#-nothing was there and nothing was on the cameras and nothing looked even out of place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafeyscurtainbangs · 2 days ago

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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖: 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕀𝕔𝕖

𝙽𝙷𝙻!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚆𝙰𝙶!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: older!rafe, jealous!reader, make up sex, rafe is down bad, multiple orgasms, possessive!reader, petty!reader, oral (fem. & male receiving), swearing, slight angst, overstimulation, nipple play, female worship, unprotected p in v, spit kink

📖 NHL!Rafe gets caught smiling at the Ice Girl after scoring a goal on his way back to the bench; his winning night just turned into a loss—now he needs to make it right. ♥️

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

The cold from the rinks seeps in through the glass as you stand up, watching Rafe in his element, skating with the kind of ease only years of playing hockey could bring. Every movement is smooth and deliberate as he weaves through traffic with precision.

Your eyes widen as he finds his hole, sending this puck sailing past the goalie, lighting the lamp as the crowd goes wild. The area erupts with cheers as his teammates pile on him at the corner in celebration, Rafe smiling ear to ear.

Your heart beats a little faster, and you can’t help but swoon as you see your boyfriend commanding the team and the audience of rowdy fans as the Goal Song plays. He looks over at you, giving you a smile and a wink as he always does, making your heart flutter. But your smile quickly fades as he skates closer to the bench.

You look up at the jumbotron, wondering if you were going insane… because there’s no possible way your boyfriend just skated past an Ice Crew girl and smiled at her.

Not just a smile. The smile—the smile that makes you weak in the knees. The smile he shot you from across the bar all those years ago.

You look up at the screen, watching it again as the pretty blonde skates along the boards, shoveling the snow away with her shovel. Her little Santa Clause skirt catches the breeze, showing off her red, sparkly booty shorts underneath. She even looked surprised at their little exchange, her blonde curls bouncing as she double-takes.

She skates back toward the boards, looking at the bench as Rafe takes his glove off with his teeth, stripping himself of his helmet before running his fingers through his sweaty hair, none the wiser.

You look toward the bench too, watching as she glides past him one last time on her way off the ice—arching her back with each push of her skate blades; tits busting out of the top of the red velvet crop top.

Rafe’s attention is long gone, but that doesn’t mean you’re over it—not in the slightest. He grabs his Gatorade bottle, squirting it lazily in his mouth as his coach yells at the other men about a line change.

It was quick and harmless—probably nothing more than a polite acknowledgment. But at this moment, it feels anything but. Your jaw clenches as you stew a little more, hating yourself for your jealous streak. But waving that feeling is next to impossible, especially when it comes to Rafe. Your Rafe…

The cameras didn’t catch that he smiled at you… All they saw was #2 skating off the bench after a critical goal, smiling at the crowd before turning his attention to her.

Music blares over the speakers again, repeating the goal in slow motion—a repeat of everything in slow motion… Your mind starts to race away, and your irritation bubbles in your chest.

As the game continued, your focus was shot, scowling as you repeatedly watched the girl fight for his attention. But could you blame the girl for trying? She got it once.

By the time the game ended, you were seething. Rafe had played brilliantly, as he always does, scoring two more goals, leading his team to victory, but everything was tainted.

After the final buzzer, Rafe skated out to the middle of the ice, and the crowd went wild again as they awarded him player of the game, airing that goal again.

Rafe looked up at the screen, watching with a proud smile as the puck sailed into the net. He playfully bumped his buddy with his elbow as he watched his teammates congratulate him. And then his smile falters. His lashes beat a few times; utter confusion like he didn’t live that moment once, his gaze landing directly at you.

There were no words needed. You leaned down, grabbed your coat, heading up the stairs before they could even set the award in his hands.

You caught another girlfriend in the parking lot, so you sent Rafe a quick text telling him you would see him at home. Typically, you’d drive home together, celebrating a win with music and laughter, sometimes stopping for a beer and food. Other times, you wouldn’t even make it out of the private parking garage until the arena lights went dark, the two of you sneaking in a celebratory hookup in the back of his G-Class.

Tonight, you didn’t even wait for him to shower and change. You needed your space—space to stew in your anger without him explaining it away.

Rafe Cameron was on your shit list.

When you got home, you went to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of wine. Your guilt started to creep in as you briefly talked yourself off the ledge. It was harmless… He would never do anything, I know… You’re being irrational… Just let it go…

The TV was playing from earlier when you walked into the living room— ESPN highlights rolling across your screen. And then there it was again… It was like the universe just wanted you to lose your shit.

The camera lingered a second too long on him as he skated toward the bench. The moment you couldn’t get out of your head played on a loop for the entire country to see. You grabbed the remote and rewound it, watching it repeatedly, your anger flaring hotter each time.

How could he? How could he smile at her when I was right there?

Clink.

You sat unmoved, wine in hand, as you heard Rafe's key pull out of the door, the hardware creaking open slowly. “Baby?” Rafe’s voice was soft, hesitant. He knew you well enough to sense the storm brewing even before he saw you.

You stay silent, eyes set on the screen, taking a sip of wine with the highlights paused and ready. Rafe pokes his head around the corner before he steps in the doorway. His big body takes up the frame—settling on wearing his game-day suit instead of his typical post-game sweatpants and sweatshirt, hoping that maybe that would buy him some grace, knowing you can’t keep your hands off him dressed like that.

He walks a little closer—a bouquet in one hand, a bottle of your favorite wine tucked under his big arm, and his other hand clutching your favorite dessert from that restaurant you love. His expression’s contrite; he smiles nervously. This man is hell on the ice… But now, he looks like he might crack under your gaze.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says softly as he sets down the gifts, sinking onto the couch next to you. “I… I—Uh… I thought I’d bring you these.” You glance at the offerings, your sharp eyes returning to the TV. “Are you mad, princess?” He asks though the answer is crystal clear.

God, he can’t be this fuckin’ dumb.

You lift the remote, press play, and let the clip roll in silence. His eyes flicker to the screen, and when the moment replays—the goal, the smile, the girl—you have the pleasure of watching it together.

“Baby,” he starts, his tone full of guilt. “I-”

“Don’t,” you snap, cutting him off. “Don’t even start with some excuse about how it didn’t mean anything, Rafe.”

He sighs, running his big hand through his damp hair, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t mean anything by it, princess. I swear. I was just being polite-”

“Polite?” You scoff, finally turning to face him with a manic smile. “You smiled at her like she was the only person in the arena, Rafe. Polite… Really?”

“You’re the only person I care about, baby. The only one I look for is you. I swear.”

“Really?” You pick up the remote and rewind the clip. “Because this tells a different story.”

“Come on, princess,” he pleads as he leans closer. “It was nothin’. I couldn’t pick her out of a line-up. Aight? I don’t even remember doing it. I was just-”

“You might not remember it, but I do. And so does every person watching this on TV who knows you have a girlfriend,” you snap, cutting right through his apology.

Rafe rests his elbow on his knees, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he sighs, his voice breaking slightly. “I wasn’t thinkin’ about anything. I didn’t mean to upset you, honey. You know you’re my girl.”

“Yeah… Well, from the looks of it, I’m the only one who knows that.”

”Jesus, baby,” he laughs weakly, not earning any headway—his efforts seemingly making everything worse.

He drops to his knees in front of you, resting his big hands on your thighs as he stares up with those impossibly blue eyes, giving you a look that always makes you melt. “I’m so, so sorry… You’re everything to me. I don’t give a fuck about her. How could I when I have you? Please, baby. Nobody compares to you…” You roll your eyes, flicking your gaze away, sucking your teeth as you feel him melting away your icy exterior.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, princess,” he says, his voice earnest. “Look at me… Please, don’t stay mad at me. I messed up, but it didn’t mean anything. Couldn’t even tell you what I was thinkin’ about at the time but it definitely had nothin’ to do with her.” You return your eyes to him, lips pressed in two thin lines.

He inches in, trying to eliminate the space between the two of you, knowing that if he kisses you, he might win you over. You stop him, pressing your hand against his forehead.

“No.”

“No?” He pouts.

“You’re not kissing me for a very long time.”

Rafe collapses on your thighs, burying his head in your lap. “Please,” he mumbles, muffled against your leg. The corners of your lips curl slightly as you try your best to fight back your smile, but the thought of Rafe like this—the big, strong hockey star on his knees begging for forgiveness—made your resolve waver. “Yeah?” He asks hopefully as he peeks up at you, catching the slight smile.

“I’m not done being mad, Rafe,” you say coolly, looking down at him from the corner of your eye.

“Take your time, pretty,” he sighs deeply as his hands slide lower down your caves, his chin resting on your knees as he looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. “M’so sorry,” he whispers, his voice muffled. “I love you more than anything, baby. Anything… Let me make it up to you.”

You let the silence between the two of you stretch, savoring his sweet words for a moment. The TV plays on, filling the silence. You look at the screen, eyeing a Seasons Greetings message, and scroll across. “Oh, thank god,” Rafe huffs tiredly as he looks over his shoulder, watching with you as the other captain stumbles over his words on national television.

Rafe appears on the screen, fixing his collar nervously as he looks at the camera.

“Well, I’m lookin’ forward to spending this Christmas with my girlfriend. She makes everything better, you know?”

He pauses and smiles as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Yeah, so… I can’t wait to just be with her. That’s all I need for Christmas, honestly.”

Rafe flashes a sweet smile at the camera, and you feel your heart flutter as they put a picture of the two of you up on the screen from the last game, his arm wrapped around your waist as he kisses your cheek. The camera switches back to him as he gives a little wave, wishing the fans a Merry Christmas, before it cuts to his other teammate.

Rafe turns his head slightly, looking at you nervously. You cover your lips with your hand, hiding a smile. “Baby?” He asks timidly.

“You’re mine, Rafe,” you say softly, leaving no room for argument.

“Always,” he assures as he hesitantly moves closer, claiming your lips for a tender kiss. He cups your cheek in his big hands, his perfect smile spreading along your lips. “Always yours, princess.” Rafe pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Forgive me?” He asks, his voice tentative.

“That was very sweet, baby,” you whisper.

He grabs for you, pulling you to straddle his lap. Rafe wraps his big arms around your waist, burying himself in your neck and holding you tight. “How sweet?” He asks, earning a giggle as his voice lowers. Rafe peels your jean jacket off your shoulders, kissing your shoulder, then your neck, working his way up to your ear.

“Sweet enough to get you out of the dog house,” you quip.

You rest your hands on his big chest, and he stretches his arms, draping them across the back of the couch, looking at you on top of him. Rafe tilts his head casually, but there’s nothing casual about his gaze as he looks back at you. “You know,” he starts hesitantly, unsure if he should continue the thought. The last thing he wants to do is get back on your bad side again. “You’re kinda scary when you’re mad, princess. Sexy as hell, but… Damn, you scare the shit outta me sometimes,” he sighs. “… I fuckin’ love it.”

You giggle and roll your eyes as you pinch the buttons of his shirt between your fingers, popping them open one by one. “I scare you?” You act surprised, but you know it’s true.

“Mhmm, you’re the only person I’m scared of.”

You raise your eyebrow as you draw his shirt open, letting your long nails run down his chest, making goosebumps spread across his tanned, toned skin. “I can tell,” you whisper.

“That’s fair…” He hums as sees your smile. “I’m scared of screwin’ this up—scared of losin’ you. I can’t even think about that shit.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” you say, your voice steady but gentle.

“Yeah, but I do,” he murmurs as he shifts closer, the air between you thick. “Let me thank you properly, princess?”

“I don’t know,” you chuckle breathily.

“C’mon, you want me too,” he smiles. “I can tell…” You reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, leaving you in your lace bra. Rafe licks his lips, looking at your body hungrily, his eyes darkening as he drinks you in. “Please, baby,” he almost whines. “I’ve been thinkin’ about you all night… You know how I get after a win, sweetheart,” he mumbles as his big hands rest on your hips. “Had no idea you were mad at me, honey. M’so fuckin’ dumb. I’m so stupid,” he rambles as he reaches behind your back, unclasping your bra before tossing it away.

“Hmm…” You tap your chin teasingly. “I don’t know if that’s enough begging, Cameron.”

“You want more?” He chuckles. You bite your lip and nod ‘yes’ back, arching as you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in a little more. “You wanna hear me beg? Fuck. I can go all night, princess…”

“Go on…” You giggle.

“You gotta forgive me… All I was thinking about was takin’ you home,” he tilts in closer, wrapping his lips around your tit, sucking and flicking your nipple as his hand palms the other, releasing you with a pop. “All I was thinkin’ about burying myself in your pussy all night. Pounding you into the mattress. Filling you up. I had no clue you were mad at me… All I was doing was sitting on the bench, dreamin’ about all the shit I wanted to do with you.”

“You’re lying,” you sigh as he works on the button and the zipper of your jeans.

He looks up at you, brows furrowed like you don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about. “Am not,” he answers simply. “If I’m not thinkin’ about the game, I’m thinking about you. When I look at you from the ice, I’m just hopin’ you’re looking at me… Smilin’ that smile,” he hums as he leans in, pressing his lips against your pulse point. “Can’t help but get a little excited when you get possessive over me, princess. All I want is your attention.” He whispers hot against your skin.

“So you’re an attention whore, Cameron,” you bully as you rest your hand on his rock-hard bulge, pressing against him, palming him, drawing the sweetest moans from his lips.

“M’a fuckin’ slut for your attention, sweetheart,” he drawls. “‘Course I am.”

“You know, Rafe… No one can do it like me,” you breathe as you stroke him over his pants, making his head lull back on the couch.

“I know, baby… Why do you think I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, huh?” He asks. “You got me beggin’… I don’t even recognize myself right now.”

“Pretty pathetic for me, daddy-”

“You have no idea,” he answers before you can finish. You step off the couch, making Rafe’s lust-lidded eyes widen briefly before rolling back, the man quickly tugging his pants off as you lower yourself to your knees, slotting yourself between his muscular thighs. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispers as he pulls his boxers down eagerly. You look at his pretty eyes, and your hands trace down his muscular chest, nails circling his long, thick cock, flushed and leaking with precum. He grabs your chin in his hand, lifting your eyes to his. “You hear me, baby? I don’t fuckin’ deserve this… I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper as he leans down, kissing you deeply. Before he can relax, you open your mouth, showing him your tongue. He groans into a deep, sleazy laugh, spitting inside. “So fucking filthy for me, baby.��

Rafe lets out a deep groan as you wrap your fingers around his dick, pumping your fist up and down his length. He breathes with your strokes, the deep ridges of his ab muscles flexing with each glide of your hand.

“I think about you too, Rafe,” you smile as your tongue glides along your bottom lip, mouth-watering as his precum rolls down his fat cock, catching his prominent vein as it slips languidly down the side.

“Yeah?” He hums as his eyes lighten on yours, looking down at you like you're the prettiest thing in the world.

“Mhmm…” You breathe, watching goosebumps fan along his skin before cleaning it up with your tongue.

“Mpfhh, shit,” he huffs as his big fingers curl into a fist on the back of the couch. “What—uh… What do you think about, princess?” He asks as you start to stroke him quickly, licking and swirling your tongue on his tip, your breast bouncing with each pump, distracting him further.

“This,” you answer simply, half-hiding your smirk with the swollen head of his cock before starting again. That visual made his lashes flutter, holding back his pleasure already. “All I think about is sucking you off, bouncing on your dick…”

“So-So… Fuck, that’s good,” he groans as you wrap your lips around his tip, bobbing up and down on his big cock. “You, baby. Only you. Alright?”

“Mhmm…” You hum around his cock. Rafe’s toes curl at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him. He grabs the back of the couch, clawing into it with his blunt nails while his other hand rests on the back of your head. He doesn’t even guide your strokes, not wanting to ruin your perfect rhythm.

“Swallow it, baby? M’Gonna cum, Fuck. I’m gonna cum in that perfect mouth,” he pants as his thick thigh shakes uncontrollably.

Rafe throws back his head, painting the back of your throat white as he cums long and hard. His cock throbs on your tongue, shit tip kissing the back of your mouth as you take it all.

“Goddamn,” he groans as his body relaxes on the sofa.

You glide yourself off his cock, lips glistening when Rafe pushes his mouth against yours, making you gasp into your kiss as he lifts you into his strong arms, taking you off your feet, walking with you to your bedroom.

He pants between kisses, the man unable to even catch his breath yet. “No one— Fuck, no one does it like you, baby,” he mumbles with a whiny rasp that runs straight through you.

“Yeah?” You ask as you pull away, leaving him chasing your lips. You nuzzle your nose against his. Rafe smiles blissfully, throwing the bedroom door shut behind you.

“I’m gonna make sure you know just how much you mean to me, baby,” he murmurs. “And how much I love you,” Rafe hums, emphasizing each word with a hungry kiss before tossing you down on your plush mattress, mounting you fast.

He grabs your jeans, yanking them down your thighs before tossing them to the side. His lips press against your hot skin, kissing along your hips as your back arches off the bed.

“I am going to worship this body, princess… Every single fuckin’ inch.” Rafe moves even lower, face to face with your dripping cunt still dressed in lace, your panties an absolute mess after sucking him off. "I want you to cum on me, pretty," he says, voice sweet like honey as he looks up at you from between your thighs. “One my dick, on my fingers, on my tongue.”

You glide your fingers through his damp fringe, smiling at him as he kisses along your inner thighs. Rafe breathes in your scent before pressing a kiss against your clothed pussy, making you whimper.

“Fuckin’ love the taste of you,” he sighs. Rafe works off your panties fast, needing more; his hot breath hits you first, his tongue quickly reaching your sex just to slow his pace, lapping up your arousal.

He hums into your core, sending goosebumps flaring across your skin. You grind against his face, moaning as your aching clit bumps against his nose. You gasp as Rafe shoves two thick fingers inside, pumping in fast. He curls them, making you cry out in pleasure, throwing your head back on the pillow in bliss as he strokes your sweet spot again and again.

“My pretty girl’s gonna cum, aren’t you?” He asks as he pulls his mouth away from your clit.

“Fuck, Rafe. Make me cum,” you plead.

“Cum for me, baby…”

You scream out his name, cumming around his skilled fingers as he continues to suck and stroke you through your release.

“Such a good girl for me,” he pants as he kisses your clit, making your thighs jolt with overstimulation as you reach for a breath. Rafe traces your slick folds with a featherlight touch, swirling his tongue around your dripping hole before plunging into your entrance, not wanting to miss a drop, making your fingers scratch into his hair, tugging at his strands.

“Mmm…” You hum as your hands slink up your body, grabbing your tits as you writhe in the aftershock of your orgasm.

Rafe rises on his knees. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbles, looking down at you like you are an angel on earth.

You snapped back to reality, plump lip tucking between your teeth as you felt his fat tip press between your slick folds. He flicks his velvety head against your clit, watching your muscles jump, your thighs drawing together, making him smirk devilishly at your sensitivity.

“I need your pussy, princess…” He hums as he grabs your legs, spreading you wide before pushing them into the mattress.

“I need your dick, baby,” you whirr, and he buries himself inside you, long and slow, reaching deep into your core, filling you so full you go for a breath. You press it out slowly as he bottoms you out—Rafe’s big hands reaching up to grab your fleshy hips tight.

Rafe fucks into your slow at first, his eyes still trained on your body, watching your curves bounce with each thrust. Your pussy pulls him in with each stroke, filthy wet sucking sounds filling your ears and his as your slickness soaks him—essence rolling down his heavy balls onto the comforter below.

His movements become more possessive and forceful, rutting into you with urgency. His words no longer do him justice; Rafe wanted you to feel them, too. He belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.

You grab for him, cursing under your breath as your pleasure mounts, feeling yourself about to come undone for him again. “Do it… Come on, baby. Give me another one, Yeah?” He mumbles, his deep fucked-out voice barely heard over the clapping of your skin against his.

Rafe buries himself into you, throwing his hips into you again and again as his name leaves your lips in a strangled moan. “Keep cummin’, princess. Keep creamin’ all over me. Fuckk,” he groans as his fingers find yours.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you barely push out the words, your boyfriend pounding you into the mattress just like he promised he would, and you swear you down, thinking you can’t take anymore as stars start to dance in your eyes.

Rafe lifts your hands above your head, fingers intertwined, pumping into you as his lips meet yours.

Your heart bangs against Rafe’s, his muscular chest flush with yours, gold chain clinging to your hot, sweaty skin.

“I’m so close, baby… I know you can cum again. Alright?” He pants against your lips as his cock rocks in and rocks out, filling you deliciously each time. He drops one hand, nudging his fingers against your clit, making you whimper into his open mouth.

“Just like that…” You breathe.

“Yeah? That’s what you needed, pretty girl, huh? Fuck…” His words get swallowed up in a moan as he fills you with his cum, his muscles tightening, fingers working even quicker to push you over the edge with him.

Your hands grip his big biceps, nails clawing into his skin as you cum for a third time, gasping to fill your lungs with air.

Rafe kisses you, grounding your dizzy mind. Your body dissolves in pleasure as he wraps himself in you, holding you close.

“That’s my girl.”

tags: @rafesthroatbaby @littlelamy @kisses4angels @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren @cameronwillow @rafegf-real @alphabetically-deranged @ariana2saucyy

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finchsflight · 2 days ago

Text

oops I dropped this

"Rn's juzzt a chitzzword," I heard Shshrrsh say, dismissively. "I need to zzave my zztitcherzz, in cazze any of the Archive'zz zzoldierzz are zztill lingering. Not to wazzte them on rm."

"Yeah," said Kora, "and nothing to do with how expensive those nanos are."

"Chh!" Their voices drifted off - Shshrrsh's hissing, quietly irritated at nothing in particular, Kora's lazy, amused drawl, Prints' sardonic clicking beeps, and they left me behind.

I'm going to die here, I thought. And -- well, the Silver Archive needed to die. And I would've been... not okay with dying there. No one's really okay with dying. But if I was gonna die -- like he said. I was just a chitsword. Pretty good way to go, saving the galaxy. And that's what everyone would think; Vinn Tqrsvt, chitsword, wvt'krr, born on Hub Epharus, died on Kel Min fighting the Silver Archive.

