#I do not have the nerves to send these things out without tracking

[osohchoso]

Shattered Ice

Chapter Four- Honey

Hockey player!Choso x F!reader, ex bf!Toji x F!reader

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Content: Naoya warning! harassment, rumors of sexual assault (it does not happen to you and isn't described!!) confrontation, new beginnings

“You look lost,�� His deep words startle you to your core. Here you are, alone and cornered. Your captor leans in close until his lips are centimeters from your ear, alcohol-tainted breath puffing against your skin. “What’s a pretty woman like you doing here all alone?” 

If you manage to make it home unscathed, Shoko better pray for her own safety.

“What…cat got your tongue?” He taunts you, his nails biting into your shoulder to keep you still. From where you are in the bar it is unlikely anyone can see your struggle, hidden away from the rest of the commotion. Maybe you could yell for help, loud enough to get Yu’s attention. Fear gets the better of you, your words getting caught in your throat and coming out as a strangled gasp, causing your attacker to let out a low chuckle. He’s getting off on your distress.  

You’re alone in this, practically defenseless. Nothing but you, the phone in your hand and a purse full of useless crap. There is no telling what he wants with you, you can only imagine the horrid scenarios based on what you have heard around campus. One thing is for sure, you are not going down without a fight. You tighten your grip on your phone as you prepare to strike. Spinning around and swinging the blunt object toward his head, it won't be very effective but may buy you enough time to escape.

He easily snatches your wrist with his other hand, a crushing grip that forces your fingers to recoil in pain and drop your phone to the hard floor below. You recognize the man before you, only one grade below you and a member of the hokey team. Piercings, blonde hair with the tips dyed dark green, confident smirk. He has a bad reputation around the school, someone all the girls know to avoid. Viper-like eyes track your every movement, watching his prey wither in his grasp.

“Useless,” He spits, looking down at your measly attempt at an attack. Your weapon of choice shattered on the floor below. Your chest heaving and heart racing as you realize you’re about to uncover if the rumors spread around KU are true.

“Zenin!” A booming male voice calls to him, steps growing louder as a third person joins the confrontation. “Time for you to leave.” The man continues sternly.

You recognize his scent before you even see him. A familiar combination of cigarettes and cloves, easing your nerves slightly. Arms crossed over his chest as he glares at the scene in front of him.

“Naoya, I said go” Choso raises his voice enough to send a chill racing down your spine, even though it wasn’t directed toward you in the slightest. Naoya finally releases your hand, irritated lines and half-moon indents decorate your wrist as evidence of his death hold. He casts you and Choso one last shifty glance before slinking away toward the bar exit. 

Choso returns his attention to you once your attacker is far away. His once fearsome gaze softened into something of worry as he looked you over. He tentatively reaches a hand toward yours but quickly retracted it to the confines of his pocket. 

“Are you okay?” He asks hesitantly even though he knows your answer. You were left trembling after the whole encounter, trying to put on a brave face after the fact. If it wasn’t for Choso, you could be in a very different situation right now.

“I’m fine,” you whisper hoarsely. He gives you a look that screams ‘I don't believe you’ but doesn’t try pushing further. Not wanting to add any more stress to the ordeal. You tug your sleeve down, covering the marks engraved into your skin that will certainly be bruises by tomorrow morning. “Just a little shaken up.” You lie through gritted teeth.

“Sorry about that” He bends down and picks your phone up off the floor, turning it over to reveal an intricate web of cracks stretching across the length of the black screen. He clicks the button on the side to test it, instead of your usual lock screen display, bright colors of green and red flash along the break lines. “Oh…it’s broken broken,” He powers it off and hands it back to you, and you tuck the worthless device inside your purse. 

“Your friend is an asshole” You huff, a crease forming between your brows. 

“He’s not my friend.” He huffs, glaring toward the door as if to check if Naoya actually left. “Just because we play on the same team doesn’t make us friends. You couldn’t pay me to be his friend.” He snorts. “But I’m still sorry about your phone,” He continued, a guilty look on his face as if he personally smashed the screen. 

“It’s fine, I can get a new one.” You dismiss the whole situation; it’s just a phone after all. It can be replaced easily. Tomorrow morning you can just call home using one of your roommate’s phones and ask your dad to send you a new one. The new model just came out a few months ago too, so it was time to upgrade anyways. Choso gives you an almost skeptical look as you act so nonchalantly about the damaged item. 

“You should report Naoya too. Treating girls like that is unacceptable, you did nothing to deserve that.”

“I will.” You won’t. None of the girls ever do. If just one of the girls he harassed confessed to the school staff, the man would have been kicked from the team by now. Possibly even from the University, losing his scholarship and disgracing the Zenin name. But no one ever does. Even though it can be reported anonymously, many still fear what consequences could arise if Naoya found out who reported him. 

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be going home by now?” He takes a step closer to you, attempting to scan the dwindling bar patrons for Suguru or Shoko. 

“It’s no use. They left me…again!” You let out a loud sigh. Not only did they leave you alone in a bar full of drunk college men, but now you are stuck with an unusable phone leaving you with no way of calling a ride back to the dorms. The bar isn’t that far from campus, but that is by car. Walking from here to the dorms would take forever, not to mention how dangerous it would be to go alone.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride again…just don’t make this a habit,” Choso teases with a goofy smirk, attempting to lighten the mood. And how could you say no to his offer? Riding in his beat-up car was clearly the better and safer option. 

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You follow him out into the parking lot, immediately spying the rusty black car you rode in once before. He wraps his hand around the passenger door handle and yanks it open, the door screeching as it protests the movement. 

“Are you sure you can drive?” You ask as your eyes look him up and down, searching for any sign of intoxication. 

“Don’t worry about it, I really only had the one beer you bought me and that was a while ago. I’m sober.” He was telling the truth. Once your legs are inside the car, he closes the door with a heavy shove. The car smelled just like him, along with the lingering smell of his sweat emanating from the hockey bag resting in the back seat. 

He settles into the driver's seat and starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot. An awkward silence falls over you, the air feeling thick and overbearing. How do you keep ending up in these situations with him?

The tension feels suffocating, and it's only been a few minutes. Your fingers frantically click the window switch on the interior of the door, needing to feel a cool puff of air on your face.

“Mmm sorry,” Choso hums without taking his eyes off the road. “Passenger window doesn't work; is it too warm in here?” He reaches his right hand forward to adjust the temperature to something cooler. It’s not much but the little difference seems to help. You mutter a hushed ‘thanks’ under your breath.

More silence. What should only be a 10 minute car ride is stretched out to 10 years. Hitting every stoplight possible on the way back to campus. 

Choso turns to look at you, the red light illuminating the left side of his face within the darkness of the night. Through the vibrant neon glow, you see his dark eyes narrowing as he studies your face.

“Mind telling me why you have been avoiding me for the past week?” His words suck the life out of you, so he has noticed. You had hoped he wasn’t perceptive enough to catch the subtle details, maybe seeing it as you not noticing him versus flat-out ignoring him. The quiet ones always notice everything.

“I wasn’t–” He cuts you off by saying your name, drawing each syllable out in a plea. 

“It isn’t nice to lie,” He juts his bottom lip out in an adorable pout, putting an act on to be offended. His skin bathed in a green hue as the stoplight changes, yet he refuses to move. Continuing to pout and stare in your eyes until the car behind blares their horn, forcing his focus back on the road.

“Don’t tell me…is this about that stupid party?” His face is less animated now, the usual unreadable expression in place as he continues to drive.

“Yeah” You admit quietly. 

“Seriously? It wasn’t that bad.” You open your mouth to object but he continues speaking, drowning out your protests. “Can we just start over? Forget about the whole thing and move on?” It did sound appealing and would make this project less stressful if the two of you could work together like you are meant to. 

“I thought after that night we could have became friends at least,” He whispers quietly as he pulls into the parking lot of your dorm. You just barely catch it, but you see a frown on his face. Nothing like the fake dramatic pout he was wearing earlier, a genuinely sad look that tugs at your heart strings. Maybe you have been overreacting a little. Besides, like Yu said earlier, it’s college. Who hasn’t gotten a little too crazy at a party?

He finds a spot to park close to the entrance. You unbuckle and shift in your seat to look at him.

“Sure, let’s start over. My name is Y/N, I’m your partner in public speaking. It’s nice to meet you.” You stick your hand out like this is a formal introduction, pretending to meet him for the first time. He lets out a small chuckle, his frown twitching into a tiny smile as he takes your hand and plays along. His calloused hand wrapping firmly around yours, the heat from his palm radiating into your own.

“Nice to meet you, Miss. My name is Choso Kamo, and I look forward to working with you this semester.” He shakes your hand, thoroughly enjoying following the bit. When you both release the handshake, he gazes down at his hand that was just touching yours, the black painted nail of his index finger scraping at the already chipped polish on his thumb. “Would it be too much to ask my partner to sit next to me during class?” How can someone so confident on the ice be so nervous to ask something as simple as that.

“Of course I can sit with you, Choso” You assure him softly, watching as a flicker of something flashes across his face. Hope? Appreciation? 

“Great…we should plan a day to start brainstorming ideas then. I need to check my practice schedule first but other than that and the games I’m pretty free. I can just text you–” He trails off, remembering how your phone is currently out of commission. You know it will get replaced asap but it could still take a few days, and it sounds like Choso wants to start this project sooner rather than later. 

“You have discord, right? Just message me there and we can set up a day to start.” He nods his head, confirming he does use the app. You open your purse, digging around for something he can write his username on. No paper or receipts, darn you for actually cleaning your purse out for once, the only suitable object you find is a single wrapped piece of gum you had stashed away for emergencies. You pull it out, removing the silver wrapping and holding the rectangle in front of Choso’s lips. He looks at you confused before gingerly grabbing the gum by his teeth and pulling it inside his mouth. 

“Write your username, I’ll add you tomorrow.” You instruct, holding out a red gel pen. He grabs both items and sets the paper on the center console, pen hovering over it. He chews the gum, lost in thought. 

“Don’t laugh,” He blushes lightly as the pen scrawls across the small paper. “I made my account in middle school and I don’t use it very much, so it has a cringy username.” 

“Ok, I promise.” You smile. He hands it over, the neat red lettering spelling out: BL00D_3DG3. You bite your lip; it definitely wasn't what you were expecting. He notices your internal struggle and lets his own laugh slide out.

“I know, it’s bad. I thought I was soo cool at the time. I’ll change it eventually.” He picks at his chipped nail polish again.

“No, keep it. I like it.” You flash a bright smile his way. As silly as it was, it was definitely unique. It makes you sort of nostalgic for those days when everyone had random nonsense usernames in place of the now professional and generic first name-last name combos. 

“Sure, but just for you,” he huffs. 

“Goodnight.” you tell him, pushing on the door hard. It doesn't budge, just like before.

“Gotta be rough on it.” He tells you as he leans over, shoving the door forcefully. “Goodnight.” He echos. You stand from the car, noticing the way his eyes linger on your wrists. You hadn’t realized the sleeve had started to ride up, you pull it back into place. Hopefully fast enough that he didn't notice the marks left from the earlier encounter. 

After you slam the door with a loud bang, which he insisted was the only way to close it, you turn to walk to your dorm. Pausing to turn and wave before stepping foot inside, noticing him wave back in response and how he refused to drive away until you were tucked away safely inside. 

⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .

You heard it first from Satoru, who you guarantee heard from Suguru and was told not to tell a soul. Satoru knew better, but he also knew not to keep the juicy secrets away from you. But this one was a shock.

Naoya Zenin, dropped from the hockey team and awaiting disciplinary action from Kaisen University. Rumors say someone finally brought attention to his heinous deeds, and the school is thankfully taking it very seriously. Some schools might sweep it under the rug, claiming he's a ‘good student’ who made a ‘mistake’ just to keep another great player on the hockey team. Only two days after your own incident with him too. 

It makes you wonder what poor girl finally was brave enough to confront the school's higher-ups. Whoever it was, you were thankful. With that nuisance out of the picture the school will become a more peaceful place.

Satoru claims that Naoya will end up being suspended with no chance of ever being admitted back to KU. He will likely get blacklisted from every other school in a 100-mile radius too, his reputation will be ruined like he deserves. Though, with your information on the Zenin family, you know they will try to fight it. Thankfully Naoya isn’t allowed to even be on campus until the verdict of his investigation is complete. Meaning you, and all the other girls involved, can rest a little easier.

Even if somehow he is found innocent, Coach Yaga has already made a statement saying he will not be welcome back to the team. Claiming that he won't allow players to tarnish the reputation of the KU curses, the team has worked so hard to get where they are, he won't allow one bad egg to spoil the bunch.

With the sudden departure of Naoya, the team is down one player. His absence leaves a huge hole in the team and so early into the season. Sundays are normally a big practice day as the students have no other obligations like classes, but today was different. Coach Yaga canceled today’s practice to hold emergency tryouts for Naoya’s replacement. Team Captain Sukuna, along with the other seniors, are currently sitting alongside their coach as various students attempt to fill the missing spot. All the underclassmen were given the day off today.

Meaning today was the perfect day for you and Choso to work on the project. 

You don’t know what possessed you but you decided to dress a little nicer than the usual study session with friends. Pulling on your favorite light wash jeans and a long sleeve top, looking cute but still managing to pull off a casual vibe. Your greatest assets on display.

You opened the drawers of the vanity in your bedroom, trying to locate the finishing touch of your outfit. Your favorite perfume. It was an expensive one too, a gift from your roommates on your last birthday. Even though they didn’t have to, they pooled their money together to buy it. Knowing the addicting aroma was one of your favorites. They even wrote cute birthday wishes in sharpie on the back of the bottle. Guilt swirls in your stomach when you can’t find it. Not even a memory of the last time you saw it.

Shoko calls your name loudly from the living room, getting your attention all the way in your bedroom. You quickly grab the closest perfume and apply a few spritz, smelling of honey and magnolias.

“Pigtails is here!!” She shouts at the tops of her lungs. Does she not realize he can probably hear her yelling through the thin door of the dorm? Is she asking for another scolding from you?

The second you made it home Friday night, you woke her from her dead sleep to reprimand her for abandoning you, yet again. After you explained the ordeal with Naoya, you could see the guilt in her eyes. Already blaming herself, if she had stayed with you he likely would have never even approached. By the time Utahime unleashed her wrath, Shoko was begging for forgiveness and making promises to be glued to your hip until graduation. 

“Shoko! Keep your voice down, I bet he can–” Oh, he definitely heard. Your roommate had already let him in, Choso now standing in the middle of the room, hands shoved in his pockets as he looks around the dorm. It always felt weird to see the hockey boys out of their jerseys, but Choso proved to look breathtaking no matter what he wore. Black leather boots, cuffed jeans and a faded gray band-tee. His bare arms showing even with the cold weather today, how was he not freezing?

“Ignore her, follow me,” You lead him down the hallway toward your room, away from the nosy stares of Shoko. Once inside, you shut the door behind him, just in case your roommate tried to come bother you again. You notice how he examines the room, taking in your choice of decor that perfectly reflects your personality. He still hasn’t said anything since stepping foot inside your space, just observing everything with that blank expression of his.

“Look!” You grab your shiny new phone from the bedside table, waving it in the air. “It came!” You told your family the next day, leaving out the reason for how it ended up breaking, and your dad expedited the newest model to your place right away. It arrived first thing this morning. Thankfully, you were able to recover all your data too. Losing all your pictures would be devastating but having to go through and enter everyone’s contact again would be torture. 

“I still need your number though,” you admit. You were given his contact information when he was assigned as your class partner, but you never added him during your avoidance phase. 

“Great, now you don’t have to see my stupid discord name.” He smirks slightly.

“Not if I change your contact to blood edge,” you tease, swiping across the still-default lock screen and navigating to the contacts app. 

“Not allowed,” he reaches forward and snatches it from your grasp, a playful laugh following the last syllable. He walks across the room, nose buried in your phone as he types in his number and name. When he hands it back you notice his contact name set simply to ‘Cho’.

“We should get started,” he reminds you, walking back across the room to retrieve his laptop from the bag he brought. He lowers himself to the floor at the foot of the bed, back leaning against it as he opens a blank document. You walk across the room to grab your own laptop off the desk and join him on the ground.

“I guess the first thing we need to do is decide on the topic,” You tap your nail on the laptop as you think, the professor wants a speech on a topic both of you are passionate about. Hockey seems like the obvious answer, something you enjoy watching and Choso has hands-on experience with. But something about the conversation you had with him in the alley the other night stops you from suggesting it.

You glance over at him. His eyes forward as he stares at the blank white page, lost in thought. What could you two have in common? Now that you think about it, you don't know much at all about the man next to you. Nothing other than the fact that he is a goalie and majoring in biology.

“Tell me something about yourself,” You close your laptop and turn your body to face him fully, giving him your complete attention.

“Like what?” 

“I don't know, anything really. What are your hobbies? What is something important to you? What makes you, you?” You reach forward and poke his chest, right over his heart. He flinches slightly at the touch and looks away, gathering his thoughts and calming the heat that begins to rise in his cheeks. 

“Family, family is important to me.” He begins when he turns to face you again. You nod, beckoning him to continue.

“Things haven't always been easy for us, but we have each other. I have three younger brothers. Eso is a senior in high school and Kechizu is a freshman this year. Our baby brother, Yuji, just started his first year of elementary school.” You notice the warm smile that grows across Choso’s face as he speaks fondly about his siblings. A real smile that he doesn’t even attempt to hide. “I would do anything for them, they mean everything to me.”

“Our parents passed shortly after Yuji’s birth, and we started living with our grandfather. Well, technically he’s only Yuji’s grandfather since we are just half-siblings. Still, he treats us all like his own grandkids, raising us to be men who help others. I hope one day I can make him proud.” Bit by bit, you are starting to uncover the story of Choso Kamo.

“I’m sure you will,” you add softly. He may seem a little rough around the edges, but deep down, Choso is proving to be a real softie. Someone who always puts others before himself. 

“Right…” He trails off, sounding a little embarrassed. “Well, we can’t give a whole presentation about my family, let's brainstorm some real ideas.” He puts himself back into business mode.

The next hour is spent creating a list of various topics, writing down anything and everything that comes to mind. The goal is to find a topic that will have enough content to create a lengthy speech. You come up with the idea to turn it into a persuasive argument, using this project to talk about a social issue or relevant world news. 

Choso surprised you by wanting to talk about the need for better public safety on campus, bringing up the point that there are still creeps like Naoya out there that will prey on unsuspecting victims. While you agree with his stance greatly, you turn him down. If the Zenin family caught wind of this, and you know they have their ways, they would stop at nothing to slander both you and Choso’s names.

As much as you were starting to enjoy your time with him, it was taking forever, neither of you could find a topic you could both agree on. Choso’s eyelids start to get a little heavier, yawning every couple of minutes. 

“Mmm…you smell nice.” He states shamelessly, his nostrils twitching. “Sweet…like honey.” Does he even realize what he just said out loud?

Wait…honey.

“I've got it!” You exclaim suddenly, causing Choso to jolt from his sleepy state, looking at you startled. “Bees Choso! Let's talk about the importance of bees!” It takes him a moment to register the thought, but he chuckles at your enthusiasm once he processes it.

“Sure, why not? I like bees.” There would certainly be enough information the two of you could research on the subject. Explaining what life would be like if they went extinct and advocating ways to preserve their numbers. “It’s decided then, I think that's enough work for one day. My brain is fried.” Choso shuts his laptop and stands up. 

“Oh! Before you go,” You stand up as well, moving to the stool in front of the bedroom vanity across the room. Resting on top of the cushion is a neatly folded gray hoodie, cleaned and waiting to return to its rightful owner. “Here” You toss it his way, which he easily catches from the air. 

“Thanks, I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He practically groans at the thought.

“What? Not excited to sit next to me?” You tease in response. He quickly shakes his head.

“It’s not you, it’s the class. I’m not very good with the whole…speaking in front of others.” His words get quieter, mouse-like, as he explains. 

It all makes sense now. The reason he looked so upset when he left the counselor’s office with the schedule change. Why he appeared so fidgety during the lecture, the poor guy has a fear of public speaking.

“It's not that hard, I’ll help you,” You offer a kind smile. “Besides, haven't you heard all you gotta do is imagine everyone in their underwear.”

His face immediately flushes bright red at the last comment. His amber eyes frantically tracing the outline of your body, lingering a few seconds too long in certain places. He clutches the hoodie a little harder, knuckles turning white, until it finally dawns on him how hard he was staring.

“Uh…right…” His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. “I uh…I gotta go. Bye!” He dashes out the door at incredible speed.

“Um…see you tomorrow then.” You call to him awkwardly. Had he never heard that phrase before? Did it make him uncomfortable? Turning around you realize he left in such a hurry that he left his laptop and backpack sitting on the floor. 

What a dummy. 

A few hours later, your phone rings. You're assuming it’s Choso finally realizing what he left behind. You unlock it, not even bothering to check the caller ID, and answer the call.

“Forgot something?” You tease in a sing-song voice.

“No, but you did.” Oh fuck. “What? Were you expecting someone else, princess? I didn’t peg you as someone to move on so fast.”

Toji. You should have listened to Shoko and blocked.

“I don’t want to talk to you, you know this.” You practically growl. 

“Yeah, I know. But you have been ignoring all my texts, I had to reach you somehow. You still have things over at my place, I thought you might want to come collect them.” He rattles off a list of items that were either replaceable or you exactly didn’t care if you ever saw again. All except your missing perfume. An irreplaceable gift left behind when you rushed out his door.

Checkmate.

“Fine. I’ll find a way to come get them,” you agree reluctantly. “And then we are done, I don’t want to hear from you ever again after that.” You hear him let out a low chuckle through the line.

“See you soon, beautiful”

dividers by @thyming PNGs by @thepngpixie

Taglist:  @v1x3n @lavenderdaydream97 @simplyraeblue @huang-the-geek @sodapop182 @angel04-01

A/N: Stayed up late last night working on a surprise bonus chapter! I'll be uploading that later this week!

[zhalfirin]

Bionic Battle Granny - ozhawk

These books were part of the Renegady Publishing Tiny Books Bang 2023 event

The typeset was provided by @claudeng80 The story was written by @ozhawkauthor, check out their work!

Full leather binding with leather onlays in clamshell box. case materials binders board 1,5 (case) different leathers, goatskin, (covering material) heat reactive foil, blue (hot stamped title) blind tooled author name

inner book Munken polar 100gsm (book body) @renato-crepaldi marbled paper (endpapers) wibalin (second fly leaf, tipped on the first) button hole silk (endbands)

clamshell box binders board 1 and 1,5 (boxes and case) uncoated blue book cloth (covering material case) @renato-crepaldi marbled paper (covering material boxes) heat reactive foil, cream (hot stamped title)

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie loved flying. When the sun was out and he could watch the cars and houses get smaller while they reached altitude. When everything felt a bit lighter and his stress was under the clouds.

He did not love flying when the weather was bad.

In fact, he’d joked with the flight attendant that maybe they should delay the flight until the wind and dark clouds passed, but she just laughed and said the pilots were used to it.

Good for them. Eddie wasn’t.

He always sat in the window seat in first class, usually had some old businessman on his way to close a very important deal next to him. That wasn’t an option for this last minute flight though, so he was in the last row of the plane, leg bouncing nervously as people continued to board.

“As a courtesy to those around you, please stow your personal items under the seat in front of you as soon as you are in your seat. This allows a faster boarding process for all of us. Thank you!”

The announcement was a reminder that Eddie was flying without his usual carry-on items. His tour manager had packed him a checked bag and sent him on his way.

So he had his phone and his wallet, and eyes looking out the window next to him watching rain start to hit the tarmac below.

“Excuse me, I think that’s my seat,” a man’s voice said from the aisle.

Eddie looked over and saw a long line of men roughly his age in matching track suits, backpacks over their shoulders, and the Notre Dame logo on their jackets.

They were all tall. Well, all except the guy talking to him now. He was pretty average size.

“Uh. I don’t think so man. I’m 36F,” Eddie answered as kindly as his nerves would allow.

The guy checked his phone, brows creasing together.

“I’m 36F.”

No fucking way was Eddie giving up his window seat.

“Is there a problem?” A flight attendant asked from behind them.

“We’re both supposed to be in 36F?” The guy held his phone towards the attendant.

“May I see your boarding pass, sir?” The attendant asked Eddie.

Eddie pulled his own phone out, holding out the mobile boarding pass for her to see it.

“Sorry sir, it looks like you should be in 36E.”

Oh no.

Oh god no.

A middle seat?

There was no fucking way.

“I’m sorry, would it be at all possible for me to be in a window seat?” Eddie didn’t want to cause problems, but his chest was starting to clench and his breaths were coming in short pants.

“Unfortunately, this is a sold out flight. We wouldn’t have any available for you.”

He could feel eyes on him, quite a few of them, but none as obvious as the guy who actually belonged in 36F.

“We can just switch, man. No big deal.”

Eddie sighed with relief.

“Thank you, yeah. That’d be great.”

The attendant nodded and gestured for the guy to sit down.

Someone behind him sat on his other side and they immediately started talking as if nothing had happened.

See? Eddie had actually done them a favor! Now he could talk to his teammate for whatever sport he played and Eddie could watch their impending demise through the window.

The plane was rocking back and forth from the force of the wind blowing outside and the sky continued to grow darker despite the early afternoon hour. Eddie was considering sending a goodbye text to his band when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you okay?”

Eddie’s eyes widened as he turned to look at the guy next to him.

“Do you normally get nervous when you fly? Or is this your first time?” He continued. “Sometimes it helps to just close your eyes during takeoff.”

It was kind of him to try this, truly, but Eddie knew kindness wouldn’t save them if lightning hit them.

“I’m just not a fan of storms.”

The guy was watching him while his teammate on the other side of him talked to the guys across the aisle. Eddie was surrounded by this entire team. The irony was not lost on him that he spent so much of his youth expressing disdain for sports ball and might die among a group of sports ball players.

“Steve.” The guy nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s instead of offering his hand, an odd thing to do but the contact was grounding.

“Eddie.”

“You wanna hold my hand?”

Did they already die during takeoff? Did Eddie somehow end up in heaven?

This very attractive man, who definitely didn’t even know who Eddie was, was offering comfort in these trying times. Offering to hold his hand!

“Uh.”

Steve smiled. “It’s okay if not, but I figured it might help you focus on something else.”

“Sure.”

Steve held his hand out, palm up, and Eddie laced their fingers together.

“So, Eddie. Tell me where you’re off to.”

Eddie breathed in, breathed out. “My Uncle. He’s getting his appendix out so I’m trying to get there before he wakes up.”

“Oh. I had mine out when I was 10! Is he okay?” Steve seemed genuinely concerned and Eddie felt his stomach swoop.

“Yeah! Yeah, they caught it before it ruptured. But because of his age, they said his recovery might be a little rough so I’m gonna stay with him for a week to make sure he doesn’t overdo it. He’s a stubborn old man who’d probably be pulling weeds from his garden within hours if I wasn’t going so.” Eddie looked back out the window. Fingers reached under his chin, turning him away from the window.

“Eyes on me.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Eddie nodded and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Good.”

Fuck.

“So, you’re close with your uncle?” Steve asked, as if he hadn’t just turned Eddie’s entire world upside down.

“Mhm. He basically raised me. More like a dad,” Eddie whispered out.

The pilot was making an announcement, but you couldn’t pay Eddie to tell you what it was for. He barely even noticed that they were backing away from the boarding zone.

