lets out a soft laughs. ‘Why? Want me to stay?’ ‘Yes. Please,’ I breathe out with the last bit of energy I have, and he sighs gently, hesitating before he climbs into bed with me. I instantly curl into him and he chuckles, pulling me into his arms. I just about feel the kiss he presses to my forehead before I drift off to sleep.