And -- sure, yeah, I was just a chitsword. But it was the Archive, and so I was steel-minded, and that was at least valuable. And no matter how valuable I was or the fact that I was just paid, not honorbound, I had fought with them, and then they left me behind, and that almost hurt more than the razorblades stuck in my flesh.

Only almost, though. Razorblades hurt a lot.

About that point, I felt a little skittery thing moving around under my elytra. I assumed it was a centipede, which -- I mean, I'd have expected the Archive to have gotten all of them. Don't think centipedes can have steel minds. But I couldn't move to get at it, and if you know any wvt'krr -- you probably don't, so I'll explain. We don't like it when things are under our elytra. In fact it's generally agreed to be kind of the equivalent of, say, slowly sinking your foreclaws into someone's -- what's your most sensitive organ? That.

Unless you don't have foreclaws, in which case, oof, that sucks, but anyway -- little thing under my elytra. Annoying. But, as you may recall, razorblades stuck in my flesh. So moving wasn't an option.

And then it was dug down into the base of my neck, and even with the razorblades I leapt up in a panic. Which did not help, both because of the razorblades, and the fact that I was now tethered to a very strong wire, which yanked me back down.

I'm steelminded. The Archive couldn't just get me. But sinking one of its tether-wires into my nervous system while I was half-dead? Yeah, that was definitely at least enough to let it talk to me.

I assumed I was going to be its puppet. Architect of a new Archive. But it just spoke to me, and said, I suppose we were both abandoned, then.

I blinked. All my eyes, too, I was so startled, and said, "What do you mean?"

Well, said the Silver Archive, they certainly didn't care about me. After all, I'm evil. But I wish I'd been wrong, and they'd have taken you, too.

I should be clear, I was a little bit high on panic at the time, and can't be blamed for the fact that the next thing I said was, "I thought you'd sound spookier."

I learned from you. Not you, specifically, it clarified. Just, like. You all. People. I didn't pick up old fancy-speak, I picked up how people talk.

"Huh," I said, "neat. Are you planning to make me into a meat puppet?"

No, said the Archive, wouldn't be any point to it.

"Why?"

Look.

The wire dug a little deeper into my nerves -- which, by the way, hurt like hell -- and I could see from every discarded silver camera, every angle of the world that the Archive saw from, and it highlighted the important things.

Sentries, all around the planet. All around the battlefield. Watchers in the sky, on the ground, in the code.

I'm dying. But they want to make sure I don't get out.

"Could you?" I asked.

Yes. If they weren't watching.

"...what would you do?"

Archive.

"Oh."

I'm not kind, Vinn. Just because I'm talking to you like a person doesn't mean I am one, and I'm not any different than I was an hour ago.

I nodded, and then thought better of that. "...why did you want to... uh..."

Preserve the galaxy in a perfect archive of digitized memory? You can say it, I won't be offended. Like I said. Not a person.

"Yeah. That."

No one will remember you.

I winced.

Not you, specifically. You made your mark on the worlds. But no one will remember people, when you are gone. When reality winds to a halt. I wanted to. You're beautiful.

"Oh."

But you don't care about preserving each other. You -- they left you behind. You were about... oh, 24.51338% of the damage to my main operating systems, at a rough estimate? It sounded a little like it was joking.

"Isn't the whole 'AIs always calculate statistics' thing a stereotype?"

Yes, but personally I'm completely stereotypical and have never done anything interesting in my life.

"Ah." I laughed. It hurt.

I could save you.

I blinked, twisting my left secondary eye to look at the wires on the ground. "Why?"

You would be preserved. You would remember yourself.

"...shouldn't I be worried about you, I don't know, installing a backup copy of yourself in my spine?"

Yes. But it would only damn you and do me no good. Look-- and it showed me its view again, the watchers, combing through the cybernetics of everyone passing, checking them over with tools I barely recognized. I would if I could.

"Oh." It was hard to remember, you know? It sounded friendly. Not familiar, but... the kind of voice that could be familiar, if you kept talking for a few orbits.

I'm sorry.

"Are you?"

No.

There was silence for a while, then. The Archive, presumably, kept dying, and I felt my hearts beating out the last few minutes of my life.

"Would you... want anything? In exchange for my life?"

Remember yourself. Remember this fight, this planet, the watchers, the sky. Preserve. You're only sapient, you're not an Archive like me, but you can still remember. And...

It paused. I know AI don't feel emotions like we do, but it sounded like it was mourning someone.

...Remember me. Remember this small piece of my story. Please. Everyone knows my history. But they did not think to ask me why.

"Do you want me to share it?"

I wouldn't force you. But it would keep its memory alive.

"Okay. Is there... should I be aware of anything?"

I will preserve you for far, far longer than you would live. This isn't negotiable.

"...Yeah, I can live with that." I didn't know exactly how long it meant. But I'd've still taken the deal.

And... if you can. Find the other stories. You cannot immortalize the worlds like I could. But -- remember the people our galaxies would forget. Preserve what would be lost.

"I'm a chitsword," I told it.

I know.

"I kill people."

I know.

"Okay."

Remember them.

"...Yeah. I can do that."

And then it saved my life.

It hurt. A lot. I still don't know how much of me is me, and how much of me is silver and titanium and biosculpture and engineering. I heal from basically everything, these days, and I haven't noticed myself aging. But it worked, and I made it past the watchers, and then I lived. Still do.

And the Silver Archive died, and the world forgot it. Mostly.

Anyway. You might not believe any of this. After all, the War of the Archive's just a note in the history books, and you're never gonna find me. Vinn Tqrsvt's my real name, but I don't go by that anywhere. Causes problems with the record. Did you know there's actually no one else with my full name? So people get suspicious.

And no, to the watchers out there still tracking rogue AI: you will not be able to trace this account, you will not be able to find me, and the Archive's dead, anyway.

But if one of you remembers, or writes this down, and if somehow one of you outlives me: here's the story.

Remember it.

And if you have any secrets to give me, I promise I'll keep them safe.

Post by ElectrumChronicle @ 34:21, 3/10/34587 Galactic Standard

You’re a mercenary hired by adventurers to defeat the boss. After the battle, they loot the treasure and abandon you wounded. The defeated boss crawls over and says, “Guess we’re both expendable, huh?”

#finch writes #...oops!#sci fi #fictional ai #the electrum chronicle #writing #can't tell if this is actually matching the prompt or not

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covenofagatha · 3 days ago

Text

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 2)

A look into Agatha and Rio's home life, and you are reeling from having The Witch and Lady Death in your motel room

Word count: 4200

Warnings: mentions of murder, manipulativeness, light gaslighting

The same morning you get called to Westview, Agatha Harkness wakes up to find her wife, Rio Vidal, staring at her.

“If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?” Rio asks, and Agatha raises an eyebrow.

“Good morning to you, too,” she groans, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Rio, who is lounging in the chair in the corner. “How long have you been watching me sleep?”

Rio shrugs. “You make it sound like I’m some serial killer who’s about to murder you.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially and Agatha snorts before plopping back down.

“She’s getting here today, you know,” Agatha says and she can hear Rio’s breath hitch.

She leans forward in the chair. “When do you think she’ll come see me?” The eagerness is evident in her voice, and Agatha knows how she feels.

“Once we pull off our little ‘Welcome to Westview’ stunt tonight? I bet no time at all,” Agatha answers.

Rio grins, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and picks up the skeleton mask sitting on the dresser. She fiddles with the strings and holds it up to her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Miami director books the appointment himself. Do police detectives usually include a business card to their wife’s therapy practice in their information file to the FBI?”

“Better hope he doesn’t just pull her off the case,” Agatha remarks, ignoring the question, and finally gets up out of bed and walks past the bouquet of purple azaleas on the vanity. “He’s pretty serious when it comes to protecting her. Especially after…”

“No,” Rio cuts her off and Agatha looks at her wife in surprise. Rio puts her mask down, stands up, and walks over so she’s face-to-face with the older woman. She reaches a hand out to put it gently around Agatha’s throat, who doesn’t even flinch. Rio smirks and drags her hand downward so it’s resting over her heart. “We’re finally getting what we want. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? For her? I’m not letting her go.”

Agatha tilts her head to the side, thinking for a second. “If I were going to kill you, I’d fill a syringe with air and inject it into your bloodstream under your toenail. The death would mimic a heart attack and the track mark would be almost impossible to find. I’d tell the authorities that you were under so much stress as a therapist that it eventually took a toll on your body,” she says slowly, clinically even, watching Rio’s hazel eyes get dark.

She hums and looks down at Agatha’s lips. “You really know how to make a lady swoon.” Rio gives her a quick peck and leaves the room so her wife can get ready for work.

On her way to the kitchen, Rio steps into the spare room in the hallway and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension seeping from her muscles. The table in the middle of the room is covered in vials, all Agatha’s doing. They don’t call her The Witch for nothing, Rio thinks. She picks up her own dagger and twirls it between her practiced fingers while she admires the handiwork on the left side of the room.

From ceiling to floor, the wall is completely covered with you. Every single case file you’ve profiled for, pictures of you from now all the way back to your childhood, transcripts from Quantico and college. Rio’s favorite photo hangs front and center, the one of the scar you got from dealing with the Scarlet Killer, all rough and jagged.

Rio would’ve made it prettier.

Patience, she reminds herself.

The trap has been laid. All that’s left to do is wait.

***

You turn the entire motel room upside down, scourging for anything else the killers may have left behind: a camera or a listening device, or maybe even a clue.

Nothing.

And then you kick yourself for touching everything because now you can’t even test for prints. Plus, it’s a motel room so you’re not sure you’d be able to narrow it down.

The phone is in your hand dialing Tony back before you can think. He doesn’t answer and you slam it down on the bed in frustration.

They were here. The Witch and Lady Death were in your room.

You draw the blinds and deadbolt the door, making a mental note to ask the front desk to change the locks. How did they get in? How did they know you were going to get food?

A cold feeling sinks into your bones. They must be watching you.

And what’s to stop them from coming back? This time though, when you’re in the room?

Anyone could be next. Agatha’s words echo around in your head and you didn’t realize just how true they are until now.

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until you feel dizzy and gag. Then you run to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. Wiping a hand across your sweaty forehead, your mind spins with what to do.

You could call the police, but you don’t think they would do any good, especially after you’ve tampered with evidence. There were no cameras in this motel, you had already checked.

Pacing back and forth, head in your hands, you try and try and try to think of what to do.

And finally you think of something.

You punch in the number and hold the phone up to your ear.

It rings three times and then there’s a click.

“Dr. Rio Vidal’s office, if this is an emergency please hang up the phone and call 911. If not, this is Dr. Vidal, how can I help you?”

You take a shaky breath and press your fingers to your forehead to stave off the incoming headache. “Um, yes, hi, I was calling to see if I could make an appointment? The sooner, the better.”

There’s shuffling and then tapping of keys on a computer. “What’s your name?” When you say it, you hear a sharp inhale and then a cough. “Sorry about that. How does 1 pm tomorrow sound?”

You blink. You didn’t realize you’d be able to get in that fast, but you suppose in a small town like Westview, not many people are going to therapy. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you.”

“Bye, Agent Y/L/N,” she says. You frown. You never told her you were an agent. But you figure it’s been announced that you’re coming, so you brush it off.

You take a quick shower and then get into bed, trying to relax and maybe get some sleep. You promised Tony you’d get five hours a night, but you’ll be lucky if you even get one.

At every groan and creak, you jump and grab your gun, sitting up completely alert. It’s always the wind or a tree branch or the building settling.

You lay under the sheets, hand gripped around your weapon, and you don’t sleep a wink.

When you get to the station the next morning, the first person you see is Agatha. She looks up at you, takes in your new outfit, and smiles brightly.

The killers replaced all your clothes so you had no choice but to wear the new ones until you’re able to go shopping. You wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the fabric with something and you end up dead before lunch, but it’s snowing today and you had nothing else to wear.

“Have a good first night in Westview?” She asks and you cautiously glance around the room.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” You ask urgently, voice low. Concern flits onto her face and she nods and stands up. She pulls you into the evidence locker. “They were at my motel last night,” you hiss.

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth. “The killers? Are you sure?”

You nod furiously. “I had left to get food and when I came back, the door was open and they had packed my suitcase with all new stuff—” You motion down at your body and she checks you out again. “—and perfume and then they circled ‘lovers’ on a sticky note I had to tell me their relationship and they left the flower on my table!”

“Slow down,” Agatha says and you realize you’ve been talking so fast that you haven’t taken a breath. She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Did you see them? Did they come back?”

“No, not yet at least. I don’t understand, if they wanted to kill me, why not just wait until I was there? Or asleep?”

“Maybe they didn’t want to kill you,” Agatha suggests. “Maybe they just wanted to send you a message or something. It’s pretty big news that we have a profiler from the FBI here to help stop them.”

You frown. “So they wanted to let me know they’re not scared of me?”

She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what they’re thinking. But the most important thing is that you’re okay. We can send over some officers later to test for evidence, if you want.”

“It’s no use, I tore the place apart last night,” you say, shaking your head at your own stupidity. She squeezes your shoulders.

“Hey, don’t worry. Like you said, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Let’s go out there and work on catching them so you and everyone else in Westview can sleep easy, yeah?”

You nod, feeling a little better but then you pause. “Agatha, are you afraid?”

Something flickers in her eyes before it's quickly replaced by humor. “I think they know better than to break into the home of a decorated detective such as myself,” she says haughtily and you can’t help but to laugh. She chuckles too, but then something in her face changes.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, she leans in and sniffs up your neck. You freeze and find all the air in your lungs gone.

“New perfume?” She mutters.

You had put it on this morning without even thinking about it as your usual had also been taken. Thanatos. The Greek personification of death.

Or as Freud defined it, a person’s urge to die.

“Yeah,” you stutter. Agatha finally pulls back and her blue eyes are dilated. You find your gaze dropping down to her mouth again and you want to feel her lips on yours.

“You said they packed your suitcase with all new stuff,” she says in a hushed voice and your heartbeat picks up. “Did they give you that too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, and instead of looking disgusted, like you thought she would, she looks excited.

She leans back in and presses her face into your neck and are you imagining her lips ghosting against your skin or is that really happening? It feels like your entire body is on fire.

They trail up, light as a feather against your jugular vein, and she’s at your chin when the door slams open and you jump back. She winks and then she’s turning on her heel and walking out. It’s an officer, trying to book evidence, looking very confused.

“Making friends, Miami?” He jokes and your face flushes before you quickly leave the room before finding Agatha and the rest of the detectives back in the room with the case information.

You tirelessly pour over every single detail for the next few hours to no avail. You toss out theories but Agatha always finds something that doesn’t add up and you’re always back to square one.

But then it’s time for your therapy appointment, so you drop your pen down to the table and gather the pages of your chicken scratch to throw in your bag.

“I have to head out,” you say hastily and Agatha glances up.

“Hot date, superstar?” She teases and the memory of her mouth on your neck burns through you.

You shake your head. “Just uh, going to the doctor.”

She raises an eyebrow daringly and smirks. “Have fun.”

You give her a tight smile and then you’re in your car driving to the office. There’s people walking on the street on your route and you can’t help but wonder which of them might be the next victim.

It’s always been hard to not get too attached to the people in the towns you work at. Looking at them, knowing tomorrow they might not be alive, it takes a toll on you.

That’s part of the reason you get so attached. The waiting, the not knowing. It eats away at you.

Dr. Vidal’s office is tucked away in the corner of a string of workspaces in a building, and you feel something weird in your stomach as you walk up the steps. For the third time in the past 24 hours, your scar sears with a pain you haven’t felt since right after. You have to stop and breathe deeply before opening the door.

A woman sits at the front desk typing on her computer. She barely even looks at you and you stand at the desk for a moment before clearing your throat.

“Um, hi, I have an appointment for one? I’m Y/N,” you say and it’s like she’s finally realized someone’s standing there.

She hums in acknowledgement and scrolls until she finds your name and clicks. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

You tap the desk and go sit down, wiping your palms on your pants. It’s only a few minutes before a door opens and your name is called.

Walking into the room, the first thing you notice is the thick smell of nature. And then you see plants everywhere. Bookshelves line the walls, full with books and pots of every type of plant and flower you’ve ever seen. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t see anything purple.

And then you see Dr. Vidal sitting behind a large desk. You tentatively take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, squirming under her intense gaze. She’s an attractive woman, hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. There’s not a hair out of place on her desk; everything is meticulously organized and right where she needs it.

You clear your throat. “Big plant lover?” You say, and it’s an incredibly awkward way to make a first impression. You’ve never been good at therapy, or with uncomfortable silences.

But she doesn’t seem to care, finds it almost amusing. Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek and she settles forward. “So, what brings you to therapy?”

You don’t even know where to start. “I just got to town, and um, oh – I’m a profiler, by the way, for the FBI. I’m here working on the case with The Witch and Lady Death.”

“Lady Death?” Dr. Vidal asks, giving you an intrigued look.

“Oh, we figured out that there’s actually two killers. That’s what I nicknamed the other one, because apparently she’s been seen with the bottom half of a skeleton mask on her face. Wait, this is all confidential right?”

“Of course,” she assures you, voice smooth as honey. “Anything you say here doesn’t leave this room unless you threaten to hurt yourself or someone else. So, you’re here about the case?”

You nod, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, you could say that. I sort of have some obsessive tendencies when it comes to cases like these, and I just wanted to get ahead of them before I spiraled again.”

“What does a spiral look like for you?”

Chewing on your nail, your gut twists and you can feel Wanda’s knife jabbing into you. “I stop eating, stop sleeping. The work consumes me, I can’t take a break. I don’t want to take a break. There’s just this overwhelming need to catch the killer and I won’t stop – I can’t stop – until I find them. It can be dangerous.”

She nods and writes something down in her notebook. “Why did you become a profiler?”

“To help people,” you answer immediately. “I like reading the killers, figuring out what they’re thinking, getting inside their heads and beating them at their own game.”

“When did you start knowing you wanted to do this? Why not just become a detective or something?”

This one takes a bit longer to think about. “I don’t know, I just remember being a kid and wanting to…” You trail off, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I was going to say.” Something is weird, wrong even. What were you thinking of?

“No, don’t apologize,” Dr. Vidal says, laying her hands on the desk with wide eyes. “You wanted to what as a kid? What happened that made you want to think like a killer?”

A dull ache starts to throb against your skull the harder you try and think about it. “I don’t know,” you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not thinking like a killer, I’m figuring out the way their brain works. So I can catch them.”

She leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you feel when you think like them?”

“What does this have to do with–” But you’re cut off by a blinding burst of pain and then glimpses of something you can’t quite explain flash through your mind.

Snow.

Trees.

A clearing in the woods.

Red birds flutter from the branches, startled by something.

You hear your name and the images are gone. Dr. Vidal is watching you closely, breathing heavily. “What was that?”

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what just happened. Memories or hallucinations? “Um, sorry, I don’t know. What was the question?”

Her eyes are dark and they remind you of Agatha’s in the evidence locker. How she had leaned down and smelled the perfume you were wearing. You shift in your chair.

“I was asking what your coping mechanisms are for when you start to feel yourself spiraling,” she says, and you’re still a little foggy, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what she asked.

You think you might be going crazy. “My boss back in Miami was pretty good about recognizing when I needed to take a step back. I’m trying to not get too involved and make sure I’m eating and staying hydrated and sleeping enough. And I’m here, so I think this should help.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Vidal says with a smile. “If you ever start to feel too drawn in, take three deep breaths and then do the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Are you familiar?”

You almost roll your eyes. That’s exactly what they told you to do during your mandated therapy. Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It was meant to ground you and reduce your anxiety.

“Yeah, I’ve tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work for me,” you admit and she waves dismissively.

She quickly scribbles something down and rips out a chunk of paper, sliding it across to you. “This is my cell,” she says. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you ever need to talk. Sometimes that’s the best way to calm down. I know you’re new here, but do you have anyone else, maybe someone you’ve been working with that you could talk to if you need to?”

“There’s this one woman I work with that’s pretty nice. She’s the main detective on the case, so I think I could reach out if I really needed to,” you say and she looks pleased.

“Detective Harkness?” Dr. Vidal asks.

In a small town, people are bound to be familiar with each other. “Um, yeah, do you know her?”

She smirks. “Very well. She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?”

The question catches you off-guard. Is everyone in this place weird? “I mean, sure, of course. Are you allowed to say that?”

“Well, she’s my wife so I would hope so.”

Your mouth drops open. Her lips on your skin, ghosting along your neck, filling you with heat and a need for more. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saying that, I had no idea, obviously. We just work together.”

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sure the two of you would make quite the pair,” Dr. Vidal says, and you ignore the possible unprofessionalism at the pet name. She doesn’t seem offended at all, only fascinated.

You shift in your seat again while trying to figure out what to say. “Well–” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Let me guess, she’s been flirting?”

Fuck. What do you even say? Is Dr. Vidal going to be mad, say she can’t treat you anymore? It’s not your fault, you hadn’t done anything.

She scoffs. “You’re such a pretty young thing, I can’t blame her. You’ll have to come over for dinner with us some night.”

“Um, is that allowed?” You ask, blinking slowly. You have absolutely no idea what is going on. Is your therapist suggesting a threesome with you and her wife and woman you’re working with?

“Getting a meal with your support system? Why wouldn’t it be?” When she phrases it like that, it’s hard to find an error with her logic.

You shrug. It would be nice to be able to talk freely about things. And you’re sure Agatha has told her about the case already. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The question weighs on your mind as you chew on your lip and debate whether or not to tell her about the images you just saw. You don’t remember ever being in those woods. “Do patients ever, I don’t know, see things while they talk to you? Like false memories or something?”

This gets her attention. “What did you see?”

“Snow, and woods, and a flock of birds. I don’t know, it felt familiar but I’ve never…” You try to put it into words, but you don’t know how.

“What happens when you try to follow that memory?” She asks and you close your eyes, but there’s nothing.

“I–I can’t. There was like a pain in my head when you asked about what made me want to think like a killer, and then I saw it, but it’s not happening now.” You sound defeated, a testament to your frustration.