“Do you visit him often?”

“As often as I can. My job keeps me busy,” Eddie shrugged, not really wanting to give it away, didn’t wanna give Steve a reason to look at him differently.

Eddie was gonna soak up this attention as long as he could.

It was actually helping distract him.

“I get that. I mean, I play basketball for Notre Dame and it basically is a full time job. We travel so much, most of my classes are online. I hardly ever get back home to visit my family,” Steve admitted with a sad smile. “Luckily, they come see me at my home games when they can. Does your uncle get to visit you sometimes?”

Just as Eddie went to answer, he caught lightning out of the corner of his eye and his entire body tensed.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was firm, drawing his attention away from the window quickly. “Keep your eyes on me. We’re fine. Just you and me talking right now.”

They were nearly at the runway for takeoff and it was getting harder to focus on Steve’s words, the warmth of his hand in his, the fact that if it were truly dangerous, they wouldn’t even be cleared for takeoff.

As the plane sped up, Eddie whimpered.

He’d be embarrassed later if he survived.

Steve’s hand pulled from his and wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him against his side while his other hand cupped the back of his head and kept his face against his chest.

“Just breathe. I’ve got ya.”

And really, if the plane went down in flames, no one could save them. But hearing it did help, especially with arms holding him so tightly, he almost didn’t even remember he was on a plane.

But not quite.

The wind was strong enough to make the takeoff rough, shaking the plane more than usual as it left the ground.

Eddie’s hand gripped Steve’s shirt so tight, he would probably cause a tear if his nails weren’t so dull.

He stayed like that while they continued to climb above the clouds, the air pockets making the flight a bit more turbulent than Eddie was okay with.

He felt the vibrations of Steve talking, but didn’t hear him, didn’t even know if he was talking to him or the guy next to him who probably thought Eddie was an idiot.

The pilot made an announcement he didn’t hear, but he figured if he was gonna die, he could die against the chest of a nice, hot guy.

“Worst of it’s almost done, babe,” Steve said, lips against the top of Eddie’s head.

Gareth would never stop teasing him about this if he ever found out.

Being consoled by a sports ball guy during a flight he’s taken at least 30 times in the last two years.

New low? Maybe new high if he managed to get his number.

Steve’s fingers played with his hair, and he slowly felt his body relax.

His last thought before drifting asleep was how nice it was to be held like this.

***

“I think he’s probably a cookie guy.”

Eddie’s eyes blinked open to Steve’s voice quietly rumbling in his ear.

He’d been adjusted at some point so his head rested on Steve’s shoulder, one hand against his chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time he fell asleep on a flight. Maybe the last time they flew to London from LA right after a show?

And those had been perfect flying conditions.

He lifted his head as he rubbed at his eyes and tried not to let the butterflies take over when Steve’s hand squeezed his hip.

“Hey sleepyhead. You want cookies or pretzels?”

“Cookies always. Please.” Eddie yawned.

As he took the package of Biscoff cookies, he noticed how smooth the flight was and the sun shining through the window.

Steve’s arm stayed around him.

The entire flight.

Even after he’d gotten up to use the restroom.

Even when there was no real reason to offer him comfort anymore.

Even when they landed on the runway in Indianapolis and the seatbelt light turned off.

Even while they talked to each other the entire flight, sharing the smallest details about themselves as if it was a first date.

“Would it be okay if I get your number? I’d like to check on your uncle later if that’s okay,” Steve asked, suddenly seeming more nervous than he had the entire flight.

I’m “Yes! Yeah, please,” he quickly typed it into Steve’s phone, putting his name as Eddie M 🛫. “Uh, thanks for, ya know, helping. Kind of embarrassing.”

“No reason to be embarrassed. It was scary.”

“Yeah. I just figured I fly so much, I should be used to it.”

“You never told me what your job was,” Steve nudged him as he pocketed his phone.

“I didn’t.” Eddie almost didn’t wanna ruin this. But he’d figure it out or find out and then it’d be worse. “I’m the lead singer for Corroded Coffin.”

“Is that…a famous band?”

The guy on the other side of Steve smacked his shoulder. “Dude, one of their songs is on our locker room hype playlist. Dustin’s obsessed.”

“Shut up, Lucas. You know I have my own playlist!” Steve turned back to Eddie and rolled his eyes. “Sorry. So you’re like famous.”

“You could say that,” Eddie hated saying it though, at least in these situations. “You really didn’t know?”

“Nah. I’m more of a pop and 80s kinda guy.”

“Maybe you could send me a playlist? Ya know, when you check on my uncle later,” Eddie suggested.

“Sure. I’ve got a two and a half hour bus ride back to campus to work on one.” Steve smirked. “You gonna be alright now?”

“Yeah. Thanks again. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime. Anything you need.”

And Eddie was pretty sure he meant it.

[fioredeciliego]

Hell of a Ride (Wish there was a Car) - Karina x Fem!Reader

Be warned, there is smut 15k words

The jungle was thick with the midday sun, beads of sweat trailing down your neck as you trudged after Jimin. She seemed oddly serene, picking her way through dense vegetation with a kind of breezy confidence that only made you feel more uneasy. Each step away from any familiar landmark left you feeling more lost, yet Jimin seemed entirely unbothered. As she led the way, her hand brushed against a massive fern, sending droplets of morning dew sprinkling through the air.

“Are you really sure this is the right path?” you asked, trying to sound calm but unable to mask the tension in your voice. You’d lost track of how many times you’d already asked, but this time, you hoped she’d finally admit they might be heading in the wrong direction.

Jimin turned and flashed you her signature grin. “Totally sure. It’s just… a scenic route,” she said, her tone a little too carefree.

“A scenic route,” you repeated flatly, your eyes scanning the endless sea of green surrounding you. The air was thick and still, with only the occasional call of a distant bird breaking the silence. “You mean the path where we haven’t seen another soul in hours?”

“Exactly!” She laughed, nudging you with her elbow as if the whole thing was a harmless joke. “You’ll thank me later when we’re out of here with the best story to tell. How many people can say they’ve been ‘lost’ in the jungle? This is the kind of story people want to hear!”

An uncomfortable laugh escaped you, though it was more a reflex than actual amusement. “Lost isn’t exactly the word I��d use. We’re… stranded, Jimin.”

Jimin chuckled, apparently amused by your escalating nerves. “Stranded? That’s such a strong word! We’re just… wandering with a purpose. Besides, we’ve got food, water, even a little signal now and then. We’re fine.”

Frustration bubbled up in your chest, the tension reaching a breaking point. “Jimin, wandering with a purpose only works if you actually have a direction. We’re just walking aimlessly!”

She stopped, finally looking you in the eyes, her smile faltering as she registered the worry in your face. Her voice softened. “Okay, okay. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Worst case, we’ll just retrace our steps.”

“Retrace our steps? Do you even remember the way we came?” you pressed, crossing your arms as you took in the pathless jungle surrounding you both. “I don’t think ‘back’ is even a possibility anymore.”

Jimin hesitated, glancing over her shoulder with a thoughtful expression, and you could tell she was trying to play it off. But it was painfully clear she hadn’t been paying attention to the way they’d come. She shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Well, it’s not like we’re out here without resources. We’ve got plenty of daylight, food, and I’ll get us back to where we started.”

You sighed, exasperation lacing your words. “Jimin, this isn’t a movie. We don’t have some magical compass that’s going to lead us to safety. This is real. And it’s dangerous.”

Jimin’s face softened, and for a second, she almost looked apologetic. She took a tentative step closer, reaching out as if she wanted to comfort you. “Hey, I get it. I do. But… maybe this could be a fun experience. Something we’ll laugh about later?” Her eyes sparkled, an optimistic light that seemed wildly out of place in the suffocating jungle.

“A fun experience?” you asked, unable to hide the mix of irritation and worry. “This isn’t a weekend trip to the beach. We’re in the jungle, miles from any kind of help.”

Jimin looked down at her feet, a sheepish expression crossing her face. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I wasn’t… thinking it through. But look, we’re here now, and I’ll make sure we get back. Worst case, we’ll head in one direction and keep going until we find a trail.”

“Assuming that actually works,” you muttered, scanning the tangled undergrowth with skepticism. The sheer volume of plants and trees was overwhelming, every corner of the jungle looking like an endless mirror of the last.

Jimin reached out, gently brushing a leaf off your shoulder with a smile. “Hey, at least we’ve got a good view, right?” she joked, gesturing to the towering trees and vibrant green around you. “This isn’t just any regular adventure. It’s, like… a private jungle getaway. Just the two of us.”

“A private jungle getaway?” you repeated, the disbelief clear in your voice. “Are you seriously calling this a romantic outing? We’re lost, Jimin.”

She tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Come on, just go with it! Imagine it’s like… a spontaneous date, complete with the best ambiance nature has to offer. You and me, lost in paradise… don’t you think it’s kind of nice?”

You let out an exasperated huff, though you couldn’t deny the flicker of warmth her words stirred. “I don’t think you get it. This isn’t some fun little escapade, Jimin. We’re actually stuck, and there’s a good chance we won’t get out of here by nightfall.”

She held up her hands defensively, a guilty smile creeping onto her face. “Okay, fair point. Maybe I’m downplaying things a little. But hey, I’ve been camping before. I’ve got some survival skills,” she said, attempting a confident grin.

“Oh, great. So you know how to toast marshmallows? That’ll really save us,” you replied dryly, though her attempt at humor brought a reluctant smile to your face.

Jimin laughed, a genuine sound that cut through the tension for a moment. She reached out and ruffled your hair affectionately, a teasing smile on her lips. “I know, I know. I’ll be serious. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any sign of a trail. Just don’t worry too much. I’ve got you.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked away, the worry still a tight knot in your stomach, but her sincerity softened your anger a little. Jimin’s confidence might be misplaced, but it was hard to stay completely mad at her when she looked so earnest. Maybe she didn’t understand the full weight of the situation, but there was no denying she genuinely cared.

“Fine,” you said, giving in with a reluctant smile. “But no more detours, okay? We’re sticking to whatever you think is the straightest path out of here.”

She gave a little salute, her expression brightening. “Yes, ma’am. No more detours.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hide a small smile as you followed her through the undergrowth, her confident strides taking her forward with a purpose you weren’t sure she actually had. Her energy was reassuring, even if misplaced.

--

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the jungle, transforming the trees into towering green pillars and the undergrowth into a vibrant tapestry. You and Jimin finally emerged into a small clearing, a brief break in the dense foliage that gave you both a moment to breathe. Though neither of you would admit it, you were both hoping it meant you were finally headed in the right direction.

Jimin, of course, was still trying to appear as confident as ever, even though you’d caught her glancing over her shoulder more than a few times as if she were second-guessing herself. She wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead, hands on her hips as she surveyed the area. “Alright,” she declared, as if she’d just led you on a great expedition, “I think we’re back on track.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. “You think we’re back on track?”

“Hey, I’m pretty sure,” Jimin replied, shrugging. She flashed you a lopsided grin, her confidence radiating even though it seemed clear she was mostly guessing. “Besides, you don’t see anyone else here with a map, right?”

“Yeah, because we don’t have a map,” you pointed out, unable to keep a small laugh from slipping out. Jimin’s misplaced confidence was somehow endearing, even though you still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

Ignoring your tone, Jimin gestured forward with a flourish, as if presenting a path only she could see. “Look, I know it seems like we’re lost, but trust me. We’re not,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

You glanced around the clearing, squinting into the dense underbrush, trying to find any indication of where you’d come from. “Okay, well, if you’re so sure, let’s try heading back the way we came, alright?”

Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. “Easy! Just follow me.”

But as she took a confident step forward, her boot caught on an exposed root hidden beneath a layer of leaves. With a startled yelp, Jimin stumbled forward, reaching out instinctively for balance. Unfortunately, you happened to be right in her path, and before you could even react, she grabbed onto your arm, pulling you down with her.

You both hit the ground with a soft thud, leaves crunching beneath you. Jimin landed partially on top of you, her weight pinning you down for a moment. A shocked silence hung between you both as you registered the tangle of limbs, your faces just inches apart. She blinked, eyes wide with embarrassment, her cheeks flushing as she quickly scrambled off of you.

“Oh my god—I’m so sorry!” she sputtered, cheeks flushed as she tried to brush the dirt off herself. “Are you okay?”

You groaned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you brushed a few stray leaves from your hair. “I think I’m fine. But maybe let’s leave the dramatic falls to the action movies, yeah?”

Jimin let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Guess I got a little overzealous there. Sorry for, you know, tackling you.”

Despite the dirt and the sting of impact, you found yourself laughing, the sound surprising both of you. Jimin looked at you, wide-eyed and slightly taken aback.

“Wait, are you… laughing at me?” she asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

You shook your head, but the laughter only bubbled up more. “No, no, I’m just laughing at… the situation. Here we are, ‘retracing our steps,’ only to end up face-first in the dirt. It’s… fitting, somehow.”

Jimin’s lips curled into a reluctant smile, and soon she was laughing too, her soft giggles filling the clearing. “Alright, alright. So maybe I’m not the best at leading us through the jungle. But look, I’m keeping things interesting, aren’t I?”

“Interesting is one way to put it,” you replied, still smiling as you pushed yourself up and brushed the dirt from your clothes. “I mean, there’s never a dull moment with you around.”

She grinned, giving you a mock salute. “Glad to be of service. Now, let’s try this again… maybe without the acrobatics this time.”

Standing side by side in the clearing, you both took a moment to reassess your situation. Jimin straightened her shoulders, attempting to take on a serious, determined expression as she glanced around, as if searching for any sign of the way forward.

“So,” she began, looking around with a touch of genuine uncertainty, “since we’re clearly both experts in navigation, why don’t we try to divide up what we’re carrying? If we’re going to find our way back, we should at least make sure we’re both prepared for anything.”

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of planning. “Good idea. Let’s take stock of what we’ve got.” Together, you emptied out the few supplies you had between the two of you: a half-full water bottle, a granola bar, a small flashlight with a barely-charged battery, and a few other random items neither of you had expected to need in the middle of a jungle.

Jimin eyed the meager supplies, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “So, you carry the flashlight and water, and I’ll hold onto the snacks. That way, if we get tired, I can give you a pep talk with food,” she joked, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes but handed her the granola bar, trying not to let your growing worry show too much. “Just don’t eat it all yourself. We might need it if we’re still out here for a while.”

Her smile softened as she looked over at you, her expression unexpectedly gentle. “Hey, don’t worry too much. I promise I’ll get us out of here, okay? I might be a little clumsy, but I don’t give up easily.”

Something in her tone reassured you, a quiet conviction that made you feel a bit more grounded. You gave her a nod, tucking the flashlight into your bag. “Alright. Then lead the way, oh fearless one. Just… watch out for those roots this time.”

She chuckled, giving you a playful nudge as she started forward again, her gaze more focused as she scanned the ground in front of her. And as you followed her deeper into the jungle, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she would find a way to lead you both out of there—without too many more bruises along the way.

--

The sky shifted from bright blue to soft hues of pink and orange, signaling the day’s end as you and Jimin continued trudging through the dense jungle. Despite her determination, both of you knew that walking aimlessly in the dark wouldn’t get you anywhere. Finally, you spotted a small, open area nestled between a few large trees.

“I think we should stop here,” you suggested, setting down your bag and glancing up at the streaks of fading sunlight poking through the canopy. “It’s going to be pitch-black soon, and we’ll just end up tripping over ourselves in the dark.”

Jimin glanced around, hands on her hips, then nodded. “Good call. I mean, it’s only one night, right?” She shot you a quick, slightly nervous grin as she looked around, already beginning to gather sticks and leaves in a valiant attempt to make a shelter.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched her struggle with the basics of shelter-building, her clumsiness getting in the way. She tried stacking some larger sticks against a low-hanging tree branch, but they slid down almost immediately, leaving her standing in a defeated, tangled mess of branches and vines.

“Need a hand?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Jimin’s face turned slightly red, though she managed a lopsided grin. “What, you don’t think I know how to set up camp?”

You chuckled softly, reaching out to steady one of the sticks she was holding. “I’m just saying, if we leave it up to you, we might end up sleeping under a pile of leaves.”

Jimin laughed, scratching the back of her head as she stepped back, letting you take the lead. “Fine, fine. I’ll let the expert take over… for now.”

You started rearranging the sticks, weaving them together to make a sturdier frame. As you worked, you couldn’t help but feel her eyes on you, watching intently, as if she were genuinely impressed by your makeshift construction skills. When you looked up, you found her staring at you with a small smile, her expression softer than usual. Your cheeks warmed, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the structure.

Jimin cleared her throat, taking a step closer as she bent down to help. “So… any camping trips in your past that I should know about?”

You shrugged, placing a handful of palm leaves on the frame to create a sort of roof. “My family used to go camping a lot when I was younger. I guess I picked up a few things along the way.”

“Ah, see, you’re full of surprises,” she said with a grin, carefully placing leaves beside yours. Her fingers brushed yours for a split second as she worked, sending a strange but pleasant jolt through you.

The sun dipped lower, and you continued working side by side, occasionally bumping elbows or reaching for the same spot, only to pull back with shy smiles. Eventually, you’d pieced together a small but sturdy shelter, just big enough to fit you both and keep the wind out.

Jimin stepped back to admire your work, her eyes shining with genuine pride. “Not bad! I guess we make a pretty good team.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you looked at her, noting the way her face lit up despite the dimming light around you. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

She settled down inside the shelter, patting the spot next to her with a playful grin. “Come on, don’t be shy! Your construction, your prime seat.”

Rolling your eyes, you crawled in beside her, grateful for the shelter you’d built together. With the last bit of daylight slipping away, an unfamiliar yet comfortable quiet fell over the two of you. The jungle sounds became more pronounced as night fell—crickets chirped, and the occasional rustle of leaves hinted at the hidden creatures nearby. You hugged your knees to your chest, glancing over at Jimin, who sat with her legs stretched out, leaning against the shelter frame with a relaxed smile on her face.

For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world, the isolation of the jungle bringing a rare kind of intimacy. You turned to her, breaking the silence. “Do you think anyone’s noticed we’re gone?”

Jimin shrugged, glancing up at the now star-speckled sky. “Probably… though I doubt they’re panicking yet. They’ll figure out we’re missing by morning, I bet.”

“Guess that means we’re stuck here for the night, then,” you murmured, a touch of worry in your voice.

Jimin must have sensed your unease because she gave you a reassuring smile, reaching over to pat your shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s kind of like an adventure, right? Just think of it as… our own little jungle getaway.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Right. The ideal vacation spot: stranded in the jungle with no food or water.”

She laughed softly, nudging you. “Well, maybe not ideal, but… hey, at least we’ve got each other.” Her eyes met yours, the soft light in them making your breath hitch for a moment.

You managed a small smile, leaning back against the frame of the shelter. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

A comfortable silence settled over you once more, broken only by the symphony of nighttime sounds. You felt Jimin’s shoulder brush against yours as she shifted slightly, leaning in closer as if to share warmth in the cool night air. Her presence, though often clumsy and exasperating, was undeniably comforting in this strange, lonely place.

After a while, she spoke up, her voice softer than usual. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever spent a night like this before. It’s… kind of nice.”

You glanced over at her, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. “Yeah? Even though we’re, you know, lost?”

She laughed quietly. “Yeah. Maybe it’s the whole survival thing, but I feel… I don’t know, alive. Like, really alive.”

You found yourself smiling at her words, understanding what she meant. There was something oddly exhilarating about the danger, the rawness of the situation you were in. And though you wouldn’t admit it, you were grateful for her company.

As you both settled into silence once more, your eyelids grew heavy, the sounds of the jungle lulling you into a surprisingly peaceful state. Just as you were on the edge of sleep, you heard Jimin mumble softly, almost to herself, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep us safe.”

--

The night air in the jungle quickly grew colder as the sky darkened, the warmth of the day fading into the cool embrace of the evening. You huddled closer to the shelter, pulling your jacket tighter around you, but the chill still seeped into your bones. You could feel the air turning brisker, the jungle’s nocturnal hum growing louder in contrast to the stillness that had settled between you and Jimin.

Jimin shifted next to you, clearly uncomfortable, her shoulders hunched as she wrapped her arms around herself. She glanced over at you, her lips curling into a mischievous smile as she attempted to break the tension.

“So, uh, is this… how you imagined our first night alone together?” she asked, her tone playful but laced with a nervous undertone. She gave a slight shrug as she shuffled closer, her eyes catching the moonlight, making her look almost ethereal. “I mean, I gotta say, this isn’t quite the cozy, romantic campfire I was picturing, but… maybe I’m just doing it wrong.”

You shot her a look, suppressing a grin at her antics. "Definitely not the romantic getaway I had in mind," you said dryly, though the teasing tone in your voice didn’t quite mask the warmth you were beginning to feel. It wasn’t just from the campfire; it was from being in such close quarters with her.

Jimin shifted again, now sitting much closer to you, though you hadn’t moved at all. She glanced over at you, her eyes softening for a moment before she broke the silence with another joke. “You cold?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because if you’re cold, I mean, you could always snuggle up to me. I’m pretty good at staying warm… you know, since I’m basically a walking heater.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her flirtatious remark, but something inside you stirred at her words. It was so casual, so effortless, yet you could feel the shift in the air around you. The closeness, the playful teasing—it made your heart race in a way you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though the words felt hollow as the chill gnawed at you once more. You pulled your legs up to your chest, trying to stay warm, but you couldn’t deny the sudden longing for her proximity, for her warmth.

Jimin noticed the small shiver that ran through you, and her teasing smile softened. “You sure? I can’t let my teammate freeze, you know. You’re kind of important.” She gently nudged your shoulder with hers, a little more sincerely now.

You let out a quiet, half-laugh. “I’m not going to freeze. I’ve been through worse.”

Jimin’s smile remained, but there was an underlying concern in her eyes. “Still, it’s not just about surviving, it’s about being comfortable, too.” Her voice dropped slightly, and you could hear the sincerity in it, which made your heart flutter a little.

She hesitated for a moment before sliding closer, her body warmth becoming more apparent as she sat beside you, a little closer than before. She tugged her jacket tighter around herself, but it was clear it wasn’t enough to keep her warm either. Her eyes met yours briefly, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something unspoken in them.

“Come on, don’t make me beg for it,” she teased, her voice light again as she nudged you more insistently. “I’m just offering my body heat, not a lifetime commitment. Though, if you’re into that…” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically, and you couldn’t help but snort at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Jimin, you’re impossible,” you muttered, though you didn’t push her away. Instead, you found yourself unconsciously leaning into her, the warmth she offered starting to feel too tempting to resist.

“See? I knew you were secretly into it,” she teased softly, though her voice was warmer now, less cocky. She wrapped her arm around you, pulling you close in a comfortable embrace, the kind of closeness that felt both natural and slightly awkward at the same time.

You froze at first, a little startled by how easy it felt to just… fall into her. But then the warmth from her body enveloped you, and you sighed in relief, your tense shoulders loosening. The cold from before seemed to melt away, replaced by the undeniable warmth of her embrace.

Jimin leaned her head lightly against yours, her breath warm against your ear. “See? This isn’t so bad, right?”

You couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips, even as you tried to act nonchalant about the entire thing. “I guess not,” you muttered. You didn’t want to admit how good it felt, how right it felt to be this close to her, especially with everything that had happened earlier. You weren’t sure why the touch of her skin against yours sent a flutter through your chest, but you weren’t ready to acknowledge it just yet.

There was another beat of silence between you two as you both just sat there, the only sound coming from the distant jungle creatures and your shared breaths. You felt Jimin’s hand slip just a little lower down your back, her fingers brushing against your waist, and your heart skipped.

She pulled away slightly, her voice soft but playful, a teasing edge still lingering. “Are you comfortable now? Or do I need to get even closer?” Her grin was mischievous, but you could tell she was still testing the waters, gauging how much you were willing to let her in.

Your face warmed at the suggestiveness in her voice, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you found yourself leaning in closer, your head resting against her shoulder. “This is fine,” you said softly, though you could feel your heartbeat quicken.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, trying to break the tension, even though part of you didn’t want to. “You really like to joke around, don’t you?”

Jimin grinned, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Hey, I have to make the best out of our romantic jungle getaway, right? Just trying to keep the mood light.” She tilted her head, her voice taking on a more sincere note. “But seriously, I’ll keep you warm. I don’t mind.”

Something in her words—soft, but unspoken—made your heart race. You looked up at her then, her expression unreadable for a second before she nudged you with her shoulder, her grin returning. You couldn’t help but smile back, your feelings all tangled up in this strange, overwhelming mixture of warmth, laughter, and unexpected connection.

--

As the first rays of sunlight broke through the thick canopy above, you stirred awake, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The morning was calm, with the soft hum of the jungle waking up around you. Jimin was already up, fiddling with the last of your shared provisions to make some semblance of breakfast. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, her hands fumbling slightly as she tried to tear open a package of granola bars.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” she greeted with a smirk as you sat up, blinking in the dawn light. “Just in time to join me for this… Michelin-star breakfast I’ve whipped up.” She raised an eyebrow, brandishing a half-crushed granola bar with mock grandeur.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Ah, yes. The classic ‘lost in the jungle with no real food’ breakfast. How gourmet of you.”

She grinned, delighted to have coaxed a laugh out of you. “Hey, I’ll have you know that in some cultures, this counts as a romantic adventure date,” she quipped, her voice light but with a mischievous edge.

You froze mid-reach for a water bottle, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’m sorry—adventure date?” You couldn’t help but scoff, though the corners of your mouth threatened to lift. “Are you seriously calling this a date?”

Jimin shrugged, her eyes sparkling as she looked at you. “Well, I mean, think about it: secluded location, scenic views, lots of quality alone time…” She raised her hands, gesturing at the sprawling jungle around you. “Besides, you don’t seem to be hating it as much as you let on.” She shot you a grin, clearly enjoying every second of teasing you.

You bit back a smile, trying to look as exasperated as possible. “Jimin, I think I’d prefer a less ‘lost and starving in the wilderness’ kind of date,” you said, though your tone was soft.

Jimin leaned in, nudging you with her shoulder. “Aw, come on. Think of the memories we’re making! Just imagine the stories we’ll have to tell… if we make it out, of course,” she added with a laugh.

You gave her a sidelong glance, but her enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself smiling despite yourself. “Fine, but next time I get to choose the date spot. Preferably somewhere with less… potential for starving,” you replied, only half-joking.

Jimin put her hand to her chest in mock offense. “Noted! Though, I don’t know, you’ve been a pretty good sport about it all. You’re even smiling at my jokes now.” She leaned in a little closer, her tone dropping as she added, “See? I knew you’d come around to liking me.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the warmth that crept up your cheeks. “I wouldn’t get too cocky just yet,” you muttered, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

She looked at you, something playful but genuine in her gaze. “Admit it—you’re having a little bit of fun,” she teased, tilting her head to try and catch your eye. “I know you can’t resist my charms forever.”

You shook your head, trying to hold back your grin. “Jimin, I’m just doing my best to survive out here with you. Let’s not read too much into it.”

But as you both started packing up to continue your trek, Jimin kept up her playful banter, her flirtation escalating in small, unexpected ways. Every so often, as you made your way through the thick jungle underbrush, she’d lean over, whispering dramatic “observations” about your surroundings as though narrating a romantic survival film.

“Oh, look over there,” she whispered in a hushed, faux-dramatic tone as she pointed to a patch of sunlight filtering through the leaves. “Nature has provided us with mood lighting for our romantic hike. It’s practically begging us to lean into the ‘lost lovers’ vibe.”