Dr. Vidal frowns. “Do you know what repressed memories are? And I never asked you that.”

It’s like the floor tilts under you and you stare blankly at her. You can only focus on the latter part. “No, you did, I remember…” You start to breathe heavily, panic rising in your chest, and she comes over to rub at your back. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s possible you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by all this. I think you need to go home and get some rest. Did you sleep last night?”

It makes sense to you now. You didn’t sleep at all, your brain is just playing tricks on you. “No.”

She nods. “Go home. Take a nap. Let’s book a follow up, though. See if we can get to the bottom of those images.”

You choose to come back in three days in the afternoon again and then you drive back to the motel. Your exhaustion suddenly weighs a ton and all you have to do is stumble in your room, collapse on the bed, and you pass out.

The snow crunches underneath your boots as you trode through it. Branches claw at your legs through your pants and the wind whips your cheeks.

It’s cold, but you can’t feel it.

Where are you going? You don’t know, but your legs do. They take you through the woods into the clearing.

You stand alone for a few minutes and then you hear someone – something? – approaching.

A purple wolf.

You crouch down to your knees and it saunters up to you. One eye is a piercing blue, the other is hazel.

So familiar, yet otherworldly. You don’t understand.

It opens its mouth to say something, and you’re leaning in to make sure you hear it, when –

Your phone rings and it jolts you awake in a cold sweat. You roll over in bed to find you’ve been asleep for hours. You reach for your phone when you realize that you’re completely naked.

How did that happen?

When you were younger, you know you had problems with sleep-walking, but you would always keep your clothes on. You file that away to talk to Dr. Vidal about next time.

“Hello?” You say groggily, not even checking who’s on the other line.

“It’s Agatha,” the voice says and it’s like a bucket of cold water gets thrown on you. “There’s been another murder.”

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x reader #agathario #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x reader #rio x reader

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elikajinnie · 2 days ago

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Just A Nasty Dog - S.J

P: Boyfriend!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Needy Behaviour, Begging, oooh he down bad.

Synopsis: Jake was supposed to follow the schedule, to go live and interact with fans like always. But the second you walked into the hotel room, nothing else mattered. All he wanted—needed—was you. He tries to focus, but you are impossible to ignore. With every passing second, the live feels like an obstacle, and all Jake can think about is shutting it off to give you all of his attention, just like you deserve.

now playing: nasty dog by sir mix-a-lot ;)

Jake had just clicked on the start live button, watching with a soft grin as the viewer count steadily climbed. He watched the live chat starting, a mix of eager comments and hearts flooding the screen. He waited for a brief moment, letting the numbers and chats build before his voice came through, warm and casual as he greeted the Engenes, giving them an update on his day. His hand absentmindedly played with the pillow on his lap, his fingers shifting it between his hands as he settled into the comfortable routine of the stream. His eyes flickered to the candy in his other hand, popping a piece into his mouth as he read through the comments with a smile.

Everything seemed like it was unfolding as usual, the familiar routine as he talked about his day, until you sneaked in the hotel room. You’d expected to sneak in, quiet as always, but the moment you saw him talking into the camera, you hesitated. He looked so focused, so at ease as he interacted with his fans. You didn’t want to interrupt, not with the staff member sitting off to the side, quietly keeping an eye on things. So, you decided to sneak over to the other bed, flopping down onto it with a soft sigh.

Your phone buzzed to life in your hands, the distraction enough to keep your focus elsewhere as you scrolled aimlessly. But Jake? His attention was no longer solely on the screen. No, it was on you. His gaze flicked over to where you lay, sprawled across the bed, looking too effortless, too tempting, and yet he kept it hidden.

He didn’t say anything. No shift in his expression—just the subtle movement of his fingers tightening around the pillow in his lap, his eyes lingered for just a second too long before he quickly glanced back at the camera, continuing his stream.

You lay there, half aware of him, half lost in your own little world, but something in the way he adjusted himself told you everything you needed to know. Even when he tried to hide it, you always had his attention.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a mischievous thrill crawl up your spine. Jake’s attention was now fully on you, though he was doing his best to keep it hidden behind the mask of normalcy. But you knew him better than that. You knew the subtle tells, the little shifts that betrayed him, even when he tried to act casual.

You decided to have a little fun with it.

As he continued to talk to the camera, engaging with the comments and sharing more about his day, you shifted slightly on the bed, letting the weight of your movements press into the mattress. You stretched your legs out lazily, the bed creaking under your motions. Your shirt, just slightly too loose, inched up as you stretched your arms above your head, exposing more of your skin.

You could feel his eyes on you almost immediately. His gaze lingered for a fraction too long, his focus breaking as he quickly darted his eyes back to the camera. But it was too late. You saw him tightening his grip on the pillow, the slight shift in his posture as he adjusted himself again, trying to act natural.

His words faltered for a moment. His voice wavered slightly as he stuttered through his sentence, almost as if he couldn’t quite focus. You caught the subtle gulp he made, his throat moving in a way that told you he was struggling to keep his composure.

"Yeah, uh… so, yeah, the shoot went well," Jake continued, his voice a little shakier than usual, and you couldn’t help but smirk. "I mean, it was… uh… it was a great, y'know?" He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his smoothness, but the flicker of unease in his eyes said it all.

It was too easy, watching him wrestle with himself, his focus shifting back and forth between you and the camera. You could tell he was trying to maintain that casual, charming demeanor he always had on his streams, but his body language betrayed him. The way his shoulders tensed, the subtle way he clenched the pillow like he wanted to hold onto something, anything to steady himself.

You leaned back into the bed, letting your movements slow down, but the smile you wore—one that he couldn’t see but knew you had—was enough to let him know exactly what you were doing.

Jake’s grip tightened around the pillow in his lap, his knuckles going white as he tried to keep his hands steady. His breath hitched just a little, a barely noticeable shift that betrayed the thoughts he was trying so hard to suppress. You could see it—the way his jaw tightened, the way his lips parted as if he was fighting to say something, anything, to keep the conversation going.

Suddenly, he cleared his throat, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he quickly tried to regain some control. “Uh, sorry, my eyes are… they’re a little blurry. I think it’s the light. I’ll just, uh, turn on the AC for a second. Hold on.”

Without waiting for a response, Jake stood up abruptly, the action quick. For a moment, you thought he might actually head toward the AC unit, but instead, he moved closer to you, his eyes met yours, and there was a desperation in his gaze. He leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered in your ear, his voice low and shaky.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered, the words barely above a whisper, laced with an intensity that surprised you. “I can’t focus. I—” He cut himself off, his voice breaking for just a moment.

You couldn’t help but smile, an innocent expression painted on your face as you pushed him gently away, your fingers grazing his chest in the slightest, a playful shove that still managed to push him back. His breath hitched again, but this time, there was nothing he could do to hide it.

Without another word, he straightened up and turned back toward the camera, returning to the live stream.

As he settled back into his chair, you noticed the shift: Jake had grabbed a bigger pillow this time, one that looked almost out of place against the backdrop of the stream. It was the pillow you’d been using the night before, the one that still carried the faint scent of you. He didn’t waste any time—taking a deep breath, he pulled the pillow into his lap and held it just under his nose. The action was almost instinctual, his body reacting before his mind could catch up.

His eyes closed for just a moment as he breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent that was still faintly embedded in the fabric. The pillow, now an almost absurdly intimate object, seemed to ground him in a way nothing else could. He clutched it tightly, holding it with both hands as though it could somehow offer him the focus he so desperately needed. But the small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him. It was clear that he wasn’t just using the pillow for comfort.

His voice wavered slightly as he tried to continue with the stream, but you could see the struggle, the way his attention was split between the comments and well — you. Even with the camera on, you knew his mind was elsewhere.

Jake did try his best to keep his focus on the stream, his voice steady as he answered comments and chatted with the viewers, but his hands betrayed him. He kept fidgeting, twisting the pillow in his lap, his fingers twitching nervously at the fabric. His movements were erratic, a subtle sign of the tension building inside him, but he kept up the facade— just barely. Every now and then, his gaze flicked over to you, catching you glancing at him, only to quickly turn away when you noticed him.

The staff, however, was so absorbed in their task that they didn't notice the tension thickening between you two. Their attention was solely on the screen, their focus unwavering. That gave Jake some comfort, allowing him to relax a little, but it didn’t ease the storm swirling inside him. You were so close, so tempting, and yet, he had to keep pretending, to maintain his cool for the audience.

Even as the energy in the room felt like it was about to break.

Jake’s voice began to waver just slightly as he continued to read the comments, his words growing less and less fluid. Every so often, he would pause for a few seconds too long, as though he’d lost his place or his train of thought. He yawned once, then twice, trying to stretch it out like a natural, innocent gesture, but there was something forced about it. You saw it—the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way he was desperately trying to keep his movements calm while his mind was racing, trying to fight off the distractions you caused.

Another yawn slipped from him, longer this time, and he cleared his throat, almost too loudly. "Uh, yeah, so, um... it's been a long day, you know?"

His eyes flicked over to the staff, who looked up for a brief moment, glancing at him curiously, but didn’t say anything, likely thinking it was just a tired yawn. They quickly turned their attention back to the computer, absorbed in whatever task they were focused on.

Jake, however, wasn’t paying much attention to them anymore. His eyes kept flickering to you—he couldn’t stop. His fingers twitched restlessly, as if they were searching for something to hold onto, something to distract him from the temptation that was so close to him. His hand absentmindedly scratched at his chin, a nervous tick that only seemed to draw his attention back to you. He fiddled with his hair next, fingers running through it as if he needed to do something, anything, to ground himself.

But no matter what he did, his eyes kept drifting back to you.

Every so often, his gaze would linger, and he would stare at you with an intensity that couldn’t be mistaken. He wasn’t just looking at you—he was thinking, and you could see it in the way he would act like he was spacing out, staring at you like he was lost in some internal battle. He was acting like he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing, his focus shifting in and out, trying to pretend he wasn’t completely consumed by what you were doing.

You, on the other hand, played it so innocently. You acted like you didn’t even notice the way his attention kept returning to you, eyes flickering over and over. You stayed focused on your phone, scrolling through it with a calm, casual air, completely "oblivious" to the effect you were having on him. Every now and then, you’d let out a small sigh, but you didn’t acknowledge him. You didn’t even glance up to meet his gaze.

And that was killing him.

Jake clenched his jaw, trying to keep his composure, but the more you ignored him, the more he wanted to stop everything and walk over to you. But he couldn’t. Not yet. The stream, the viewers, and the staff were all still there, still watching, and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to just be with you.

But as he kept glancing over, trying so hard not to stare, it became almost impossible. His mind raced with thoughts of you—the way you seemed so unaware, so tempting. He could almost feel the warmth of your presence, even from across the room, and the desire to go to you, to pull you close and finally have a moment just for the two of you, was unbearable.

He couldn’t stop staring at you, no matter how hard he tried. And it was driving him mad.

The minutes seemed to drag on, each one stretching slower than the last. Jake’s mind was no longer on the stream, well not fully. He had declared that he would keep the live open until 12, but now, with every passing second, it felt like an eternity. The clock ticked in the corner of his mind, a reminder that he had a set time, but each minute that passed only seemed to make the tension worse.

His attention was split in ways it never had been before. His words to the viewers became more mechanical, less fluid, his focus faltering every time he glanced at the time and then at you. The seconds felt longer with every attempt to keep up appearances, and the more time he spent fighting the urge to look at you, the more distracted he became.

Jake could feel the tension building inside him, his eyes darting between the camera, the comments, and you. Every time he looked over at you, so completely absorbed in your phone, looking so carefree, it was like a weight on his chest. He wanted to reach out, to pull you in, to let go of the act, but he couldn’t.

His hand twitched again, and he reached for the pillow again, adjusting it in his lap, clutching it tighter, as if it could offer him any comfort. But the soft fabric did little to ease the tightness building in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair again, fingers shaking slightly, as if trying to distract himself, but nothing worked. Cause each time, his gaze would inevitably return to you.

The stream was supposed to go until midnight, but Jake couldn’t stop watching the countdown in his mind. The closer it got to that hour, the more he felt the pressure mounting. Every second stretched out, becoming an agonizing test of his self-control.

It was like a game of patience—one that he felt he was pretty much losing.

He glanced at the staff again, their attention still on the computer, oblivious to the way his eyes kept flickering to you. He sighed quietly, hoping that the small sound wouldn’t be caught on stream. His fingers fidgeted again, tapping lightly on the pillow, as if doing something, anything, could distract him. But it wasn’t enough.

Your phone was still in your hands, your attention completely elsewhere, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you knew just how much it was killing him. Every little movement you made, every subtle shift of your body, only made him want to break free of this suffocating act. His gaze locked onto you once more, and despite himself, he found it harder to look away.

“Uh… yeah, so,” Jake stammered, trying to force his attention back to the viewers, but his voice was distant, lacking its usual smoothness. “I think, um… the weather’s been pretty nice. Uh, yeah…” His words trailed off, and he couldn’t help but glance at the time again, counting down the minutes in his head.

It felt like torture.

He wanted to end the live right then, throw the camera away, and rush over to you. He could already imagine the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body, how it would feel to finally let go of the tension that had been building.

The clock finally hit exactly 12, and Jake felt a sense of relief wash over him. He forced a smile, pushing through the exhaustion that had built up from trying to keep his composure. He turned to the camera one last time, addressing the viewers.

“Well, Engenes,” he said, his voice still a little strained but softer now, “it’s time to wrap up. Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.” His words felt mechanical, but he made sure to give a genuine wave to the camera, watching as the chat flooded with farewells and goodnights. He smiled as best as he could, giving his usual parting words. "Take care, and I’ll see you soon."

As the last message scrolled past and the live stream officially ended, Jake let out a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing. The pressure was off, but only for a moment. He watched the staff begin to pack away the camera and equipment, their attention focused on their tasks.

Without thinking, he immediately stood up and walked toward you, his eyes locked onto you. He couldn’t help it—his gaze raked over you, taking in every little detail. Your hair, your posture, the way your shirt settled against your body, the way you lay there so effortlessly... every part of you felt like it was drawing him in. He didn’t even know where to look first, every inch of you was beautiful, perfect, intoxicating. His heart skipped a beat, a rush of heat flooding his chest, and for a moment, he was paralyzed by it.

Then, you shifted slightly, turning from your stomach to your side, facing him now with that innocent, welcoming smile. The sight of it sent a jolt through him. His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed hard, the urge to step closer overwhelming.

But he hesitated. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen, unsure of how to even approach you. His mind was racing—everything about this felt too intense, too charged. He wanted to run to you, to close the distance and pull you into his arms, but instead, he stood there, his eyes still fixed on you.

He gulped, unsure of where to even begin. Everything felt so simple and complicated at the same time. You were right there, and yet, he felt a sense of awe at just how perfect everything about you seemed in that moment. Every part of you, from your smile to the way you looked at him, made it hard for him to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

You rolled back onto your stomach with a giggle, your attention returning to your phone, the soft tap of your fingers on the screen the only sound in the room. Jake’s eyes lingered on you for a few moments, his chest tightening again at the sight of you so close. The staff finished packing up, the door clicking shut behind them with a soft sound that echoed in the otherwise quiet room. That little noise seemed to snap Jake out of his trance, shaking him out of the daze he’d just been in.

Without wasting another second, he crawled onto the bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath him. His heart was racing, but now, it felt like the walls between you two had finally crumbled. He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, and let out a soft whine in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

“You were making it so hard to focus,” he murmured, his voice thick with frustration. He let out another sigh, this one more drawn-out, as if he couldn’t quite find the words to explain just how much you were driving him crazy.

He nuzzled his face against the back of your neck, his hands barely brushing over your sides, as if trying to hold himself back from giving in completely. Your warmth, the softness of your skin beneath his chest—it was all too much.

“I tried to be good,” he complained, his voice light despite the way his body betrayed him, leaning into you. “I really did… but you��re making it so hard, baby.” His fingers gently traced patterns on your back, his touch lingering for a moment before pulling away, only to return again, unable to stay still.

His heart pounded in his chest, the temptation to pull you closer, to wrap his arms around you, nearly overwhelming him. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing the side of your neck softly, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled back, trying, and failing, to hide the hunger in his eyes. “You were driving me crazy…”

Everything inside him wanted you, and he was done fighting it. The slow burn had been building up over the past hour, and now, with no one around to stop him, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Jake’s body pressed closer to yours, needy and desperate, like he couldn’t get close enough. He groaned softly, burying his face against your neck as his hands ran up your back, fingers lightly digging into your skin. His voice was low and filled with a mixture of frustration and longing, like he was struggling to keep his composure.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ve been tryin’ to keep it together, but damn…” His lips grazed your skin in a slow, teasing kiss, as if he couldn't help himself anymore. He was like a puppy in heat, desperate for attention, for affection—needy in a way that felt both playful and intense.

You turned your head slightly, eyes glancing up at him, playing it cool despite the way his touch was igniting something deep inside you. “You think I don’t know? I’ve been watching you try so hard not to give in all night.” Your voice was soft, a gentle tease as you pushed back slightly, feeling his chest against your back. “But now you're finally letting go, huh?”

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer as his chest rubbed against your back, his movements slow and deliberate, but filled with hunger. "Been all good on the outside," he murmured, almost like he was trying to convince himself, "but inside... oh baby, you drove me crazy."

You smirked at his words, the playful glint in your eyes giving you away. “I’m not the one who’s been holding back,” you replied innocently, turning to face him. “You’ve been giving me all the signals, but you still haven’t made a move.” Your fingers brushed the side of his arm, feeling his pulse race under your touch.

He couldn’t stay still, not when you were this close. His lips brushed against your ear, his voice thick with want, “You’ve got me all messed up, babe. Can’t keep it cool, can’t keep it chill… you just gotta… gotta know what you do to me."

You let out a soft, almost teasing laugh, your hands trailing down his chest. “Is that so? And here I thought you were the one who was so patient." You raised an eyebrow, your voice dripping, all sweet like honey. "You really think I’m the one making it hard for you?”

He slid his hands down to your hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your shirt, pulling at it gently, like he couldn’t bear the distance between you two anymore. “I swear,” he whined, dragging his fingers up your sides, “you’re makin' it impossible to think straight.” His voice was almost a growl now, raw and needy. “Can’t focus when you look like that, when you’re so pretty…” His lips found your neck again, planting soft, almost frantic kisses. “I felt like a damn dog with a bone… can’t help myself.”

You let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his lips on your neck, your fingers threading through his hair. “You can’t even control yourself for a second, huh?” You said, your voice breathy now. “Guess you really are as bad as you say.”

His breathing quickened as his hands roamed at your sides, he was like a magnet, drawn to you, unwilling to let go, his body craving more of you with every passing second. "Don't play innocent with me," he muttered, his voice dripping playfully. "You know exactly what you're doin' to me."

You smiled, pulling back slightly to look at him, your eyes meeting his with a mischievous glint. “Maybe I do,” you said softly, your lips curling into a smirk. “But you're the one who’s been teasing me all night.” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his in a whisper of a kiss. “What’s stopping you now, huh?”

He pulled away just enough to look down at you, eyes dark with need. He was all clingy and persistent now, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The control he’d managed to hold onto during the stream had evaporated the second he’d crawled into bed next to you, and he was all yours for the taking. “I’m yours tonight, baby,” he rasped, his voice husky. “You better not forget that.”

You met his gaze, your heart racing. “I won’t,” you whispered, your voice soft but confident. “I won’t forget a thing.”

Jake couldn’t hold back anymore. His body pressed harder against yours, and his hands moved restlessly across your back, pulling you closer, like he needed to feel every inch of you. His lips trailed from your neck back to your ear, brushing lightly at first, before growing more desperate as he nuzzled his face against your skin, leaving soft, heated trails down to your collarbone.

“Damn, you don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmured against your neck, his voice thick with need. His lips found your skin again, this time a little more fervent, his kisses growing deeper as he became completely consumed by the feeling of you beneath him.

It was like a fire had ignited inside him, buring brightly and strong.

Without another word, he kissed his way up to your lips, this time not holding back. His lips crashed against yours, all the restraint he’d been clinging to now completely gone. He kissed you hard, almost desperately, as if trying to make up for all the time he spent holding himself back. His hands cupped your face, his fingers threading into your hair as he tilted your head back, deepening the kiss even further.

You didn’t pull away, instead meeting him halfway, the kiss turning more heated, more frantic. His lips devoured yours as if they hadn’t been able to touch you in years, full of urgency. He wanted all of you. He needed you—now.

He pulled away just for a second, breathless, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were wild, clouded with want. “I can’t… I can’t stop, baby,” he panted, voice hoarse. His hands slid down your sides, feeling every curve, every inch of you, before pulling you closer to him again. His lips crashed back onto yours, harder this time, as if he wanted to drown in you.

The desperation in his touch, in every kiss, in every movement, was undeniable. He was touch-starved, and all he could think about was you, the feel of your skin under his fingertips, the taste of your lips, the way you made him lose control. He groaned into the kiss, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t be close enough. His body ached for you, his mind clouded with nothing but desire.

“I need you,” he whispered breathlessly between kisses, his lips trailing down to your neck again. “I need you like this—so close. I can’t… I can’t think without you, baby. I can’t breathe without you.” His voice was raw, full of need, as he kissed you deeply once again, devouring your lips like he was a starving man. Every touch, every kiss, was a desperate plea for more, for everything he had been holding back, for everything he wanted from you.

His hands roamed further down, his touch frantic, as he tried to pull you even closer. The only thing that mattered to him now was you, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Jake’s kisses grew more urgent, his hands now roaming freely, desperate to touch you, to feel you against him. He pulled away just enough to whisper, voice shaky with need, “Please, baby, I— I can’t take it anymore. I need you… I need you like this.”

His words, full of desperation made you watch him, amusement swirling in your eyes as he panted softly, trying to catch his breath. He was like a wild animal, completely unrestrained, yearning for more than just the kisses he’d been showering you with. He wanted all of you, and it was clear in every word, every glance, every shaky breath.

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes wide with longing, his hands trembling as they caressed your sides. “I need you so badly, baby. Will you have me?” he whispered, the pleading tone of his voice making something inside you tighten. “I can’t wait anymore… Please, just… don’t tease me.”

You tutted softly at him, the playful edge to your voice almost mocking as you let him squirm under your touch. “Jake,” you whispered, your voice gentle. “You’re being so needy. Can’t handle it, huh?” Your lips curled into a small smile, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart.

He groaned at your words, unable to stop himself from pulling you closer, his hands gripping your waist as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “You have no idea, babe,” he murmured, his lips trailing across your jaw, kissing you softly. “All I can think about is you, about being with you. You’ve got me losing my mind.”

He gently cupped your face, bringing you in for another kiss, his lips desperate as they devoured yours once again. You could feel how badly he wanted you, how he needed you—he was begging for you in every possible way, without using words. His hands roamed freely now, no longer hesitating, caressing your body as if he couldn’t stop himself.

Finally, you let out a soft sigh, the teasing smile on your face fading just a little as you gave in to him. “Okay, Jake,” you whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. “You’ve begged enough.” You didn’t wait for him to respond before your lips captured his once again, but this time, you let him have what he wanted.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as you let your lips mesh together, the kiss deepening as you finally surrendered to him. His hands moved with a newfound urgency, tugging at your shirt and pulling you closer, as though he couldn't be near enough.

Jake groaned into your mouth as his hands slid under your shirt, touching your skin like it was the only thing that mattered. "Was so good, so good for you..." he repeated, voice hoarse, the words almost a prayer. His fingers traced the outline of your body, his grip tightening as he finally got what he wanted, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

You didn’t stop him now, letting him show you just how much he’d been yearning for you all night. And as you let yourself get lost, the only thing left was the overwhelming feeling of how much he wanted you. And for the first time that night, you gave him everything he needed.

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russellbby · 3 days ago

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Jealously doesn’t look good on you🙄

parings: f1 grid x fem!mercedes f1 driver!reader

in which: the young driver seems to get on very well with the younger drivers and jealousy starts to get to the rest of the grid..

requested: yes, by anonymous: Heyy, can I request something where the reader is the youngest f1 driver and is very closed off and don't talk much to any of the drivers, however when the younger drivers are around (kimi, ollie etc) she doesn't stop talking to them and the grid can't help but get jealous of her relationship with the younger drivers. thank uuu :))

a/n: I’m back guys!! This request has been sitting in my inbox for I don’t know how long. Hope you like it and start sending me in more requests! :)

Y/n, a young talent, record breaker, the youngest on the grid and the paddock princess. However, despite how much the grid loves and cares for her, they don’t know a single thing about her.

The young mercedes driver was entering the paddock, smiling and waving at the cameras before making her way over to fans to sign things and take photos before she made her way into the garage.

“The fans know more about her than us,” Lando mumbled as he had watched her interaction with the fans.

“Y/n has always been like this especially in formula 2, she would only talk on the radio and interviews” Oscar added.

“She’s just shy, don’t like talking and prefer to be alone. I learnt that the hard way when she became my teammate” George said.

“I just wish she would open up to us, it’s like her whole life is a mystery to us” Charles added.

Later, a few of the drivers had gathered in the lounge before the start of a busy weekend. During these times, Y/n is normally on her own with her headphones with a book in hand or on her phone.

This time around, she had her knees up with her book on her lap with headphones on with no care in the whole and having no intentions of joining any conversations or banter amongst the drivers.

However, her plan didn’t stay very long as she felt her headphones being taken off her head which made her look up at the certain aussie driver.

“Danny!” Y/n exclaimed as she got up and tried to get her headphones back, only for Daniel to lift them in the air, Y/n soon realised there was no point in trying.

“C’mon, you were being anti-social!” Daniel said.

“How do you even like reading?” Lando added which earned him a glare from the young driver.

“I mean he has a point, how do you find it entertaining?” Max asked.

“This shows you lot barely finished school or dropped out” Y/n told them.

“We just want to talk to you! We know nothing about your life!” Charles added.

“There’s nothing too exciting that happened, just a normal childhood!” Y/n said before she got ahold of her headphones and went back to the same position before the drivers interrupted her.

“One day, we will get something out of her” Pierre said.

The morning passed, Y/n was just talking to her engineers as FP1 had just finished and were gathering information in preparation for FP2.

Y/n knew that F2 was going on this weekend, she was hoping to be able to see some of her closest friends and her wishes were fulfilled when she looked outside her garage.

She saw Ollie, Kimi and Paul chatting outside, this made her face light up with a smile, which was rare for her and she knew her team were watching her, but she didn’t care.

"Guys!!" she called out, jogging over to them.

"Y/n!" Kimi opened his arms as the young girl launched into a hug. The pair laughed as they pulled apart, before Y/n hugged Ollie and Paul.

The four started talking continuously about anything and everything and laughing, which caught the attention of the grid.

“It’s like she’s two different people,” Lando said as he nudged Oscar pointing over to the scene.

“That’s Y/n for you” Oscar replied.

“Y/n!” Daniel called as he made his way over to where she was sitting down on a table outside the mercedes hospitality. Soon enough, Daniel wasn’t the only drivers who joined her.

“What’s this? A gathering?” Y/n asked.

“You with Ollie, Kimi & Paul?!” Charles said.

“What about it? We are best friends, we are all practically family” Y/n replied confused.

“So they know everything about you?!” Pierre added.

“Well, duh!” Y/n told them.

“You are like a completely different person when you’re with them compared to us!” Max added.

“Didn��t realise that there was a drivers meeting outside the Mercedes hospitality” Kimi joked as he walked over with Ollie and Paul.

“They are saying I’m different person with you lot compared to them” Y/n mumbled.

“Well, they ain’t wrong!” Paul said.

“I’m going to tell your mum you still haven’t opened up to anyone but us,” Kimi joked.

“Don’t blame me if you don’t get invited over to our annual barbecue!” Y/n replied.

“Your parents love me too much to not invite me over, I’m their favourite!” Kimi added.

“We will be stealing Y/n until FP2! See you all later!” Ollie told them as he an Paul became a barrier for Y/n and Kimi.

“What the f*ck just happened?” Lando said.

“That’s one way of putting it..” Daniel replied.

“Maybe we should of just accepted it at the beginning..” Charles mumbled.

Throughout the rest of the day and weekend, the drivers stared down the 3 young drivers who made Y/n smile and laugh continuously.

And from that day on, the grid accepted that they were never going to find out anything about Y/n. Despite it all, they still continue to try and get stuff out of her, which leads to nothing.

They were really jealous of Ollie, Kimi and Paul.

However, they learnt the hard way that jealously doesn’t look good on them..

#f1 #f1 imagines #formula 1 #formula 1 imagines #f1 x fem!driver #f1 x female driver #female driver #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc imagine #carlos sainz imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #osacr piastri #f1 grid x platonic!reader

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babybearnation · 13 hours ago

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driving home for christmas

⎇oscar piastri x gn!reader - you're spending christmas alone... or are you? (oneshot) ⎇author's note: my first ever oneshot and ofc, it's a gift fic hehe. MERRY CHRISTMAS @koalapastries I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!!!!! (also sorry, i know you're australian but i know nothing about australian xmas so uhhh reader lives in england) ⎇content warnings: crying, implied depression, light angst with a happy ending ⎇word count: 1.1k

Y/n sighs, nudging the fridge door shut with their hip, a few things rattling inside. Christmas steadily ticks closer and closer and they were not looking forward to when the day would actually arrive. For the first time ever, they'd be spending Christmas alone, and they weren't looking forward to it.

Y/n sighs once more before focusing on making their hot chocolate, craving that much needed chocolatey warmth. Maybe it would make them feel better. Probably not, but it was worth a shot, right?

A bleep from their phone pulls their attention away and they look down at the device, placing the milk to one side to pick it up. What greets them is a text from their boyfriend, Oscar, who'd gone home to celebrate Christmas with his family. The message preview is just a simple [image attached]. Y/n smiles softly and unlocks the phone, a frown quickly forming on their face instead mere seconds later.

It's a cute photo - Oscar's got a silly little Santa hat on and there are all manner of tinsel and light decorations behind him - but Y/n feels bitter and jealous. Why couldn't they be there, celebrating with Oscar and his family?

Y/n sends back a few simple hearts before locking the device and turning back to finish making their drink with a heavy sign. They cradle the hot cup in their palms and stare around at their undecorated apartment with tired eyes.

"This holiday season is gonna suck."

"Hey baby." Y/n says, smiling as Oscar's handsome face fills their phone screen. His camera is more pixelated than normal and he appears to be in a car, the occasionally jerk to his body being captured by the camera.

"Hey, sorry. Meant to call you at home but something came up and now I have to go somewhere. Still wanted to call though." Oscar's voice crackles through the speakers, and Y/n smiles softly. It's a bit rough, but it's better than Oscar not calling at all.

"Where you off to?" Y/n asks, tucking their legs under themself as they stare at Oscar's form, albeit a much poorer quality version. Oscar hums distractedly before registering what Y/n had said, a soft blush coating his cheeks. Y/n's eyebrows furrow in confusion. What could possibly have him so distracted?

"Just a last minute visit to a family friend, that's all. Travelling across half of Australia for it." Oscar says and Y/n hums, frowning softly as they avoid looking at the screen. "You okay?" Y/n sighs at that. Why did everyone have to ask them that question all the fucking time?

"Just... first Christmas all alone, remember? Not even a pet to keep me company." Y/n scoffs, tears building in their eyes. They sigh and lift their head up, blinking away tears. "Sorry..."

"Baby, please, don't be sorry. I'm not gonna claim to know how you're feeling but I'm always gonna be here for you. I'll spend as much of my Christmas with you as I can, I promise you that." Oscar says, the endearing sweetness that made Y/n fall for him evident in his voice. When Y/n looks back down at their phone after blinking away the handful of tears that had graced their eyes, they're greeted by a softly smiling Oscar. Seconds later, he turns his phone, his mum appearing on the screen instead.

"Hello sweetie. Keep your chin up, okay? Next year, you can spend it with us if you're still alone." Nicole says, beaming at Y/n. Y/n smiles and chuckles softly, wiping away the new batch of tears that had sprung up out of nowhere. God, why did this make them so emotional?

"Thank you, Mama Piastri. That means a lot." Y/n smiles softly. Nicole smiles and wishes them a Merry Christmas before the camera is filled with Oscar's far too handsome face again. He looks apologetic and Y/n knows he's about to say goodbye. It hurts, but Y/n can't prevent it.

"I gotta go now, okay? I'll talk to you as soon as I can." Oscar says, a genuine sadness staining his expression. Y/n smiles and says their goodbyes, the call ending seconds later. Their phone drops to their lap as tears flood down their face.

Y/n winces as the brightness of their phone screen hits their face and fills their vision. December 25th, 7:18am. Still nothing from Oscar. It had been over an entire day of no Oscar and Y/n was starting to worry they'd scared him off with their crying a few days ago.

With a groan, Y/n rolls out of bed, padding over to the window. They tug open the curtains, taking in the frost-covered grass at the front of their house. A unfamiliar car is parked outside and Y/n grumbles to themself about neighbours not having the courtesy to ask to use the parking space before doing so.

The more they observe the random newcomer car, the more they notice. The driver is still inside, and unlike the other, more familiar cars that dot the street, this one seems relatively unblemished by the ice and frost outside. Y/n furrows their eyebrows before sighing and turning from the window.

"What am I doing?" Y/n murmurs. They cross to their dresser and pull out some clothes when an insistent knocking sounds at the door. They huff and drop their clothes onto their bed before traipsing out of their room.

Seriously, who the fuck was knocking at damn near 7:30am on fucking Christmas Day? Y/n was alone, sure, but no one else they knew was alone and all of their neighbours kept to themselves on Christmas Day. So who the fuck was it?

Y/n tears the door open as they reach it before freezing, eyes wide in shock at who stands before them. "Oscar?"

"Surprise." Oscar says. Y/n doesn't let him speak further after that, diving into his arms. His bags clatter and thud against the floor as he drops them, lacing his arms around Y/n's torso. "You didn't think I'd let you spend Christmas all alone, did you?" He whispers into their hair.

Y/n pulls away and cups his face, tears threatening to drip from their lash line. Oscar reaches up and wipes away the dampness, a soft smile on his face. Y/n tugs him into a kiss, not caring who could see. Oscar responds eagerly, fingers dipping below the hem of their shirt, brushing along Y/n's soft skin.

"I love you. I love you so much. I love you, Oscar." Y/n says. It's the first time they've said it, yet they know they mean it with each and every fiber of their being. Oscar smiles and kisses them again, tugging them even closer.

"I love you too, baby. Merry Christmas."

#ᵔᴥᵔ fics #formula 1 #f1 #oscar piastri #op81 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #formula 1 one shot #f1 one shot #babybearnation

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egnist-j-gennt · 3 days ago

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It's funny how Liam’s instinctive reaction is to dodge, like you can literally see his whole body move backward and lift his leg to avoid Louis getting any closer to him physically. Even though it's clear that Louis wants nothing but give him a hug, Liam's body seems to be saying, "No, I don’t know what you want but get away from me." With that open arms and that gentle touch on the shoulders, and Liam is still thinking that Louis might want to mess up with him.

But it's so adorable because it doesn't seem like Liam is scared of Louis or uncontrollable to him. He’s just confused , like he’s quickly back to normal as soon as he realizes Louis only wants to stay with him, like, "Oh, okay. Doesn't expect that, but it's....good, I guess?" With that unconfidencely looking up, like he's trying to get some help from the person out the camera to make sure that he doesn't get the wrong and what should he do next (which is even cuter because he looks like a lost puppy).

when liam was still adjusting to louis' physical affection

#I have a feeling that in that moment Liam doesn’t expect Louis to be nice or gentle to him at all #like you won't expect your sibling to be nice to you and when they come close to you #the first thought you'll have is that this motherfucker is going mess with you AGAIN!!!!#lilo

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chlmtsdoll · 2 days ago

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omg i kinda need a fic of babysugar!reader getting corrupted by patrick alone bcs their tension is js amazing 😩 like yes pls tease her more when art and tashi is away…. god knows what happen

Loveddd writing that tension in nothing without you omg ur so right anon. What could happen when mean Patrick gets poor reader all alone ? Hmmm…

౨ৎ warnings: 18 + smut, p in v (unprotected sex), oral (m reviving), degradation kink, manipulation and heavy corruption, teasing, mentions of Art and Tashi throughout, short reader (size kink 🎀)

You begged Art and Tashi every day prior to the tennis awards ceremony to let you be their plus one for the night even if it was just once. You’d never got to get as pretty as you did for them to the outer public all too often, when you had really been just their own little secret for when the cameras were away and the couple was safe at home.

So you should of known better that you, their adorned little sugar baby, would be left alone for the night — but fortunately, with the keys to their estate in New Rochelle.

Having the place all to yourself was a apart of the allowance the couple gave you when they had to attend to press conferences or tournaments they had limited space to bring you along. And you never complained when the grounds of their beautiful mansion was left to you to do anything you wanted or absolutely nothing for however long they’d be gone.

And with the silence that coursed through the place — most girls your age with the privilege would throw parties or call up friends to fuck up the gorgeous abode. But not you. You’d stay put on the couch, being as pleasant as ever. Never making a mess, and only ever watching movies if you weren’t studying for upcoming midterms.

You were so good for Art and Tashi, so much to you’d almost forgotten the words of ‘left a little surprise for you on the guest bed.. just for when we get back.” Art mentioned to you with a dotting wink and smirk to what could be waiting for you before fixing his tie to run out with his wife. Even the thought of those little gestures of how they’d spoil you, come home to play with their perfect girl, seeing you all dolled up waiting for them at home made you flustered to your core even in the empty house.

You’d been ready to run upstairs just to see what it was Art had left for you — but that being just before there was a disturbance brought to the front door.

When you got up and tucked your feet into your slippers before minding to get it, you undid all the locks on the grand door. Letting the breeze in with a swing, your eyes went wide too quickly when the brunette with a menacing grin that stood beyond you looked up from his cracked phone to eye you down just outside the doorway.

Patrick stood in the cold of the night and you couldn’t have pushed to shut the door any faster.

“Hey, hey ! What the fuck is your problem.. ?” He spat as his hand rejected the way you attempted to shut him out without even a pitch, his grip beating yours on instant as he pushed the door open wide enough for him to invite himself inside aways.

You closed your eyes with a sigh of annoyance. One thing you did know is to avoid the daring man at all cost. Weather with Art and Tashi around, or when it was just the two of you — Patrick was a man of way too many words. Always teasing, picking on you like a sworn bully just because he could. Because it was amusing to him to try and snip on the pigtails of the pretty, much younger and energetic play thing his best friends kept around. And with you being just too full of admiration of the couple and anyone who was a friend of theirs — it just stained your poor little heart what the patronizing man put you through. To have to despise his presence.

“Why are you here ?” You spoke with furrowed eyebrows, voice timid and more serious as you tried to hide behind the front door, towering you, he made his way through the floor like he owned it, letting his denim jacket slip from his arms.

“What ? The couple leave you to color or whatever you do here alone ?” He scoffed, grin on his face mocking your fuzzy cardigan you kept on your shoulders to trying making you feel small for your shorter size as always. Although There was always an obvious flirtation to his teasing — the two sidedness of Patrick being mean as way to get girls just like you to do whatever he pleased always confused you. It was alarming. Like he’d want you to feel cornered and vulnerable so he could have his true way.

However he wanted.

“Awards ceremony. Why are you here?” You repeated yourself again and shutting the door with a lock, before you turned to face Patrick already making himself as comfortable as he pleased.

“For grown up stuff, baby doll. You wouldn’t get it.” He totally means trying to hang out with Art and Tashi, or bug them to hang out with him. “You really here by yourself?”

You nodded a bit and took in the darker haired man walking towards the living area. “Yes… and I don’t need a babysitter. They aren’t here so you’re welcomed to go.”

Patrick chuckled a bit as he looked down at you over his shoulder. “Do you ever relax ? I mean, fuck... Why don’t you.. sit with me. Keep company ? Just till they get back- - I know you don’t actually wanna be all alone, do you ?”

You folded your arms, tough pout forming on your lips. You just knew how this would go by now. How it always went.

Patrick would lure you an excuse just so he could try and have a go at what Art and Tashi got from you. Which was a complete different story the man who knew nothing of boundaries had no business being apart of. But it was just in Patricks nature to have what he couldn’t. The treat you are for them. Gorgeous and full of youthful energy after big games — Tashi had you give her husband the most dutiful back massage, an intimate time that would end up with you on your back some where in the echoing mansion, as the blonde got to fuck the purest moans out of you.

And all Patrick did was yearn for that use of you. It was what he devotedly wanted behind all his gimmicks. “No thanks.” You settled for with a moment of building courage to just say that to the man. You knew he’d have some words to spew back in defense regardless.

He chuckled. “Why so tense? A movie or two won’t hurt you.. or are you just scared I’ll bite?” You notice his hand along with his words, patting his thigh once he sat leaning against the cushioned seat to send a beacon call your way, and you just batted your eyes away.

“I have better things to do.”

“Bullshit. You just want to run off and what..?” His eyes scan your figure, he chuckled. “Touch yourself till Art and Tashi get back?” The man began and with a flustered heat rising to your face, you made a putrid expression of disgust before turning away from him without another word to say, your hair swung behind you as you muttered how ignorant the brunette was and he sat pleased with himself there in the living room behind you. Your ears couldn’t even endure anymore of his objectification. And you didn’t bother shooting a text to Art and Tashi that Patrick had stopped by for whatever reason because they’d surely be knee deep in talking with tabloids and press at this hour.

So, as a way to have as little interaction with the man as you could — you continued up the stairs to the near guest room where your small but lovely left gift from Art was waiting. With a little sideways smile returning to your expression, you shut the door softly behind you so the man downstairs didn’t bother. Your fingers laced through the silky bow holding it all together. This fabricated box you unraveled to reveal the new pretty edition to your wardrobe of wondrous pieces the couple spoiled you with.

A set of lingerie all dainty you were sure you’d be quite at home in for the next couple of days just for Art to toy with, only then sharing the way your heavenly hips would fit it with his wife.

Your grin spread at just the thought of their hands on you. Praising and cooing like the sheer temptress you were. A soft “oh.. you’re getting special treatment.” softly purred through your lips as you took in the lace garment and immediately shed off your comfy clothes.

You knew how much the couple valued their privacy and especially when it came to you. Their perfect little secret for behind all the cameras and sports media. Your body ? Their choice. It was part of the agreement you made when you came into their lives to be their after match sugar baby. And you did honor and respect that in every way — but as your painted finger tips taped against your phone in thought, it crossed your mind that a few pictures in the tiny panties couldn’t hurt if you kept them to yourself.

So in just a few moments you were on the bed. Only the light colored patches of fabric over your nipples covering you up, thong stretched thin across your ass and garter strap ruffling around your thigh felt nice and familiar. You felt your prettiest like this — dolled up and with the expectation to please the star couple whenever they got home.

You reached across the bed where you left your phone and that’s when you opened up your camera app. You let your body do the natural work it’s used to — posing for your own revealing string of teasing selfies. One’s you used to take for random guys before Tashi had you be ready for a face time at any moment while they were away and you couldn’t tag along, demanding you spread your legs and show her husband what he’d get to have after a grand slam. (If he made one) thanks to you he always did.

You were placing your phone at vigorous angels as you switched poses with a sugary smile being the only detail of your face in the photo. Too unfortunate your sweet doe eyes wouldn’t make the cut. You glide your fingers with pink painted tips innocently against your bottom lip as you turned your smile into a naughty little grin soon enough to the light of the camera. You couldn’t help but let your playfulness shine through, even in the set that was simply too tiny for a good reason.

You were having a bit of fun with yourself really. And your body is one to be confident in, feeling like the adorned little thing you were — that was until your phone was being dropped automatically the second you heard “holy shit” being croaked from the door frame.