You gave her a disbelieving look, stifling a laugh. “You really know how to spin a narrative, don’t you?”

She flashed you a grin, proud of herself. “Hey, one of us has to lighten the mood. And, by the way, you’re welcome.” She glanced over, her eyes warm and inviting, and you couldn’t help but feel your defenses soften around her.

The path became a little trickier, with tangled roots and slick patches of mud, and Jimin offered you her hand to steady yourself more times than you’d care to admit. Each time, her hand lingered just a moment longer than necessary, and each time, you felt your resolve weaken just a little bit more.

“Jimin, I can handle myself, you know,” you protested lightly the fifth or sixth time she reached out to you, though you took her hand anyway. Her grip was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the damp chill that surrounded you.

“Sure, sure,” she said breezily, giving you a wink. “But where’s the fun in that? Besides,” she added, her voice dropping a little, “I like helping you. It’s nice to feel… needed.”

Her words caught you off guard, and you glanced over at her, but her expression was soft and sincere. For a moment, the playful mask had dropped, and you saw something else there—something that made your heart skip.

“Well,” you said softly, unsure of how to respond but unable to look away, “thanks, I guess.”

She shrugged, her smile returning as she released your hand, but not before giving it a little squeeze. “Anytime. It’s what co-workers… and adventure dates… are for.”

You gave her an exasperated look, but this time, you didn’t bother hiding your smile. “I’m sure this is the most unconventional adventure date of all time.”

Jimin just laughed, her voice ringing out through the quiet jungle, her happiness infectious. As you both continued onward, her flirtations and teasing became a little bolder, a little more natural, as if she were testing the waters between you with each lighthearted quip.

--

The two of you had been walking for what felt like hours, cutting through thick vines and maneuvering over gnarled roots, Jimin’s lighthearted banter punctuating the stillness of the jungle. Despite the challenging terrain, the growing camaraderie between you made the journey less daunting, even fun. But then, as you stepped around a massive tree trunk, everything changed in an instant.

Jimin froze beside you, her arm instinctively reaching out to block your path. You followed her gaze, feeling your heart drop as you spotted a snake in the clearing ahead, coiled and motionless at first. Its thick, scaled body gleamed in the filtered sunlight, but its head was raised, alert—and pointed directly at you.

“Don’t move,” Jimin whispered, her voice low and tense, as if any sound could set it off.

“Jimin…” you breathed, feeling a chill run down your spine. The snake’s body tensed, its gaze fixed on both of you, and you instinctively took a small step back. The movement seemed to trigger it. In a flash, it uncoiled, darting forward with terrifying speed.

“Y/N, stay back!” Jimin yelled, reacting on instinct. Without a second thought, she grabbed you and spun you behind her, shielding you with her own body as she faced the snake, her stance defensive.

The snake reared up, striking out, and Jimin quickly grabbed a nearby branch to hold it back. You watched, wide-eyed and breathless, as she waved the branch, creating enough space to maneuver backward with you. Her gaze stayed fixed on the snake as it hissed and snapped, still pressing toward you both, its anger evident.

“Just… keep moving, slow and steady,” she whispered, her voice tight as she pushed you back. “We don’t want to make it angrier.”

You obeyed, retreating step by step, but your heart raced wildly. Despite the danger, the way Jimin stayed protectively between you and the snake left you speechless, your nerves twisting into a strange blend of fear and… something else. Her hand never left your arm, holding you close even as she guided you both away.

Just as you thought you were out of reach, Jimin stumbled over a stray root, her grip on the branch slipping. The snake lunged forward, its body a flash of movement, and you instinctively grabbed her, steadying her before it could strike. Heart pounding, she managed to pull you both further back, the distance finally enough to make the snake give up its chase. It hissed once more before slithering off into the underbrush.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands still clutching Jimin’s arm as your eyes met hers. For a few seconds, neither of you said a word, the intensity of the moment leaving you both frozen in place.

“Are… are you okay?” she asked softly, her own breathing heavy as she took you in, concern etched on her face.

“Am I okay?” you replied, a shaky laugh escaping as you felt a strange warmth flood your cheeks. “You’re the one who just took on a snake!”

Jimin chuckled, her shoulders relaxing as she slowly lowered the branch and dropped it to the ground. “Guess I just couldn’t let anything happen to my favorite jungle explorer,” she quipped, her tone trying to lighten the mood, though her gaze stayed focused, her eyes scanning your face as if to make sure you were truly unharmed.

You exhaled, still holding onto her arm as the reality of what had just happened settled in. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” she interrupted gently, squeezing your hand. “But I wanted to. Besides,” she added, trying to play it cool, “I couldn’t let you go running off without me, right?”

Her words sparked something inside you, and the reality of her protectiveness, her quick instinct to shield you, left you speechless. “Jimin…” you whispered, not quite sure how to express what you were feeling. Your gratitude, your surprise, the slight flutter in your chest—it was all tangled up.

Jimin’s expression softened as she took a small step closer, her hand lifting to brush a stray leaf from your shoulder. “You look really flustered,” she said with a teasing smirk, trying to ease the tension with humor, but her voice held an unmistakable warmth. “Was it the snake, or was it me?”

You scoffed, a nervous laugh slipping out. “Just... I wasn’t expecting my trip partner to go full survival mode on me,” you muttered, your gaze dropping to the ground as you tried to process the overwhelming moment.

She tilted her head, a soft chuckle escaping. “Guess I surprised you, huh?” she whispered, her fingers tracing an absentminded pattern along your arm, her touch grounding you.

“You did,” you admitted, finally looking up to meet her gaze. “Thank you, though. Seriously.”

Her gaze softened further, her thumb brushing over your knuckles, and for a moment, it was as if the two of you were in your own little world, the jungle fading into the background. “Anytime,” she murmured, giving you a playful smile. “Now, come on. Let’s try not to make any more angry friends out here, yeah?”

And with that, she took your hand in hers, leading you onward, her grip steady and reassuring as you walked deeper into the jungle.

--

You and Jimin finally find a small stream after hours of trudging through dense foliage. The soft trickle of water over rocks is a relief, and you both settle down on a smooth boulder near the bank, grateful for the brief reprieve.

You take off your shoes and dip your feet into the cool water, sighing as the chill soothes the soreness from walking. Jimin follows suit, gingerly lowering her feet beside yours. The two of you sit in companionable silence for a moment, just listening to the sounds of the forest and the gentle stream.

“Honestly… I didn’t expect the jungle to be this intense,” Jimin says with a small laugh, breaking the quiet. “Or for us to end up lost like this.”

You smile, the tension of the day beginning to ease. “Maybe next time, we leave the navigating to someone who doesn’t have a talent for getting us into trouble.”

She grins, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair point. Though, I don’t know, it makes things interesting, don’t you think?”

“Interesting, maybe,” you reply, glancing at her with a small smile. “But it’s not exactly the ideal place to get lost.”

Jimin chuckles softly, but there’s a momentary flicker in her gaze as she looks away, her fingers lightly trailing over the water’s surface. The joking air between you both fades a little, and she seems to fall quiet, a pensive look crossing her face. She dips her head, absently tracing small circles in the water.

You give her a sidelong glance, sensing something she isn’t saying. “Hey, you okay?”

She hesitates, then smiles, but it’s a quieter smile than usual, lacking its usual spark. “I’m fine, yeah. Just thinking, I guess. You know… I joke around a lot, but it’s probably annoying sometimes, huh?”

The comment catches you off guard. You shake your head. “No, it’s not annoying. You’ve actually been keeping things… less terrible. Besides, that’s just who you are, right?”

“I guess.” She pauses, her fingers trailing over the rock beside her. “It’s funny, though. It’s like… if I didn’t make people laugh, they wouldn’t even notice I was there. And sometimes… I wonder if that’s all people see.”

Her voice drops, a vulnerability in her words that you’d never heard before. She’s looking down, her fingers absently playing with the edge of her shirt, and for once, the usual spark in her eyes has dimmed.

You hesitate, wanting to say the right thing. “Jimin, I know you’re funny and lighthearted, but I think that’s only one part of you. You’re… a lot more than that.”

She looks up, a hint of surprise in her eyes. “You really think so?”

“Yeah. You can be… thoughtful, too,” you say, glancing at her with a small smile. “You’re protective, like with that snake earlier. And you’re just… real. You’re not just hiding behind some persona.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and she smiles, a shy, almost relieved look crossing her face. “I guess I’ve just never thought of it like that,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping again.

There’s a quiet moment between you as she lets those words linger in the air. Something in your chest aches for her, for this hidden vulnerability she usually covers up so well. You reach over, your hand brushing hers, a comforting squeeze to let her know she’s not alone.

“I… care about both sides of you, Jimin. The funny, playful side, and the thoughtful side, too,” you say softly. “You don’t have to hide anything.”

Jimin turns to you, her expression unreadable for a moment, but then her eyes soften, a teasing glint appearing once again. “So, you do care about me after all, huh?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but a smile sneaks onto your face as you do. “Well, maybe a little bit,” you admit, your tone light, though there’s a warmth in your words that’s unmistakable.

Jimin grins, her confidence returning in that familiar, infectious way. “I knew it. Knew you’d come around eventually.”

You shake your head, amused but undeniably touched by the way she’s trusting you enough to let her guard down. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

She laughs, the sound echoing over the stream, but there’s a softness in her gaze as she looks at you, a gratitude that needs no words.

--

The steady flow of the stream had guided you both along as the day stretched on, the warm sun hanging in the sky. After hours of trekking through the dense jungle, you and Jimin stumbled upon a small, secluded cave hidden behind a waterfall. The perfect spot to rest for a while.

Jimin, ever the optimist, was quick to suggest a little fun, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "What do you say we jump into the waterfall, clothes and all?" she asked, grinning at you. You raised an eyebrow, skeptical at first, but the heat of the jungle and the lure of the cool water soon won you over.

You both stripped off your outer layers and leapt into the waterfall, laughing as the cold water hit your skin, splashing around in the flow of the rushing water. It was a strange freedom, something raw and invigorating, and for a few moments, you forgot about being lost in the jungle. But all too soon, the playful atmosphere shifted when you noticed the darkening sky.

"Uh-oh," Jimin said, squinting upwards. "That doesn't look good."

The rain began as a light drizzle, but it quickly turned into a downpour. Cold water, mixed with the chill of the air, hit your skin like little needles, and you both scrambled out of the waterfall, soaked to the bone. You rushed to the cave you’d spotted earlier, dripping wet as you sought refuge from the increasingly heavy rain.

Inside the cave, Jimin let out a loud, exaggerated groan as she shook her hair, spraying droplets everywhere. “Well, this is fun. I don’t think we planned for a jungle rainstorm.”

You glanced back at her, your teeth chattering. The temperature had dropped significantly, and it was clear you both needed to find a way to warm up. You quickly scanned the cave. “At least we’re out of the rain now,” you said. “Let’s get a fire going.”

Jimin nodded eagerly, and while you went about gathering some leaves and kindling for a makeshift bed and warmth, she started fiddling with a pile of sticks, trying to get a fire started. You both worked together in silence, each of you grateful for the brief respite. The rain continued to pound against the cave’s entrance, but you were safe for the moment.

As Jimin finally managed to start a fire, the warmth from the crackling flames began to feel like a blessing against the chill of the rain. You huddled near the fire, your clothes drenched and your body still shivering.

Jimin, clearly cold but still determined to keep up her playful attitude, shot you a mischievous grin. "So, what now? Should we just sit here and freeze, or...?"

You gave her a dry look. "I don’t know, Jimin. What do you suggest?"

Her grin widened, and she quickly looked around the cave. "Well, you mentioned getting warm earlier, right?" She raised an eyebrow at you, a glint of humor in her eyes. "How about we take off these wet clothes, let them dry by the fire, and maybe... cuddle to keep each other warm?"

Your breath hitched at her words, a mixture of surprise and something else fluttering in your chest. She was joking, right?

But Jimin, ever confident, started tugging at the hem of her shirt as if it was the most casual thing in the world. You blinked, flustered, unsure of what to do. "Wait—what are you doing?" you asked, voice coming out a little higher than you intended.

Jimin paused and glanced at you, confusion crossing her features. "What? You said we should get warm." She shrugged, unfazed, and continued to pull her wet shirt over her head. "Might as well make it efficient, right?"

Your eyes widened. "But... I—" You quickly averted your gaze, suddenly embarrassed. You hadn't expected her to take your suggestion so seriously. Still, as you glanced back, you couldn't help but notice how her well-defined back muscles flexed as she stripped off her shirt, leaving her in just her soaked pants.

Your heart was racing. You felt your cheeks flush as you awkwardly looked around the cave, trying to avoid looking directly at her. "Are you—uh—sure about this?" you asked, unsure of what was happening.

Jimin, now only in her underwear, was looking at you with a playful smirk, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Come on, you’re acting like this is something weird," she teased, her voice light and flirtatious. "We’re stranded in the jungle, remember? Might as well make the most of it."

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with thoughts of how ridiculous this situation was, but then again, you had to admit that you were both soaked and freezing. And... well... the idea of getting warm didn't seem all that terrible.

With a heavy sigh, you reached for the hem of your own wet shirt, deciding to go along with it. As you pulled it over your head and joined her in your underwear, you could feel your face burning hotter.

When you were both down to your underwear, Jimin laid down next to the makeshift bed you had put together with the leaves. The warmth of the fire cast a soft glow over the cave, making everything feel more intimate.

"Come on," Jimin said softly, patting the space next to her. "It's more comfortable here. Let’s just rest for a bit, yeah?"

You stared at her for a moment, trying to keep your composure, but there was something in her gaze that made your heart flutter. The silence between you felt charged, the space around you suddenly too small.

You slowly lowered yourself next to her, lying on your side, your eyes never leaving hers. The tension in the air was thick, the distance between you both a mere inch or two.

Jimin’s hand reached over to gently touch your waist, her fingertips grazing your skin. You inhaled sharply at the contact, a shiver running through you, though not from the cold. Her touch was warm, and it sent a jolt of heat through your body.

Without thinking, your hand moved to her cheek, brushing a loose strand of wet hair behind her ear. Her breath caught slightly at the soft gesture, and the closeness between you grew undeniable.

"Hi," she whispered softly, her voice barely more than a breath. You couldn't help but smile, your heart racing.

"Hi," you whispered back, your voice trembling just a little.

For a moment, you both just stared at each other, neither of you daring to move. But then, Jimin’s hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, drawing you even closer. Your hand instinctively found its way to the side of her face, your fingers lightly tracing her jaw.

And then, without a word, your lips met in a soft, hesitant kiss. The feeling of her lips against yours, warm and tender, made everything else disappear. The fire crackled behind you, but in this small, cozy cave, with the rain still pouring outside, all that mattered was the shared breath and the connection between you.

It was slow at first, a testing kiss, but the warmth between you grew with each passing second. You could feel her hand gently pressing at your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and the tension that had been building for so long finally began to unravel.

She pushed you into your back, getting on top of you, her hands gripped your waist tighter, while yours moved from her cheeks to grip her hair, tugging it as you moaned into her mouth. She took the opportunity and slipped her tongue, rubbing it against yours.

Jimin pulled away, breathing heavily as she looked into your eyes. “Is this ok?” She panted. You nodded, pulling her back into a bruising kiss. Her hands moved down to your thighs, making your legs wrap around her waist, and moved her head down, leaving open, wet kisses on your neck and collarbones. She reached up, making you arch your back so that she could unfasten your bra, and you did the same as well. With one hand, she played with one of your breasts, while she took the other into her mouth, sucking and biting your nipple.

You whined, arching your back again and pulling her even closer to you. Jimin’s other hand moved downwards once more, playing with the strap of your panties. She looked up at you with hooded eyes, asking for permission. You whimpered and nodded, making her move your panties down. She kissed down the valley of your breasts and stomach, stopping at your chore.

Jimin breathed in and moaned. “You smell so good.” She whispered, and gave your clit a quick swipe with her tongue, making you let out a loud moan, with one hand you gripped her hair, while the other grabbed at whatever you could find in the ground.

Without wasting more time, Jimin dived in, eating you out as if you were her last meal. Her tongue moved in and out of your pussy while simultaneously sucking on your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Jimin!” You screamed out, feeling in cloud nine. She hummed into your core, making you shudder with pleasure. Your moans sounded louder and louder each time, but when Jimin shoved in two fingers, you let out a gasp turned moan. She was good. Too good.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, Jimin.” You whimpered out, feeling your orgasm building up. She pulled away for a second, still having two fingers inside you while her thumb circled the 8 figure on your clit.

“Come for me, baby. Show me how good you feel.” She encouraged. Your back arched once more, letting out a pornographic moan as you felt the tightening on your stomach snap, and you came.

You only saw white for a minute, trying to calm down your breathing, twitching from time to time as Jimin cleaned you up with her tongue.

Jimin sat up on her legs for a second, looking at you. She thought you looked beautiful like that. Your eyes that were half closed in euphoria, your chest heaving up and down as you tried to catch your breath, your body in a thin sheet of sweat, that glistened with the light of the fire. You looked stunning in her eyes.

After seeing that you had managed to catch your breath, Jimin grabbed one of your legs, putting it up on her shoulder, she slotted the other between hers, both your clits touching. Both of you moaned at the feeling, and she started to grind against you. The feeling of your cores together made you let out the loudest moan again.

“Hmm, does that feel good?” Jimin teased, a smirk on her face as she looked you in the eyes. You nodded, blushing as you put a hand over your eyes. She had an intense look in her eyes making you shy. “Come on now, darling. Don’t hide that beautiful face from me.” She cooed, her hand that wasn’t gripping your ankle moved to grab your wrist. “Be a good girl for me and keep those eyes open, ok?”

You were sure that the moan you let out shook all the animals outside from how loud it was. You looked at her, the way her well defined abdomen flexed everytime she thrusted forwards, how her eyebrows furrowed with concentration, how hot the small grunts that left her lips were. God.

“I’m-I’m coming again, Jimin.” You managed to whine out, but she shook her head in disagreement.

“Wait for me, my love. Let’s come together.” She panted out, grinding against you even faster. You nodded and your eyes closed in concentration, trying not to come just by the nickname. “I’m so close, baby, so so close.”

You sobbed in pleasure, not knowing how much longer you could hold on to. “Please, Jimin. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Come baby, come for me.” She moaned, and grinded even harder. With a last moan, you let go, Jimin close behind you. Your mind was in a haze, you couldn’t even think. Jimin rode both of you out of your orgasms. Once you whined from sensitivity, she let go of you leg gently and looked down at the mess.

With her two middle fingers, she reached down and cooped up some of your mixed juices, putting them in her mouth while looking you in the eyes. She let out a moan at the taste. “Stick your tongue out.” She demanded.

Once you did, she leaned down and took it into her mouth, sucking it. You moaned at the lingering taste of both your cums combined. Once she pulled away she kissed your forehead. 

“Tired?” She asked you, her hand running through your messy hair. You nodded, feeling your eyelids get heavier at the feeling. “Ok, let’s sleep.”

The sound of rain falling and thunder lulled both of you to sleep, with your head on her chest and her arms around your waist in a protective manner.

--

The morning after the storm was damp and heavy, the jungle floor slick with mud and puddles, making every step feel like a chore. You and Jimin trudged along the barely-there path, both of you weary from the days spent navigating this unyielding wilderness, definitely not from last night. For a while, the only sounds were the soft squelch of mud beneath your shoes and the distant calls of unseen birds echoing through the trees.

Jimin, as always, was beside you, humming to herself, seemingly unfazed by the worsening situation. It was beginning to wear on you—the endless walking, the uncertainty of your location, the dampness of your clothes clinging to you—and the fact that despite your efforts, you still had no idea how to get out of the jungle. The sun was sinking lower, casting an orange glow across the trees, and there was no sign of civilization in sight.

"Ugh," you muttered under your breath, pushing your hair out of your face in frustration. "This is ridiculous."

Jimin shot you a playful glance. "What’s up? Did the jungle get to you?" she teased, stepping over a fallen branch as though it were nothing.

"It's not funny, Jimin," you snapped, your temper fraying at the edges. "We’ve been walking for hours and have no clue where we are. You keep getting distracted and we’re still nowhere closer to finding a way out!"

Her smile faltered for a second, but she quickly recovered, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, it’s like Jumanji. If we make it to the top and scream ‘Jumanji,’ I’m sure we’ll be out of here in no time!" she joked, her voice light.

You stared at her, exasperated. "This isn’t a joke, Jimin. This is real. We’re lost. We don’t have food. It’s starting to get dark. And you—" You paused, your frustration taking over. "You keep acting like everything’s fine when it’s not."

The air between you thickened. Jimin didn’t respond immediately, her eyes flicking away from yours. You knew she was trying to deflect the tension, but it wasn’t working. She had always been like this—clumsy, absent-minded, carefree, but in moments like these, it just seemed like she wasn’t taking things seriously enough. The pressure of being stuck here, in this place that felt so endless and uncertain, was wearing you thin.

For a moment, Jimin remained quiet, and the teasing, playful energy around her slowly faded. You didn’t know why it felt like such a weight, but it did. Then, Jimin’s voice broke the silence, softer than usual.

"I’m sorry," she said, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "I know you’re frustrated. I’ve just been trying to make it fun, y’know? But... I guess I’ve been making it worse."

You looked at her, surprised by the shift in her attitude. There was no usual wink, no teasing smile, just a genuine sadness in her eyes.

She met your gaze, her expression unreadable. "I didn’t mean to make it harder for you. I know you’re trying to stay calm and figure things out. I’m... I’m sorry."

Your chest tightened, the anger you’d felt slipping away as quickly as it had come. You took a deep breath, realizing that, maybe, you were just as much to blame for the tension between you two. You hadn’t meant to snap at her like that. She was trying, in her own way, and it had been a long, exhausting day for both of you.

You sighed, your gaze softening. "No, Jimin, it’s not just you," you admitted. "I’m just... really frustrated. And scared, honestly. I don’t want to be lost here forever. I’m just... worried, okay?"

Jimin stayed quiet for a long time, her eyes searching your face. The tension in the air seemed to melt, replaced by something softer, something vulnerable. She gently nudged your arm with her shoulder, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"You know, if I had to be stuck with anyone in the jungle, I’m glad it’s you," you said, your voice quieter, more sincere. "I might be mad at the situation, but... I’m glad it’s you here with me."

Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with warmth. "I’m glad it’s you too," she murmured, her voice small but genuine.

You hesitated, then spoke again, a little more quietly this time. "I was... worried last night didn’t mean anything to you," she confessed, her voice a little shaky. "I was just so scared of—well, you know, how things could change after that."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your cheeks heated up. You hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not like this. You had your own fears, your own doubts. You thought she might have been joking, but hearing her voice crack like that made everything feel too real, too vulnerable.

"I don’t think you’re stupid for thinking that," you said softly, glancing down at your feet. "It did mean something to me. A lot, actually."

Jimin’s eyes searched your face, as if looking for any hint of truth. When she didn’t find any signs of you lying, she relaxed a little, her shoulders dropping as if a weight had been lifted. You could see her visibly exhale, the tension that had been in her body fading.

"I just—" You felt a lump form in your throat. "I’m just scared of not being found, you know? Not knowing if we’ll ever get out of here... It’s overwhelming."

Jimin’s gaze softened, her lips curling into a small smile. "I get it. I’m scared too. But hey," she said, nudging your shoulder with hers again, "we’re together. And I’m not leaving you."

You met her eyes, the sincerity in them reaching deep into your chest. "Thanks, Jimin," you murmured, feeling your heart swell with something more than just gratitude.

She smiled again, a little more teasing now, but the warmth in her eyes was unmistakable. "Of course," she said, "I’m your jungle guide, remember?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and you grabbed her hand, interlocking fingers. Both of you walked onward, a little closer, a little more at peace with the chaos around you.

--

As dusk fell, the jungle’s colors softened, bathed in the warm, golden light of the setting sun. Jimin crouched beside a small, flickering fire, carefully arranging a modest “feast” she’d put together from whatever she’d managed to gather that day. She’d scoured nearby bushes for a handful of berries, found a few edible roots, and portioned out the last bits of snacks left from their supply. Despite the meager offerings, she presented them with a proud little smile.

You sat nearby, watching her in silence, and noticed the nervous flicker in her gaze when she glanced your way. She was clearly trying her best, and for a moment, the effort she’d gone to melted away some of your lingering frustrations from the day.

“Alright,” she announced, brushing her hands off and setting her makeshift ‘spread’ in front of you, “it’s not exactly a gourmet meal, but I’d say it’s a fitting peace offering. What do you think?”

You couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. The gesture was sweet, in the end. “I think it’s… perfect,” you said with a chuckle, letting a bit of warmth slip into your tone. “As far as jungle dining goes, you really went all out.”

Jimin sat down across from you, her expression softening. “I know I’m not the easiest to be around sometimes,” she admitted, scratching the back of her head, “and I definitely didn’t make things easier by getting us lost out here. So… I just wanted to say I’m sorry, for real.”

You met her gaze, and something about the sincerity in her eyes stirred something in you—a tug of warmth, a release of the tension that had been building between you both.

“Jimin… thank you,” you murmured, looking down at the ‘feast’ she’d prepared. “Honestly, even though you can drive me up a wall… I’m glad you’re here. I’m not sure I’d be handling all this as well on my own.”

Her face lit up at your words, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “I knew it,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “You like having me around, admit it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Fine,” you said, pretending to be reluctant. “Maybe you’re not completely unbearable.”

She chuckled, reaching over to brush a stray piece of hair from your face, her fingers lingering against your cheek just a second longer than necessary. Her smile softened.

The silence stretched, comfortable yet charged. You could feel her gaze locked onto you, tracing the gentle lines of your face, and your breath hitched slightly as her hand slowly dropped from your cheek. She leaned in, her eyes never leaving yours, and you found yourself drawn closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth of her breath.

Under the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the trees, her lips met yours, gentle at first. You leaned in, your hands coming up to rest on her shoulders, pulling her just a bit closer. She responded, her lips pressing more firmly against yours as the kiss deepened, the world around you melting into the quiet hum of the night.

When you finally pulled back, your faces still inches apart, you found yourself smiling, cheeks flushed. Jimin’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight, her playful expression gone, replaced by something tender.

“Well…” she whispered, breathless and smiling. “Guess it’s official—you’re stuck with me.”

--

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the makeshift camp as night settled in. You and Jimin sat close to the flames, the night air cool but comfortable. The silence between you was soft, contemplative, as if both of you sensed there was more to say but weren’t sure where to begin.

Jimin leaned back, stretching her legs toward the fire, her shoulder brushing against yours. She let out a deep sigh and glanced over at you, her expression thoughtful. “You know… there aren’t many people I’d want to be stuck with out here,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But I think… I’m pretty lucky it’s you.”

You felt your cheeks warm as she looked at you, her gaze steady and sincere. “Really?” you murmured, tilting your head as you studied her face. “I thought I was the one lucky to be stuck with you.”

Jimin chuckled, shaking her head. “I know I joke around a lot, and I know I’m kind of… well, clumsy and all over the place. It’s hard to be serious about stuff. But with you… I feel like I don’t have to pretend to be anything else. I can just be… me.”

Her words settled around you, stirring something warm in your chest. “I get that,” you admitted softly, surprised at how natural it felt to open up to her. “I think I’ve always been so focused on keeping it together, on being the responsible one… I sometimes forget to let my guard down.” You looked down, feeling a little exposed but relieved to finally voice what you’d held back.

Jimin nodded, a sympathetic look crossing her face. She reached out, brushing her fingers gently over the back of your hand. Her touch was light, but it sent a soft shiver down your spine, a reminder of how much closer you both had become over the past few days. “Then maybe we’re both learning how to be ourselves a little better,” she murmured. “Together.”

Without thinking, you slid your hand over hers, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. Jimin looked down at your hand covering hers, a small smile spreading across her face. “Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?” she said, leaning into you a little.

You nodded, your voice quiet but sure. “Yeah… we do.”

The conversation drifted on, each of you sharing small pieces of yourselves, moments and memories that you hadn’t told anyone else. The firelight flickered, illuminating the soft expressions on both your faces, the shared laughter, and the subtle way Jimin’s hand remained in yours, never breaking contact.

As the night grew late and the fire burned low, Jimin let out a small yawn, stretching her arms overhead before lying back on the ground beside you. She looked up at you, patting the spot next to her, and you lay down as well, feeling her warmth radiate beside you as the cool night air settled in.

Without a word, Jimin draped her arm over you, pulling you close as you shifted into her embrace. Her fingers brushed softly over your back, a soothing rhythm that matched the steady beat of her heart against yours. “This okay?” she whispered, her voice soft.

You nodded, leaning your forehead against her shoulder. “Yeah,” you murmured, your own arm slipping around her waist. “This is perfect.”

Jimin’s fingers traced lazy circles along your back as you lay together, her touch warm and comforting. The night sounds of the jungle surrounded you both, but for the first time since you’d arrived, you felt completely safe, anchored by her presence. The quiet grew deeper, words fading away as you settled into the warmth of her embrace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.

For a moment, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, and you felt her arms tighten around you, as if she were trying to keep you close even in sleep. A small smile tugged at your lips as you relaxed into her touch, letting the sense of comfort and understanding wash over you.

And in that moment, there was no fear, no frustration—only the steady warmth of her arms around you as sleep gently pulled you both into its embrace.

--

The sun was barely filtering through the dense canopy as you and Jimin carefully trekked deeper into the jungle, pushing past vines and thick vegetation that seemed to cling to every step. After the peaceful closeness of last night, the silence between you was comfortable, each of you sharing the occasional smile as you moved along. But as the hours stretched on, an uneasy feeling began to settle in the pit of your stomach. It was quieter than usual, the normal jungle sounds muffled, and every shadow seemed to stretch just a little longer than before.

You slowed down, glancing nervously over at Jimin, who seemed oblivious as she hummed a tune under her breath, her usual upbeat self. “Do you hear that?” you whispered, stopping in your tracks. Jimin halted beside you, looking around as she tilted her head. “Hear what?”

But before you could answer, a low, growling sound rumbled from somewhere close by. You both froze, every muscle tensing as the growl echoed through the dense trees. Slowly, you turned toward the direction of the sound, and there, partially hidden in the shadows, was a large, sleek figure—a wild cat, its intense eyes fixed right on the two of you.

“Jimin,” you whispered, barely able to breathe. She instinctively moved in front of you, her arm stretched protectively, her body suddenly rigid with tension. “Stay behind me,” she murmured, never taking her eyes off the wildcat.

Without warning, the animal lunged. Your stomach dropped as you both scrambled to dodge it, stumbling backward. “Run!” Jimin yelled, grabbing your hand and pulling you along the jungle path as you both broke into a desperate sprint. You could hear the wildcat’s low growls and snapping branches behind you, its chase relentless as it closed in, and a surge of pure terror shot through you.

Jimin kept a tight hold on your hand, leading you down a narrow path through the trees. But in her haste, she tripped over a root, sending you both sprawling forward. You hit the ground hard, leaves and dirt scraping against your skin as you fought to stand, the wildcat’s growls now terrifyingly close. Just as you struggled up, you felt its claws brush past your leg, inches from grabbing hold. Heart pounding, you staggered back, feeling yourself shake from the close call.

In a surge of determination, Jimin grabbed a large branch off the ground and turned to face the animal, her eyes fierce despite the fear evident in them. “Come on, you overgrown housecat!” she shouted, her voice wavering slightly. She swung the branch as the wildcat lunged again, managing to hit it hard across the side. The animal yelped in pain and backed off, momentarily stunned but still watching you both with menacing eyes.

With a quick glance back at you, Jimin picked up a fist-sized rock and threw it with all her strength, catching the wildcat square on the nose. The animal growled and hissed, finally retreating into the shadows, its eyes glinting as it slinked back into the dense jungle.

For a few moments, neither of you moved, both breathing hard as you processed what just happened. Your body was shaking, your hands scraped and sore, but the sight of Jimin, fiercely protective and standing between you and the wildcat, grounded you.

“Are you okay?” she asked, turning to you, her eyes softening in concern as she took in your frightened expression and the small cuts on your arms and legs.

You managed a shaky nod, trying to keep the trembling in your voice under control. “I—I think so,” you said, exhaling deeply. “But that was too close.”

Jimin’s shoulders dropped in relief, her face breaking into a small, reassuring smile as she reached over, gently brushing a stray leaf out of your hair. “Good… I thought I was going to lose you back there,” she admitted softly, her tone far more serious than usual.

“I thought I was a goner,” you replied, half-laughing as the tension finally started to ease. “And here I was thinking you’d be the one I’d need to protect.”

Jimin chuckled, her gaze warm as she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Guess I just couldn’t let anything happen to my favorite jungle companion,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “Annoying as I am, I like having you around.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “I don’t know how to say this,” you began, your tone half-teasing, “but I’m actually… impressed.”

“Is that so?” she smirked, her playful demeanor returning as she leaned in close, her eyes searching yours. “Then let’s call it even—today, you get to be the damsel in distress, and I’ll be your knight in shining armor.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You were clumsy the entire way, and yet here we are. So maybe I do need you around after all.”

Jimin’s expression softened, and she brushed her fingers across your cheek. “Well, good, because I’m not planning on going anywhere without you.”

--

The jungle was surprisingly quiet that night, the hum of insects and occasional rustle of leaves blending into a gentle symphony that seemed to wrap you and Jimin in its embrace. The fire crackled low between you, casting soft shadows over her face as you both settled into a rare moment of calm after the chaos of the past few days. You glanced at Jimin, who was lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the flames. She looked different in this quiet moment, more grounded, and something in your chest tightened at the sight.

The words lingered on the edge of your mind, hesitant to be spoken, but you found yourself breaking the silence. "Jimin," you began, voice soft but steady. She looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and the warmth in her gaze somehow made you bolder. "I didn’t think I’d be saying this, but... I’ve actually grown to like being around you."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, a slow smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Really now?" she said, her voice soft but playful. She shifted a bit closer, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent a small thrill up your spine. “Are you saying I’ve somehow charmed you with all my clumsiness and terrible sense of direction?”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warming under her amused stare. “I guess that’s one way to put it,” you mumbled, struggling to maintain your composure. “It’s… been nice to have you around, I guess. Even if you almost got us killed a few times.”

She laughed, the sound rich and comforting. “I like having you around too,” she said, her voice softening. Her fingers lingered over yours, almost testing the waters, and then she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "And for the record, if I got us lost just so we’d end up on this little adventure together, I think it was worth it.”

You snorted, unable to hide your smile. “Oh, so this was all part of your elaborate plan, was it?”

“Absolutely.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a glint of sincerity in her eyes that caught you off guard. She shifted even closer, her eyes never leaving yours. “So… does that mean I’ve earned a second date after all?”

You felt a jolt run through you at her words, warmth pooling in your stomach as you tried to hold back a smile. “A second date?” you echoed, the words a bit flustered as you met her gaze. “This isn’t exactly what I’d call a first date, Jimin.”

She tilted her head, grinning mischievously. “Well, if it was, then I’d say it was pretty memorable.” Her gaze grew a bit more intense, and she leaned in, her face mere inches from yours. “But if you don’t see it that way, maybe I should’ve taken it slower with you. Didn’t know you were the type to jump right to…” She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

You felt your cheeks heat up, caught completely off guard by her boldness. “That was… different,” you stammered, struggling to keep your cool under her teasing gaze. “I don’t usually… it’s not…”

Jimin chuckled softly, her hand tightening around yours. “Relax,” she whispered, her tone gentler now. “I’m just messing with you.” She brushed her thumb over your knuckles, her eyes soft as she studied your face. “But, for what it’s worth… I’m glad we ended up here together.”

The vulnerability in her voice made you pause, your heart skipping a beat as you took in the expression on her face—open, genuine, and maybe even a little bit nervous. The same feeling settled in your own chest, the realization that you didn���t just enjoy Jimin’s company; you genuinely liked her, maybe more than you’d admitted to yourself.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in silence, your hands still intertwined. The air felt heavy with unsaid words, the jungle around you somehow amplifying the weight of the moment. Slowly, you leaned forward, your face so close to hers that you could see the faint rise and fall of her breathing.

And then, with a soft, nervous laugh, you whispered, “So… maybe a second date wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Jimin’s eyes sparkled, her smile widening as she brought your hand to her lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmured, her voice filled with warmth

--

The morning light cut through the dense canopy, its warmth a reminder that you had somehow survived yet another night in the wild. Every muscle in your body ached, and a strange, bittersweet quiet hung between you and Jimin as you packed up the small camp. Last night had been a whirlwind of relief, confessions, and laughter—and though you hadn’t said it out loud, part of you dreaded leaving the small, strange world the two of you had created here.

As you pushed forward, both of you moving slower than the past days, Jimin kept glancing back at you. You caught her eye more than once, and each time she’d flash you a small, encouraging smile, the kind that made your heart race no matter how many times you saw it. The silence between you was comfortable, weighted only by the feeling that you were nearing the end of something beautiful and rare.

Just as you were beginning to think the forest would stretch on forever, you heard it. A distant, rhythmic thump. Jimin stopped mid-step, her eyes widening as she turned to you, her face a mixture of disbelief and hope.

"Do you hear that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You strained to listen, feeling the pulse of the sound reverberate through the trees. And then it hit you—a helicopter. A real, tangible reminder that the world beyond the jungle hadn’t forgotten you. Relief flooded your chest, and Jimin let out a breathless laugh, her eyes shining as she grabbed your hand.

“Come on!” she exclaimed, pulling you toward an open clearing she’d spotted nearby.

You stumbled together, tripping over roots and branches in your haste until you both broke free from the tree cover. Together, you waved your arms, shouting and hoping with all your heart that the search team would see you. The helicopter seemed to pause, and then it began circling lower. Jimin’s face broke into a grin, and she tightened her grip on your hand, shaking it slightly as if you were sharing a private celebration.

"We’re going home," she whispered, her voice full of awe and gratitude. But as the sound of the helicopter grew louder, the realization hit you both that this—this strange, shared adventure—was about to become a memory.

Jimin’s smile softened, and her eyes met yours with an intensity that sent a shiver through you. She looked at you like she was memorizing every detail, every freckle, and every line. “Guess this is it,” she murmured, a note of wistfulness in her voice. “Our little jungle getaway is officially over.”

Your throat tightened as you swallowed, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Yeah… guess we’re going back to reality.” It sounded strange to say it out loud, as if speaking it made the end more real.

She lifted her hand to your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin with a gentleness that made your heart twist. “Reality isn’t so bad, though, is it?” she murmured, a teasing glint breaking through her serious expression. “Besides… I think we still owe each other a real first date. You know, with less mud and maybe a shower?”

You laughed, a small, shaky sound that was half relief, half longing. “Deal,” you said, voice soft but sure. “But no jungle hikes, please.”

Jimin let out a small laugh, her gaze never leaving yours. “No jungle hikes,” she promised, though her smirk suggested that she’d find another way to keep you on your toes. She held onto your hand a moment longer, thumb brushing over your knuckles as if she, too, was reluctant to let go. So she didn’t, she pulled you closer and kissed you hard and deep, full of emotions. She beamed at you once you both pulled away, making you break out in a grin of your own, happy evident in both your eyes.

The helicopter hovered just overhead, its blades kicking up a fierce wind that whipped through the trees and pulled you both back to the present. The rescue crew lowered a ladder, and one of them gestured for you to climb. Jimin gave your hand a final squeeze, releasing you with a soft smile.

“After you,” she said, a hint of playfulness slipping back into her voice, but her eyes were full of something deeper—something that made your heart skip a beat.

Climbing the ladder, you stole a glance down to see her watching you with a wistful smile, her gaze filled with promises. And as she climbed up behind you, the roar of the helicopter above you and the rush of wind around you, you felt a pang of something bittersweet. It was over. No more snakes, no more wildcats, no more berries; for a while at least.

By the time you settled into the helicopter, you were both quiet, letting the weight of everything that had happened sink in. Jimin’s hand found yours again as the helicopter lifted, squeezing it with a gentle reassurance. As the jungle began to shrink below you, you realized that even though you were leaving it behind, the closeness you’d found here wouldn’t fade.

Jimin turned to you as you neared the edge of the jungle, her voice barely audible over the helicopter's hum. "Maybe reality can be our next adventure," she said, her eyes bright with that familiar spark.

--

The fluorescent lights hummed softly above you, the steady buzz filling the otherwise quiet lab as you wrapped up your final tasks of the day. The sterile, clinical atmosphere seemed like a lifetime away from the jungle you’d left behind only a week ago. Your heart still carried the echoes of that wild, exhausting adventure—the adrenaline of survival, the closeness you’d shared with Jimin, and the overwhelming emotions that came with it. It was all so vivid in your mind, impossible to erase, and sometimes, it felt like you could still hear the rustling leaves, feel the humidity on your skin, and even catch a glimpse of Jimin’s teasing smile.

“Hey, got a minute?” Jimin’s voice broke through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. You looked up to find her leaning casually against the doorframe, her usual confidence on display, but with an unmistakable softness in her eyes. She was wearing her usual jeans and t-shirt, but somehow she seemed different—less like the clumsy, adventurous woman you had gotten to know in the jungle, and more like the person who had somehow wormed her way under your skin.

You smiled at the sight of her, your pulse picking up despite your best efforts to remain composed. “Yeah, what’s up?” You didn’t need to ask—it was obvious that she was here for something, and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was on her mind. After everything that had happened, things felt... different between the two of you.

Jimin stepped further into the lab, her hands slipping into her pockets as she walked toward you. “I was just thinking…” She trailed off, her gaze flicking to the floor for a moment as she scratched the back of her neck. “You know, we never actually got around to that second date.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Second date?” The idea felt almost surreal, considering everything that had happened. But here she was, standing before you, asking for something as normal as dinner. You tried not to think too much about how quickly your heart began to race.

She nodded, her grin widening. “Yeah. I mean, I know we were kind of busy—what with all the, you know, being stuck in the jungle and running from wildcats—but I figured since we’re back to regular life now, we should give this whole ‘date’ thing another shot. A real one this time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her suggestion. “You’re sure you’re not just trying to make up for all the times you almost got us both killed in the jungle?”

Jimin made an exaggerated offended face, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. “Hey, that’s unfair. I was—” She paused, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “—a brave and fearless leader. You were the one who didn’t trust me with the map.”

“Trust you? You were reading the map upside down!” you shot back, unable to keep the grin off your face. There was something about her that made it impossible to stay annoyed for long. Even now, when things were back to normal, the memory of her teasing and her warmth still lingered in the air.

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point,” Jimin said, shaking her head with a grin. “But seriously. What do you think? How about that second date? No wild animals, no getting lost—just you and me, a nice dinner, and the chance to actually talk without worrying about survival.”

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, an unfamiliar but welcome feeling. You’d spent so many days feeling frustrated and confused about how close you’d gotten to Jimin, how you felt drawn to her despite the clashing parts of your personalities. But here she was, asking for something real. You couldn’t ignore the fluttering in your stomach as you thought about it.

You leaned back against the desk, trying to appear nonchalant despite the growing warmth in your chest. “You really think dinner’s going to make up for the chaos of the past week?” you teased, but there was a softness to your tone that betrayed how much you appreciated her persistence. Despite all the joking, despite how annoyed you’d gotten at times, there was a part of you that had found solace in her presence. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized how much you wanted to explore this, whatever it was between you.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled. “Well, we don’t have to call it a ‘makeup’ dinner, but yeah… I’d really like to see you outside of that jungle madness. Just us. No distractions. No dangerous animals.” She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “Maybe… just a quiet evening with a little less chaos?”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and despite the playful tone, you could sense the sincerity behind them. Jimin had a way of making everything seem lighthearted, even when it mattered most. It wasn’t that she was just carefree; she had this way of carrying the weight of the world lightly, as though nothing could truly bring her down. And you admired that. But there was also something else there, something deeper, hidden behind that playful façade.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice quieter than you intended, the simple word feeling like it carried so much more weight than it should. “A second date. I think that sounds… nice.”

Jimin’s eyes lit up in delight, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She seemed genuinely happy, her face breaking into a grin that made your heart skip a beat. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, as if savoring the moment, before her expression softened and she took a step closer.

“So, dinner tomorrow?” she asked, her voice laced with that same playful tone. But this time, there was something more vulnerable about it. Something quieter, more uncertain, as if she wasn’t quite sure what you’d say next.

You nodded, your heart thumping in your chest. “Yeah,” you said, swallowing back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. “Dinner tomorrow. Sounds perfect.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, both unsure of what to say next. It felt like there was a new energy between you, an unspoken understanding that things were changing. The jungle was behind you, but the feelings you’d shared in those wild days hadn’t gone away. If anything, they were growing stronger.

Then, without warning, Jimin took a small step closer, her hand reaching out to brush against yours. Her touch was light but steady, her fingers grazing yours in a way that felt so familiar and yet so new. You felt your breath catch in your throat as she looked at you with those soft, dark eyes of hers.

“I didn’t think I’d miss getting lost in the jungle,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving yours. “But I kind of do.”

You felt a laugh bubble up from your chest, but it was soft, a little breathless. “Yeah, it wasn’t so bad after all,” you replied, the words feeling lighter now that the tension had broken. You felt more at ease, more certain about what you wanted.

You didn’t give yourself a chance to second-guess. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, closing the space between you. Her lips were soft, warm against yours, and the kiss was everything you hadn’t known you needed. It was gentle at first, almost tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters, unsure of how to move forward. But as you kissed her again, deeper this time, there was a sweetness to it that made everything feel right. The world outside the lab, outside of everything that had happened, faded into the background.

When you pulled away, you were both breathless, smiles lingering on your lips.

“So… tomorrow, yeah?” Jimin asked again, her voice soft, almost shy now, as if the kiss had made her feel just as vulnerable as you.

You smiled, a little unsure of yourself but more than ready for whatever this new chapter was going to be. “It’s a date,” you whispered.

a/n: tried a new writing style!

[freelancearsonist]

hunger

➔ Lucy MacLean (Fallout) x AFAB!Reader

➔ 0.8k words

➔ You teach your best friend something new.

➔ Rated MA // oral (reader receiving), a little bit of internalized homophobia, reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used), two (2) okie dokies

➔ This happened bc @ozarkthedog challenged me to write some lucy porn with no plot (thank you my love <3) i have this condition where i can't write anything less than 1k so i was shook this came to me so easily hopefully it doesn't suck fjsfjslfjs

“I’ve never…”

“We don’t have to,” you quickly counter. The last thing you want to do is pressure Lucy into new territory.

She looks up at you from her position against the pillows with the biggest, prettiest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “I want to,” she says with an earnest nod that sends her long hair out around her head like a dark halo. “I really want to.”

“Okay.”

This goes against everything you’ve been taught since the two of you were kids. Sex is for reproduction, not pleasure. It’s nothing more than goal-based. It’s all bullshit, of course, and you’ve never been quiet about your thoughts on that–much to the quiet chagrin of the leadership. You hadn’t realized until recently, though, that your childhood best friend feels the same way.

In a flash she’s got you trapped in her arms so she can roll on top of you, drawing a surprised gasp from your lips at the quick flip. She’s a lot stronger than she looks.

“I’ve never been on this side,” she murmurs, breath warm against your neck. “You’re gonna have to show me what to do.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and at first no words come. How long have you wanted to be in this exact position with this exact girl? How could words even hope to convey all the thoughts rushing through your brain right now? “I can do that.”

“Okie dokie.”

Her lips are so soft. There’s a heady contrast between her firm grip on your hips and the feather-light way she makes her way down the expanse of your stomach. There’s confidence in everything Lucy Maclean does, but she looks up at you now as she kisses your hip and there’s nerves swirling in those chocolate brown irises. Underneath her self-assuredness, there’s always been a fear of failure. It’s something you’ve comforted her through a lot over the years.

“Do I just… go for it?”

You can’t help smiling at that wide-eyed eagerness to learn and to please. “You know what feels good to you?”

She nods, fingers unconsciously massaging your spread thighs. She’s already so good at this without even realizing it.

“Start with that, and we’ll go from there.”

She nods again, and that look crosses her face. It’s one you’ve been familiar with since you were both in velcro shoes–sheer determination, resolution to rise to a challenge. You’ve always admired that look. Lucy “never backs down” MacLean is a badass, and you’re lucky to call her your best friend.

She starts with light little kitten licks to your clit, whining as her hips shift to grind against the mattress from your taste alone. She’s a little light on the pressure but you moan anyway to show her she’s on the right track. “That’s it baby, a little harder…”

“I won’t hurt you?”

Your hand comes down to cup her cheek, silently reassuring. “No, honey, you can be rough with it. Feels so good.”

She’s always taken constructive criticism in stride–she pulls away for just a moment to readjust her grip on your spread thighs, and then she returns with vigor. This time, when she seals her lips around your clit and sucks, your moan isn’t even remotely fabricated.

“Like that?” She asks, a proud smile flickering at the corners of her lips as she lets her tongue trail down to taste you properly.

“Yeah, Lucy, fuck.”

“You taste good,” she murmurs into your cunt, matter-of-fact. You can’t help smiling, even through the whine that escapes you as she returns to your clit.

“You’re doing great,” you praise as your fingers tangle into her hair. So soft, so well cared for. Always prim and proper–you love that you get to be the one to unwind her like this.

She’s a remarkably fast learner–in just a few quick minutes, and she has you whining and bucking your hips on the edge of a precipice.

“Oh god Lucy, I’m gonna–”

But you don’t get to finish your sentence, because she doesn’t relent. Her lips seal around your clit and she doesn’t let up until you’re gushing, simultaneously trying to push her away and pull her closer.

“Wow,” she breathes reverently. “Was that good?”

“Incredible,” you sigh. Your bones feel like liquid–it’s all you can do to pull her up into a messy kiss. The taste of your own arousal on your beautiful best friend’s tongue is nothing short of euphoric.

She keeps her mouth locked to yours for a long moment, then you can feel her lips twist into a broad grin. “I want to do it again.”

“Easy killer,” you say with a breathy little chuckle. “It’s your turn first.”

Her eyes widen for a moment, and then she’s nodding her head rapidly. “Okie dokie.”

➔ beta: @ozarkthedog ; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” ~ Pt 8 Franco x reader

WARNING: angst?

Note: sorry it took me so long! Finals was WAYYY more stressful than I expected! Hope you enjoy 💜

Summary: Y/N navigates the tension and heartbreak at the Vegas track, she’s more conflicted than ever. Seeking solace in Franco’s arms, she’s faced with balancing the pain she’s caused with the uncertain path ahead.

The Vegas night was electric, the hum of the crowd and the buzz of the track vibrating through the air. Lights glimmered off the sleek motorhomes and trailers, casting shadows that danced across the pavement. The sound of engines revving in the distance only added to the energy, but I couldn’t focus on any of it. My thoughts were louder than the chaos around me.

It had been 24 hours since Lewis and I last spoke—an eternity for us. Even in our worst arguments, we’d never gone this long without speaking. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I finally saw him. Would I get the cold, detached Lewis who could cut me down with a few harsh words? Or would he be the softer version, the one who’d make sure I was okay before sending me on my way for good?

Neither thought brought me comfort.

I was sitting in Franco’s hotel room earlier, scrolling through my phone as I tried to figure out what to do. Texts between us had been frequent, but his most recent one had left me feeling more conflicted than ever.

**Franco:** *You could come… but maybe you should do something else?*

**Me:** *I know, but I feel like I should support Lewis.*

**Franco:** *I don’t think so.*

I sighed in frustration, staring at the screen. Franco’s tone in text was as calm and measured as ever, but his words felt like a subtle warning. He didn’t want me at the track. Maybe he thought it would stir up more drama. Maybe he didn’t want to risk running into Lewis. Or maybe… maybe he didn’t want to share me.

I didn’t respond. Instead, like the idiot I am, I opened a new text to Lewis. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting over and over again.

*I’m sorry.* Delete.

*I shouldn’t have done what I did.* Delete.

*Are you okay?* Delete.

Nothing felt right. No words could bridge the canyon between us. And yet, I still found myself heading to the track, my credentials burning a hole in my pocket. I wasn’t sure who I was there for—Lewis or Franco—but something inside me said I needed to be there.

---

The Vegas track was as dazzling as the city itself, every corner lit up with neon and flashing lights. The air was crisp, almost biting, and I pulled my coat tighter around me as I moved through the hospitality area, keeping my head down. My heart was racing, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the anxiety of running into either of them. I texted Franco to let him know I was there, but his reply was short, almost dismissive: *Okay.*

I decided to find somewhere quieter, away from the crowds and the chaos. My feet led me to a spot Lewis had shown me once—behind the Haas motorhome, where it was quieter, less busy. I leaned against the wall, the noise of the crowd muffled by the distance. My thoughts raced as I stared at the ground, trying to make sense of why I’d come.

Was I here to support Lewis? To apologize? To make things right? Or was I here because I wanted to see Franco, to feel the way he made my heart race and forget all the guilt I carried?

I didn’t have an answer.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the sound of approaching footsteps until they were too close. When I looked up, my heart stopped. Lewis was standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable, his eyes locking onto mine like he’d been searching for me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension between us was thick, heavier than the chill in the air. I pushed off the wall, standing straighter as I tried to gather my thoughts.

“Lew—”

“You came—”

We both spoke at the same time, our words colliding awkwardly before falling into silence again. I swallowed hard, my nerves making it impossible to think straight.

“I didn’t know you were going to come,” he said, his voice low but steady.

“Well… I wasn’t sure if I should,” I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. “I just…”

I trailed off, unsure of how to explain myself without giving too much away. His eyes stayed on me, sharp and calculating, like he was trying to figure out what had changed about me in the last 24 hours.

“I saw you hadn’t left Vegas yet,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, more serious now.

I blinked, surprised. “You… you’ve been looking at my location?” My voice came out more accusatory than I’d planned.

He shrugged, his gaze hardening just a little. “Of course I have. What did you expect? You disappear into another hotel, don’t tell me where you are, and I’m just supposed to act like I don’t care?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.

“Why didn’t you just get another room at my hotel? You didn’t have to go to another one,” he said, his voice sharp and edged with irritation.

I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “Well, I didn’t exactly know what to do because you kicked me out,” I shot back, sharper than I meant to. My frustration was bubbling to the surface, and I couldn’t hold it back.

His expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before it hardened again. “I didn’t kick you out, Y/N. I asked you to leave because I needed time to think. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, is there?” I retorted, my voice rising slightly. “Because it felt pretty clear to me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his composure faltering for just a moment. “I needed space, okay? I needed to figure out what the hell to do after… after what you told me.”