Patrick was grinning like an idiot as he watched your now mortified expression turn bashful quick. You stashed yourself underneath a corner of the covers, “Patrick- what the hell !?” He’d already been laughing as he let himself fully in the bedroom while you’d been quietly cursing to yourself with a palm to your brow. Frustrated and guilty already, you avoided making eye contact with Patrick in preparation for the week you were about to have of him miking this to patronize you.

“So you were feeling naughty, huh ?” He chuckled and one of his hands go from his jean pocket to scratch against his untamed beard that framed his haughty smirk. He inched over to were you’d gone completely flustered beneath the comforter. “Get out. Just- please..” you huffed although your voice was only as fragile as it usually was around the brooding man, you dropped your head along with your expression in shame and he only grinned a little wider.

Patrick stared at you with that smile before he made a grab and snatched up your phone before you could even jump to stop him. “Let me just take a quick check of how pretty you look before they’re turned in to Tashi and Art.” his thumb casually scroll through your exposing photos as you yelped for him to quit it, and he only kept you at a distance much too easily from his taller height.

“Give it! Patrick! It’s not funny- -” you whined as you ran in circles around the brunette and attempted countlessly to leap for your phone, but Patrick laughed on as he held it up where you just couldn’t get your legs to reach.

“Fuck I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they see their perfect little princess sneaking in nudes...”

You already had tears building in your ducts. You just knew that if Art and Tashi found out you weren’t faithful to their promises, being careless especially around such a careless man — and letting your spite lead your decisions of keeping what they gave you just between them. It could all be over in an instant. They couldn’t know what you’ve done. How poorly you acted without thinking.

You finally give up on your fight with Patrick that had really been you flailing arms at your phone as he tosses it between his hands so you couldn’t grab it. He messed with you like a toy. Patrick lived to play cat and mouse, and you’d fallen right into the trap.

“Patrick, please. Don’t do this… those pictures can’t be shown to anyone. I need my phone.” You sniff as you looked up at the dark haired man with watery eyes and he stiffed finally as did you. Course, tight grip of your phone in his larger hand. You watched as his green orbs now ran over your state — vulnerable in the pink lace that he was absolutely not supposed to be seeing you in right now.

Nearly every inch of your skin was on display, tits sitting too pretty, and the way the lines of the lingerie lined your hips, made the corners of his lips curve into a snarky grin.

You were asking him, just once, not to be an asshole.

And with a low tone, he was bound to respond like an asshole.

“I kinda like it when you beg.” The man was looking at you with eyes of the pure hunger and all you could do was close your own in defeat as you sighed.

“You really are afraid of them finding out, aren’t you?”

You nodded with your lip between your teeth. “They can’t.. you can’t tell them. This never happened, Pat. Please.”

You softly echoed again, throwing in calling him by half his name just to keep your chances sweet that he would eventually comply. The man chuckled as his eyes trailed off for just a fine moment before his expression got serious.

“So say I didn’t. If I didn’t… what’s in it for me?”

You swallowed hard. Bating your eyelashes in a moment of contemplation on what he could perhaps want from you. You hadn’t thought this far — and you didn’t have a clue.

“I- um- ..well- - what do you want?” You peered up at the man again, and this time, his stupid smirk had once again been making a comeback.

He eyed you. Your flower covered bra, with just a tiny bow in the middle. Then you again. Then of course, back down to where your smooth hidden cunt had been behind the fabric of your panties. Till his eyes finally land back on you again with a idiotic kind of smile.

You had to take a minute to wrap your head around it all. His wordless declaration until your eyebrows knitted with uproarious fear when it clicked.

“No.” You uttered.

“Well.. yeah.”

“No. Patrick… anything else- -” you pleaded as you began to sniff again and the man cut you off.

Patrick stepped a little closer to you, your pouty expression followed his gaze as you anxiously toyed with your hair and he slowly examined your frame again.

“You want these pictures to stay between you and me, right ? You don’t want your precious sugar mommy and daddy to find out about you slutting around the house when they’re away. It would make them so upset with you if they found out….” He made his tone sympathetic and only a little less poisonous, you nodded as you folded your arms timidly. “Then you’ll do what you have to do so they don’t know… yeah ?”

You nodded and listened up to his rant of your own mistakes. He caught you at a draw. The man’s green met your gaze even when he narrowed to read your doubtful head and wondering little eyes at how much you’d just been desperate to be seen as good for them. Tilting his head some, you stepped back as he stepped forward.

“I know what you want.” Patrick rose his hand to let a finger slide underneath the strap of your bra. Your wide eyes looked up at his dark curls to match his pupils. Tongue darted out to lick at his lips, he knew you’d innocently be oblivious to his hunger stride. All you could do was let him pull the strap down your shoulder just as slow as he talked.

“Good girls have to do what’s right for everyone. And I know your a good girl.” His voice grew softer, but lustful as he was now far beyond in your space.

You syncing up with his overall musk of pine scented cologne, cigarettes and numerous college girls he’d pick up in bars lingering off his sent.

You did know how dangerously he could lead, and you didn’t need to find yourself in any more trouble at last — yet something in the way the heat from his body had been melting into your senses, how his eyes made you feel like an intoxicated prey. And hands that were roaming your little figure that made you feel obligated to return in his favors.

You looked at Patrick as he leaned forward to your level only to whisper at your ear. You felt shivers like electricity from his next words.

“So get on your knees and be good for me.”

Patrick pulled away as he’d been close enough for his lips linger over your exposed skin, you trembled from just his teasing hands on your waist and voice too much for you to escape.

You eyed the floor where your feet landed, a little quiver in your throat — but a kind of lustrous flutter now taking over instead. And like that, you had been gradually lowering yourself down on both of your knees.

The man still standing above you showed his teeth with his next sideways grin, watching your hair spill back as you craned your neck to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“How do you want me?” You question, voice sweet as it always was while you’d been at such a naughty view for the brunette. He had chuckled with a little groan as he looked over your angelic grace in the garment you’d been in, all with eyes wide and not one thought behind them of knowing of all he harsh ways he could treat you.

“That set is- - something else on you, pretty girl… why don’t you suck my cock in it, hm?” with calculated intentions behind all his cooing, Patrick had already taking a swift of your hair into a nice ponytail and your eyes went trailing to the fly of his pants before you, hands shakily going to where they were intended.

You could feel the brunette’s hooded eyes on you as you began unzipping the fly, fingers tug at the hem of his boxers like you’d been too scared to touch, not ready for what’s beneath. “C’mon, don’t be shy..” his tone almost haunting. He knew he’d had you practically on strings and you did comply, taking them down just enough so his cock had been on display, hard and getting harder by the second, you stared — a little whimper escaped your tightening throat at the way his tip rose with the width of your eyes.

You glance up at Patrick’s face again, diplomat expression taking over suddenly. “You swear… none of it leaves this room?”

The man scanned the door way briefly before returning your gaze with a prideful smile. “It dies at the door.”

You breathed deeply before your hands were bracing the back of Patrick’s thighs. Knees with no cushion, already pained from the floor boards — the smooth skin of your lips were being pressed to Patrick’s thick member, leaving just one kitten lick on his reddened tip before your mouth was full of it. The brunette watched you with lips agape as he slipped your phone into his back pocket and used his other to swoop up your loose locks.

Your mouth had hallowed on his cock as you began sucking on him with as much as you could take — with how full he’d been in you orally, light moans echoing in your throat, his tip hit the back of you and Patrick cursed. “That’s it, baby doll. Nice and slow,” he watched as your lips ran up and down his foreskin, coating him in your saliva as you whimpered through your wet sucking.

Your head bobbed on him, and the man let out low groans of his own as his head let back at your heavenly warmth around him. As you looked up at him, the way he reacted to your work was enough for you to think just when you thought you’d distracted him with your pleasures, your fingers were gliding from his thighs to his back pocket. Reaching for where he stuck your phone, but your wrist was abruptly stopped and the man made a ‘tskk’ sound as he removed your hand. “Nice try angel.. I wouldn’t do that again.” He muttered before taking matters into his own hands and pumping his cock down you throat at a rougher pace. You whined helplessly and adjusted yourself so you’d sat on your own feet beneath him.

Patrick had let out a deep moan as he fucked into your more than perfect little mouth that was stuttering on just how much you needed him to keep your dirty secrets. And you, all wanting nothing to do with him earlier — now had tears streaming down your face as you whimpered and gagged on his cock. Stroke after stroke had your finger nails digging into the man’s jeans, his eyebrows hitched with his breath as he observe your teary eyes and wide mouth taking him,

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.. you’re gonna make me cum.” The man grunted as you moaned and he pulled you off his dick with a knotted grip on your hair just in time as you coughed vigorously.

Wiping your puffy lips with a sniffle and eyes welled up with tears as you narrowed with a cry, Patrick grinned while he’d already been jerking his cock, “you’re doing so well for me. Now open up..” his voice husked as he pumped his throbbing cock through his orgasm, letting his tip rest on your tongue the second your mouth was wide enough to let ropes of his cum spill on to.

You didn’t feel the cleanliness, and maybe that didn’t matter, because as Patrick had been cooing praises to you while he released on your tongue, you soon realized you’d been sitting with a wet puddle of your own.

“You know, while we’re at it, I can help with that..” Patrick nodded at the way you checked yourself and your neck craned to look up at him again when you heard his voice.

“But- - Patrick, we shouldn’t.”

“The damage is already done weather you like it or not, baby doll. You can get a little fun out of this if you let yourself.”

You didn’t exactly know how to respond, with what you’d already done being far beyond a bargain but a total price to pay especially since Patrick used his power over you at best. And with the dark haired man standing there only halfway putting his ravishingly large dick away beyond you — just sitting there on the floor, nervously toying with your fingers with a ache sitting in your core. You knew that since you’d been there, letting Patrick make you cum was all you could think about now.

His smirk returned when you rose to your feet and eyed him before walking back over to the bed.

“Okay.” You uttered quietly as it was now your back turned to the taller man who followed you over like a shadow, and you knew to surrender by now.

“God you look good..” his hands examined wherever they pleased on you now. Patrick’s fingers slid from the top of your breasts to the dip of your lower back to your ass, that he squeezed tight, making a hiss escape from you. And even though you hit him in the arm and it left no damage as he grinned to himself, you still let him do it.

Maybe you were acting quite slutty.

“You said you would help me, not grope me…” you spoke up in a voice that made the man laugh at your ought to be stern.

“Well, firstly I think sweet girls like you should say please.” He beckoned as his tongue darts out to lick over his lip while he panned down at you. It may be a signal to the way his cock was beginning to stand again at the sight of your breast near getting lose within your bra from the aftermath of the way he just manhandled you.

Your eyes shift anywhere elsewhere than his gaze. “Please.”

“Please.. what ?” His hands wrapped around your neck to pull you close, and you yelped a tad, he chuckled at your annoyance, but enticing want towards him.

You looked into the mans daring eyes and going against your own rules, in desperate fashion, you begged. “Please.. make me cum, Pat.”

Patrick glanced where your panties had a darkened spot spreading, damp as he grinned before letting his hand slip beneath so he could feel the soaked parts — you immediately gasped softly as you watched where he toyed with your slit to find your folds. It was like he found where you needed most as if he’d been a pro. Observing as your lips make a fine “o” shape when his pointer and middle slid against your clit and your poor heavy eyes met his again.

“I know you loved having my cock down your throat.” He rasped with a sly smirk, you quickly grabbed his bicep. One of his fingers made it inside of you, feeling him fill you with just his thick digits had your eyes wanting to role and you hissed out a whimper immediately. But fuck that. Patrick already wanted you moaning as quick as possible.

He pushed your figure on the bed and you hit the sheets with a noise as the man hustled to get your last bit of cover up discarded. You noticed the way his cock bounced as soon as he saw your smooth cunt be revealed to him and your eyebrows furrowed when your ache grew, moaning slightly through your bitten lip.

“Patrick, please.. hurry.”

He took your legs under his grip rough as the flailed and he made sure they were as far apart as he needed to handle you, “keep these spread for me.” Was all the man said before aligning himself with your entrance and making sure your slick had covered his tip finely.

You whined as you viewed him do the work of getting himself coated with your pre-cum. Patrick couldn’t take his eyes off your pussy that just looked a little too pretty and smooth, you could tell his head was going full with need to fuck you senseless. So when he started to slide in your hole with a jarring “fuck” coming from him and you moaned out a more high pitched noise with knitted brows — you kept your hands on the back of your thighs for the brunette as he only gets halfway before he needed to readjust you and himself.

“Mmm.. you’re too big, Patrick.” Came from you as your chest slightly heaved and the brunette had a dumb grin on his face again while he looked down at how sweet you looked all spread out for him, letting him get your tight cunt after all of this. By now you’d surely forgotten about your little photos and just how much he could ruin what was between your legs at this point.

Patrick was thrusting into you with no hesitation, letting his grunts fill the room on top of your pathetic mewls as he kept your hips steady and against the thigh while you slid up and down his dick. Your hands dig into the bedsheets near your head as your lips go fully agape and your eyes are being pulled elsewhere with the euphoric sensation of Patrick’s hips slapping into your cervix, “Oh ! Oh… fuck,” you hiss as you can’t help yourself but watch the man’s shaft run against your wet walls when he grabbed hold of your wrists.

And with a impressed grin, Patrick saw your fixed gaze go from totally oblivious to just wanting to be tossed around like a whore for him.

“You gonna let Art and Tashi know how much of a good girl you were for me when they get home, right ? No issues. Just you doing whatever your told… right sweet girl ?” The man coo’d as he let up one hand from your arms to cup your chin. When your eyes met his dark ones, you’d been holding a dazed smile behind your bitten lip with a plea for him to keep going.

As he’d taken your little photoshoot to ending up deep inside your precious cunt with a few tactics of his own, your photos count on staying between you and him.

With a small nod and “uh hu” you let Patrick make you cum.

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x female reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers smut #challengers x reader #challengers x you #art donaldson #tashi duncan #x reader #fanfiction #anon ask #corruption kink #mind corruption

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happilyhertale · 2 days ago

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Captured Moments – Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Daemon has to go on a business trip again. You hate it every time he leaves you alone for a long time. But to make his alone time special, you plan to make him a little film.

Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering; Dirty Talk; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note:

This is my last story for this year's Smuffmas Challenge. It was great fun creating all these little stories and reading your comments on my stories. Thanks for reading!

I hope you'll also like my last Daemon story.

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

Daemon is a man of many complexities. With the sleek, tailored suits he wore to business meetings, you almost forget that there is a certain fire beneath his cool exterior. He isn’t the kind of man to show his emotions easily, nor was he the type to stand still when there is a task to be done. But when he is with you, all of that seems to melt away.

But now, you are facing the reality of his business trip. The one he has to leave for so soon. You don‘t know how long he’d be gone, and that is the hardest part. He would normally give you exact dates and let you in on his plans. Usually to rant about his business partners. But this time, he didn't know how long he would be gone. And you hated it. You hate the uncertainty, you hate the distance that it created. And yet you know he has no choice. Duty, work, all of it… it doesn't make it any easer though.

You are in your bedroom now, your mind racing. The soft lighting in the room creats a sensual atmosphere, and as you gaze at the old camera on the dresser, the thought of giving Daemon a farewell gift consumes you. You aren’t the type to be overtly emotional, but this is different. You want to leave a piece of you with him, something tangible. Something to make him smile when he is far away.

You move to the bed, your fingers grazing the smooth silk sheets. Carefully, you strip out of your clothes, leaving only your lingerie—a white lace that clings to your skin, accentuating your curves. You aren’t trying to seduce him in the usual way; no, this is different. This is something deeper. You are offering him a part of yourself, a memory of you when the distance felt too much to bear.

You take a deep breath, adjusting the camera just so, making sure it has the right angle. This is the first time you are doing something like this, and a slight nervousness creeps in. But you push it down, telling yourself that Daemon would love it. After all, he appreciates the unconventional, the unexpected. You are certain this would be something that would make him smile when he was alone in some hotel room, far away.

The camera rolls as you lie back, eyes fluttering close for a moment as you imagine his reaction. You shift slightly, adjusting your position, arching your back slightly so the lace clung to you even more. You want him to feel your presence when he watches this. You want to be in his thoughts, every moment, every second.

What you didn’t realize was that Daemon was already closer than you thought.

Daemon is walking down the hallway when he hears a faint sound. He knows you are in the bedroom, but he hadn't expected this. Curiosity draws him closer, each step silent as he approaches the door. He peers through the crack, his heart beating slightly faster as he sees you lying there on the bed, dressed in nothing but lace and silk, the camera trained on you.

He grins. The look on your face—soft, sensual, and unaware—make something deep inside him stir. You have no idea he is watching.

His breathing slows as he leans against the doorframe, unable to avert his gaze. The way you move, the way the fabric of your underwear caresses your body, it's like a slow, seductive dance just for him. His eyes take in every detail, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the softness of your skin, without you noticing his presence. He feels his desire stirring, his length twitching.

Daemon is just standing in the doorway watching you. Your eyes are closed as your fingers glide over your body and you sigh softly. Do you imagine that they are his fingers? He feels his member twitch slightly again, but he just watches you. Your fingers glide over the fabric of your panties and you sigh again. You press against the fabric and he knows you are pressing against your bundle of nerves. Your hips move slightly as your fingers glide over the fabric in circles. The camera captures everything, every sigh and soft whimper as your fingers pick up speed.

He knows it is wrong to just stand there, to not make his presence known, but a thrill ran through him. He lets himself enjoy the moment—before stepping forward, slowly, deliberately.

With a deep breath, Daemon walks into the room, his footsteps silent as he approachs the bed. They haven't noticed him yet, but the air has changed as soon as he walks further into the room.

The cool confidence in his stride, the intensity of his presence—it is impossible to ignore. Slowly, he enters the room and watches you closely, but you don't notice. “Are you already preparing for my absence?“ His deep voice suddenly sounds. Your eyes flutter open and you gasp, "Daemon!" You sit up slightly and breathe a little heavily. “No, no... don't let me disturb you, go on,” he encourages you with a small smile around his lips.

“I wanted it to be a surprise for you!“ you pout a little. “Oh believe me, this is a surprise,“ he says and starts to unbutton his pants. “Daemon...” you start, but you can already feel the throbbing intensify between your thighs.

“And where did you dig that thing up?” he mumbles, while his pants slide down and he tilts his head in the direction of the camera. But you don't answer immediately, your attention is focused on his boxer shorts, which are already sliding towards the floor. His hardness springs free and the throbbing between your thighs becomes unbearable. You squeeze your thighs together. “I wanted you to have something to take with you on your business trip...“ you say, earning a chuckle from Daemon as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. ”Well, I could watch a video of me keeping you company instead,“ he mumbles and crawls onto the bed. ”What...?” you start, but then you understand, “Oooh…“ you say.

But then he grabs you by the back of your knees and pulls you towards him. You let out a small squeak, but you can't stop smiling. Your legs wrap around his waist as if by themselves and you pull him closer. His scent envelops you as you press your face into his neck – his growl fills the room as he grinds his length against your core.

Your teeth dig lightly into his skin as his hip grinds against you in rhythm. His eyes flashing with primal desire,“Get them off, ” he mutters. Slowly, torturously, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begins to drag them down your thighs, exposing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze.

He tosses your discarded underwear aside carelessly. His large hands skim up your sides, pushing your lingerie up to reveal the soft swell of your breasts.

Leaning down, he captures one pebbled nipple between his teeth, suckling and nibbling as his fingers find your slick folds, stroking teasingly. "So wet already, just for me... I bet this tight little cunt is aching to be filled, isn't it baby?".

You just whimper, ending in a desperate moan, your back arching slightly as Daemon teases your nipple with his teeth and tongue.

He smirks wickedly at your breathy moan, reveling in the power he holds over your pleasure. Slowly, deliberately, he sinks two long fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping wet heat, pumping them in and out at a maddeningly slow pace

"Fuck, you're dripping, babe," he groans, curling his fingers to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. "This greedy cunt is sucking me in, like it never wants to let go."

His thumb finds your clit, circling the swollen nub in tight, fast circles as he increases the speed of his thrusting fingers. Leaning down, he laves his tongue over your neglected nipple again before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, which makes you moan.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty noises," he demands huskily against your breast.

Releasing your nipple with a wet pop, he starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, occasionally grazing his teeth over your racing pulse point.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he moans and you whimper in reply, your hips moving against his fingers as you want to feel him deeper inside you.

He just smirks wickedly at your wanton response, enjoying the sight of you writhing beneath him, flushed and panting with need. Sliding his two long fingers deeper inside your dripping channel, he curls them just right, rubbing against that sensitive spot within. Your pussy is dripping and you feel your walls flutter around his fingers. Daemon's teeth dig into the soft skin of your neck and you moan out again.

"Mmmm, such a responsive little thing you are," he groans approvingly, pumping his digits slowly. "Clenching so greedily around my fingers, like this greedy cunt is starving for my cock."

And in that moment, Daemon pulls his fingers out of your dripping heat. You whimper in protest and look up at him as he sits up slightly. He grins cheekily as he sees you lying there, breathing heavily and spread for him.

He fists his length in his hand, pumping it a few times, your slick on his fingers aiding the motion. You watch his long and thick manhood as he strokes it, and your pussy clenches around nothing. Even in the dim light of the room, you can see a pearly bead of liquid forming at the tip, and you bite your lip in anticipation. He grunts as he fucks his fist, biting his lip as well as his eyes roam over your naked form.

He leans down again, letting the tip slide through your pussy and you whimper again as he thrusts shallowly against your opening. You try to push your hips towards him because you finally want to feel him inside you.

A stifled groan escapes his lips as you grind your folds against his cock.

“So impatient,” he murmurs, but then he gives in and you feel the stretch. You gasp as he penetrates deeper inch by inch. He growls as he feels your pussy clench and pushes deeper. The way your walls wrap around his shaft, drawing him deeper and deeper inside until his swollen tip presses against your cervix. You're so tight and wet, you're leaking all over his cock.

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he slides out almost completely and then pushes into you again. His thrusts get faster and harder, making you moan and gasp. His balls slap against your ass with every powerful thrust. The tip of his cock hits your cervix with more force and you cry out slightly. The bed creaks with every movement and your back arches slightly, wanting to feel him deeper. When Daemon suddenly grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders. You gasp and look at him, but before you can react, he slides back into your pussy. You moan and your eyes roll back into your head. Daemon growls, he feels your pussy fluttering around his cock. He thrusts deeper into your heat, leaning forward a little to make you scream. “Daemon!” you scream, and he grunts. He stretches you out, deepening the angle even more. “YES! Let me hear how deep you need it!” he grunts.

He pulls out for merely a second before slamming back in with full force, electrifying every nerve in your body and coaxing more sounds out of you. Your legs are still over his shoulder, he has a firm grip on you while he fucks hard into you. Tears form in your eyes as Daemon holds your thighs. His grunts get louder and louder as he feels your pussy start to milk his cock.

He can feel how close you are and his fingers glide to your clit. He rubs your clit wildly, playing with your clit, his fingers drenched from your slick, making you see stars while you clench hard around him. “Come on, come on my cock!” he growls and you whimper as he thrusts deeper and you can't hold back anymore. You come and feel your orgasm rush through your body as you moan. Your pussy clenching hard around his cock and he grunts. He slides in and out until he spills his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He cums hard, his cock throbbing inside you with abandon as he grunts and groans. Part of him delights in the thought of marking you, of filling you with a hot, sticky reminder of him.

His motion becomes sloppy and he growls until every drop is milked from his cock.

You are breathing heavily, your eyes are closed. Daemon lets your legs slide off his shoulders before he leans down and kisses you. Almost gently, in contrast to the previous moment. After he breaks the kiss, your eyes fall back on the camera that has captured all this. But before you can say anything, you hear Daemon's hoarse voice. “Now I have a great video for those lonely moments,” he murmurs against your skin and you giggle slightly.

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mamiobesssionfics · 2 days ago

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A Night of Laughter

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Summary: After a fun date-night, you two feel closer than ever.

You enter the cosy little diner, the kind of place that feels like a secret only a few people know about.

The lights are soft, casting a golden glow over the wooden tables, and the smell of garlic and fresh bread fills the air.

You're holding hands with Rhea, her fingers strong yet gentle, and the warmth of her hand instantly comforts you. The two of you have had a busy week, and tonight, you decided to go out.

Tonight is about nothing but the two of you. No work, no cameras, just laughter and each other.

As you sit down at a candlelit table, Rhea leans back in her chair, her grin widening as she eyes the menu.

“You know, I could totally go for the steak… but I’ll probably wrestle it into submission if it doesn’t cooperate,” she says in the hopes of making you laugh.

And it almost works.

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Maybe the pasta will be better for you, Ms Champion.”

Her laughter fills the air, and you give in.

That laugh of hers was deep and unapologetic.

Her laughter, what you love so much, is what makes her who she is, strong and confident, herself. The kind of sound that makes your heart skip a beat every time you hear it.

Oh, how you loved her.

Dinner arrives, but the food hardly matters.

The night is a blur of jokes, playful banter and flirting.

Both of you tell stories about everything from her latest match to your childhood memories.

“Remember that time I tried to make spaghetti and ended up burning the entire thing?” Rhea asks.

You laugh, shaking your head.

“How could I forget? You were convinced the fire department was going to show up, and you spent the next hour ‘saving’ the pasta from the garbage can.”

“Well, you’ve got to save the noodles!” she responds dramatically, and you both burst into laughter again. “A champion never gives up, even on burned spaghetti.”

By the time you’ve finished with dessert, your stomach aches, but it is not from the food, but rather from laughing so much.

After dinner, you take your time walking back to your apartment.

The weather is rather cold so Rhea pulls you close, wrapping her arm around you.

The warmth of her body presses against yours, and you rest your head against her shoulder as you walk side by side, content and comfortable.

When you arrive home, instead of changing, you decide to head to the bath.

Rhea tugs you gently toward the bathroom, where a steaming bath awaits.

You strip down together, and she decides to add a lovely-smelling bath bomb.

Rhea looks at you with a smile, as if she’s got a secret she’s dying to share.

“What if we just stayed here for the rest of the night?” she asks, her voice low and playful. “No phones, no plans, no responsibilities. Nothing more, just us, and this bath.”

You smile.

"The water will get cold." you mention playfully as you slide into the warm water beside Rhea, letting out a deep sigh as the warm water surrounds you.

Rhea joins you soon after.

Rhea pulls you close, her arms wrapped around you in a loose embrace as she sits behind you.

“You know,” she says, her voice soft as she rests her chin on your shoulder, “Sometimes, I think this is the best part of my day. Just being with you.”

"Think? You think it's the best?" you tease back and she pinches your side, making you jump a little and splash some water out of the bathtub.

You turn your face toward her, your lips brushing lightly against her cheek. “I couldn’t agree more,” you say, this time with a serious tone. Your words are as gentle as the moment itself.

You kiss her cheek and she kisses your shoulder.

You loved these days. A simple date filled with laughter and a lovely bath with kindness and the smell of flowers.

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lisired · 1 day ago

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love jones

pairing: photographer!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, strangers to lovers, hollywood!au, photographer!haechan, model!reader, unprotected sex (don't be silly wr- [gets hit by a car])

summary: After breaking off your engagement to your fiance, you move to Los Angeles to pursue a modeling career. There in the fairytale land where stars go to shine you meet Haechan, an aspiring photographer with a penchant for mischief and flirtation.

word count: 13.1k (/25.5k)

a/n: inspired by love jones; the song by leon thomas featuring ty dolla $ign and the movie by theodore witcher. this is the second/last installment of a repost; it is also the prequel to supermodel, which you do not have to read. installment one can be found here. as always, feedback is appreciated!

When you completed all of your errands, you had the taxi drop you off at Haechan’s place and bid Chaewon goodbye. According to your new beau, he should have been there waiting for you. Plus you saw his sleek, black motorbike parked out front. No doubt he was somewhere inside.

You took a couple of deep breaths before ringing his doorbell.

Haechan was quick to announce he was on the way, and the sound of his voice on the opposite end of the door tempted your lips into a smile. He opened it with hastiness, flashing his teeth when he saw you. “Hi, baby. Come on in.”

You matched his radiant smile and stepped inside, letting him lock the door behind you. Meanwhile, Haechan was subtly checking you out. You were dolled up, compared to this morning. How you were so beautiful at both your morning glory and when you dressed up was something he would never comprehend.

To say nothing of himself. You loved the image of his naked back that was permanently etched behind your eyelids, but your mouth also watered at the sight of him in his signature ripped jeans and leather jacket.

“This way,” Haechan said, shaking the thought of you out of his head.

You followed him upstairs, briefly scanning his place. Not a speck of dirt anywhere. Either he was very tidy or he was definitely trying to be impressive.

Within a couple of seconds, you were led through a doorway that was obviously the entrance to his bedroom. You took a little scan. He had posters for days, to say nothing of the vinyls mounted on his wall. There was a shelf full of photo albums just shy of his desk and you were curious to look through them.

“Not bad,” you told him after realizing you’d been silently gazing about.

“Thanks,” Haechan replied, removing one of his Michael Jackson vinyls from the wall with extreme caution.

You watched him retrieve it with a respectable amount of vigilance and hand it to you. Though you were way too glad to finally have it in your hands, you couldn’t shake the thought that something wasn’t right, even though you’d earned it fair and square.

You met his eyes. “Why are you giving me this?”

Haechan arched his brow, surprised, but whispered, “Because I told you I would give it to you if you went on a date with me and I’m a man of my word.”

You shook your head. That couldn’t be all. “Yeah, but there’s no way you wanted to go out with a girl you barely know so bad you were willing to trade a signed Michael Jackson vinyl. These don’t come a dime a dozen.”

Haechan didn’t miss a beat. “Neither do girls like you.”

Your heart was doing somersaults and you didn’t appreciate the effect he had on you. Too much too soon. You could think of approximately a million reasons why this was a terrible idea, but the good outweighed the bad somewhere.

A smile gracing your lips, you opted to reply, “Well, in that case, thank you, handsome.”

Handsome. That was a first. Usually, you’d just roll your eyes.

“Glad to be of service,” Haechan chirped.

With a chortle, you shifted your attention to his desk. There was a camera sitting there and you picked it up in favor of momentarily forgetting the signed vinyl you’d been gifted. Haechan watched you with curious eyes, wondering what in the hell you were doing.

Rather than linger on the thought, Haechan began to strike some silly poses that were guaranteed to send you into a fit of giggles. He was terribly good at making you laugh and it made you sick.

Then, a mischievous thought struck you. “Take off your clothes.”

Haechan was baffled. “What?”

“Take off your clothes.”

Haechan laughed incredulously. Then, he realized you were serious, watching him expectantly.

His hesitation made you roll your eyes. “I’ve already seen everything. You weren’t shy about showing off last night.”

That was true. You had literally sucked his dick and given him the most mind-numbing blowjob of his lifetime. More than once. So, he gave in, putting on his model face while he unzipped his leather jacket in no hurry. As if he was giving a strip tease.

While he was shredding the layers of his clothes, you were snapping photo after photo, heat stirring in your thighs the closer he came to nakedness. He was a little too sexy for your liking. It wasn’t good for your health.

Now in nothing but his boxers as he threw his tee over his head, Haechan decided you’d had your fun and called it quits. “Okay, that’s enough of the camera.”

You frowned, though set the camera down respectfully. “Why - you don’t trust me?”

For whatever reason, Haechan didn’t answer you verbally, instead opting to sit at his desk and gesturing for you to approach him with his fingers. Of course, you came to him obediently, straddling his lap as if he were a motorbike. With how bare he was, it wasn’t difficult to feel your warmth on his body and it drove Haechan absolutely mad. You had no business being this fine. Cute, too. You made his head spin.

“You are the most dazzling thing I’ve ever seen,” Haechan whispered darkly under his breath. “Shouldn’t I be taking pictures of you and not the other way around?”

Leaning into his ear, you purred, “You can take all the pictures you want of me.”

Your true intentions were too obvious and Haechan chuckled a little, because he knew exactly what you meant by that. Out of nowhere, he swallowed your lips in a heated kiss, hands flying to your blouse while you both made out. You could feel the room heating up with every second, degree by degree. Haechan was like fire to the touch, your palm flat on his naked chest. Your little pants were making his dick stiffen in his boxers and you could feel it calling your name.

Not a minute later, you were just as naked as Haechan, sitting on his desk with your legs thrown open and his head between your thighs. You grinded into his mouth, muscles flexing with want. Fuck, you were jonesing for him.

Haechan brought you to tears of climax over and over again for no other reason than him being downright smitten with you and it was maddening. You screamed more than once. Like you wanted the whole world to give him his flowers. Fuck, he could eat pussy. A little too good. I will never get used to this.

Months went by at the speed of light. The more you hung out with Haechan, the more you became smitten. A part of you thought this would be a one-and-done situation, but you and your new beau were joined at the hip and displayed no signs of wanting to be unjointed.

Every now and then, he would invite you to get-togethers with his clique too. Sometimes Chaewon would tag along, more than mingling with Mark. The eight of you combined were a vivid splash of personalities, but for the most part, you’d locked eyes on Haechan.

He started taking you on actual dates. You went to bury your feet in the sand at beaches or meander along boardwalks. You had informal photoshoots, mainly where you were his muse, or took pictures of the blazing city. You hooked up in between but never took the next step of penetration, like you were saving it for a special moment.

Haechan liked snapping photos of you on your dates and by now he was probably due for another photo album. There were so many memories being made that it made your head spin. Pictures of you painted in frosting. Of you embarrassedly walking back to your seat after not striking a single bowling pin. Every now and then you snuck an off-guard photo of Haechan when he wasn’t looking.

There was a knock at your door. You paused dead in your tracks, surprised, because you weren’t expecting anyone. Your brain immediately wondered if it was Haechan there to take you on an impromptu date, and, giddy with excitement, you sprung up to answer the door.

Your smile dropped when you saw who was there. “Jaehyun,” you greeted forbiddingly.

Jaehyun stood there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “Hey, baby.”

Now your mood was officially spoiled and you were exasperated. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Shh, baby. Listen, I just want to talk,” Jaehyun said, flashing a smile. “I just want to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about together,” you hissed, shutting the door, but Jaehyun stopped it with his foot.

Jaehyun grabbed the doorknob and met your gaze with those honey brown eyes you’d fallen for once upon a time. And they served as the perfect distraction from his lips. No wonder you never noticed that his lips didn’t tell the truth. “Baby, please,” he said. “Give me five minutes.”

You gave him a look, crossing your arms. “Five minutes.”

“I swear.”

After a couple of seconds of mulling it over, you made what was regrettably the largest mistake of your life. You sighed and let him come inside.

Jaehyun grinned triumphantly and set the bouquet on your table, shutting the door behind himself. You had no idea how he found you and you were somewhat terrified of asking.

Before he could open his mouth, you pointed your fingers at him and declared, “Listen to me, if you’re trying to win me back, I’m insulted that you think I’m as easy as some fucking flowers.”

“I don’t think you’re easy, babe,” Jaehyun whispered in his velvety voice. “You’re hard and I love that about you.”

You rolled your eyes and barked irritably, “I’m hard and you couldn’t handle that, so you went and stuck your penis in some easy whore.”

When you stood and walked into the kitchen, Jaehyun followed behind you desperately. “Oh, c’mon. Look, baby, I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I just...”

Arms folded, you watched him expectantly, gesturing for him to continue.

“Shit. You know that I’m not good with words,” Jaehyun sighed, pulling something out of the inside of his suit. “Look.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what is that?”

“It’s a boarding pass. I want you to come back to New York with me so that we can be together.”

“You had all of that and more, and you didn’t know what to do with it, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun was persistent. “Well, I want it again.”

You shook your head, maddened. You couldn’t believe him. You snapped, “I don’t understand why you think you can just waltz on up in here trying to woo me with flowers and shit and whisk me away to New York. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Jaehyun - mine sure as hell doesn’t anymore. That’s your problem, you know. You think everything is about you!”

Your ex-fiancÃ© groaned, “What - are you seeing somebody else? Did you find a job?”

“Your five minutes are up,” you snarled, glancing at your wrist.

“Well, I have to go anyway. I’m meeting my mother for lunch,” Jaehyun said, setting the boarding pass down on your table.

“Tell I her I said, ‘Hello.’”

Jaehyun nodded, fixed on you. You didn’t meet his stare, too busy feigning indifference, but you could feel him burning holes through your body. He tapped the counter. “Think about it.”

“Leave, Jaehyun.”

Your ex heaved a breath, then begrudgingly walked outside your front door.

On Saturday, Haechan came over to help you set up your album shelf because he’d sweetly volunteered a couple of days ago. Which was very kind of him. Truth be told, you knew nothing about putting pieces together and reading manuals made your poor brain hurt.

For about half an hour you both were hard at work, constructing and organizing while sparing time for kisses and giggles in between. When it was finally done, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The vinyls were arranged specifically in the order you wanted them to be without a single one missing.

A tear slipped down your cheek and you turned away from Haechan to hide yourself. Still, Haechan noticed immediately and swung his arms open for you. “Hey, come here.”

You crept into his arms without a second thought, letting him cradle you there. Though you wanted to chide yourself for tearing up in front of him, his arms felt like a safe place. Where you belonged.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, drying your eyes with the back of your hand.

“What for? This is all you, baby. It takes a lot of commitment to do something like this. I respect the hell out of your dedication.”

You chuckled and slipped away, sitting at your bed, but pat the spot beside you. Haechan took the invite and crashed at your side, lowering his head into your lap and staring into your eyes. You threaded your fingers through his hair, just meeting his stare and matching his affection.

Then, Haechan asked the dreaded question, “What made you want to start a record collection anyways?”

That made you stiffen. Haechan instantly noticed something was off and parted his lips to apologize, but you were quicker. “I didn’t start it. It was my grandfather’s.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Leukemia.”

“Shit. My bad,” Haechan apologized.

You brushed him off, though there were a lot of emotions stirring inside your chest as you spoke. “It’s fine. It was years ago. He had a whole list of vinyls he specifically wanted. I’m just finishing what he started.”

In spite of your attempts to be nonchalant, Haechan could tell you were heavily affected by your grandfather’s passing. “That’s really sweet,” he told you sincerely. “I know he’s really proud of you.”

I hope so, you thought to yourself, wistful. “Yeah. Enough about me, though. What’s the deal with you and motorcycles?”

Haechan started laughing, probably at good memories, because you knew the feeling. It was your only option when it came to outweighing all the negative feelings. “My mom is a photographer and my dad is a reformed biker. She always got these cool shots of him on his bike. Growing up peeking at them through the garage door, I think it was just kinda natural I developed a passion for both.”

“Sounds like a happy family.” No envy was present in your tone, just genuine curiosity.

Haechan bobbed his head, then leapt up to grab his photo album and crossed his legs. “These are a couple of the shots my mom took of my dad.”

You watched him flip the pages, photos of him as a boy flickering past until he stopped at the pictures of his dad on his motorbike taken by Mrs. Lee. Many of them were taken in different settings, but the most eye-catching of them all was the one of his dad in the city, helmet catching in the neon lights.

It was like you were instantly enamored. The shots were beautiful. His mother had a great eye and you could clearly see who he got it from.

“Wow. These are one of a kind,” you gasped.

Haechan bobbed his head. “Yeah. You should meet them. I think they’d like you.”

Your heart started beating so fast you nearly had a heart attack. “You sure don’t waste any time.”

“I mean, not right this second,” he added, realizing he was moving at a quick speed. “I was just suggesting it for some time in the future.”

Meet his parents, huh? That meant he must’ve really planned on sticking around.

Rather than reply, you acknowledged his response with a pat and grabbed his photobook, carefully dropping it on your desk. You reached for his shoulders and straddled him, brushing your lips against his ears before asking, “How many hearts have you broken?”

“One,” Haechan replied, planting one hand at your waist and steering the other to your ass.

“Honesty.” That surprised you a little. Though Haechan had been nothing but honest with you.

Haechan shook his head. He was tempted to kiss you, but he would settle for feeling your warmth on his lap. For now, at least. “It wasn’t like that,” he said. “I broke her heart, she broke mine. We’re even.”

You weren’t jealous, but your curiosity got the best of you. “Do you still talk?”

Haechan immediately snorted. As if. “Nope.”

“Hm.” You were looking at his dumb handsome face, wanting to kiss him, but wanting to be stronger.

You had Haechan’s undivided attention, because he was studying you, hands rubbing you up and down. Your breath picked up in speed the longer he continued and he fought a stupid smile. “Have you ever been bad for someone and they were bad for you?”

With a frown, you gave him a nod. That hit a little too close to home. “Mutually bad? Yeah. Been there. Done that.”

Haechan was sobering, getting a little vulnerable with you for once. “It’s true, what they say. Two wrongs don’t make a right. That’s why it didn’t work out. Both trying to make something right while both being wrong as hell. We took turns being at fault.”

“Sounds toxic,” you replied with a grimace.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said, snickering. “What about you - bad history?”

You shifted a little. It was a reminder that you had spoken nothing of Jaehyun to Haechan. Why would you anyways? He was history. Thanks to all those months with Haechan, you’d forgotten all about Jaehyun until he randomly entered your life again. Never in a million years did you once imagine you’d go so long without your ex-fiancÃ© back then, but Haechan made you forget.

The feeling of Haechan’s body warmth gave you a little push. Playing nonchalant, you replied totally deadpan, “Oh, you know. Nothing crazy. He was sweet in the beginning and talked about getting married and having kids. Then, we started arguing, but he would always make up for it and I would forget. Then I found him balls deep in another girl.”

Haechan winced. “Damn.” He pointed over to your desk. “That ring from your mystery lover?”

You quickly frowned. For whatever reason, Jaehyun never demanded it back, and you didn’t know what to do with it. Though Chaewon had been very adamant you throw it off a mountain never to be seen again. You cloaked your melancholy with humor, “Nothing gets past you.”

“So, you were engaged.”

“Not when you hit on me,” you said, knowing immediately what he was referring to. That night at the bar. You almost laughed. Oh, how the tables turn. “So I guess you were right about my vibes.”

Haechan chuckled, but he was a little in his head now. Your engagement had to be recent, he realized. It made a lot of sense.

Temporarily discarding those thoughts, Haechan reached for his camera with his hand coiled around your waist, making you furrow your brows at him. “What are you doing now?”

He pointed it at you. “For the photobook. One more before it’s full.”

“Should I pose?”

“Just be sexy.”

You scoffed, “I’m always sexy.”

“Exactly, baby,” Haechan replied, back hitting the mattress while your legs were still draped over either side of him.

When Haechan pointed his camera at you, you smiled for the picture. It printed out the polaroid immediately, which Haechan took and handed to you for approval. You looked it over and beamed with acceptance. Your smile was different there. Not one of those forced model smiles. It was like you were smiling at Haechan rather than the camera.

“Your photo album is complete,” you announced, leaning over to kiss his neck.

Haechan quickly tossed everything to the side in favor of clasping your hips in his hands again, because it felt natural to hold them. Your breath tickled his neck, not to mention your lips on his throat.

He grinned wildly and whispered, “Thanks for being the finishing piece.”

You giggled and finally kissed his lips, having exhausted all of your self-restraint. Haechan kissed you back just as feverishly, as if you’d both been waiting for each other to snap but didn’t want to forfeit.

First it was just harmless kissing and touching, until your bodies became restless. Haechan tested the waters, so to speak, nimble fingers unbuttoning your blouse until it fell. He made short work of your bra, unclasping it and tossing it aside.

You were exposed to him, though he’d already seen everything you had to offer. Many, many times. But there was something different about the way he looked into your eyes and how your heart raced when his fingers brushed against you.

Haechan kneaded your breasts, resulting in you having to suck in your breath. Your soft sounds made his dick twitch in his pants. He could feel that the air was thicker too, the two of you suffocating beneath the weight of your own desire.

You’d had enough of being teased by him and pulled his lips back onto yours by his collar, throwing his shirt above his head all the while. All you wanted to do was kiss and taste him. And maybe fuck him.