My heart ached at the pain in his voice, the way his words cracked slightly as he tried to keep his emotions in check. I wanted to apologize, to explain myself, but I didn’t know where to start. Everything I said would sound like an excuse, and he deserved more than that.

“I’m sorry, Lewis,” I said softly, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You didn’t mean for it to happen? That’s supposed to make me feel better?” His eyes met mine again, and I could see the hurt behind the anger. “Do you even understand what you did? You didn’t just hurt me, Y/N. You made me question everything.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I know I did,” I said, my voice breaking. “And I hate myself for it.”

For a moment, his expression softened, like he was on the verge of reaching out to me. But then his walls went back up, and he shook his head. “I can’t do this right now,” he said, his voice low. “I have a race to focus on.”

I nodded, my heart sinking. “I understand.”

He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but instead, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in the cold, feeling more alone than ever.

The Williams hospitality area was buzzing with activity. Engineers shuffled around, team members compared notes, and the media vultures were circling as usual. I slipped inside unnoticed, blending into the chaos as I tried to steady my racing thoughts. Being here felt safer—less fraught than hanging around Mercedes, where every glance or conversation might lead me back to Lewis. I needed a break from the tension, from the guilt. From everything.

As I lingered near a corner, scanning the room absentmindedly, I spotted him. Franco. His easy smile lit up his face as he charmed a group of media people, gesturing animatedly while they laughed at something he’d said. I couldn’t help but watch, drawn to the way he carried himself—so effortless, so magnetic.

Then his eyes found mine.

For a brief moment, everything else faded. His gaze softened, and his smile faltered, just slightly. I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. When I dared to glance back, he was already excusing himself from the group, weaving through the crowd toward me.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm but laced with concern as he stopped in front of me. His hand reached out, brushing against my upper arm in a gesture that felt too intimate for the public space. His thumb rubbed gently, a reflexive move he seemed to forget wasn’t appropriate here.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly as he searched my face.

I forced a smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m fine.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he studied me, clearly unconvinced. “Come with me,” he said softly, his hand lingering for a moment before he dropped it. He turned and led me toward the back of the hospitality area, weaving through the halls until we reached the door to his driver’s room. He opened it, motioning for me to step inside.

Once the door clicked shut behind us, the noise of the bustling hospitality melted away, leaving only the quiet hum of the air conditioning. I stood awkwardly in the center of the small room, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, while Franco leaned against the door, watching me.

“You’re not fine,” he said gently, his voice low. He stepped closer, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to pretend with me, hermosa.”

I sighed, my shoulders sagging as the weight of everything pressed down on me. “It’s just… it’s a lot.”

He nodded, stepping closer until we were only inches apart. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the small couch against the wall. I obeyed, sinking into the cushions while he knelt in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my knees.

“You talked to him, didn’t you?” Franco asked, his voice soft, almost coaxing.

I hesitated, looking down at my hands. “Yeah. I saw him. It wasn’t… bad, but it wasn’t good either.”

Franco’s fingers brushed against mine, a small, reassuring gesture. “What did he say?”

I looked up, meeting his expectant gaze. “He wasn’t angry. Not really. I mean, he asked why I didn’t stay at his hotel… but he’s hurt. And I can see it all over his face. I just… I feel awful, Franco. I need to make it right somehow. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

At that, Franco’s jaw tensed, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face. He tried to hide it, but I noticed the slight clench of his teeth, the way his fingers gripped my knees a little tighter.

“You don’t owe him anything, Y/N,” he said, his tone even but firm. “You’ve already done what you could. Staying here, trying to reach out—it’s only going to make it harder for both of you.”

I frowned, unsure how to respond. “I can’t just… walk away, Franco. I hurt him. He loved me, and I—”

“And you’re not with him anymore,” Franco interrupted, his voice sharper than usual. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to rein in his frustration. “He’s going to be fine. He’s Lewis Hamilton. He’ll survive. But you? You need to move on. You need to stop carrying this guilt around like it’s your responsibility to fix everything.”

I stared at him, my heart twisting at the intensity in his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he insisted, his voice softening. “You’re here with me now. That means something, doesn’t it?”

I didn’t know how to answer. I liked Franco—more than I wanted to admit—but the weight of everything I’d done, the wreckage I’d left behind, made it impossible to feel anything but guilt. I tried to smile, to lighten the mood. “You’re really jealous, huh?”

His eyes darkened slightly, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his hand moving to cup my cheek. “But can you blame me? He had you first. And now…” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my temple, his lips lingering for a moment. “Now, I want you to be mine.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, equal parts thrilling and terrifying. I nodded slightly, leaning into his touch, but the guilt gnawed at the edges of my mind. “I just… I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” I whispered.

Franco smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then stop hurting yourself, hermosa. Let him go.”

——-

The start of the race crept closer, and the energy at the track shifted, growing more intense as the sun dipped lower in the sky. I stood in the grandstands, bundled in my coat as the cool desert air nipped at my skin. My heart pounded as the cars lined up on the grid, the roar of engines filling the air.

My eyes scanned the track, finding the familiar silver-and-neon yellow of Lewis’s Mercedes. My chest tightened as I thought about him, about the pain in his eyes when we’d spoken earlier. I wanted to run to him, to explain, to somehow make him understand that I never meant to hurt him. But I stayed rooted in place, watching as he climbed into his car, his helmet masking whatever emotions he was feeling.

Then my gaze drifted to the Williams garage, where Franco was preparing for the race. He looked so focused, so determined, and I felt a flicker of pride watching him. But the pride was tinged with anxiety. Somehow, I’d gotten myself tangled between these two men, and no matter how much I wanted to believe I could fix everything, I knew it wasn’t possible.

As the lights went out and the cars roared to life, I clenched my fists, my heart racing as fast as the cars on the track. This wasn’t just a race—it was the beginning of whatever came next. For me, for Lewis, for Franco.

And I wasn’t ready for any of it.

[manchesterau]

helloooo for the fic prompts thing… cat and bear halloween 2009? pls (no pressure) 🐱🐻

thank you anon! i love this prompt!

send fic prompts to keep phan high on the fandometrics pls

quick little halloween gathering fic under the cut 🐱🐻 ! hope you enjoy!

“Do you think I look silly?”

Phil stops in his tracks, turning to give Dan a once over.

If Phil were a little braver he’d say he thought Dan looked hot. The ears, haphazardly done eyeliner, and poorly drawn bear features would have anyone cooing over Dan. It made Phil want to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, and even though their relationship was way passed the point of just being friendly he still finds himself hesitating when it comes to Dan.

So Phil settles on, “Uh, I think you look adorable.” And tries to stop his heart from beating out of his chest.

Dan rolls his eyes and continues walking. “I’m not trying to look adorable,” he says. “I’m a bear not a bunny.”

Phil runs to catch up with him, it’s night and they’re walking around London without a care in the world. They’re supposed to be meeting up with some friends for the Halloween gathering but Dan wanted to make a quick detour and get some coffee to warm them up.

“Well I think bears are adorable.” Phil mutters, his face is heating up and he hopes with the chill in the air he can blame it on being cold.

Dan bumps their shoulders together, his fuzzy covered hand briefly makes its way into Phil’s, squeezing lightly, and it’s so sudden he can barely react before it’s gone again.

If Phil were as brave as he thought he was he’d reach out and hold Dan’s hand again. Maybe if he were back home in Manchester he’d have kissed him already, but they’re not in Manchester they’re in London. Phil’s only been a hand full of times and while the city is so big and he knows no one is paying them any mind be can’t bring himself to do it. To bridge the gap and make a move, to qualm his beating heart.

He can tell he’s been quiet for too long because Dan taps him on the shoulder.

“You alright?” he asks. He’s giving Phil a look as if he’s scared he’s just done the wrong thing.

Phil quickly shakes his head and smiles. He is happy tonight, his best friend is with him and he’s out in London without his parents or his brother watching over him. Most importantly it’s Halloween, his favorite holiday. Tonight will be a good night, he just knows it will.

“I’m alright,” he says, just as they round the corner and see two zombies and a witch run up to a person dressed as Scooby Doo. Just down the road a bit, near a small fountain are growing groups of people and judging by the volume of the crowd that starts to steadily grow by the second, he can tell they’ve made it to the gathering.

His nerves start to dissipate when he spots a couple of mates. He grabs Dan’s arm and pulls him along.

“I see Aaron and Yaz.” Phil says, he hopes Dan can hear him over the loudness of everyone. They reach them and quickly say their hellos, a couple of people stop to chat with them. Video cameras have been pulled out, and Phil briefly wonders if he should have brought his to capture the night but he’s glad he gets to live in the moment instead.

Dan is chatting with someone dressed as a lady bug and Phil has somehow gotten someone to give him a plastic sword to wave around. The night has just started but he can tell it’s going to be a good one.

Somewhere in between chatting with a pirate about collabing on a Youtube video and trying not to lose Dan in the thick crowd, someone proposes they catch the tube to go get some good and walk around the shops.

Phil spins around to try and talk to Dan about the change in plans and finds that he’s already beside Phil, smiling at him.

“Are you hungry?” He yells, crowding in closer so that they can hear each other. Phil is well aware of the cameras lurking around but he can’t seem to care because Dan is looking at him with a twinkle in his eyes from the lights hung around and he’s so beautiful. Phil wishes they could have a moment alone so he can kiss this boy breathless.

Dan shrugs, “Yeah.”

They say goodbye to his mates and walk with a slightly smaller group of people to the nearest station.

Their shoulders bump as they walk, as close as they can be around a group of people they barely know.

“Are you having a good time?” Phil asks, just as someone walks by videoing the group as they walk.

Dan makes a small noise, “Yeah, I guess I didn’t expect it to be so many people.”

Phil nods, “It is a lot. Hopefully we can make it on the tube.”

They begin the decent down, going down the stairs in a crowd of people trying to go down and others just trying to leave is a bit of a hassle but soon they’re swiping their cards and making their way into the station.

It’s congested and a bit confusing, Phil almost trips over someone and their spider costume when he feels a hand on his back. He looks over at Dan who’s looking ahead and guiding them onto the proper tube with the group. Soon the hand on his back turns into an arm around his waist and Phil can’t help but lean back into it.

They’re standing together, holding onto the railing and Dan still has his hand around Phil’s waist. No one is paying them any attention and it’s too crowded for anyone to really see or care.

“Is this alright?” Dan asks quietly in his ear.

Phil can feel himself blushing, and judging by how red Dan is he can tell he feels the same. The butterflies he’s held in his stomach all night start to flutter and even though he’s nervous he’s also incredibly happy.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, slightly breathless and giddy with excitement. They don’t really do pda all that often if at all. They haven’t defined anything outside of promises to be in each other’s lives for as long as possible. There is something growing between them that both fills him with thrilling anticipation for what will happen next but also scares him to his core.

Growing up Phil always thought that when he was older he would be brave enough to go after the things he really wants.

He realizes he doesn’t have to be brave all the time, because sometimes Dan is brave enough for the both of them.

����🐱

[disasterofastory]

Run (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)

Run // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 12/14 Warnings: chasing, outdoor sex

Summary: Brahms chases you through the garden.

"Are you ready?" Brahms asks one last time. One of his hands is still on your hips, squeezing your flesh softly before letting you go and taking a step back. He can already feel the tension and adrenaline building up in him, pumping in his veins and speeding up his heartbeat. "Yeah," you breathe out, barely finding your voice. You already feel cold without his closeness. "I will count to twenty," Brahms smirks. "You will need it." "Don't be so sure about it," you reply. The confidence in your tone is light and trembling. "Maybe you will never see me again." A few months ago, Brahms would have been angry and desperate hearing your words, but not anymore. He will catch you, and even if not, you will come back to him. He is sure about it. Instead, he laughs, pressing his back against the wall of your room. He has to force his muscles to relax and not crawl their way back around your body. The curve of his lips is confident and a bit mocking. "Run." His words are muffled by the porcelain mask hiding his face.

He doesn't have to say more.

You run as fast as you can. You fall against the wall with a quiet thud as you try to take a sharp turn without slowing down. You can hear Brahms laugh from the distance. The deep rumbles send chills through your body, and your heart quickens its beating. Your socks are slippery on the wooden floor, but you still reach the stairs. Your legs almost slip, and the only thing that keeps you from falling on your bottom is the handrail you are still holding. You can still hear the man from your room as he counts louder and louder so you can hear him.

By the time you reach the entrance door of the manor, you are already panting and gasping for air. Your limbs tingle with the adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you have to force them to do as you want as you circle around the small space in front of the door. "Brahms!" You shout. "Where are my shoes?" "Five," he continues to count. "Four." Fuck! Not caring about your shoes or the nasty trick Brahms pulled on you, you bolt out of the door. The cold night air slaps you across the face, filling your lungs with the earthy scent of damp soil before you jump down the stairs and start to run into the darkness. The moon hangs low in the ink-black sky, casting a silvery glow over the green field behind the manor. Your eyes scan your surroundings, trying to find a place where you can hide from the man, but the sound of the door closing behind you makes you forget everything.

Brahms is here.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, and your heart races in your ribcage, urging you forward with every wild beat. Your breath comes in rapid, shallow gasps, and your lungs burn for more air. With each hurried step, the soft, cool grass tickles the soles of your bare feet. Excitement and determination bubble within your chest, pushing you to run faster and faster while Brahms behind you gets closer with each passing second. You can feel the thud of his heavy steps under your feet. He will get you. You want him to get you.

With a sudden thought, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. When the man notices the change, he stops, too. Even though you can't see his face, you know he is surprised. Your chest heaves as you stare at each other. His mask looks even paler with the moon's silvery glow on it. Your thighs clench as your eyes rake over his broad form. He looks primal and beautiful. With a smirk on your lips, you grab the hem of your shirt to pull it off with a swift motion. The thin fabric falls to the ground, leaving your upper body bare in front of his darkened eyes. Your nipples harden within a few seconds because of the cold air brushing over your heated skin. You feel like a raw nerve, throbbing and needing friction. "Do you want me?" You ask him teasingly. "If you are not fast enough, I will run away," you continue. You can see as he tenses at your words.

Brahms's whole focus is solely on you. His eyes follow your every movement as you make a few steps back, grinning when he follows you. His every instinct tells him to bounce on you before you slip further away from him. His fingers twitch, and his muscles cramp as he forces himself to stay put.

For a while, you circle around in the empty field, staring at each other with heavy breaths and rapid heart beating. You really feel like a prey under his gaze, and the excitement goes straight to your pussy. Your panties are already damp between your legs.

"I start to feel like you don't even want me," you taunt him some more. "Not really. Maybe I should go and-" Your words end up in a loud scream as he jumps. You barely have enough time to turn around and run when his arms cage you against his chest, keeping you secure and tight in his firm hold. "Brahms!" You squeal again, falling onto the ground under his strength. Your knees land on the grass with a painful thud. "Fuck!" You try to roll over and out of his hands when his hold on you tightens, and he turns you onto your stomach. You grunt at the sudden tug. He pulls your hips up so you are on your knees with your ass in the air in front of him. "You are mine," he growls next to your ear. His mask is cold at the crook of your neck as he hovers above you. His chest is pressed to your back, and you can feel his erection through the thick fabric of your jeans. He already grinds against your bottom for some friction. You want to tell him to tear off your clothes, but you decide to stay silent and let him have this moment.

Even though Brahms knew of your little play the whole time, there was a moment when he was really afraid of losing you. He still feels the sick turn of his stomach when he saw you running away from him in the distance. His muscles burn from the effort he chased after you with his full speed.

When both of you are naked, finally, he presses his cock against your pussy. You are already wet and ready for him, but he doesn’t push in yet. He relishes in the heat of your folds on his shaft as he grinds against you, keeping your hips tight and secure in his large hands. "Brahms!" You gasp, your words muffled by the ground under your face. Your fingers dig into the mud as you push your bottom backward. "I know, love," he grunts. "Just give me a moment." His eyes are closed as he soaks his erection in your juices. The tip of his cock glides through your folds and nudges your clit. "Br-Brahm-" you whine again, shaking. Need blinds you for long seconds as you wiggle in his hold. "Tell me you will never leave me," he demands. "Tell me you are mine, Y/N." "I'm yours," you tell him without thinking. At this point, you would say everything he wants to hear just to get what you want.

A hiss escapes both of your lips when he adjusts himself to your entrance. You sound like a wounded animal as you feel his cock pressing into your wet channel. Your toes curl at the stretch of your pussy around his grith. Brahms doesn't push into you entirely even though you know you could take him. He teases you, driving you mad with need. He rocks in and out, once, twice, three times. "Please," you gasp. "Brahms." It seems like the only thing you remember is his name falling out of your open lips every few minutes. And while you are busy begging him, Brahms is at the edge of losing his mind. His muscles are taut above you, trying to control himself and his urges. Every fiber in his body tells him to ruin you for every other man, to fuck you so deep and fast, you won't ever think of leaving him.

You look back over your shoulder at him with a small frown when you notice his stalling. His cock splits you open but stays still. "Brahms," you groan, wiggling. The man needs a few seconds to register his name falling from your lips. His eyes find yours, and for a little while, none of you says or moves. "It's okay," you tell him, opening your legs even more. "Please, Brahms. I need you." You arch under his warm palm on the middle of your back, so you practically present yourself to him. You rest your head on the ground, keeping yourself from falling forward with your arms while your ass is high in the air with his cock in your pussy. Your grip around him is warm and wet.

With a deep, ragged breath, Brahms starts to work himself in and out of you. Your walls clench around him as if you are trying to keep him inside, stretching and filling your tight hole. At the feeling of your muscles working on his cock, he gives a harsh thrust into you, grinding inside you entirely. Saliva slips out of your lips as your jaw goes slack by the power of his push. Your body rocks back and forth as he fucks you from behind.

Brahms's head drops for a second when a low groan bursts out of his chest. He can feel every small movement and squeeze of your pussy. You suck him in deeper and deeper, wanting him just as much as he wants you. And this little fact still amazes him.

You want him. You love him.

You want him to fuck you under the dark sky, not caring about the dirt sticking to your skin or the cold caressing both of you.

He adjusts himself behind you so he can watch as you take his cock with every thrust of his hips. Another low growl escapes his clenched teeth as he focuses on your tight hole stretching around his grith. Your pussy and his cock glint with your juices, seeping down your thighs.

Brahms is ruthless as he fucks you and fills you to the brim while you cry and whine underneath him. Pure ecstasy washes over you in waves, rocking your body against his thrusts. "You are mine, Y/N," he growls, pounding into you. "You will never leave me, do you understand?" Beneath him, you wail and sob, gripping onto the ground. Your nails are dirty from the soil. Your eyes are teary and unfocused as your lips open and close every now and again without forming any coherent word. You are so beautiful like this, helpless and cock-drunk.

"Fuck!" He snarls, holding onto your hips tightly when he feels the familiar pull in his balls. "Y/N!" At the same time, his cock starts to jerk inside you, your walls clamp and squeeze around his shaft too. He fills you to the brim as he empties his balls until your tight hole starts to leak with his semen. He grinds into you, wanting everything and anything you can give him as you reach your climax. Drool slips out of your mouth, and tears run down your cheeks as you cry and cry and cry. The world spins around you, and the only thing that keeps you grounded is the man above you, forcing you to stay on his cock until your whole body goes limp and he falls to the ground next to you.

"Do you still want to leave?" He pants, pulling you to his chest. Your leg drops over his, and he can feel you smearing over his skin. Your pussy is sensitive, swollen, and leaking with his cum. "If I can run, can you fuck me again like this?" You wheeze, still fighting for your life as your body trembles after your orgasm. Brahms just laughs. There is no way you can run after this, but if you can, he sure can fuck you even if his dick will fall off.

[novankenn]

Snippets from "A Mafia AU"

(Original Post) / Inspiration by @pilot-boi

Pyrrha was at her wits end. Currently she was engaged in a knife fight in the storage room of a Pumpkin Pete's Novelty store, because Jaune had decided it would be FUN to get her a matching hoodie! Pyrrha ducked under a wild slash, before lashing out with several rapid jabs of her own combat blade.

"Go away!" Pyrrha snapped, "You're running my date!"

"Date?" Pyrrha's current opponent, and Jaune's would have been assassin froze, and just stood there blinking her amber eyes. Her faunus trait, a set of cat ears that matched her long black hair flicked back and forth. "Date?"

"Forget I said that!" Pyrrha snapped, as she used that moment to take a more balanced combat stance, She had been fighting on the back foot this whole time and now. "Let's get this over Belladonna!"

"Hold on. I need a minute." Blake Belladonna, one of the premiere up close and personal assassins, commented as she absentmindedly tapped the flat of her knife blade against her cheek.

"You need a minute? I have to go. He's going to come looking for me, and I can not..."

"You know you shouldn't hide things from someone you're interested in. It will cause trust issues." Blake offered with a smile.

"What?"

"You can't have a solid foundation to a relationship with out trust." Blake continue to expand on the subject, "It's the cornerstone of any relationship, but doubly important in ones that end up long term, possible permanent?"

"Permanent?" Pyrrha stood up straight, giving Blake a narrow eyed gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, elaborate dresses, golden rings, white picket fences, children?"

"You can't be serious!" Pyrrha snapped. "I'm supposed to kill him, and he somehow saw me following him, and thinks I'm his body guard! I have no idea how to fix this!"

"You're the one that called it a date." Blake countered. "Not me, and if you really think about how you've been acting... it has been kind of body guardy."

"That's not a word." Pyrrha deadpanned.

"Eh. Anyway if you want out, and can't do it yourself... step aside. Let someone else..." Blake ducked out of the way of broom handle thrown like a spear. "Okay... touched a nerve there!"

"Pyr?" came the sound of worried voice. "Pyr are you okay? The sales woman said you ran into the back! Is your tummy bothering you?"

Blake froze, in complete shock at the words being uttered by her target to her rival, and the sight assaulting her. Pyrrha Nikos. THE Pyrrha "Goddess of Death" Nikos was blushing! Full on atomic red! It was all just surreal, that Blake couldn't make herself capitalize on the opening.

"Pyr?" the door creaked open behind the red head, who in a panic flicked her wrist sending her knife zipping through the air to bury itself with a thunk into an out of sight wall. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Jaune." Pyrrha answered, turning herself to see Jaune as well as track Blake, who was still completely stunned by what was going on. "Just ran into..."

"A friend!" Blake announced, as she like Pyrrha disposed of her combat knife. Though Blake threw hers up into the ceiling.

"Well any friend of Pyr's is a friend of mine." Jaune cheerily spoke as he walked past Pyrrha with his hand extended for a greeting. "Name is Jaune Arc. Short sweet and the ladies love it!"

"They do?" Blake asked.

"Of course they do." Pyrrha chuckled nervously before moving to stand as close to Jaune as she could, without actually climbing on top of him. "Anyway I came back here, not because of my tummy..."

"Are you sure?" Jaune asked with genuine concern. "We have five cheese lasagna last night, and I know how cheese doesn't agree with you."

"I'm fine, Jaune." Pyrrha's blush gotten even darker, but her emerald eyes glinted dangerously when Blake's teasing grin was noticed. Blake didn't like that look. "This is Blake, and she... works here."

"I what?" Blake stuttered out.

"You do?" Jaune's eyes gleamed in excitement. "Yes, someone who knows Pyr and works here. You have to be able to help me find the PEREFCT hoodie for her!"

"Wait!" Blake yelped as Jaune grabbed her by the wrist and started to walk back to the front of the store. "How are you so strong?"

Pyrrha's blush, faded, and she took a slow steadying breath, before jogging to catch up, to keep an eye on her Jaune... er her target. Yep, her target... no her Jaune. Pyrrha grit her teeth and internally screamed at her traitorous mind.

A/N - Figured I throw out another snippet, just for the hell of it, plus it's kind of of fun trying to come up with ridiculous situations to throw Pyrrha into. 😁

[onlyawhim]

Treat you Better - Auston Matthews x Reader

Auston sees how Kasp treats you & thinks (and eventually proves ;)) that he can treat you better.

Totally made Kasperi a douche in this - sorry Kasp fans. Also, obvi set when they were both on the Leafs!

Two months, you've been keeping track - but of course would never tell Kasperi (you can imagine it now: "Why do I care how long we've been talking? It's not like we're dating, Y/N"). Two months of being a second choice. No chance of commitment anywhere in sight. But you stay, because Kas is charming and good-looking. You convince yourself maybe he'll change, maybe he just isn't ready for commitment right now. Of course he's not just messing with you - he wouldn't do that.

He invited you to his game. You thought maybe this was a sign that he truly cared for you. Would he invite you to watch him if he didn't actually like you? Or did he just want one more Kapanen fan in the building? You push that second thought out of your head as quick as it comes.

Well, obviously he would just invite people to invite people, because here you sit watching him chat up two blonde girls who are very giddy to be graced by Kasperi Kapanen's presence.

The game was nerve-racking, ending with a 5-4 Leaf's win. You were excited to wait outside of the Leaf's locker room. You felt like a true NHL girlfriend. Well, you did, until Kas passed you with a nod (what am I, some fan waiting for a high-five?!) and headed straight for the two pretty girls also standing outside the lockeroom, clearly waiting for any NHL player to pay attention to them - hell, maybe even a gear manager if they were wearing a Leaf's shirt.

So, here you sit, waiting for Kasperi to decide that the girl he invited to watch him play - the one who dutifully cheered for every good play of his and only secretly cheered for one of the other good-looking men in blue - was worth his attention after all. You had even denied a ride home from your friends because "I'll just ride home with Kas". How stupid you felt now...

Kasperi is always a good time when you hang out. He's funny and charming. But this is your first time being in public with him - or, rather, in public watching him act like you're not with him.

You're growing angrier and angrier as Kas makes these girls giggle. Luckily, a good-looking distraction with wet hair steps out of the lockeroom. He looks set on leaving the building ASAP, until he locks eyes with you.

"Hey," he says with a smile, approaching you. You scan his face and sense that he's wondering who you are - why you're waiting. Which player you belong to, you think sourly.

"Hi" you smile politely. There's a pause, so you introduce yourself. "I'm Y/N".

"Y/N," he repeats, "I'm Auston." He sticks his hand out for a shake.

"I know" you giggle, shaking his hand. A dagger of a thought (so Kasperi hasn't mentioned you... ouch) flashes in your mind, but you try to ignore it for now.

"What ya doin out here?" he asks, nodding to the emptying hallway.

"Oh.. Kasperi invited me" you say, moving your gaze over to him. A third girl has joined his audience.

Auston looks over and sees the same thing you do. He nods slowly and moves his attention back to you.

"Gotcha... he doesn't know how to treat a guest does he?" he laughs awkwardly.

"No, it looks like he's pretty good at it" you say, smiling pityingly, nodding towards his group of female fans.

After watching for a second, Auston yells, "Kasp!" he pauses as Kasperi snaps his head in your guys' direction. "You done?"

You're a bit embarrassed, but grateful that you didn't have to be the one to break him from his conversation. Kasperi's eyes switch between you and Auston. Without saying anything, he walks towards the two of you, like a kid in trouble.

"Now I am" he says to Auston, before putting an arm around your shoulders and heading towards the door.

You look back and send Auston a smile. He smiles back with a small wave.

"You played good", you say to Kas, hoping to pretend whatever just happened for the last 20 minutes didn't actually happen.

"Yeah, thanks. Thanks for coming", he says as you both walk towards his car.

The car ride is awkward. Or, maybe, you imagine it as awkward. Kas seems just fine.