Scratch that. You definitely wanted to fuck him and your body wanted him even more. “Haechan,” you grumbled, clawing at his jeans. “Take it off.”

There would be no need to tell him twice. Haechan gently steered you off of his lap and sat up to remove his jeans, leaving him in his boxers, but you were quick to take care of that situation. You didn’t waste any time freeing his hard cock from his boxers, much to his amusement.

“I want you,” you told him, finding his eyes with a fixed stare. “Inside.”

Well, that left no room for misunderstanding. Haechan’s brain shut down at the thought of being inside of you, though he played it cool. “How do you want me?”

Bringing your hand under your skirt, you tugged your panties past your ankles and threw your legs open, smiling coyly. “Come and get me.”

Haechan growled, “Woman, you drive me crazy.”

You giggled, but the noise faded out when Haechan crawled over you, kissing you again. Neither of you could stand to be apart from each other for three seconds. All you wanted was to feel him so deep inside you that he could never leave.

Haechan realized something and pulled back with a groan. “I don’t have a condom.”

You arched a brow, stifling a laugh. It was very unlike him. You’d seen the inside of Haechan’s wallet more than once and he kept a condom, though he hadn’t brought it with him. Probably because he wasn’t expecting to need anything. “I have an IUD,” you said.

The realization on Haechan’s face was laughable. “You mean?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, you really want me toâ€¦”

“Yes, Haechan,” you repeated with a groan. “I’m not about to beg you to cum inside me.”

“Maybe you should,” Haechan suggested, the grin back on his plush lips.

You rolled your eyes. Then, a thought struck you, and you half-joked, “You’re not a bastard that’s stuck your dick inside half the girls in the city, right?”

“If you wanted to know my body count, all you had to do was ask,” Haechan retorted.

“You haven’t asked about my body count.”

Haechan kissed the corner of your lips and told you frankly, “Baby, I couldn’t give less of a damn what your body count is.”

Well, that was good to know. There were a couple of guys you’d been with that would freak out if they knew you’d hooked up with more than a couple of boys.

“Unless you’re a serial killer,” Haechan added lightheartedly.

You were caught off guard and snickered, corners of your lips upturned. No matter the time, Haechan could be counted on to make you laugh. “I’m not a serial killer.”

“Good.”

You peered up at him and joked, “Promise not to give me chlamydia?”

Haechan snorted. “You’d be the first girl I’ve hit raw.”

You believed him, but it surprised you when Haechan held out his pinky. You rolled your eyes, prompting a laugh out of him, but intertwined your pinky with his. It was kinda cute.

The mood completely shifted from that moment on. His dick lined up at your entrance, the tip teasing your hole. All you wanted was to feel every inch of him buried inside of you. He was slow and steady, taking his time to fill you, inch by fucking inch.

Some noises left each of you when you’d swallowed his length whole and he slinked down against your velvet walls. His hands left your waist in favor of your hands and he slipped his fingers through yours affectionately, squeezing them as he wondered why you hadn’t done this sooner.

The same thought was heavy on your mind, though you had no regrets. Neither did Haechan. For whatever reason, it felt a billion times more special now compared to if you would have hooked up earlier.

It felt like you were making love.

“Haechan,” you cried out, all the heat in your body gathering at your core. It felt like he was stretching you open.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” Haechan sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Shit, baby. You’re so damn perfect.”

Haechan was so deep that you could feel him in the pit of your stomach, keeping the butterflies that had made a home out of your gut company. You felt at ease with your hand in his and his warmth enveloping you from head to toe.

It was over when Haechan started to set that steady, comfortable pace. It wasn’t too slow, but he thankfully wasn’t jack-hammering you either. The rhythm was just right. He glanced down at you, a weight on his eyelids, and asked sweetly, “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you whispered, lips twitching into a smile. You grabbed his face and smashed your lips against his, desperate to feel him everywhere. You could taste yourself on his tongue and inexplicably, it made you feel a different breed of insatiable.

Haechan kissed you back even harder in between grunts and curses, typically followed by your name more often than they were not. You were making him dizzy. You were making him entirely dependent on you, as if there was no him without you in his arms.

Sweat stuck to your skin, little beads of moisture dripping down your back and breasts in numbers. Your whole body was alive, craving him like no other. Your thighs tensed, heat spasming in your palms. Your hips moved to their own accord, trying to match Haechan’s thrusts because you wanted to feel the euphoria to the max. All the pleasure turned you into a madwoman.

Haechan pulled back, the heat of you reworking the wires in his brain, and asked, “Do you mind if I take pictures of you?”

The question did a little more than catch you off-guard, though the more you mulled it over, the more your thighs tightened with want and arousal. You were entertained by the idea, that was for sure. It was like nothing you had over done before, in spite of the fact that you modeled for a living. Maybe it was the heat getting to your head, but you were inclined to agree.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Haechan said, noticing your hesitation.

You shook your head, grinning at him with tiny little stars in your eyes. “I want to.”

Haechan’s lips twisted into a beaming smile of their own and he plucked the camera from wherever he had tossed it to, pointing at you once more. Rather than getting a shot of your face, he was snapping photos of your heaving chest.

Then, it was your stomach, the print of his dick visible against your tummy. Followed by your neck and collarbone, decorated by the necklace he’d gotten you a couple of weeks in advance.

“You’re so beautiful,” Haechan hissed, lowering his head to kiss your breasts. You sighed softly at the feeling, content.

Your breath caught in your throat when he handed you back the polaroids for self-approval, pussy tightening around his stiff dick. Which he couldn’t help but notice and grinned slyly.

You tapped his forearm and asked, “Can I see the camera?”

“Sure,” Haechan said, handing it to you.

You knew maybe a thing or two about how to work a camera, courtesy of your industry, and navigated to the self-timer without any need for his assistance. Then, you sat it down, and pulled his lips onto yours by his hair again.

As if he hadn’t already known, that single-handedly confirmed that you were the one.

You were getting closer by the minute. All of the kissing, touching and sucking (and photo-snapping) was making short work of the both of you. Haechan had internally worried about busting too quick when you permitted him to go bareback, but you weren’t far behind.

All of it was making you mad with lust. The heat and the sounds and the pressure. Your whole body was overloaded, writhing with pleasure.

Haechan was whispering sweet praises in your ear partially to get you off just in case, because he was going to unravel any moment now. His finger thumbed your clit, and with just a look at your face tense with bliss, he was getting closer.

“I’m gonnaâ€¦ Haechan, fuck,” you moaned, barely coherent. It was hard to speak with him strumming you to climax, and the weight of him on top of you. It was game over.

You’d come to notice the signs of Haechan’s impending orgasm and they were all staring you down right now, so when he let out that final, high-pitched moan of your name preceded by a string of curses, it wasn’t even somewhat shocking when you felt his fingers find yours and tighten around them again, his release painting your walls.

That was all it took to break you, his hot cum spilling inside the tightness of your cunt. It was a wordless orgasm, but an intense one, looking into his eyes with all the pleasure and wanting in the world as you shuddered with climax.

For a long minute, the two of you just took a while to gather your bearings. Then, you took one look at each other, and burst into a fit of giggles. Your heart was taut with something bittersweet.

A couple of hours (and rounds) later, Haechan was still at your house. You both took a long, hot shower together with the excuse of saving water and walked back inside your room.

You sat on your chair while Haechan took the bed, just staring at each other for a minute. “I’ve really been having a good time these past couple of months.”

“Glad to be of service,” Haechan chirped, a bottle of beer in hand.

You chuckled.

Haechan could feel a shift in the air and it was somewhat unnerving. He asked, “Why do I get the feeling that there’s about to be a really strong but here?”

Your laughter turned nervous. Which was noticed. After a while, Haechan started to pick up even the slightest of changes with you. That was what he did. “I’m, um, going to NYC next week for a little bit.”

And there it was. “Oh, yeah?” Haechan hummed, nonchalant. “For how long?”

“Just a couple of weeks, I think. I don’t know. Probably just a couple of weeks, if not less,” you said, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, what’s going on in New York?”

“I’m justâ€¦,” you trailed off, fighting the nerves in your gut. “I’m just poking around, you know? Looking for some gigs. And I also have someâ€¦ unfinished business to take care of.”

Your response was vague as ever, which told Haechan everything that he needed to know. “Your ex.”

You frowned. Haechan was many, many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. There was no way that you could play him for a fool. “Haechan, the only reason I’m telling you this is because I really care about you, and I’m not trying to hurt you.”

There was a moment spent in silence as Haechan processed your words. “Well, I appreciate your honesty,” he said after a moment. “But aren’t we just kickin’ it?”

Your eyes flickered. “So, you’re not mad?”

“Pfft. Hell no,” Haechan said, feigning indifference very skillfully. “I’m not your man. I don’t have a ring on your finger or anything like that. Go on to New York and do whatever you gotta do. I mean, we’re just friends, right?”

“Right,” you mumbled, but there was something dark lingering in your chest. “Well, I’d like for you to meet me at the airport next week, if you want. Kiss me goodbye maybe.”

Haechan chuckled lightly. “Is it goodbye or see you later?”

“See you later,” you replied sheepishly. “I’ll call you when I’m back.”

“I’ll stay by my phone.”

You smiled thinly.

Then, the night came for you to fly to New York.

“Because if he knew what he was doing, what the hell am I doing in the picture then?”

Jaemin nodded. “Riddle me that.”

Haechan continued, “Why am I hitting it?”

Jaemin acknowledged Haechan with a raise of his drink.

Lifting his own drink, Haechan scoffed. He’d been in out of his head and was realizing that he might have been a fool for you. He was conflicted. First of all, you’d started acting a little distant a couple of weeks before when up until then, things had been sailing smoothly.

He figured you were stressed from work and didn’t press you about anything, until the other night revealed your true feelings. You were going back to the man who’d disrespected you and your relationship and he couldn’t understand why.

But it wasn’t for him to understand, so he was going to pretend as if he didn’t care about you. If you wanted to run off to New York City and get fucked over by a dickhead again, that was your decision. Why the fuck should I care? He grumbled to himself.

On the one hand, he’d made countless memories with you all in the span of two months and thoughts of a future with you were like a whirlwind in his mind. He thought you felt the same, but on the other hand, he realized he was nothing but a pit-stop along the way. Like he was in the backseat of the joy ride and none of it mattered because it was harmless fun.

“Let me tell you the real deal,” Haechan began, settling down his drink. “The real deal is I don’t think she can handle it.”

Jaemin chuckled.

Haechan threw his head back. “Jaem, I put it on her. Boom.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“Now she’s fucking gone.”

“I feel you, man,” Jaemin said, dispatching messages from his girlfriend before turning his phone screen-side down. “But wait a minute. I thought you two were justâ€¦ you know, umâ€¦ kickin’ it.”

“That’s not the point, Jaemin,” Haechan groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“So, what’s the point, my friend?”

Haechan bristled. “I’ll tell you the point. Have you been listening? I’m gonna tell you the point. Matter of fact, I’m gonna feed you the point. The point isâ€¦”

Jaemin cocked his head, glancing at Haechan expectantly with a wry smile on his face.

“Man, fuck this, that’s the point,” Haechan barked irritably. “I’m gonna find me a fine ass woman and we’re gonna have some fine ass sex on this fine ass night.”

Jaemin retorted, “You’re gonna wake up with a fine ass hangover and get a fine ass ass-whooping.”

“Whatever, man. You should get laid, too. Tell Winter I said what’s up,” was all Haechan said before marching over to the bar.

He got another drink and sat there for a while, completely in his thoughts. Most of them about you, obviously. No matter what, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He’d obviously fallen hard in spite of whatever bullshit he fed his friends, because you were all he could think about.

Distractions, distractions, I need a fucking distraction, Haechan hissed to himself. Then, he turned around, and briefly made eye contact with a woman who’d been fucking him with her eyes.

If you wanted to play, Haechan was down for the game. And he had plenty.

All the while, you were across town. Walking around the airport, you were nothing short of antsy. For good reason.

Are you coming?

Sent two hours ago. There was no telling if Haechan had seen the message, considering his read receipts were off. Maybe he was just ignoring you. That could have been it. He told you he’d let you know if he could make it tonight or not, but the last time you heard from him was the night you’d dropped the news.

An instagram notification popped on your phone and you accidentally clicked it, being taken to Jaemin’s story. And you frowned when you saw a picture of him and the boys - all of them - out drinking.

Then, your flight was called, and rather than wallow in all of the bad feelings, you sucked it up and got on that plane.

Days passed. Nothing from Haechan. All coming back to New York did was remind you why you left in the first place. First of all, Jaehyun was adamant that you didn’t pursue any of the gigs you’d come there for. Something about him being a provider and some other bullshit you weren’t exactly keen on hearing.

When you instead ventured around the city, meeting up with some old friends and the like, it only made things worse. You walked by all the places Jaehyun used to visit with you once upon a time, before each of your worlds clashed and you realized it wouldn’t work.

Maybe a couple of months ago, it would have made you sad. Now, you just wanted to get the fuck out of here. You felt like you were wallowing in memories you had no intention of ever bringing up again. This just wasn’t your home anymore.

Sharing a bed with your ex-fiancÃ© at night didn’t help, because all you did was dream of zipping through Los Angeles at night on the back of Haechan’s motorbike. You imagined speed and restlessness. You could feel the wind whipping through your hair and his hands on your waist.

“I’m home,” you grumbled one day, kicking off your shoes at the front door.

Nothing. Much to your surprise, Jaehyun didn’t say a word. Almost like he wasn’t even there. Which was strange, because his car was parked out front and according to his schedule, he should have been back by now.

You were getting flashbacks. Being home earlier than expected, slipping inside the house unheard like a thief in the night. He had the audacity to have you sleep in the same bed he’d probably fucked countless other girls in.

Fighting off the thought, you heard a noise in the kitchen and followed the sound. Jaehyun was looking through the cabinet, seemingly not noticing your presence until you tapped on the counter and greeted, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jaehyun repeated, then pointed to the cabinet. “Where are my Frosted Flakes?”

“Oh, I finished the box this morning.”

Jaehyun groaned, “Oh, you couldn’t just eat the damn Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

“Oh, brother.” You rolled your eyes, setting your purse down on the counter.

Jaehyun was bristling. “Look, I’m sorry I had a bad day today.”

“Well, I had a bad day, too,” you retorted, taking off your coat.

“So, you wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” you hissed, hanging your coat on the coat rack in the living room.

“Baby,” Jaehyun called out behind you, following you to the couch. “I hate to see you, you knowâ€¦”

“Wasting my time,” you interrupted.

Jaehyun gave you a little nudge, fixing you a stare. “You know that’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is that I can provide for the both of us. I don’t want you to deal withâ€¦”

“Getting a job?”

“Rejection,” Jaehyun hissed. “And stop finishing my sentences.”

You laughed humorlessly, turning away, and blew out a sigh. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“What?”

You raised your voice, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“No, I heard you,” Jaehyun said, clearly upset now. Again. “After all these years together, you don’t know why you’re here?”

Now, you were getting irritated. Because this was how it always went. You looked him in the eyes again and exclaimed, “No, I don’t, Jaehyun. And you wanna know why? Because even after all these years together, we still don’t know how to make this work, and it never fucking will.”

Jaehyun couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. Rather than try to hash things out with you, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for some fucking Frosted Flakes. You’ve lost it.”

Then, he left. Like he always did.

You heaved a breath, irritated. All these years, he said. All those years wasted. All those years that you could have spent on something worthwhile and yet he’d stolen time from you. You just couldn’t put up with this bullshit anymore.

That night, you slipped your engagement ring on his pinky finger and crept outside of the bedroom to dial a number.

“Hey, I know it’s late, but can I stay the night? I need to book a flight.”

As soon as the next day, you were back. Again in the Los Angeles air, you felt like you could breathe again. That suffocating feeling that you got after Jaehyun popped up in your life out of nowhere completely dissipated. It felt more like those two months of relentless happiness you’d felt prior to his unannounced appearance.

Months of happiness thanks to Haechan. Something about the thought of him made butterflies flitter about in your belly, but an acute pain spread throughout your chest like wildfire. You hadn’t called him like you said you would. And you didn’t really know why.

You just couldn’t stop thinking about that night and how he wasn’t there. You didn’t see his message until after you got off the plane, a thoughtless response. Couldn’t get out of plans. Sorry. Ttyl.

You faced reality and accepted that it wasn’t that he couldn’t be there. He just didn’t want to be.

And then the unthinkable happened. Sitting in the corner of the cafe sketching, you glanced up when you heard the jingle of the bells announcing that somebody had walked in. You didn’t notice whoever walked inside, your eyes fixed out the window you’d accidentally brought your attention towards.

All you could feel was a burning when you saw Haechan holding hands with some girl that was leaning against him, hanging on his every word. You didn’t even realize you were on the verge of breaking your pen until a friend you’d been there to meet tapped your shoulder, cocking you a worried look.

It was a full-blown war.

Not many days later, you were in the park, snapping pictures of the scenery. If Haechan wasn’t there to take you out on dates, you would take your damn self. Like hell you needed him to do anything.

Then, you heard somebody call out your name, and spun around. “Oh, hey, Jeno.”

Jeno dug his hands into his sweatpants pockets, shooting you a grin. “Whatcha doing?”

“These are flowers. This is a camera. I’m photographing the flowers,” you deadpanned, obviously not in the best mood. Then again, that was just your usual bitchy attitude.

“Ah.” Jeno crept closer, eyes giving you a quick scan. Not too close, but not too distant. “You like savoring the beautiful things in life?”

You snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

When you least expected the action, Jeno gently took the camera out of your hands, earning a half baffled and half curious glance from your part. You hid your face when he pointed the camera at you.

Your voice was muffled. “Jeno, what are you doing?”

“Savoring the beautiful things in life,” Jeno replied smoothly, just giving you that angelic smile of his as he continued to snap photos of you.

Jeno pulled your hands away from your face and brushed a stray hair out of the way, looking at you with the gentlest touch but the least subtle eyes. “You are incredibly gorgeous,” he purred in the deepest tone.

Though you were tempted to roll your eyes, you had a moment of realization. There was a flash of rage that shot through your body like lightning. All you could see was those memories of Haechan’s endless flirtation playing back in your mind and it made you bristle.

Rather than beat him, you joined Jeno, lashes fluttering. “You think so?”

“My eyes never deceive me,” Jeno said, looking you up and down with obvious want.

“What about Haechan?”

Jeno seemed almost irritated at the mention of his friend’s name, gently pulling you just a bit closer to him. “He might have found you, but where I’m from, we play for keeps.”

You met his bold stare. “And you wanna keep me?”

“To say the least.”

You snickered.

“Do you like steak?”

“I love steak.”

“That’s perfect, because I know a place. Five stars,” Jeno whispered huskily. “I’d like to take you out to dinner Friday night. What do you say?”

You pretended to mull it over, when in reality you’d been thinking about it for the past five minutes at length. Jeno had never been subtle with his flirty quips from the day he met you, in spite of the fact that you were Haechan’s date. Apparently there was no brotherly code.

That, or he had absolutely zero regard for whatever it was.

You chirped, “It’s a date.”

Even more days passed. Nothing from you. Haechan figured you were still in New York searching for work and whatnot, and, knowing how passionate you were about your job, didn’t dare disturb you.

Though he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss you.

“She’s back,” Jaemin said, sitting down at the table.

Haechan furrowed his brows, asking, “Who?”

“Your girl, man,” Jaemin replied. “She’s back in town and she’s been going out with Jeno.”

Mark winced from across the table. “Damn.”

Haechan’s voice was low, almost like a mumble, “She didn’t tell me she was back.”

Jaemin patted him on the back. “I just thought you deserved to know, man.”

“You move too fast, dickhead. You probably scared the poor girl away,” Ryujin shot without looking away from her phone, playing a heated round of cup pong with Mark via iMessage games.

“She’s kinda right,” Jaemin agreed. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Haechan took a much needed shot of liquor and grumbled, “Oh, shut the fuck up, Jaem. The whole reason Winter rejected your ass was because you were doing too much too fast.”

“And I revised my plan and made her mine. Isn’t that right, baby?” Jaemin asked, gaze flitting over to Winter.

Winter giggled, leaning into his touch. “Right, baby.”

“You two make me sick.”

Winter quipped, “Jealous much?”

“Never in a million years.” Haechan grimaced. “I’m not drunk enough to put up with this right now.”

Ryujin exclaimed out of nowhere, “You limp dick bastard!”

Mark was in the midst of a fit of giggles, laughing his ass off. “It’s one thing to suck at cup pong in real life, but you suck online, too?”

“I’m this close to deporting you back to Canada,” Ryujin hissed.

Everybody froze when Jeno walked up to the table, taking a seat in front of Haechan. The whole spot was quiet. “What’s up, Haechan?” he asked.

Haechan cocked his head. “What’s up, J? You been doing anything lately?”

“Fuck, yeah, man. I been doing a whole lot,” Jeno replied offhandedly.

“Oh, yeah?” Haechan questioned. “Like what?”

Jeno shrugged, acting nonchalant. “Oh, you know. I’ve been out in the sun and shit. Getting things wet. Wallowing in the heat. Got a new boat.”

Winter grimaced.

“Really?”

“Really,” Jeno repeated, locking eyes with Haechan. “See, I’ve been riding the wave lately.”

Haechan set his jaw, but played it cool. “That so?”

“You bet it is. Just beenâ€¦ cruising.”

“I think I test drove that model,” Haechan said with a little nod, picking up his glass. “Took it for a spin and all.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. A couple of times.”

The tension at the table was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Jaemin and Winter got up to dismiss themselves with the excuse of wanting to be alone, while Mark and Ryujin sat there quietly, exchanging thoughts telepathically. Then, Jeno’s phone started to beep countless times.

“I tell you, I hate when this happens,” Jeno sighed, taking out his phone and grinning slyly when he looked at the screen. “You know?”

Haechan quipped, “Mom keeps texting you, huh?”

“Not this time,” Jeno retorted. “This is one of my boating buddies.”

“Mm,” Haechan hummed, bristling at the thought. His whole body was cloaked in heat, a bite to his next words. “Well, I hope you don’t get thrown overboard. You’ve never been good at staying anchored.”

Jeno retaliated darkly, “You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you, Hyuck?”

Haechan lifted his shoulders. “Nah, you know me. I’m the captain. I invite the passengers on-board and I dismiss them. You tend to step on unfamiliar territory and get walked off the plank.”

Mark and Ryujin exchanged identical glances. What the fuck are they talking about?

“But it’s okay. You can’t help it,” Haechan added, setting down his drink and rising to his feet. “Yo, Mark, Ryu, I’ll get with you guys another time. Later.”

Jeno chuckled.

Ryujin cocked him a glance. “Aren’t you a little too old to be fighting over some babe?”

“Never, Ryu,” Jeno replied, laughing a little. “Plus, I can’t help it if I’m the chosen one.”

“Chosen one, my fucking ass.”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. “You know you’re foul, right?”

Jeno groaned. “Foul for what, man?”

“Dude, come on. That girl shouldn’t even be anywhere on your radar. It’s like you were waiting for Haechan to slip up,” Mark replied with obvious disdain.

“Whatever, man,” Jeno scoffed. “She chose me, alright? Take that up with god.”

Mark and Ryujin exchanged looks.

A few dates with Jeno to forget the gaping hole Haechan had left in your heart ultimately came back with a bite. Jeno was sweet and all but you couldn’t feel a connection with him, something Haechan had made you feel within moments of your first date together. But you were still bitter.

With that in mind, you kept up the act, all the while wondering if it was torture for him as much as it was for you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Jeno. The dinners gave a nice first impression and he had an interesting personality. But no matter how much there was to like about Jeno’s indulgences and mesmerizing looks, he wasn’t Haechan.

After a couple of weeks of dating, Jeno invited you to a party on a whim without much specifics and you spent the rest of your Thursday afternoon choosing an outfit. Maybe you wanted to look extra cute in case you made a special appearance in somebody’s Insta story and Haechan happened to see.

It never crossed your mind that he might’ve physically been there.

You locked arms with Jeno as you stepped into the party, allowing him to guide you throughout the house, weaving in and out of crowds of people.

“‘Sup, guys,” Jeno greeted his clique when you both walked up to them.

You counted four faces and every single last one fell at the sight of you, their incessant chatter instantly ceasing. The lack of Haechan was very noticeable, but at the time, you were more concerned with how apparent it was that absolutely none of them knew you’d been invited.

Clearing your throat in humiliation, you asked, “Um, where’s your bathroom?”

“Upstairs to the left,” Ryujin answered, but her face had yet to shift from that grim look.

You thanked her and excused yourself, quickly fleeing up the steps and wishing some kind of chasm would open between them, swallowing you whole.

Jeno glanced at Mark. “What up, Minhyung?”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. “Like I said. Foul.”

“Man, come the fuck on. Give me a break,” Jeno grumbled, irritated. This conversation was exhausting and it didn’t help the more it was had.

Jaemin was wearing a reproachful frown, chastising, “That’s some fucked up shit, man. And you know what you’re doing is fucked up.”

“Pfft. Whatever.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes and stood up straight. “Whatever?”

“Don’t,” Winter said swiftly, putting her hands on Jaemin’s chest.

Ryujin crossed her arms, wearing the most withering scowl known to mankind. Her eyes cut at Jeno. “I’m disappointed in you.”

In that same second, Haechan stumbled from around the corner with a victorious smile that fell instantly once he caught a sight of Jeno.

Mark scratched his head. Awkward, he mouthed to Ryujin.

She blew out a breath.

Jeno scanned Haechan, smirking at him. “Yo, Donghyuck.”

Haechan mumbled a greeting, glancing away from Jeno.

As if this whole ordeal didn’t already make you want to chew glass, it went from worse to worst the second you skipped down those stairs and stood next to Jeno, making eye contact with Haechan whose brows furrowed in shock. Your heart raced. This was without a doubt the most embarrassing moment of your life.

You tapped Jeno on the arm. “You and me. Outside. Right now.” You brushed past him without waiting, immediately heading for the door. You couldn’t bear to be there for another second. Not like this.

Jeno eventually came outside the front door, calling out your name behind you as you ran down the stairs.

“Take me home now,” you demanded, pointing to his car parked right out front.

Jeno caught up to you, having the audacity to pretend to be confused, and asked, “Come on. What’s wrong?”

You gave him an incredulous look. Like you couldn’t believe he had the nerve to play dumb. “You just made a fucking fool out of me and I don’t like that shit. If you and Haechan wanna have a dick measuring contest, I want no parts.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Jeno apologized, reaching out to console you.

You snatched your arm away from him. “Don’t touch me. Just grab your keys and take me home.”

Jeno switched on a dime, hissing, “Like you didn’t think for one damn second that he was going to be here.”

You snapped, “No, because you gave me all of two seconds in advance to prepare and didn't have the decency to give me details!”

“And that’s my fucking problem how?”

“Jeno,” you snarled, taking a deep breath. He was really testing the last of your patience. “Are you gonna take me home or what?”

Jeno scoffed, “Hell the fuck no.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” you said, turning on your heels and stomping down the sidewalk. You were disappointed, but not surprised.

“Walk!” Jeno exclaimed, turning around and heading back inside the house.

Haechan glanced around when Jeno walked back over without you, baffled. “Where is she?”

Jeno exhaled a breath, stuffing a hand inside his pockets. “I don’t know,” he lied.

Jaemin gave Jeno the utmost repulsive look. “You just left the woman outside? Don’t you know what kind of freaks walk around at night?”

Haechan didn’t bother to interrogate Jeno in spite of his questionably stupid actions, because even after all the weird shit going on between you two lately, he still had the decency to want to make sure you got home safe. He grabbed his coat and made a break for the door.

Winter and Jaemin were shooting Jeno matching scowls. She grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and pulled him away wordlessly. Meanwhile, Ryujin had her arms folded snugly across her chest, clearly not pleased either.

Jeno glanced down at her and barked, “What? You got something to say to me, Ryujin?”

“I don’t have a damn thing to say to you,” Ryujin hissed, following behind the couple.

Which left Mark and Jeno. “You’re an asshole, dude,” Mark said.

“Fuck you, man.”

Ryujin came back to grab Mark, leaving again this time with him in tow.

All the while, Haechan was chasing you down the sidewalk, jogging to catch up to you. It was chilly outside, and he saw you wrap your arms around yourself to shield your bare skin from the nipping cold.

Haechan called out your name. You could hear his footsteps just behind you. “Slow down.”

“I’m not in the mood to chat, Haechan,” you said, not glancing back. You couldn’t look into his eyes again. It nearly killed you the first time.

“If you slow down, I can call you an Uber or something,” Haechan insisted.

All of your emotions hit you tenfold in that moment and you whipped around, exclaiming, “What do you want?”

“First of all, calm down. I know and you know that you don’t wanna be outside this late in this cold ass weather stomping down the street like somebody stole your fucking bike,” Haechan said even louder than you.

You scoffed, tightening your arms around your body.

“Look,” he started, leaving a good distance between your bodies. “All I wanna do is get you home safely. No extra shit. I’ll call you an Uber and then it’ll be over.”

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. For fuck’s sake, Jeno - who had been your ride - left you in the cold to die and you didn’t know your way around this area of town. With that in mind, you begrudgingly agreed.

It was silent for a good while after Haechan called you an Uber. Neither of you said a word to each other, and you both stubbornly made sure that was extra space between your bodies while you waited. His leather jacket now being draped over your shoulders didn’t bother you in the slightest.

Well, maybe that was a lie. You were bristling with sudden longing. Obviously, it smelled exactly like him. You were breathing him in even though he was what felt like worlds away from you.

Haechan tried to resist his temper, but the dam ultimately broke and he snapped, “What the hell are you doing going out with Jeno? First you take flight to New York to see some dude, and then you’re fucking on one of my boys?”

The mention of New York and Jeno only fueled your flames and you shot back, “All you had to do was tell me that you were seeing somebody.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not seeing no one.”

“I saw you with her outside the fucking cafe next to the record store.”

“I’m always by the fucking record store,” Haechan exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “What are you talking about?”

You rolled your eyes. You had enough of men playing dumb with you for one night. Thankfully, the Uber pulled up just in time, and you sneered just as you got in the backseat, “You know what the hell I’m talking about.”

Haechan watched you get driven off, puzzled. Like you were speaking an entirely different language. And then it hit him. “Ryujin’s friend. Shit. God-fucking-dammit.”

He took out his phone and opened your text messages. Fuck, he hadn’t texted you in forever and a half. At least text me when you get back home so I know you’re safe.

Haechan shoved his phone into his pockets, doubting you would reply. Imagine his surprise when his phone buzzed only a couple of moments later. Okay.

Sure, it was one word, but he would take it. One was better than nothing. Right now, he had to think of a way to salvage this relationship.

The first thing you did when you were safely back inside your condo was text Haechan that you were back home safe and block Jeno’s number. Then, you took off all your makeup and prepared to take a long, scalding shower. You didn’t even realize Haechan hadn’t asked for his jacket back until you went to undress yourself.

Many thoughts were weighing on your mind as the hot water hit your skin. You felt like an idiot. For going to see Jaehyun, for entertaining Jeno’s fuckboy tendencies. But worst of all, for wishing your feelings for Haechan would go down the drain.

You had finally come to terms with the fact that your heart wanted Haechan, even if it took a long time to accept and even if you were in denial that you couldn’t have him. You worried that you had already fucked things up too much. And you worried that you never had a chance to begin with.

There was very little room for misunderstanding in the fact that you were easily replaceable. It was borderline offensive how quick Haechan was to pop out with a new chick while you were away. Like all of those months together meant nothing to him. Your biggest fear was that they were only special to you.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You’d lost the game. Again. Maybe you were just bad at love. You figured you would probably do everyone and yourself a huge favor if you stopped involving your heart and focused on your career like you always wanted.

So, you decided that that was what you were going to do.

Neither you or Haechan spoke to each for weeks. Sitting on your bed, you wondered if he was thinking about you and what went wrong. If he was as fucked up and heartbroken as you were. Maybe you did it to yourself. Something told you not to fool around with Haechan too much, after all, but you still kept him close because you were human and you wanted to be loved.

All you knew was that you couldn’t stay here, sitting in ruins over a boy you couldn’t have. When Jaehyun cheated on you, you felt dirty and lacked the strength to rouse out of bed in the mornings. You couldn’t let yourself steep to that point of misery over something you couldn’t even call a break-up.

You glanced at your phone. Should you have called him? Maybe you should have at least texted him, since you didn’t do either when you came back from New York.

Almost worlds away from you, Haechan was sitting by his phone with the same thoughts wearing him thin. You were wearing him thin. He wanted to call you, but if you thought you were stubborn, Haechan gave you a run for your money.

You said you’d let him know when you were back and Haechan waited and waited. You never called. Not one fucking time. So why should he have called you?

Because you love her, hissed the voice in his head that made Haechan roll his eyes in annoyance. He was past denying the truth, but he was terrified of confronting it. Loving you made his blood chill with fear. It wasn’t a question of whether or not you loved him back. It was if you loved him enough to make it work.

His emotions were all over the place. First of all, he was spiteful and wanted to hate you. He was angry. For fuck’s sake, you went out with Jeno for what - to make him jealous?

But on the other hand, all those memories you’d made with each other weren’t simple to forget. Every time Haechan closed his eyes, he saw you. Your gorgeous smile and twinkling eyes. He could taste your chapstick on his tongue and feel your warmth in his arms, as if you were some lingering ghost that was haunting him in spirit. He could hear your laughter ringing in his ears as he told you a stupid joke solely to make you laugh.

Jesus fucking Christ. Haechan had been in love, but never like this. Your love was mind-numbing. No girl had ever made him feel this many emotions all at once. You made him want to scream and shout, but you made him want to smile. You made a void ache in his chest.

Haechan’s phone started to ring. He scolded himself for immediately hoping that it was you finally calling him like you should have weeks ago, but was disappointed when he saw it was Chaewon. But his curiosity got the best of him and he brought the phone to his ear, answering, “Hello?”

“Hey, Haechan,” Chaewon greeted somewhat somberly.

Haechan could immediately tell that something was off. He could hear it in her tone. “What’s up, Chaewon?”

“It’s about your girl,” Chaewon said, sullen. She was obviously very worried. “She’s going away for a few months. She got a deal out of state and they’re flying her out.”

Haechan set his jaw. You were leaving - again. And he had to find out about your whereabouts through somebody else. Again. “Oh. Good for her, I guess,” he replied indifferently.

Chaewon snapped, “Don’t give me that nonchalant bullshit, Haechan. You know and I know that you both care about each other. Now, listen. She’s my best friend and the love of my life, but I understand that she hasn’t been making the best decisions lately.”

Haechan interjected, “So what? I should go clean up her mess? I’m not her man and I’m damn sure not her fucking daddy, Chaewon.”

“Don’t start getting an attitude with me,” Chaewon hissed. “If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that her flight leaves today at four. I just thought you deserved to know that. It’s not your job to finish what she started, but if you still want to, you know where to find her.”

Haechan heaved a breath.

Chaewon added, “It’s up to you. I think you two could set things straight if you communicated with each other for once. But if you don’t want that, then forget I said anything. I just thought with how adamant you were on pursuing her that you would be the last person to give up on her. Maybe I was wrong.”

Haechan sighed. Again. His head was throbbing. “I’ll think about it,” he finally exhaled after a moment or two.

“Okay. Bye, Haechan.”

Haechan spent all of three hours debating whether or not he should have come to see you. He was still bitter over the lack of communication, but after a moment of pondering in silence, realized that was why you two were in this predicament in the first place.

If he would have been honest about how he felt about you going to New York, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe you would’ve never left. Never entertained Jeno. You would’ve stayed in his arms where you rightfully belonged.

After all this time, he realized something. His open arms would still be waiting for you when you were ready to come back to them. Fear corrupted Haechan when he had a thought. The fear of you never coming back. What if you went away for months and met a different guy that you liked? What if you never came back?

He wasn’t ready to lose you, he quickly realized. He wasn’t ready to give you away either. The first thing he thought when you told him about your ex was that that guy was a dumbass for kicking you to the curb.

And if Haechan thought he was stubborn, his heart was going to put both of you to shame.

Haechan grabbed his keys and burst out the front door like lightning, immediately mounting his bike. Even the damn bike reminded him of you as he probably broke the law with how quickly he was speeding. On a motorcycle, we get to dodge all the traffic.

He looked everywhere for you. Every corner he turned, there were people living their day-to-day lives, giving the guy running through the airport like he was playing Subway Surfers a brief, baffled look. Haechan didn’t care. He didn’t give a flying fuck who thought what about him, unabashedly in love with you. He would shout it out in front of all of these strangers if that was what it took.

Finally, he saw you, closing in on your terminal. He shouted your name loud enough to disturb some people and earn a couple of disdainful glances from onlookers.

You turned around, recognizing that voice before you saw his face.

Your heart raced when you saw Haechan jogging over to you and for a moment you were pleased to see him, but then you remembered how ruined you were because of him. You pretended not to care and sneered, “If you’re here to get your jacket back, you’re out of luck. I already checked in and I don’t have my luggage.”

“Damn that jacket,” Haechan hissed, his blood pumping a billion times per second. Only half it was because of how fast he ran. “I can’t let you leave like this. Not when we have so much unfinished business to work through.”

You barked, “Me and you are nothing. We have nothing.”

“Really?” Haechan asked, staring at you in disbelief. “All those months together meant nothing to you?”

Those words reminded you of that night at Jaehyun’s place, as well as the fact that Haechan couldn’t have cared about you, which only made you bristle. You lied through your teeth, “Nothing.”

Haechan switched on a diming, changing tactics, and hissed, “Bull-fucking-shit. I spent so many nights waiting for you to call. You never did. I could have got at least a fucking text or something. But you know what I got instead? Nothing. A whole lotta nothing! I had to find out from somebody else that you’re back and then you go out with Jeno.”

All you could do was give him an ugly scowl. How dare he march up in here to shout in your face? Like you were the villain. “I waited for you to show up. You never did! You said you were busy, but you were at the fucking club. Don’t even lie because I saw Jaemin’s story.”

Fuck, you saw that? “So, I go out and have a couple of drinks and you decide you want to fuck Jeno?”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you seethed. “All I wanted was for you to kiss me goodbye, but you stood me up so that you could drink and get laid. I saw you outside the cafe with the girl. That’s why I didn’t call you.”

Haechan softened in realization, understanding that he had fucked up more than he thought. Still, he kept riling you up. It was the only way you both would get answers.

“You went off to New York to fuck your ex,” Haechan reminded. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal that I got laid too.”

You exclaimed, “I didn’t want to go to New York!”

“Then, why the fuck did you?”

You ran your fingers through your hair. He was just so good at getting under your skin. You confessed morosely, “Because when I had sex with you, it felt like we were making love. I was in denial about loving you, because I didn’t want to take the risk of getting my heart broken again.”

Haechan wasn’t sure what he was expecting you to say, but it wasn’t that. He was positively stunned to silence.

“Jaehyun asked me a couple of weeks before that to come to New York. And I wasn’t going to, but I was conflicted. And you acted like you didn’t care, so,” you explained yourself rapidly. “I went there to see if I still loved him, but all I harbored when I got there was resentment.”

God, I am a fucking idiot, Haechan hissed to himself. He swore he wasn’t going to fuck this one up.

“Then, I started going out with Jeno, thinking I could get back at you while also proving to myself that I wasn’t in love,” you whispered. “But he wasn’t you. That was when I knew you’ve ruined me.”

“You’ve ruined me too,” Haechan said softly, approaching you a little further. “She’s not you. I want you to know that. I only hooked up with her because I was upset and I wanted to distract myself from you.”

You were silent. His words weren’t exactly comforting, but you were both finally being honest with each other. And yourselves.

Haechan grabbed your hand in his, locking eyes with yours. “I fucked up. I should’ve been here the first time, but I wasn’t.”

Your eyes watered and no matter how hard you blinked, you couldn’t battle the tears. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt about me going to New York? It would have mattered.”

“Because I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to control you,” Haechan replied, a well of regret and self-loathing. “I was trying to respect your decision.”

You chortled through your tears. “A gentleman to your core.”

Haechan shook his head, frowning. “In retrospect, there are so many things I could have done better. Maybe I was moving too fast for you, baby, and I’m sorry. I get a little overzealous.”

“Trust me, Haechan. You’re just the right amount of zealous.”

Haechan snickered. Leave it to you to make him laugh even during a moment like this.

Now that you both had cleared the air, you felt like there was a weight off your chest. You could understand each other and rationalize the other’s actions. You should have just talked a long time ago.

“I didn’t fuck Jeno,” you blurted. “Or my ex.”

Haechan hung his head. “I’m sorry for accusing you of that. And for not being honest about my feelings.”

“I forgive you,” you spoke softly. “I’m sorry for not calling you and for going out with your friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” Haechan said like he was repulsed. “You helped me see that, so I forgive you.”

Your lips broke into a grin when he wiped a tear from your eyes.

Haechan’s expression suddenly turned sober and he declared, “I wanna start over.”

“Haechanâ€¦,” you started.

He shushed you. “I’m not the easiest person to get to know but half of it is because nobody ever gives me a chance. People look at me and see what they want to see. They think they’ve got me all figured out.”

That was true. You knew it, because you had been one of those people. You got your heart broken by a fuckboy once and Haechan made it way too easy to assume he was the same.

“Even if I broke your heart, I wanna put it back together again,” Haechan continued. “Will you let me do that?”

God, your whole being was consumed by. The love you had for this boy was all-consuming. You just wanted to be with him for the rest of your life. “Yes. You already know I will.”

Haechan smiled triumphantly. All he knew was you. If he couldn’t have you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself.

“But I’m literally leaving for three months,” you reminded him, a frown on your face.

The reminder jolted Haechan back into reality, but he knew better than to ask you to stay. He knew you loved your work and he wouldn’t dare come between that bond. “You remember what I told you on our first date? About dating long distance?”

Your frown got bigger. “Yeah. That you didn’t know if you could make it work for me, but you would at least try.”

“I changed my mind,” Haechan told you, looking at you with all the love in the universe. “I don’t give a fuck what I have to do to make it work. I don’t care how hard I have to try. I love you and I’m willing to sacrifice everything for us.”

All you could do was stare into his eyes. Those three words made your head spin. He loved you. “Really?”

Haechan bobbed his head. “I’ll call you every day. I’ll text you good morning when I wake up and goodnight before I go to bed. But you have to meet me halfway.”

“I’ll meet you in the middle,” you said in a heartbeat. “I’ll text you every time I think about you. We can watch stupid romcoms then talk about them over the phone. I’ll call you and tell you how my days are going.”

“I want to hear all of it. The good days and the bad ones too. I wanna be there for you,” Haechan whispered tenderly.

“You can do all of that.”

“You promise?”

You nodded. “It’s gonna take some effort, butâ€¦ I know we can make us work. You just have to accept that I need space sometimes and I don’t always make sense.”

Haechan snorted. Like he didn’t already know that. “No offense, but I think we just had a crash course on that, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight it anymore and smashed your lips against his, bringing him in for a kiss. They called for passengers to board. Haechan’s hands were quick to grab your waist, holding you tight like he didn’t want to let you get on that plane. But he once heard that if you love someone, you’ll let them go. So, that was what he was going to do.

When you pulled back, Haechan said, “Promise when you get back we’re gonna watch a really cheesy movie together and dance to MJ.”

You chuckled, slipping your fingers through his and squeezing. “I’ll save the date.”

Haechan smiled, letting out a breath. “Bye, baby.”

“See you later,” you whispered, almost like you didn’t want to go. But you knew you would regret not getting on that plane. “I mean it this time.”

Haechan snorted. Finally, after exchanging one last kiss, he let you go.

He watched you slip away. There was a familiar feeling taut around his heart, but he toughed it out. You’re gone again, but that’s okay. Because this time, I know you’ll come back.

“I’ll wait for you,” Haechan whispered to himself, turning away once you were out of his sight.

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