He takes you back to his place, as he always does. You sit on his couch, as you always do. The two of you haven't gotten any more intimate than a few kisses - you were adamant that you wanted to wait. He was similarly adamant that he didn't want to. Either way, you both sit on the couch, watching some movie that he picked. He didn't try anything more than an arm around your shoulders for the whole night. Instead, actually, you felt like he was just waiting for you to leave. Does he have other plans for the night?

"Do you want me to come to your next game?" you ask.

"Yeah, sure, if you want to come." he says, not taking his eyes from the TV.

God, this night was painful. But, you told yourself, maybe it would get better.

--

This game-day will definitely end better. The last game fiasco is behind you. You even asked to wear his jersey - and he let you! That has to mean something.

Here you wait, again, outside of the lockeroom. They lost this time - 2-5. Despite the score, you are proud to be sporting "Kapanen" on your back.

Auston steps out of the lockeroom before Kasperi. He locks eyes with you, once again, and smiles.

"Hey, Y/N" he says, approaching you.

"Hi. You played good tonight", you say, returning his smile.

"Not good enough, though", he laughs lightly, pitifully.

Before you can respond, Kas walks out of the lockeroom. This time, he walks straight to you - not past you. Progress!

Auston moves aside so Kasp can join the conversation - and though you would never say it, you preferred the one-on-one with Auston.

"See ya got her to wear your jersey", Auston says to Kasperi with a smile.

"She asked," he says, putting an arm around you. "Dirtied it up just for us to lose". Your smile drops (did he not want me to wear it??). This doesn't go over Auston's head, though it definitely misses Kasperi.

"You can dirty up my jerseys anytime, Y/N", Auston says lightly, giving you a smile. Kasperi laughs and leads you out the door. Again, you shoot a smile to Auston as you leave. How is it that Auston's on your side more often than Kasperi is?

--

Third home game. You've decided this is his last chance. His games are the only times you go out in public together - otherwise, you're just hanging out at his house. He is always so fun to be around in private. But once he gets in public, it feels like his facade drops. So, third try. Third home game.

They win this time, 4-1. You had washed and returned Kasp's jersey after his comment last time. Standing outside the locker room, you wait. Kasperi comes out before Auston this time (am I waiting for Auston? Why was I disappointed when it was Kasp and not Auston?).

"The guys are going for drinks, I'm gonna go with 'em" he says casually.

You don't know what to say, so you just look at him for a second to see if he's serious. Where were you supposed to go? He should have said something earlier so you wouldn't have waited out here for him. Before you can put any of these thoughts into words, Auston steps out of the lockeroom. He catches Kasp's next words.

"I can call you an uber if you don't have a ride or something." Was this his attempt at kindness?

"Kasp.." you say, exasperatingly.

Auston interjects. "I can drive you home." he says looking between you and Kasperi.

"You don't have to do that, man", Kasperi speaks for you. This leaves you even more shocked.

Auston ignores him, eyes still on you.

"I'd really appreciate that", you say, looking back at him.

"See, Kasp, it's taken care of. Have fun, man", Auston says, slightly stepping between you and Kasperi.

"Alright", Kasperi says, clearly not interested enough to say anything more. "See you guys", he says before turning around and heading for the door.

"Thank you, Auston. I really appreciate it", you say, nervously, embarrassed that you even came here with Kasperi.

"I don't mind. I'm not putting you in an uber", he laughs.

You laugh with him at the absurdity.

You both head for the door. Walking next to him, you can really appreciate how large he is. You blush at the whole situation.

He points at a Porche sitting in the parking garage, shining in all of its' luxury, "That's me", he says, unlocking it.

"Fancy", you giggle as he opens the passenger door for you.

He laughs and shuts your door, tossing his gear in the backseat before getting in on his own side.

The car ride is filled with comfortable silence, the radio playing quietly, only interrupted by your directions.

"Really, thank you for taking me home, Auston", you say, glancing at him.

He looks at you for a second before returning his eyes to the road. "I really don't mind. It's nice to see you somewhere outside of a dark hallway, anyways", he says.

"Yeah, you won't see me there again", you say, still embarrassed by Kasperi. So much for a third chance.

"Or, y'know, next time you'll be wearing a 34", he says. You laugh.

"Wouldn't wanna dirty up one of your jerseys" you giggle, referring to Kasperi's odd comment.

"God, he's a douche, isn't he. I'm sorry", Auston says.

"Just glad I had my knight in shining armor there to save me," you joke.

"That's what I'm here for", he laughs.

He pulls up to your building. "Want me to walk you up?" he asks.

"It's okay," you answer, "I have mace" you joke.

At this, he scoffs jokingly and turns the car off before getting out. You do the same, walking to your building with Auston behind you. You climb the stairs and stop in front of your door.

"Thank you, Auston". You say, locking eyes with him.

"Of course, Y/N." he smiles.

"Can I get your number, just to make sure you make it home safe?" you say.

He pulls out his phone and adds your number, giving you his.

"Have a good night, Y/N".

"You too," you smile, unlocking the door. He heads back down to his car.

A much better ending to game night.

--

The next morning you wake to the doorbell ringing. In your shock at the unannounced guest, you climb out of bed and check out the peephole. Through it, you see a delivery driver setting down a large bag.

You wait for him to walk away before you open the door to check out this mysterious delivery. Setting it on the counter, you open it carefully.

In it is a container holding a huge breakfast - pancakes, bacon, and fruit. Under the container, a Maple Leafs jersey - number 34. Matthews written on the back. You smile big at this.

You grab your phone to send him a text.

"Auston!!" you say, sending a picture of the gift.

"For the next game ;)", he writes.

[tennessoui]

Number 8, please, for hold my heart more gently than you hold my throat

thank you for sending this one in!!! (throat fic verse is a/b/o)

[from this prompt list]

8. What happens if one of them gets sick?

you KNOW throat fic obi-wan would rather die than admit to being sick because his master already thinks he's weak and not to be trusted in a fight. he'd be incredibly stubborn about the whole thing and block their bond and try to carry on even if he's got a burning fever and is probably actually a liability in a fight. master anakin is incensed that his padawan has the nerve to block their bond. if he hadn't already fallen years ago due to padawan related strife, he'd definitely fall rn

but then there's also this other side of throat fic obi-wan:

Obi-Wan's head is killing him. Like, physically, actually, really killing him this time. He rolls his head to the side to peer blearily at the chronometer by his bedside. 16:06. On one hand, that can't be right. On the other, it must be. He'd fallen into this bed, fresh from Quinlan's, at roughly 9 in the morning after being a state of perpetual wakefulness the entire night. A combination of death sticks, alcohol, and teenage rebellion does that to a person.

His eyes fall to half-mast as he rolls--carefully--onto his back and stares up at the ceiling of his room. He wonders if Anakin is back yet. He'd left shortly before Obi-Wan the previous night, something about a dinner with Padmé's family. He hadn't sounded excited, but then, how could he have not been? Usually when he leaves the Temple to visit with Padmé, he is gone until the morning.

Obi-Wan wonders bitterly how many nights his master spent with his wife while Obi-Wan was on Melida/Daan. It took him five weeks to track him down. Perhaps he didn't even notice for four.

The thought is more self-pitying than he usually allows, but his body is sore and his head is killing him and his master's probably out there cozying up to senators. Or, even worse, just the one senator.

He gives his bedding a careful sniff before he wrinkles his nose and forces himself to sit up. A change in location is what he needs. He should rot on the couch instead of his bed. It will surely help him feel better. And then, when his master returns from flaunting his lovely relationship with the senator, he can see his padawan's deceased and lifeless corpse on their sectional and feel terribly guilty that he was away as his poor padawan succumbed to his affliction.

Obi-Wan swaddles himself in a comfortable outer robe that he thinks may have once been Anakin's and makes the treacherous journey from his room to the couch. He collapses onto it and curls up around one of their throw pillows, cushioning his aching, poor, hungover head with the other one.

An undeterminable amount of time later, a rough, dry hand falls against his shoulder and then moves up to cup his neck. Without even opening his eyes, Obi-Wan recognizes the touch of his master.

"There you are," Master Skywalker says. He smells like sweat and the training salles. Like mechanical oil and something floral and soft and sweet. Obi-Wan fights against the urge to wrinkle his nose in distaste. "Have you been here all day, padawan?"

"No," Obi-Wan croaks, opening his eyes only enough to see the underside of his master's chin before he closes them again.

"Hm," Master Skywalker says.

"What did you do today, master?" Obi-Wan asks, tilting his head just enough that Anakin's fingers slip from his neck to slide through his hair. He sighs at the feeling. It is so nice. Master Skywalker is so nice when he is here, when he is Obi-Wan's.

Master Skywalker's voice carries a hint of amusement as he obliges and begins to stroke his head. "Hm, I had breakfast with Master Secura, led a class on meditation to the newest batch of younglings, and sparred with Master Fisto until supper." He punctuates his words with a tug of his hair. "Which you missed, by the way."

Obi-Wan turns his face away. He doesn't want Anakin's touch if Anakin is going to be mean about it.

"And now I'm needed at the opera for a performance," his master adds. "Padmé's idea, not mine."

Obi-Wan's frown increases tenfold. It isn't fair. She already had him for a night. He's Obi-Wan's master. How dare she think her claim extends further than the Temple's doorstep.

"Master," he says impulsively, turning back to look up at Anakin with pleading eyes, "I'm not feeling well, Master."

"I suspect that may be because of the amount you drank last night, padawan," Master Skywalker replies, tone strangely light as his fingers run down the length of Obi-Wan's face.

Obi-Wan frowns. "I think I really am very sick, master," he says. "I shouldn't be alone, I don't think."

Master Skywalker's eyes flash. His hand stills.

"But if you're going to be at the opera tonight, I suppose--I can manage," he adds. It's a delicate line to walk. If Anakin weren't planning to go see his--his--wife, then Obi-Wan would never admit to feeling unwell. But he is. So, Obi-Wan must. It is the natural order of things. Anakin is Obi-Wan's master. No matter the root cause of his sickness--his hangover--his master should stay with him when he feels so wretched.

"I can call Quin again," he mutters, even as he tilts his face into Anakin's featherlight touch. His master's face darkens like an approaching thunderstorm. "If I start to feel really poorly. He can take care of me."

Master Skywalker's lips turn down into a fierce scowl, and Obi-Wan holds his breath. "No," he snaps, and Obi-Wan has to bite his lip to hold back his automatic purr. "No, I'll stay in tonight. If my padawan is feeling unwell...I should stay."

Obi-Wan bites his lip. It's only been six weeks since they'd arrived back on Coruscant from Melida/Daan. He shouldn't push his luck. He's lucky to still have Anakin's attention at all. To still have a master. "But what about the opera?" he asks carefully, sitting up on his elbows to peer at his master. "The senator will want you."

Once more, Master Skywalker's eyes flash, and he slips onto the couch next to Obi-Wan, resting his thigh in the space where his head had been. His hand falls back to rest on his neck, using the grip to push him back down. Obi-Wan goes easily. This is perhaps everything he's ever wanted in the galaxy.

"Unfortunately, I will have to let her know that priorities have shifted," Master Skywalker murmurs as his hand falls back to that scent-gland beneath his ear. He thumbs at it. If Obi-Wan didn't feel quite so close to nausea due to his hangover, he thinks he'd be getting wet from the sensation. "Mine have at least."

They're strange words, yet Obi-Wan welcomes them because they mean that Anakin will stay. It is everything he wants; it is far more than he deserves.

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ [1, 3, 4, 5] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 13k for parts 1+2 a/n: two weeks of brainrot later

L.A ended up as sun-kissed and vibrant as rumored, teeming with that felt like three times the people as New York. The plane ride went over smoothly, despite your nerves, although you can’t help criticizing Tony for his carbon footprint. You’re fortunate that the planning aspect is entirely in his hands, from the flight to the hotel. You knew what time to get ready and your destination, and that kept miles of stress away. 

Upon reaching the hotel, a grand stone structure adorned with decorative pillars, the potential arrangements for sleeping arrangements loomed over you. The forgotten vulnerability returned, and you walked beside Tony with uneasy legs, hoping your worry was unnecessary. 

To your relief, your accommodations are separate. You’re given peace of mind, chastising yourself for thinking the worst as you make the ascent in the elevator. Tony passes you cursory looks, reassuring you and assuming your nerves were travel-related.

In the hallway, Tony excuses himself to attend to some last-minute problems, apologizing and disappearing into his room. You followed suit, groaning against your wooden door as it creaked shut.

No matter how happy you were with Tony, the same thoughts resurfaced time and time again. The whispers in your head that told you the facade would melt away- warning of impending implosion. The memories of the look on his face weeks ago that brought you nearly to tears. To spare yourself the rabbit hole thinking about it would send you in, you decided to sleep it away. The event wasn’t until tomorrow anyway, and your body ached for rest.

You don’t wake till the sun’s long gone, hearing Tony’s knock at your door. A sleepy greeting slips from lips, clad in pajama shorts and tank top. Time and exhaustion fast-tracked your comfort around him, to the point that you don’t think to change when you answer. 

Even though you know he’s spent the night running computations and phone calls or whatever it is he does, he looks as refreshed as ever. His three piece suit diminished to just one in that time, leaving him in just a dark button-up and pants—the most unpolished version of Tony you've witnessed you’ve seen, an amusing sight that you commit to memory.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. What do you say to dinner?” His gaze seems to fall anywhere on your petite form but your face for a moment, leaning against the door frame.

“I think everything’s closed by now.” You yawn, already thinking about crawling back into bed. The rumble in your stomach could wait, right? 

Behind Tony’s back emerges a shiny bottle of whiskey accompanied by a plastic take-out bag.

“Good thing Cafe Stark is open 24 hours.” 

Eventually, you’ll have to build your resolve against his infectious smile, but when combined with the mouth-watering aroma wafting from the bag, the game feels rigged from the start.

You and Tony share a relatively silent meal for once, the small rosewood table in the corner of your room serving as a makeshift dining spot. Mostly because a thousand-year nap still sounded beneficial, speaking through heavy-lidded eyes. Tony, abnormally preoccupied, seldom sets his phone down for more than five minutes at a time. As usual, you don’t truly mind it. Without fail, though, that incessant voice comes back, telling you all sorts of theories. 

At some point as you're gathering the empty boxes to toss in the trash, Tony hums in approval before abandoning his phone on the dresser. Before you can ask, the whiskey is brandished by Tony. 

You can see past the sunny smile for a moment, catching a glint of worry on his face. 

“Everything okay?” The short glasses you bring over make a sharp clink on the aged wood.

Dark amber liquid fills his glass, sliding down his throat in one go. He chuckles at your question, finding it your concern sweet. 

“Don’t start worrying about me.” He halts the protest forming on your lips with a kiss, leaning across the table and taking your hands in his. 

It’s a potent amnestic, and you forget about all the alarm bells ringing in your ears. 

Drunken stories and laughter fill the room for the rest of the night. You both remark here and there that sleep would be wise, yet the hours tick on. 

A lull of silence falls between you after Tony finishes roaring at a joke you make about your roommate’s parents. In the hotel’s dim glow, Tony’s eyes look golden. You get lost in them for a time, lying beside him on the cotton sheets. 

A few strands of perfectly coiffed hair have fallen out of place, matching his recently wrinkled button-up. There’s never a time you aren’t totally smitten with him, but the whiskey twists into want easily. 

“Mind if I ask you something?” Tony looks down at you, leaning back against the headboard with warm and amused eyes. 

“Sure, shoot.” 

Anything to keep him looking at you like that. 

“Your parents, you never talk about them, why?” 

Anything but that. 

Truthfully, Tony already knew the answer. The first night after he ended up in the bar, he might have done a bit of a background check on you, mostly for his own safety. But also to see what leads a girl like you to a job like that. He wanted to hear it from you, though, and knew by now that nudging you in the right direction worked well enough.

“Not much to talk about really.” The bedsheet drags against your skin when you shift awkwardly. You’re used to this question, and the hate for it only grows with each recurrence.

“Is that so?” He mutters absently, reaching down to twist a strand of your hair between his fingers.

“They died when I was young. Car accident, not much of a story.” You break away from his heated gaze, choosing instead to lay your head against the pillows. At this point, you expect the usual pitiful platitudes people say, something along the lines of I’m so sorry or that’s awful . 

“I get it. Mine too. Not that young, though.” Tony adds sympathetically, sliding down onto his side next to you. He’s close enough that you smell the whiskey on his breath, tickling your nose.

“How old were you?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, as Tony seldom shared details about his family. You knew the business he ran was his father’s, and his mother’s name, and that was pretty much it. Most things he seemed to keep private, but you hoped the whiskey would help get you somewhere.

“Twenty-one, while I was in college.” There doesn’t seem to be any hesitancy in his answer, so you feel confident enough to push your luck.

“What were they like?”

“Eh, my father was kind-of an ass, wasn’t much of a loss to the world.” He says it too nonchalantly, throwing you off. You attribute it to the empty bottle.

“I don’t know if I should say sorry or congrats.” 

”Either works for me.” Tony laughs, resting an arm on your side. His thumb finds the small patch of exposed skin from your shirt riding up, grazing absentmindedly. It’s distracting as ever, pulling you away from the conversation to focus on his touch. 

“At least I had other people, sounds like you’ve just been alone.” He breaks you out of the daydreams you're lost in.

“Wasn’t terrible.” you respond gently, fiddling with a button on his shirt. 

“Still, you deserve better.” He watches your eyes drift to the small button, searching for his own resolve. It drove him nearly mad to see you in the exorbitant dresses he buys, but lately something about you dressed down, relaxed, nearly killed him. You look angelic next to him, staring through heavy eyes, clearly in your own little world.

“‘Think I’m doing just fine.” you laugh. 

“Hm, maybe.” 

He doesn’t disagree completely, but knew you were built for bigger things. A good chunk of his attraction came from knowing how hard you’d worked, a quality he recognized and respected.

Contrary to what news articles say, his intellect and success didn’t come naturally. It was deliberate, hard work to do what he did. Countless hours of studying, research, testing— all to try to mimic a fraction of what his father could do. Since he was a child, Tony was dead set on proving to his father that he could run Stark Industries. 

Yet, Howard was never persuaded, and planned on leaving the corporation to one of his lead engineers.

In the end, it didn’t matter anyways. He died before he could sign the paperwork.

Tony saw that same drive and ambition in you, you just needed a little help. And he would make sure it was his.

“Maybe?” you feign offense. The warm hand gracing your side loops to the small of your back.

“Think you just need someone to take care of you.” 

“I might be a little too old for that.”

“Not what I meant.” 

That pulls you away from his shirt for a moment, meeting his eyes with raised eyebrows. 

“What do you mean then?”

The meaning takes too long to dawn on you, and Tony’s resolve feels weaker than ever. Instead of answering you, he goes to kiss you, pulling you close with the hand on your back.

There’s no doubt in his mind that he shouldn’t do this, fearing an inability to be satisfied with just that. That voice is too quiet to pay any attention to, turning the kiss long and passionate. His teeth scrape against your lip, sighing into you when he feels your body relax. 

For the first time, he doesn’t wait for your reaction, pushing you onto your back. You feel his hand tighten around your thigh, wrapping your leg to his waist. You’re a worked up mess beneath him soon enough, grabbing at his side to pull him closer. His large biceps rests on either side of your head, fingers entangled in your hair. 

Shaky hands reach for the belt on his waist, only to cause Tony to pull away from you completely. He holds both your hands in his, equally dazed and panting. He appears lost in thought for a moment, and you start to worry you made the wrong move. 

You don’t have to worry for long, as Tony moves to the end of the bed, pulling you with him and kneeling before you quickly. Hungry lips on your bare thighs leave your head light, fingers already hooked around your shorts. 

“Tony, what are you-”

“Taking care of you.” he murmurs as they slip past your ankles. 

The hungry gaze washes over your center, catching your breath in your throat. You don’t get the chance to respond—a heavy tongue gracing your folds. Tony moans at the taste of you, reverberating up your spine. He hates that he made himself wait for this—every sound from your mouth worsening the strain in his pants. 

Your tensing legs are tossed haphazardly over his shoulders. You expected the same tenderness he always granted to you, but this is entirely different. He grips your hips rigidly, wrapping his lips around your clit and pulling you as close as he could. 

His ears focus on each moan, how the pitch in your whines heightened when he sucks hard on the aching bundle of nerves. A large, flat hand across your stomach gets you to lie back,  hands flying to the dark locks tickling your thighs. 

He’s obviously making up for a perceived loss of time, increasing intensity with every swipe of his tongue, your arousal coating his mouth. It sends your body into overdrive, hands reaching for him, searching for any kind of reprieve. 

Tony knows he’ll never get enough when your breath turns low and stuttery, fingers digging into the back of his nape and the hand bruising your hip. You lose sense of what sounds are coming from Tony and which are coming from the mess between your thighs, mixing into a symphony of ecstasy in your ears.

He unlocks a new melody, the addictive sound of your broken, pleading cries calling out his name. He wants to tell you how fucking incredible you sound, but that would require stopping and there’s no chance he was doing that. 

You try to tell him to slow down, the arousal in your stomach building faster than you have time to process. It’s a wasted effort, having any attempts at forming full sentences ruined by the tongue lapping at your entrance.

You feel an approving moan shake through your core, thighs growing stickier. He could feel how close you were, hips shuddering in his grasp. He only grips harder in response, holding you still as you jerk against his tongue. Without warning, the tight bundle in your gut reaches its crest, and Tony gets lost in the river of filth that leaves your mouth. 

You’re foolish for thinking he’d stop there, but instead his lips return to suck gently on your clit, moaning into you. Just when you think you might pass out from the overstimulation, he pulls away to grace your inner thigh with light kisses. 

Tony reclines, captivated by the dazed look on your face and the soft panting of your lips. 

You sit up to face him on unsteady arms, your hazy eyes revealing that there's only one thought on your mind— him , just how he needed it.

The earlier worries become ironically useless, as you sleep beside Tony that night. 

The next evening’s celebration unfolds on a quiet street, a hidden gem thankfully only hosting around twenty or thirty people. The ambient lights of the quaint club aren’t dim enough for you to ignore how underdressed you are. Envisioning a more formal dinner, you dressed simply in flowy olive dress, while other attendees exuded glamor in fancy suits. Tony of course being no exception, donning a dark gray suit and black shirt. Tony seemed unphased by the music and dancing, walking in and greeting people without pause. 

On this particular night, Tony has a singular mission — to keep you in his sight at all times. More accurately, to prevent you from engaging conversation with a select few individuals without his presence. It's not just about showcasing you; it's mostly protective, an attempt to mitigate the risks involved in intertwining you with this side of his life. 

Nearly anything seemed worth having you by his side. It’s a good weakness to have, he thinks. He swears it’s because you make him a better person, and though you always laugh it off and tell him he was already great, it’s another thing that gnaws at the back of your mind.

You're introduced to several of the guests, some names vaguely familiar, others entirely new. Natasha Romanoff stands out, her presence seeming to be the most grounded in reality. It becomes apparent that she is another member in this new endeavor of Tony’s. When you ask what she does for a living, she responds with business, and nothing more. Worse, when you ask about the other members, Natasha shoots a cautionary glance at Tony and smoothly redirects the conversation, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. 

For the most part afterwards, Tony’s mission is a success. He does his best to stay tethered to you, dodging boring conversation after boring conversation. Despite his vigilance, the forces of nature are ineffable, leading you to the bathroom after a few champagne shoots. 

He’d only looked away for one second , he swears, but all it took was a moment to lose track of you.

Upon your exit from the restroom, you decide to get ahead of your hangover. You catch the bartender’s attention at the bar instead of finding Tony. As you wait for the glass of water, your eyes scan the room to find him. Instead, a tall rugged blonde man takes over your view, sliding into the seat next to you. You pay him little mind, still scanning for Tony. Piercing blue eyes won’t leave you though, even as you thank the bartender and continue to search for the billionaire. 

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing with an old bastard like Stark?” 

His words stop you in place, turning on your heel. 

“I’m sorry?”

The smirk on his face is cold, unnerving. You don’t recall meeting him earlier in the night, and you're certain you wouldn’t have forgotten. He shifts in the barstool, facing you as he sips from his glass before laughing dryly.

“Forgive me, you just don’t like the kind of girl Tony normally parades around. Unless merchants of death are your kind of thing. And you’re definitely not the escort type.” 

“Excuse me?” 

This only humors the man more, and worsens your thoughts.

“What,” he continues once he’s done laughing at the look on your face. “It’s a compliment, really. Tony’s girls normally overdo it with the makeup, it’s a dead giveaway—”

“No, what do you mean ‘merchant of death’?”

“Oh, come on, you—” he responds patronizingly, “Shoot, is this your first night? He might not have told you yet—”

“Told me what ?” You don’t have the energy to explain to this guy that you aren’t getting an hourly pay for this. 

There’s too much fun in it for him to drag this out, even though he knows his time alone with you is both costly and limited. He makes the decision to laugh again and down the rest of his glass before answering you. 

“Don’t tell me he picked a dumb one. At least Pepper had a brain between her ears?”

“Who’s Pepper?” 

The stars are aligning perfectly for him.

“His wife?” he fakes a puzzled expression, making you feel oblivious for not knowing. 

As you stand there shocked and confused, your eyes catch Tony walking steadfast towards the bar. 

“See, they do this thing, ‘fight, cheat, threaten divorce, make up, repeat’ cycle. It’s amusing most of the time, just shocked to see someone like you in it.” 

Across the room, Tony’s blood starts to boil. 

He’d caught the look you gave him, a confusion-ridden disgust that he couldn’t place until he saw who you were with. He left whatever suit was yapping his ear off, pushing through the small, crowded space. He can’t do anything but curse himself for being so careless—unfortunately, he’s not fast enough, watching Steve’s mouth open like a floodgate. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Rogers.” He speaks through gritted teeth, fists balled at his sides. He takes over the small space between you two, and over his shoulder you see the blonde man lean back in apparent satisfaction. There’s no point in asking what was said, Tony can guess well enough. 

“ What ?” Steve responds, a dramatic shrug of the shoulders follows.

Steve's cold smirk adds insult to injury, leaving Tony torn between the desire to break Steve's jaw and the fear of you never seeing him the same. 

The carefully, thoughtful plan he had for you is in disarray, thanks to Steve. You weren’t supposed to know about Pepper for another month, maximum. He planned on taking you to the gallery and telling you, but that chance was robbed from him.

It felt entirely unfair to him, having his dirty laundry thrown at you without any context. To prevent creating a bigger hole, though, he turns back to you. You’d spent the last minute wrapping your head around everything said. You felt almost physically sick, but mostly stupid for ignoring everything sooner. All that security you felt last night? Gone in a flash.

“You have to let me explain this—”

“I want to leave.”

Tony sighs, figuring it wasn’t the worst you could have said, but hates hearing the tone in your voice nonetheless. So, stubbornly and more than pissed, he leads you away from Rogers to the exit, and tries not to think about how you recoil away when his hand graces your back. 

He tries speaking to you in the car, to no avail. You're too busy beating yourself up for being so stupid. You had fallen for it, the charm, the gifts, the mystery— it worked brilliantly and earned you nothing but hurt in the end. Just like you feared it would. 

A second attempt in the elevator wins him no prizes either. 

There’s a third attempt brewing when you reach your floor. You had barely looked at him, and each time it felt like being stabbed. You didn’t see a point in talking about anything, making a beeline for your door. You imagined yourself packing, leaving in the morning and never seeing him again. Go back to the life you were supposed to be living, not this fantasy with him.

It’s not a plan of action you accept happily, and either way you don’t get the chance. The expectant sound of your hotel room door shutting behind you never comes, stopped by Tony’s leather shoe in the wooden frame. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was letting you shut him out. He could read your face the entire way back, seeing your full intent to leave without another word. 

“Just go away.” You want to sound angrier, but defeat is the only emotion you muster.

“You’re overreacting.” He declares, voice bouncing in the empty hall. 

“Really? Am I?” 

You’re shocked when the door is pushed open fully. The space you try to take back by stepping away is overtaken. Tony shuts the door behind him, harsh enough to make you jump a bit. 

“You are.” Tony’s hands disappear into his gray suit pockets, looking down at your alarmed frame.

“And you’re married.” Another step back, only for Tony to step forward again.

“Do you see a ring on my finger, hm?”

“That’s not the fucking point.” One more step back, in vain. The feeling of being trapped screams at you, but doesn’t move your body. “What else have you lied about?”

“I have never lied to you.” 

That seemed more believable than anything else. The small breadth of space you gain is taken once more. You don’t move again, knowing the wall wasn’t far behind you. It pissed you off even more to see his jaw clenched, staring at you as if you were having some tantrum and not rightfully upset. 

“Then who’s Pepper? How many other women are you toying with like little playthings? You’re an arrogant, asshole, liar -” you spat, letting your anger surpass his own. 

Tony moves closer, and you end up against the wall regardless of your efforts. You start to tell him off again, a rant cut short by a hand grasping your face, and another pining your wrist to the wall. Your heart quickens, squirming against him. 

“You’re starting to offend me, honey.” he says lowly, the warmth of his breath spreading across your face. His dark eyes don’t leave you, and you have a sense this is worse than throwing a drink in someone’s face. He was growing tired of this recurrent debate from you. Many adjectives could be used to describe him—arrogant, hot-headed, selfish, but disloyal wasn’t one— and he considered it a disrespectful thing to insinuate. 

“You,” he trails off, thumb shifting down to your throat. “—are the only one. Pepper and I have been done for a long time. Steve knows that.”

“Did she leave after she got tired of you sleeping around?”

‘ Did Steve care to mention how Pepper cheated first? How she threatened to sell me out if I left her? Of course not ’, Tony thinks.

More panicked, harsh words of doubt and inquiry leave you, but they’re quickly shushed by Tony. You know you shouldn’t but you feel a familiar guilt for the disapproval clouding his face. You don’t have the foresight to see that you were right for making them.

“You wanna call me a liar? What exactly have I been dishonest about, huh?” The question is clearly extremely rhetorical. 

“If you were just some ‘ plaything ’  to me,” he mocks, the hands on the side of your face tightening, electrifying your skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to keep your eyes on him.  “We wouldn’t be here, you should know that.”

“Then why keep it from me?” 

You don’t even know how to ask what Steve meant by ‘merchant of death’, and honestly, you don’t think it’s worth making things worse.  You hate that it’s this easy for him, hate the conflicting feelings—his touch melting your anger. It’s no help that you didn’t want any of it to be true anyway. 

“If I decide you don’t need to know something, you don’t. Simple as that.” 

In Tony’s mind, this was for your benefit in the long run, and he doesn’t see a need to explain that. You should just trust him, or atleast you did before Rogers’ opened his big fucking mouth. His anger is mostly placed with the blonde man, but he still expects better from you. He couldn’t have you believing others over him. You’d already expressed doubts about his loyalty before, and he spent a lot of time repairing that. 

Leave it to Blondie to ruin it all. 

To his dismay, you remain silent. He pictures the inner-workings of your mind, doubting everything he’s done to win your trust. The hand against your throat and arm keeping you in place might not be helping his case, but still they remain. He can’t fathom letting go, not if there’s even a slightest chance you’ll leave. 

“That’s applied to almost everything in your life so far.” There’s fear in poking the proverbial bear, yet you do it anyway. There’s too many thoughts battling in your mind, causing the words to nearly catch in your throat. 

“What is it you need to believe me—to know that you’re mine?” His voice shifts, remaining stern but turning heavier. He releases your arm, moving to grasp the green fabric at your side. 

There was obvious disdain between Tony and the man at the bar, giving you deniability to add to his claims. You started to think it was more likely he knew which buttons to push, to put you at odds with each other. Maybe you were getting entangled in corporate politics you didn’t understand without Tony. This was your mistake, just like before.

The words overheat in your mind, warming your skin and wreaking havoc on your thoughts.  Some tell you nothing would change it, that you wanted to give up on this. Others, louder, tell you anything would win you over, that you were looking for any reason not to. The mental gymnastics start anew, but end with the same conclusion. 

You want to chastise yourself for how willfully you fell back into his eyes, angry and want-ridden. The confidence you had earlier about leaving becomes a difficult feat to manage, overtaken by every screaming aspect of you that urges you to stay. Tony didn’t know it then, but he got what he wanted regardless of the wrench thrown by Steve— you, right in the palm of his hand. 

He expects a genuine answer, one you don’t have. So, in typical fashion, he decides for you. 

Tony considers it your fault for what he’s about to do, staring back at him with doe-eyes and flushed skin. Plans are built to be changed anyways—and he clearly needed to send a stronger message.

Without warning, you’re pulled by shoulder the short distance from the wall to the nearby chaise, resting in front of a high mirror.  You question Tony, to no reprieve, pushed forward onto your knees. In the reflection, you watch his arm snake around your body, returning a rough hand to your throat, bringing your back flush with his chest- his other hand tight on your hip.

“ Relax ,” he whispers against your ear, and chills run up your spine. 

“Tony-” you start, trying to twist in your position to look back at him. It’s a useless effort, large arms easily keeping you place.

“Eyes up,” he instructs, and your attention is directed forwards, meeting his eyes in the reflection. 

The olive dress is bunched to your waist, witnessing his hand teasingly graze along your thigh before disappearing under the cascading fabric. It stops there a moment, fingers dancing at the hem of your panties. Desire stirs in you with little prompting, Tony’s lips trailing down your neck nipping gently. 

“Don’t you see what I see—how pretty you look, doll?” he stays locked onto you, holding you steady when you jerk against his hand folding behind your underwear. Soft fingers draw slow circles on your clit, pulling a gasp from your mouth. “—why would I need anyone else.”

It’s pure filth, watching your own body react to every movement in the shadowy room, every bite against your heated neck. Tony’s quiet declarations only dampen your mind.

“You’re perfect, ” His voice drops lower, increasing his pace as the hand on your neck grows firm. “—just for me.” 

There’s static in the air, surrounding your limbs. The obscene picture in front of him sets every nerve on fire, watching your hands reach for his arm, watching you try so hard to not fall into the obscenity in your ear. 

Gravity is indiscriminate, so you fall nonetheless. The heavy fingers tease your wet entrance, only to retract and circle your clit before returning for more. It’s all soft and light, barely as much as you need. You turn desperate before you know it, focused on the flex of his bicep in the mirror with every stroke.

Unfortunately for you, this wasn’t really about pleasure. This was about trust. He needed that, for you to know how consumed he was by you. He’s certain you can feel his hard member pressing into the back of your thighs, a heated, heavy reminder that you were all he wanted. You must know— based on the wetness pooling in his hand and your eyes centered on him. 

“All mine .”

You cry out when a finger surpasses your entrance. You watch it be cut off by the hand at your throat, gripping harder to keep your noises at a minimum. There’s no resistance, wet and desperate enough to suck him in completely. The hand bruising your hip rocks you back onto his fingers. 

All those questions you had, about Pepper, his work, Steve—they’re gone. Disintegrated in the same heat that coils your stomach. Moving away from Tony’s sickeningly slow ministrations isn’t an option, trapped between his body and his tight hold. 

“I should put that rude little mouth to better use.” Tony whispers, free of any reason to hold himself back. You felt undervalued, fine. He’d see to it that’d never happen again. He’d let you hear just how badly he wanted you. He needed that same look in your eye from last night. The one that shined for him and only him.

He doesn’t take the stutter of your frame as a reason to slow down, only a reason to push you over the edge. The finger inside you is joined by a second, curving into you. The lace of panties is soaked through, a dark patch spreading to your thighs. You can’t focus on the mirror any longer, shutting your eyes tightly as you reach your peak—softly rushing through you as Tony’s praises flood into your ear. 

He doesn’t let go—large arms wrapping around you until your breath returns to normal. You open your eyes to meet Tony’s lustful eyes reflected back to you.

“Still having doubts?”

Tony’s patience was completely run through, the short fuse sparked to unrepairable levels. Again, he thinks it’s mostly your fault. He had no issue treating you like gold, but he only thought it right that you at least trusted him. 

You give a quick shake of the head, panting and watching the hands around you leave. You turn and sit in the chaise facing him, his jaw still clenched.

“Good.” he responds slowly. Eyes rake over you beneath him, with Tony imagining a hundred more ways to have you moaning his name. He finds the willpower not to act on them, instead turning for the door.

“You should rest.” He says before you can find the right words to say, door shutting behind him. 

Sleeping proves difficult—thoughts overwhelmed with Tony being a room away. There’s also Pepper and Steve floating around your mind, though never for long. Before you can give way to thinking about it, you inevitably end up catching a glimpse of the mirror in the corner—and everything Tony said plays in vivid sound. Then, an unbearable warmth pools in between your thighs, causing your thoughts to be consumed by him again. 

The frustrating cycle repeats for hours.

Finally, you decide you’ve had enough, leaving your suite and winding up in front of Tony’s door. He answers on the third tap of your fingers, clad in tight black briefs. You have enough clarity to keep your eyes from focusing on that, or the exposed sculpted chest. 

“Can I come in?” You feel pathetic for the way you ask, but it’s worth it, because he steps aside for you to enter.

You walk across the large room, sitting on the end of the unmade bed. Tony stays in the middle of the room, arms crossed in front of his body, waiting.

“You said I don’t need to know everything but,” you start, only growing more anxious when Tony raises an impatient eyebrow. “Pepper, what happened there? Why have I never heard of her before? At least tell me that.”

Tony sighs, contemplating if the distrust in your eye is worth possibly pushing you away for good. You’d see through any bullshit he tried to sell, not that he would make something up anyway. But, it’s for that reason that he knows he won’t get away with telling a half truth. He decides to take it as a sign that you’re still here, in his room, and that you still didn’t leave. 

“We were married, she cheated.” He decides to omit his own revenge cheating. He considered their relationship done at that point anyway, just took him too long to realize. 

“So, you’re divorced?”

“Not exactly, it’s complicated.” He sighs again. “But we are not together—in any capacity.”

You want to ask what exactly is complicated about signing a piece of paper, but you leave well enough alone. 

“Then why not tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d stay if you knew. Couldn’t risk it.” It’s mostly true.

It comes out soft and heartfelt enough for you to believe it. Besides, so many parts of you didn’t want to be upset with him, for any reason. You didn’t have the will to end things, and you didn’t want to find it either. You stare at the floor, trying to process this new aspect of him. His shadow moves across the floor, coming before you to caress your face.

“You don’t need to worry, doll. “ Tony murmurs, trying to get that last little drop of doubt out of your mind. “You’ll always be mine, and I’ll always take care of you.”

part three

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Hiya! Have never made a fic request before, but here goesssss:

You and Andy met through mutual friends in Nashville during the summer of 2022 while he was recording some tracks for Unreal Unearth. You spent nearly three months in each other's beds before you abruptly "ghosted" him by moving to LA for your dream marketing job w/ Warner Music Group.

Now here you are, at an engagement party of your childhood best friend Stephanie to one of Andrew's childhood mates, sitting across the table from the man you never thought you'd have to see again - one who's staring at you like this:

🫣😬🫠

Wow, ehm, this was quite the specific request. I usually don't do these, as I find that my creativity works best with a bit of freedom. I somehow managed to come up with something, I don't know if it is any good though.

So please, for future requests, be a bit less specific. The idea was to just send a pic with a request for fluff or smut. It's absolutely fine to ask for a certain outfit, hairstyle, setting, trope, etc., but please don't get mad if I choose to ignore detailed requests like this in the future.

warnings: talk about past ghosting

 Gloomy eyes bore into you, staring you down from across the table with a resentment you had never seen in them before. Was he sulking? Or trying to read your mind? Or did he hope his gaze would turn into actual daggers and pierce right through you on the spot?

Whatever it was, it was working and even though you had given it your all to hold your ground these past hours, your walls firmly pulled up all evening, you could steadily feel the inner storm build that tugged on your nerves from both ends until they would eventually snap.

But beside all the grim looks he had shot your way, he had not said a single word. Not to you, anyway, and also not to many of the other guests. But as he leant in now, eyes narrowed, his elbows supporting his weight against the table, you knew that the dangerous clenching of his jaw could only mean that he was finally ready to fire his venom your way. 

You rose to your feet in an instant, the blatant noise as your chair scraped across the floor silencing every single conversation in the room. And even though all eyes were collectively resting on you now, it was that one familiar set of green orbs that forced the heat into your cheeks.

“I’ll just,” you stuttered, pointing across your shoulder to the nearest escape route into the garden. “I just need some fresh air. Be back in a sec.”

With one last apologetic look at your friend, you wasted no more time on half-hearted excuses and hurried your steps to get away from the table—from him—as far as possible. 

A cool breeze welcomed you as you stepped through the large glass doors, but you did not hold your steps until you had crossed the entirety of the terrace and your feet touched the pliable surface of the lawn. The silence was heavenly, allowing you to properly breathe for the first time tonight. 

Sadly it was disturbed by hurried steps all too soon. Probably Stephanie’s, who must have come to check on you after that suspicious stunt you had pulled mere moments ago. Good, you thought, you had a bone to pick with her anyway. How could she, after everything that had happened, invite that man without at least giving you a heads up?

“Is this your idea of a joke?” you blurted out, hoping she was already close enough to hear you. You did not care to turn, being far too angry to face her yet.

“Can’t really say it is, no.”

But the voice that answered you was not Stephanie’s at all. You spun around on instinct, wide eyes finding the outline of his familiar form against the lights that fell from the house behind him.

“Andrew.”

What a stupid thing to say. Of course it was him. However much you wished it was not. And his reply made it unmistakably clear that he did not care for your presence either.

“Why are you here?” “What do mean, why am I here?” you snapped. “I was invited, just like you, I presume.”

“You didn’t need to come,” he stated plainly, and the cold in his voice made you shiver.

“I might not have if I had known you’d be here.”

“That’s rich!” he spat. “Especially since you are the one who chose to leave.”

“I chose to, yes,” you defended yourself, taking a step towards him. Why, you did not know. Were you getting ready to throw hands with him? You would, if provoked. Or did you just succumb to the need to look into his eyes while you said what you had been needing to say for so long. “Because I wanted that job. You know how much it meant to me. But even more so,” you paused for a moment, reluctant to finally reveal the full truth. A truth you had never been able to tell before. The real reason why you had so cowardly deserted him almost two years ago. “I needed space.”

“Space?” his brows furrowed as he pondered the revelation. “So, you were running from me?”

“No, not from you.” How could he ever think you were running from him? And if that was not enough to make your heart heavy, the broken look in his eyes almost killed you. It tempted you to give in, to reach out and touch his cheek to ease the harsh creases in his forehead. But you could not. “I ran from whatever it was that you and me were. It…I couldn’t do it any longer.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

He sighed, the frustration in his tone was apparent now. “No, I don’t.”

“Because I wanted you,” you blurted out. “I wanted you so much.” And then your voice broke underneath the weight of your confession. "But not like that.”

“Like what?”

It was your turn to sigh now. Why did he have to make this extra hard for you? Why couldn’t he just understand?

“Andy, I wanted a life with you. Not some casual sex whenever I fit into your busy schedule.”

“That’s not fair. You knew who is was, what I do.”

He was right of course. You had known all of that from the start. And still you had clung to that frail thread of hope that this, you and him, would somehow be different.

“I did. But I didn’t know…” You could not bare to look at him. Not when your vision was already starting to blur. He would notice, and you could not allow that on top of everything else that was already turning this night into your personal living hell. And so you spun around.

“What? What did you not know?”

The sudden softness in his voice finally made your eyes spill over. Hot streams of tears ran down your cheeks freely now, and when he touched you, so tender, just like you remembered, there was nothing left inside of you to resist. As if your soul had left your body, you watched the scene unfold, watched him turn you back around, your heart almost leaping out of your chest when his formerly furious eyes softened instantly. It was time.

“I did not know how much I would…” you sniffled, “how much you would come to mean to me.”

There, you had said it, and it had not nearly hurt as much as you had anticipated. Actually, you were feeling a little better, lighter, somehow. But at the same time it was almost unbearably clear to you that your fate now hung in the balance of the deafening silence that loomed in the darkness all around you.

Time trickled by torturously slowly, but still no words had left his lips. You were almost beginning to wonder if he would ever speak to you again, if you should just walk away and leave it all behind. But things were different now than they had been two years ago, you were different, and so you stayed put. 

And then he moved. Carefully, as if he was afraid to scare you away, he reached out for you. His hand felt heavenly against the cool skin of your cheek and the gentle brush of his thumb as he wiped away your tears made your heart flutter. Yet it was nothing compared to his words.

“And you think you did not mean just as much to me?”

You could not speak, your tongue heavy as lead. And so you simply shook your head instead. You were still trying hard to process his words, so afraid your foggy brain might have misheard that you did not notice at first. It was only when you felt his breath crawling along your lips that you realised he was pulling you in. 

With the point of no return long passed, there was no going back now. Fisting the cool leather of his jacket, you closed the small gap that still remained and with the long lost taste of him fresh on your lips, you lost all control.

Lips moved in a fevered frenzy, tongues dancing, exploring, tasting what they had dearly missed all this time, glad to find that nothing had changed, even though everything was different now. 

You both broke away with a gasp, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours, your face still framed by his large hands.

“I’m sorry I fucked this up,” he pushed out between two harsh breaths.

“We both did.”

But you did not think it mattered anymore, all the pain and frustration and anger washed away as you buried your face in the soft cotton of his shirt and let his familiar scent calm your racing heart. You had no idea how long the two of you had stayed like this, his arms wrapped around you, tender lips pressing a kiss to your hair every now and then. All you knew was that you never wanted this to end. And there was only one question left to ask.

“Where do we go from here?” your words came muffled against his chest.

“How about back inside?” He must have felt you stir upon his words and so he was quick to add, “Just for a start. We can figure out the rest along the way.”

[falling-star-cygnus]

I need Billy comfort after the one where he got trapped under a building, can you please make him be saved?

well since you asked so nicely, how could i refuse?

continuation of this fic‼️ you don’t have to read it, of course, but it will make this whole thing make more sense :D @starguardianniom [your request is on the way, i just thought you might also like to be tagged in the part two :D]

without further ado~

"BILLY!"

She doesn't know which one of them screams it, maybe it was all three, but Anby lunges for the android's jacket- lunges really for any part of him she might be able to grab- until her hands close on red leather. The inevitable weight of his metal body doesn't cross her mind until she's being tugged down with him.

The feeble floor cracks further under Anby’s feet as she digs her heels in. That damned, annoying Ethereal shrieks- probably much louder than what she can hear through her headphones- and stomps like a spoiled child being told no for the first time. She'll put it out of it’s misery once she gets Billy- too still, too unresponsive- back onto safer ground.

Only ...Anby never gets the chance.

The ground jumps under her feet, and the tight grip she had on his jacket futzs.

Billy falls.

Hands and arms wrap around her waist before she can do something stupid like leap down after him. An action she knows is irrational but all she can hear is the way the android hits each level of the building and she needs to get him back-

"ANBY-! WE NEED TO GO."

Of course. Right. Clarity washes over her like cold water; Anby can't save Billy if she's dead too. And he would just feel bad if she got hurt trying to save him, because he had no regard for himself-

The remaining members of the Cunning Hares' fumble out of building just in time to see it topple like a house of cards- with their former client pinned in front of them by a slab of concrete.

It flails a little bit- kinda like a bug does when you grab it's leg- and they're privy to a front row seat as a metal support beam crashes into the weird orb of it's head. The thing splatters like a paintball.

None of them feel much remorse.

A few seconds of silence go by, passed by the girls simply.. staring.

"Well…. alright, Hares," Nicole starts, dusting her hands off, "Divide and conquer. Billy has to be around here somewhere."

'Hopefully.' goes unsaid, but painfully heard.

"R-Right!" Nekomata pipes up, her tails lashing with nervous energy, "I’m sure we’ll find him in no time! He can’t really keep quiet, anyway, y- you know?"

Anby doesn’t say anything at all.

They split up, taking turns calling the android's name and pouncing on any slight glimpse of white or red or yellow. Even greenish black would be better than nothing. Each empty nook, each second of silence, grated on their nerves until they were like frayed live wires.

Usually, Billy kept track of how long the Cunning Hares' stayed in a Hollow. It kept them all from lingering too long, unless they got stuck, and it kept them safe. Why couldn't they keep Billy safe- Now they had no idea how long they'd been searching.

Nicole had moved on to bargaining with empty air.

"Billy," she calls, heaving a heavy pillar to the side with a huff, "Come on, answer already! I won't yell at you anymore, or whack you or- or anything. Just answer us, please!"

"And I won't make fun of how you like to listen to classical music to fall asleep!" Nekomata joins in, from somewhere to Anby's left, "I'll even go to Random Play with you to find more, meow!"

"I'll watch Starlight Knights with you," It couldn't hurt to join in after all, Anby decides, "We could all go to the restaurant, and invite the Phaethon siblings, and-"

It was like something out of one of her movies. The second Anby pushes aside a new piece of rubble, she sees it. A tattered piece of the android's jacket- connected to tattered sleeves and sparking metal arms and a big fluffy head of white hair.

The relief almost sends the smaller Demara to her knees.

Time and place, she reminds herself fiercely, quickly signaling the other two closer to better excavate their friend. He's not in any form of good condition. It doesn't even look like he's conscious.

One of his video sensors is cracked, infected with a galactic black sludge that glows a mixture of pinkish blue red purple. The rest of his plating was pulsating green, and severe corruption was blooming anywhere it could take root.

It even looked like his audio processers were damaged. Anby couldn't even imagine how that must felt for her hyperactive friend- stuck in a silent, cramped space while Ether ate at his mind. Trapped without knowing that they were looking for him.

She hoped he would know anyway, that he wouldn't be wondering if he'd die alone under the weight of a building. Billy wasn't exactly insecure, but...

Anby shakes herself out of thinking about it. They'd found him, that was all that mattered at the moment. Now the Hares' just had to get him back home and back in working order.

"Both of you, stand back!" Nicole orders, aiming her briefcase above the wreckage pinning the android's lower torso.

The smaller girls are quick to comply, and out of the corner of her eye she can see the thiren swipe something golden off the ground. Nekomata shows it to her in silent explanation before shoving it deep into her sleeve for safekeeping.

Billy's little sheriff star.

A shot goes off before the smaller Demara can dwell on it, and suddenly the rubble atop their friend is being vacuumed up into the blackhole that Nicole manifests. They each grab a metal limb and tug him out of range.

One problem taken care of, another appears. The corruption blooming from his joints is excessive. If they take him out of the Hollow like this...

"We don't have time to think about it," Nicole reminds them all, voice tight with the weight of the android's life, "Anby, cut off as many of these... things as you can without hurting him. We'll see what we can do from there."

Anby nods once, and readies her sword.

One, two, four, eight turns to sixteen and sixteen turns to the very last one being cut down without mercy. With each bud removed, the sickly green light between his plates fades until it's barely there at all. There's not much to be done about the crack over his eye until they make it to a mechanic, but even that seems to lose it's glitchy appearance.

The Cunning Hares' don't bother with fighting the Ethereals they pass- there's no time- so it's mad dash to the exit that jostles the android's already crushed legs.

....Billy really was all limbs and pizazz.

It's only once the reunited Hares' make it a good deal from the Hollow that they stop running, doubled over and desperate for a full breath. Anby takes a quick survey of their surroundings as she gently lowers Billy to the ground, propped up on her lap to at least provide a little comfort.

It looks they ended up in Belobog territory, around where that eccentric mechanic liked to linger around. Gary-? Grail? Whatever...

Nekomata crouches down next to them and fishes the little star out of her sleeve. It's battered, and kind of dented around the points, but it still clips onto the leather like it never left.

Anby can vaguely hear Nicole tap away at her phone behind her, the curses muttered almost like a soothing balm of normalcy as the last of the corruption finally leaves Billy. His cracked eye returns to it's familiar shade of yellow- if painfully dull compared to his normal vibrancy.

But he's still unresponsive.

Still so hauntingly quiet and still. It's unnatural, and it isn't right. And none of them know if the android's going to last until tomorrow. Or even until the next hour.

Unbidden, Anby can feel her lower lip tremble- can feel stinging behind her eyes as she continues to run her hand through dusty white hair. It held none of the softness it did before this whole... job. Before her stupid grip had fumbled.

Anby hadn't cried in years, yet now she finds she can only helplessly watch as the salt splatters against the android's face plate. Like a mimicry of tears he wasn't built to shed.

"AhHh- Anby, don't cry," Nekomata frets, clearly freaked out by the uncharacteristic display, "He'll be okay! Bil- Billy's tough as nails, remember? I haven't known him for as long as you two.. but even I can tell that!"

Her puffy sleeves gently pat at the smaller Demara's face, trying to clear away the stupid liquid that was blurring her vision. Soft mantras of 'he'll be ok' are whispered, even as the thiren herself starts to cry.

Anby hunches over, would be curling into her knees if it wasn't for the weight of the unmoving android on her lap, and Nekomata clutches onto the lapels of his jacket and stifles a hiccup by biting down on her lip.

He wasn't coming back to them this time.

He wouldn't be there in the morning to braid her hair, or entertain her movie references, or lighten the mood with his silly Starlight Knight quips. He wouldn't be there to help them reach tall shelves, or distract their clients while Nicole emptied their bank accounts, or flail about with his lanky limbs.

Billy wouldn't be there.

...

..creak...

...Creak..

Creak.

Cool metal fingers brush past Anby's face, and then Nekomata's, and then fall limply back to the hard concrete.

"...don't... cry.."

...

...!

Billy!

Warm light finally flickers to life behind the android's video sensors, dimmer than normal but there.

Anby feels as though her heart's been restarted. Like the world had suddenly been bleached of color only for it to be a really badly timed greyscale shot.

Billy was alive, and whirring back into gear under their hands.

"You guys... really came for me..?"

"You big dummy!" Nekomata sniffs, ears and tails poofed like she'd been startled, "of course we did!"

"Have more faith in us," Anby echoes the thiren, resting her forehead against the android's with one final sniff. Nekomata rests her's against the diamond on his chest.

He can't hear them, his audio processers are still busted, but Anby hopes he can feel their care for him. Hopes he can feel how much they love him, and that they were here to stay no matter what happened. Just like he was for them.

Billy Kid was the heart of the Cunning Hares', after all.

[sentientcave]

It's WIP Wednesday once again! I've got some Impound for you because it's been a while and it's still not finished (I've been working on Sparrow instead and just hit 55k today which is pretty exciting).

Contains: Blue collar Simon, Price as a cop, petty nonsense from men who should know better, but they're unfortunately not very emotionally intelligent

That’s when he saw the cruiser, parked on the street out front, too close to the fire hydrant.

Not blocking it, exactly, but still too close. If it were anyone else, he’d’ve let it slide, since the fire crew would still be able to get to the hydrant. But it was Price, and he’d just warned him about this very thing.

He pulled out his phone. “Hey, Johnny?” he said as soon as the line picked up, not waiting for Johnny to speak. “Send Roach out to city hall. Got someone parked by a fire ‘ydrant.”

“Fer fuck’s sake, Si, isnae the feckin’ cop again?”

“It is. I’ll come round to handle the paperwork. Won’t make you do it.”

“Awlright, but dinnae let him catch Roach at it neither. Ye know he’ll say somethin’ stupid and get his arse arrested.”

“Oh I know. Lad dun’t know ‘ow to keep his trap shut.” Simon hung up and headed back inside, hardly paying attention to the meeting, his eyes flicking back to Price over and over again, and holding whenever he found Price looking back. It was clear that neither of them retained anything said, too busy glaring at each other over the heads of the people sitting between them.

Simon got out of the building first, and stood off to the side to smoke another cigarette, leaning against a tree where he could get a good view of Price’s reaction when he came out to find his cruiser missing yet again.

He didn’t disappoint. He came out of the building a few minutes after the initial crush of humanity, talking to Kate and Nikolai. Price stopped in his tracks a little ways out the door, focused in on where his cruiser was supposed to be, and immediately scanned the vicinity, his whole body going rigid, hands tightening into fists, shoulders squared up for war, jaw set like concrete. His blazing blue eyes found Simon, and he marched over without saying a word, leaving Nikolai and Kate looking confused, and then amused when they realized what must have happened.

Price stopped in front of him, fury radiating off of him like heat off an engine, all that energy practically warping the space between them. “What’s your fuckin’ problem, mate?” he asked, jabbing a finger against Simon’s chest.

“No problem. I was ‘ere the whole time, wasn’t I?” Simon batted Price’s hand away, resisting the impulse to punch him for having the nerve to lay his bloody hands on him in the first place. Price was lucky that Simon was so rehabilitated now. That he had his temper on a good strong leash these days. “If you din’t want to get towed, you shunt’ve parked there. Not my problem if my people know ‘ow to do their jobs and you ‘aven’t got a clue ‘ow to do yours.”

“You don’t want to start a war with me, son,” Price growled.

Simon leaned forward, the barest curve of a smile on his lips, eyes narrowed and flinty. To his credit, Price didn’t flinch, didn’t move back, didn’t drop his eyes. He wasn’t intimidated by Simon’s size, like a lesser man would be. “You don’t want to start a war with me, old man.” He wasn’t sure there was much difference in their ages, if any, but if Price was going to try and talk down to him with the son shite than Simon was going to shovel it right back, like he was an unruly teenager in a rebellious phase. “I’m not goin’ to be pushed around by a fuckin’ badge. You don’t get special treatment because you wear a bloody uniform.”

Price’s jaw clenched even tighter. He had an impressive scowl, one that could probably level anyone else. “Watch yourself,” he grit out, like each word cost him something to force from his mouth.

Simon leaned a little closer. Their noses were almost touching. He could feel the currents of air stirred up by Price’s breath on his own face. “Or what?” he asked.

“Or else,” Price said, too angry to come up with anything resembling a real threat.

Simon pulled back with an amused grunt, and turned away, glancing over his shoulder dismissively. “See you as the impound lot, hm? I’ll be waitin’.”

In the end, it was Gaz who came around to pick up the cruiser.

[luckyroll3]

Chef's Kiss: Part 1

Masterlist and Summary

Story inspired by this TikTok.

The Job

Your phone buzzes, a jarring vibration against the calm of your sunlit office. You glance at the caller ID—Marcus Williams. One of your richest, but most demanding clients. You straighten in your chair, already tensing at his potential request.

"Good morning, Marcus," you answer with a practiced calm.

"Morning," he replies curtly. "I need you to organize a dinner event. It's crucial. Sixty high-profile guests. Can I count on you?"

His voice is all clipped edges and impatience. You open your notebook app on your ipad, scribbling details as he rattles them off—a date less than a month out, a list of VIPs, his expectations clear and, as usual, excessive.

"Is that all? I thought you’d want me to host your next event on the moon this time,” you say cheekily, hoping to soften him a bit.

“Ha! Maybe for the next one,” he says with a chuckle. “Your sense of humor is only one of the reasons I rehire you. But it’s mostly your ability to pull off miracles. Can you take care of this one for me?”

“Absolutely. I'm on it," you assure him. He hangs up without a goodbye; the typical Marcus efficiency that you have learned to accept. “Bye to you too,” you say to the dead line.

You exhale, then hit the speed dial for Natalie. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright and expectant.

"Nat, we've got a big one," you say, leaning back into the comforting embrace of your leather chair.

"Spill it," she urges, eagerness threading through her words.

"Marcus just tasked us with a high-stakes dinner event." You feel the weight of responsibility settle on your shoulders.

"Oof, when's the event?" Natalie's question is a soft tap on the drum of your anxiety.

"In about a month," you reply, eyeing the calendar. The days look too few, the timeframe mocking you.

"Yikes. But hey, we've got this," she says, confidence buoying her tone.

"Right." You smile despite yourself. "You know how Marcus is. We'll need to be meticulous. No room for error."

"Story of our lives," she chuckles. "I'll start prepping a timeline. We can tackle it first thing tomorrow."

"Thanks, Nat," you say, grateful for her unfailing support. "You're a lifesaver."

"Anytime," she replies, and you can almost hear her grin.

"Okay, let's circle back in an hour and set our game plan," you suggest.

"Will do, boss lady," Natalie sings out before hanging up.

You drop your phone on the desk and stare at the notes on the tablet. You take a deep breath, readying your nerves to turn chaos into a masterpiece once again.

You fire off an email to Daniella at Saffron & Thyme, fingers flying over the keys. Your mind thinks back to her restaurant's capabilities, the way they've never let you down. The cursor blinks back at you as you hit send.

"Done," you murmur, leaning back. "Dani should be getting back to us soon."

"Great! Their wild mushroom risotto is to die for," Natalie chimes in from across the desk, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Think it'll make the cut for the menu?"

"Let's hope." you grin, imagining the savory flavors, the impeccable plating.

The ping of your inbox pulls you back. A swift reply from Dani; she's always on the ball. You schedule a call with her for later in the day.

"Phone meeting's set," you announce, catching Natalie's gaze.

"Sweet," she replies, popping a bubblegum bubble. "We're on track."

Hours slip by, a blur of preparation and checklists, until the appointed time arrives. You press the speaker button, and Natalie leans in, pen poised.

"Hey, Dani," you greet as her voice fills the room, all business and warmth.

"Good to hear from you two," Daniella responds, her tone laced with a smile. "Let's talk about this dinner event of yours."

Natalie and you exchange a glance – it's go-time. You dive into the details, outlining Marcus' vision, the high-profile guest list, the atmosphere he’s aiming for.

"Got it," Dani interrupts, brisk yet excited. "I'm thinking something seasonal, maybe add a twist of elegance to each dish?"

"Exactly," you affirm, relief flooding through you. Dani gets it, like always.

"Count us in," she declares. "I'll clear the date. Chef Jax will be thrilled to brainstorm some ideas with you."

"Perfect," you say, and your pulse steadies. One major task checked off the list.

"Can't wait to work with you again, ladies," Dani adds, and you can almost see her managerial nod through the phone.

"Likewise," Natalie pipes up. "This one's going to be epic."

"Definitely." you echo, and after a few more confirmations and well-wishes, you end the call.

You flip open your laptop. Natalie perches on the edge of the glass desk, her fingers drumming a staccato rhythm.

"Timeline," you say, your voice slicing through the silence. "We need precision."

"Got it." She leans in, her curls bouncing with each nod. "Let's break it down, hour by hour."

You dive into the heart of logistics, crafting a timeline that reads like a symphony score—every note, every beat mapped out to the second. Your fingers dance over the keyboard as we assign tasks and set deadlines, our words weaving together until a coherent plan emerges from the chaos.

"Florist," you mutter, scanning the list. "Linens, A/V setup..."

"Who do you want for florals? The usual?" Natalie asks, chewing on her pen.

"Rosa's Garden. They've never let us down."

"True. Their orchids are art." Her eyes glint with approval.

You pick up the phone, dialing the familiar number. Rosa answers with her husky, laughter-lined voice, and you pitch our vision—a cascade of white blooms, elegance in every petal.

"Darling, for you, anything," Rosa purrs after a brief haggle over price. "I'll make sure it’s all there, fresh and fragrant."

Relief washes over you. "This is shaping up."

"Like we'd let it do anything else." Natalie grins.

You both sit back, your gazes meeting in quiet triumph. The foundation is laid, the groundwork solid. It's a waiting game now, the calm before the storm of execution.

You move on, the guest list sprawling before you like a challenge. Names, titles, companies – they blur together, a sea of significance.

"Adams needs to be near the bar," you say, remembering his penchant for networking with a drink in hand.

"Far from Johnson though." Natalie taps her lip. "Their last merger talk didn't go well."

"Right." you circle their names, drawing a line between them. It feels like defusing a bomb, a delicate operation where one wrong move could spell disaster.

"Helena will want a view of the stage." you envisage Helena's keen eyes, missing nothing.” Natalie nods, scribbling away. "And check dietary restrictions again," you remind her. "Last thing we need is an allergic reaction."

"Already on it." She grins, confidence a bright spark in her gaze.

"Good." Your shoulders ease a fraction. The details matter. They always do.

"Think he'll be happy?" she asks, a lilt of mischief in her voice.

"Marcus? He doesn't do happy," you smirk. "But satisfied? Maybe."

"Then we're golden." Natalie winks.

You see an email come through from Dani. She’s arranged a date and time for you and Chef Jax to meet and you add it to the calendar.

"We’re the best damn event planners in the city. We’re always golden." Your confidence surges as you send the confirmation reply. You shut down the computers, the screens' glow fading into darkness. “Let’s call it a night.” 

The Meeting

The crisp air of the early evening bites at your skin as you approach Saffron & Thyme, the five-star restaurant nestled in the heart of the city. Leaves rustle underfoot, a whispering prelude to the bustle inside. You're here to discuss Marcus’ event.

A sudden rush of wind signals an intrusion into your thoughts. A man on a bike, all athletic build and tousled hair under a baseball cap, clips your shoulder as he whizzes by. "Sorry, mate!" he calls out, his voice tinged with an Australian accent that curls around the words like smoke. He swings back around and heads towards you.

“You okay?” His warm brown eyes meet yours, before performing a silent appraisal of your body. “I underestimated the distance between us. But you’re good, yeah?”

“I’m good,” you respond. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay!” He grins broadly, two dimples appearing. It’s one of the most gorgeous smiles you’ve ever seen. “Sorry again.” He winks, then starts pedaling and disappears down the alley. Your heart skips a beat, but you brush it off. Time is ticking.

Inside, the familiar scent of herbs and freshly baked bread welcomes you. It's comforting. You smooth down your blouse and ask the hostess for Dani and Chef Jax.

Dani emerges a few seconds later, her face both apologetic and reassuring. “Hey!” She greets you with a quick kiss on both cheeks. “So good to see you.”

“Nice to see you again Dani. Thanks so much for taking on this event with such short notice.”

“Of course. So I have some bad news. Chef Jax left a week ago to become the private chef for a big celebrity.” Her tone suggests this is more gossip than disaster. She sees concern cross your face and quickly adds, "But don't worry, we've got someone even better."

That's when he steps into view. You blink quickly as Dani ushers forward the new chef. It’s the biker from the sidewalk. His entrance is nothing short of magnetic; the kitchen's heat seems to have followed him out, adding a shimmer to his tanned skin. Chris' smile, complete with its playful dimples, radiates confidence. He strides towards you, the embodiment of every culinary fantasy you didn't know you had. You wonder if you’re developing a chef kink. You feel warmth flooding your cheeks.

"Chris has taken over the kitchen," Dani says, proudly introducing the man whose hands, strong and skilled, once deftly navigated a bike handle, now destined to craft your event's menu.

Chris steps forwards, a grin tugging at his full pink lips. "Sorry again for bumping into you. Nice to properly meet you," he says, his grin spreading wider and his rich brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Seems I’ve made quite the first impression, huh?”

You swallow, forcing a smile. “It was quite the entrance. Would have been more impressive if you were doing some tricks,” you quip, aiming for light-heartedness. “But water under the bridge.”

Chris chuckles as he extends a hand, his large palm enveloping yours in a firm handshake. His skin is warm, the touch sending an unexpected jolt of electricity sparking up your arm. You stare at your joined hands, acutely aware of his lingering gaze.

“Christopher Bahng, but everyone calls me Chris.” You introduce yourself. “An absolute pleasure.” Chris lifts your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles.

A shiver dances down your spine at the sensation. You're drawn to him, undeniably so. But this is work. You nod, your mind stamping down the attraction, forcing professionalism to the forefront. You clear your throat, slipping free of his grasp, but the tingling remains. “Shall we discuss the event?” you ask, looking between Chris and Dani.

Chris chuckles again, the sound warm and throaty. "Straight to business. I like that."

The three of you sit at an empty table near the back, Dani taking her place at the head while you and Chris flank her sides, sitting across from each other. Every inch of air between the two of you is charged with unspoken tension.

"So, let's talk about the dinner," you start, opening your folder. Your voice is steady, all business now. "We're looking for something that makes a statement."

"Ah, I love a good challenge." Chris leans in, his forearms on the table, and you're acutely aware of the muscles beneath his rolled-up sleeves. The scent of spice and citrus wafts off him towards you, clean and intoxicating. "Tell me more. What do you have in mind?" His gaze on you is intense.

You glance away, heart pounding. Get a grip, you chastise yourself. You smooth a stray curl behind your ear, summoning your most confident tone.

"An upscale six-course tasting menu to impress our guests." You outline the specifics, including the ambiance you're aiming for. Chris nods along, his eyes never leaving yours, as if every word you say is vital. It's flattering and a little unnerving. You find yourself leaning in too, drawn into his orbit.

"Ambitious. I like it. Sounds like we've got some exciting work ahead of us," he says once you finish, his dimpled smile returning full force. You can't help but return it, despite the warning bells in your mind.

You clear your throat again. “Will the kitchen be able to handle this? Given the sudden changes in staff?”

“My team can handle anything.” Chris smiles, sending a thrill through you. "I'll make it an evening you won’t forget."

You swallow hard, tearing your gaze from his. This chemistry is dangerous. Off limits. You straighten, smoothing your expression into cool professionalism.

"Wonderful. Shall we finalize the details then?" You flip open your ipad, poising the stylus over the screen.

Chris leans back in his chair, regarding you through half-lidded eyes, studying your face. You raise a brow.

After a long moment, Chris chuckles again, content with whatever it is he’s discovered. "Details it is." He folds his hands on the table, giving you his full attention. "What do you need from me?"

You go back and forth discussing the details. Dani chimes in as necessary, but the conversation is mainly between you and Chris. Dani excuses herself to deal with something in the back.

"Imagine this," he starts, "a deconstructed bouillabaisse, each element a surprise on the palate."

You nod, intrigued. The idea is bold, inventive. It's exactly what Marcus loves.

"Seafood sourced locally?" you ask, thinking of freshness, sustainability—the buzzwords that please your clients.

"Of course." Chris' smile is confident. "Nothing but the best."

You move on to presentation, discussing plating styles. Rustic elegance versus modern chic. He sketches shapes on a napkin—curves, lines, a swoop here for sauce, a stack there for texture. You watch him work. The way his brow furrows in concentration, the occasional bite of his lip.

"Guests eat with their eyes first," he says, locking eyes with you. His enthusiasm is infectious.

"Absolutely," you agree, feeling the pull of his passion. You turn back to your notes. “Marcus also has a love for theatrics, so keep that in mind too.”

Chris nods, and makes a few additional suggestions.

You glance up from your notes, meeting Chris's gaze. His eyes are warm, crinkling at the corners as he smiles. Your heart stutters at the sight.

"I think we have everything covered." You pretend to scan your notes and hope your voice sounds normal. "Unless there's anything else you want to discuss?"

“Dietary restrictions?”

“I’ll have my assistant Nat send you notes on that once we finalize the guest list by the end of the week.”

“Perfect.”

“Just be prepared. The requests from these rich folks tend to border on ridiculous. We’ll need to figure out how to incorporate them without sacrificing the menu's integrity. It might be a bit much given our timeline. Given the potential complications, does the end of the week still work?”

“I’ll make it work,” he says confidently.

"Great. Thank you." You breathe easier. Your eyes connect with his and neither of you look away.

"All set?" Dani asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and breaking the spell.

"Yup! All set," you confirm, finally looking away and standing as you slip the tablet into your bag. You feel lighter, energized by the collaboration, by Chris' fervor. The event looms large, but so does the excitement. And maybe something more. “Thanks for meeting with me today.”

Your gaze drifts again to Chris, as he rises as well. You watch the way his hair curls just slightly under the edge of his baseball cap, how his eyes glint with life and laughter. Your heart thuds harder. You're not supposed to notice these things. He rounds the table to stand next to you.

“The pleasure was all mine.” His voice is low and husky, catching you mid-stare. A knowing smile plays on his lips—the dimples teasing you. "Got your phone?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah." You fumble in your bag, your cheeks warm. You trade phones, fingers brushing, lingering. Numbers are exchanged, a necessity cloaked in possibility.

"Call me if anything changes," he says, handing back your device. His eyes hold yours, a silent conversation you're both too aware of. Time stretches until you come to your senses.

"Will do," you manage, voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Chef," you say, turning to leave.

Chris grins. “Until next time.”

Out on the sidewalk, the city buzzes around you. You tuck into the stream of people, lost in thought. The quickening pulse at the base of your neck is hard to ignore. Chris. His talent, his charisma, his looks —dangerously magnetic.

You're drawn to him, undeniably so. But this is about work. You’re wondering how you will resist him. The questions loop in your mind, chasing each other like shadows as you navigate back to the office.

Still, his smile lingers. The plump lips. The twinkle in his eye. The fucking dimples. There's no denying the chemistry between you, a dangerous attraction that threatens to derail the event if you're not careful. Still, you can't ignore the thrill his heated looks ignite within you or how his passion for cooking sparks your own enthusiasm.

You take a deep breath.

Back at your computer, you find several emails from Marcus, each terser than the last, demanding updates. You don’t have time for fucking romance. With a sigh, you settle in to respond, pushing all thoughts of Chris from your mind.

The Recipe Tasting

The brass handle is cold under your touch as you push open the door to the restaurant, a sanctuary of calm in the early hours of Saturday morning. Chris’ message said to just come on in when you arrived. A thrill dances up your spine, mingling with the anticipation that's been simmering since you set this meeting with him. The moment you step inside, the rich tapestry of scents wraps around you—garlic, fresh herbs, a hint of citrus.

"Good morning," Chris greets. There’s a hint of fatigue in his eyes, but his dimpled smile radiates warmth against the cool backdrop of the quiet dining room. His chef's whites hug his athletic frame, a stark contrast to the dark, tousled curls peeking out from beneath the gray beanie he's donned today. You follow behind him, and can’t help it when your eyes drop to take in how well the pants highlight his perfectly round ass. You glance around the pristine kitchen, noticing the organized chaos of ingredients and tools laid out for the tasting.

“How long have you been here?” you ask.

"Since four this morning," he says over his shoulder, with a shrug. The motion accentuating the breadth of shoulders beneath the crisp white shirt. “There’s a lot to prepare, but I wanted everything to be perfect for you.” His tone is laced with pride.

"It’s just a tasting. No need for perfection. Yet," you respond, admiring the dedication.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he replies.

In the kitchen, stainless steel surfaces gleam under the fluorescent lights. A pan sizzles on one of the stoves, punctuating the symphony of aromas. Chris removes the pan from the heat before leading you to a prep table, ingredients arrayed like paint on an artist's palette. He pulls out the stool for you. As you sit, you feel his thumb graze lightly across your side. You’re unsure whether it was intentional or accidental. You don’t react outwardly, but inside, you start to feel fluttering in your belly.

"Let me show you what I've got planned," he says, gesturing towards the display with his broad, strong and veiny hand.

"Surprise me," you challenge, your voice steadier than your racing heart.

One by one, he lifts lids from pots, unveiling the dishes. Each carries a story, a piece of his soul: braised short ribs that hint at his Korean heritage, vibrant vegetables speaking to his Australian upbringing. He talks, hands painting the air with his passion, eyes alight with creativity.

"Each dish is a chapter," he explains. "A narrative in flavor."

You nod, captivated not just by the food but by him—by the fervor in his voice, the spark in his gaze. Today, Chris isn't just a chef; he's a storyteller, and you hang on every word.

Chris approaches with the first dish, his stride confident. The steam curls upward as he sets it down before you, the aroma a prelude to the flavors awaiting discovery.

"Try this," he urges, the dimples in his cheek deepening with his encouraging smile.

The fork feels cool against your fingertips. You spear a tender morsel, and it succumbs to the gentle pressure. Brought to your lips, the flavor blooms across your tongue—earthy, rich, with a whisper of spice that tickles your palate.

"Wow," escapes from you. It's more than taste; it's emotion, memory, a dance of textures and aromas that resonate with something primal within you.

Chris leans on the stainless steel table, eyes locked on yours, searching for more than approval. "What does it remind you of?" His voice is low, inviting.

"A bonfire during sunset on a secluded beach. That moment when the sky's ablaze and you're caught between day and night," you say, the image so clear you can almost hear the waves lapping at the shore.

"Perfect," he breathes out, satisfaction lighting up his face. "That balance is exactly what I was aiming for."

"Chris, this is... incredible." Your words are honest, stripped of pretense by the genuineness of the experience.

"Good, because there's more to come." He stands straight, the professional veil slipping back into place, but the lingering look he gives you is all warmth and shared secrets.

"Bring it on," you reply, the challenge in your tone softened by a playful smile, eager for the next act in this delicious play.

You watch as he plates the next dish and walks back to you. He slides the plate in front of you, the vibrant colors of the dish popping against the stark white. Your nostrils flare slightly, taking in the aromatic fusion wafting from the arrangement.

"Try this," he encourages. "A little adventure on a plate. Octopus carpaccio with chorizo crumble and saffron aioli."

You lift your fork to your lips. The first bite is a revelation as the medley of bold, yet harmonious flavors explodes on your tongue. A soft moan escapes you before you catch yourself.

Chris smirks at the sound, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at you’re reaction. “Glad you like it.” He slides a glass towards you. You take a sip, surprised to find that it is white wine, but it’s perfect as it accentuates the flavors. “The saffron provides an interesting contrast to the the brininess of the octopus.” He picks the glass up and brings it to his own lips.

"It's amazing." You gesture at the dish with your fork. "The blend of textures and flavors is incredible." You place another forkful into your mouth, closing your lips around the silverware before pulling it out slowly to get as much as the flavor off as possible. You notice his eyes focused on your lips. "Your skill... it's exceptional." You speak between bites, each word sincere.

"Cooking is an art form. The ability to blend flavors and culinary traditions from different cultures is fascinating to me." He leans forward, his gaze snapping back up to your eyes. "But the real joy is in sharing the experience with someone who appreciates it."

"I love cooking too, but it’s more of a hobby for me. There's so much joy in exploring new tastes, new techniques."

"Exactly! For me, it began with my grandmother's recipes. She brought Korea to our Australian kitchen." His hands animate his words, the story bringing a dance to his fingers as they mimic chopping and stirring.

"Family recipes are treasures." You pause, the memory of your dad's jerk chicken seasoning your words with nostalgia. "My dad's Caribbean roots spice up our meals. It's like every dinner tells a part of our story."

"Food is our connection to heritage, to family." Chris nods, a grin spreading across his face, softened by the dimples that carve into his cheeks. "It's amazing how it brings people together, isn't it?"

"Absolutely." You smile, lost momentarily in the shared understanding, the common ground blooming like the herbs in a well-tended garden. With each shared anecdote, the connection deepens, roots twisting around a budding possibility.

You reach for the next plate, not sure what it is, but eager to taste anyway. Chris reaches for the plate at the same time, his intention to guide you through the flavors of his latest creation. Your fingers graze his, light as whispers, as you simultaneously grab the plate and a shock of warmth surges up your arm. You freeze, caught in the unexpected intimacy of skin against skin.

His gaze locks with yours. It's a silent conversation, a question posed in the depths of his brown eyes that beg for an answer. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm, betraying the calm façade you struggle to maintain. The air crackles with the energy shared in that fleeting touch, the undercurrents of attraction swirling like steam from the hot dishes scattered across the counter.

The moment stretches, awareness growing between you both. You want nothing more than to close the distance between your bodies, to discover the taste of the full, sensual mouth that has been tempting you all morning. His gaze dips to your mouth then returns to your eyes, and you wonder if he's imagining the same thing. You wonder if he'll act on the desire simmering in the air. But after a long moment, he straightens and clears his throat, looking away.

"Sorry," he murmurs, but there's no real apology in his voice, only a low timbre that resonates somewhere deep within you. His smile is a half-formed thing, laden with meanings you're not sure you should decipher.

“It’s fine," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "What is this?" you ask, referring to the plate still held by both of you. You release it, allowing him to set it down in front of you. You sit back in the stool, trying to calm yourself.

“Taste it.” He picks up your fork and scoops up the perfect bite before guiding it to your mouth. You open wide, your eyes locked on his as the fork enters your mouth.

Rich flavors explode on your tongue—spicy chili, fresh lime, and tangy fish sauce with coconut milk, redolent of Chris's Korean-Australian heritage.

"My halmeoni—my grandmother—taught me this recipe." His eyes soften with affection. "It's one of my favorites. A fusion of Korean and Australian flavors."

"It's incredible." He fills up another forkful and offers it to you. You close your eyes as you accept it, savoring another bite. "The blend of spices is perfect."

"I'm glad you appreciate it." His smile is warm and genuine. He uses the same fork to take his own bite. You bring the glass of wine to your lips for another sip and watch as he chews, then swallows slowly. When his tongue darts out to lick his lips you feel your vagina clench. His eyes haven’t left you either.

The air seems to vibrate between the two of you. His eyes drop to your lips again, you start to lean forward, closing the gap between you as if drawn by an invisible force. Chris mirrors you, his breath beginning to mingle with yours as you both move closer to each other. In this charged space, time seems suspended, waiting for one of you to shatter the delicate balance with a single, reckless act.

As you start to close your eyes, the kitchen door bangs open, shattering the moment. You and Chris spring apart as Dani strides in, her confident steps resonating on the tiled floor. She pauses, taking in the scene with a knowing tilt of her head. "Morning, you two," she says, a hint of amusement coloring her words. "How’s the tasting going."

You sit back in the stool, the bubble of tension popping in the wake of her arrival. Chris clears his throat, a flush creeping up his neck and the tips of ears turning bright red as he busies himself with adjusting the placement of the dishes. "Good, good," he says, the casualness of his tone not quite reaching his eyes. “We’re almost done here.”

“Cool.” Dani raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment further. She moves past the two of you to the office in the back of the kitchen, her motion sweeping away the remnants of the moment you and Chris almost shared.

You swallow hard, your pulse racing as Dani delves into her pre-opening routine.

You catch Chris' eye once more. He smiles warmly and begins to explain the last few dishes he’s prepared, sharing them out on small plates. He lets you feed yourself this time. The two of you easily slip back into your roles as you discuss how the dishes fit together and what makes the most sense for the event. You both busy yourselves with taking notes as you work together to finalize the menu. Although tension still lingers in the air, thick and heady as the aromas wafting through the kitchen, neither of you acknowledge it.