#a bear can break into a car | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aerialmirrorss · 9 days ago

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𝐬 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐦 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ zach maclaren

playing: 𝟏𝟖 by one direction 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! every winter break, you and your childhood best friend zach’s families plan the annual trip to your family’s cabin in the mountains. but when an accident happens, a guilt-ridden zach is willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel better.

paring: zach maclaren x fem!reader

warnings: childhood friends to lovers , zach accidentally hurts reader , mentions of bruising , angst , lots of fluff (zach is so hopelessly in love with you it hurts) , sexual content + unprotected sex! , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 8.2k

notes: today’s post is a long one but bear w me pls i had to edit so much of it :(

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“can you grab the spare?” zach calls from the back of the range rover, tugging the luggage out of the trunk.

stepping out of the car, the icy air hits your face like a slap, the sudden chill turning your nose pink and making your cheeks tingle.

“fuck, it’s freezing,” you mutter under your breath, hurrying over to the pile of rocks near the cabin door. your fingers, already stiff and trembling from the cold, fumble as you dig through the stones, searching for the fake rock with the hidden spare key.

finally, you find it and unlock the door. you and zach waste no time rushing inside, flipping on the furnace and switching on the electric fireplace. warm air begins to spill into the room, cutting through the biting chill.

“jesus, it’s brutal out there,” zach says with a laugh, dropping the suitcases by the front door.

“i know,” you reply, rubbing your hands together for warmth. “i don’t get how our parents do it when they get here first.”

your gaze sweeps over the cabin, familiar and cozy even in its current state of disarray. a small smile creeps onto your face as memories flood back. by the time your family usually arrives, the maclarens have already set everything up—lights twinkling, garlands hung, the whole place transformed for the holidays.

but not this year. this year, you and zach got here first. being in college has made it easier for the two of you to make the trip, especially since it’s only a short drive from campus. with your parents tied up at work, they won’t arrive for another two days, leaving you and zach to settle in and prepare the cabin yourselves

zach seems to read your mind as he heads toward the storage closet under the staircase. “the moms mentioned something about the decorations being in here,” he says, pulling open the door.

he starts rummaging through the piles, expecting to find boxes labeled xmas. instead, his hand lands on a stack labeled snowboarding gear. a small smile tugs at his lips.

“guess the decorations can wait,” he says, pulling out the boxes. turning to you, he raises an eyebrow, and you meet his look with a knowing nod. “get dressed.”

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you glide across the flat, powdery snow after hopping off the ski lift. the cold air nips at your cheeks, leaving them rosy and warm beneath your baby pink goggles. when you finally stop at the edge of the slope, you tug the goggles up onto your helmet, panting softly as mist forms in the cold air.

zach approaches behind you, stopping at your side. you look up at him, your eyes bright with excitement. “hi,” you say, your breath still catching from the climb.

“hey,” he replies, chuckling softly, his voice warm and steady. he feels something tighten in his chest—your voice, your smile, the way you look at him. if only you knew how effortlessly you could bring him to his knees.

but he would never say it. not to you. not when it could risk the friendship you’ve built over years.

you’ve been inseparable since second grade, when zach worked up the courage to ask for your help mastering the monkey bars. you were the only one who could make it all the way across without falling, and he’d admired you ever since. now, here you are—still together, still tangled in a friendship that means everything, even if it sometimes feels like it could be so much more.

zach isn’t sure when his feelings for you started to shift, turning into something he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore either. maybe it was that afternoon when he was twelve, bedridden with a nasty cold, and you showed up unannounced with a thermos of homemade chicken soup. the soup had been borderline inedible—too salty, with mushy noodles—but the gesture had warmed him in a way he’d never forget. of course, he’d eaten every last bite and told you it was perfect.

or maybe it was on his fifteenth birthday. he’d always treated his birthday like any other day, never one to make a big deal of it, but you didn’t see it that way. while he was out, you snuck into his room and filled it with many presents and blue and black balloons—his favorite colors. he’d walked in, startled by the effort you’d put in just to make him smile, and something about it stuck with him.

or maybe it was the night he ended things with his first long-term girlfriend at seventeen. her problem had been you—the closeness you and zach shared, the bond she couldn’t understand. she’d wanted him to choose, and it wasn’t even a question. when you found out, you didn’t say “i told you so” or press him for details. instead, you showed up with a bag of junk food and a stack of movies. you stayed the whole weekend, laughing, crying over sappy scenes, and talking until the early hours of the morning about your dreams and futures.

in every timeline, in every version of his life, zach knows he’d choose you. over a girlfriend, over a best friend, over anyone.

a soft click pulls zach from his thoughts. glancing down, he sees you already strapped to your snowboard, your goggles perched perfectly on your face. you reach up, offering your hand for help. with barely any effort, zach pulls you to your feet, earning a giggle that tugs at his chest more than he cares to admit.

“i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of this view,” you say softly, taking in the snow-draped mountains and the endless horizon of white and blue.

zach crouches down, fumbling slightly as he straps himself into his board. his fingers falter when he glances up at you. the way your smile glows as you take in the scenery—it’s more breathtaking to him than the view itself.

“yeah,” he murmurs, his voice quiet. “me either.”

you turn to him with a playful glint in your eye. “race you down?”

zach chuckles, shaking his head as he secures his last buckle. “no.”

you blink at him, brows furrowing. “why not?”

“because,” he says, standing and stretching, a smug grin tugging at his lips, “i’ll smoke you so fast it’ll almost be sad.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes at the playful jab, but the spark of competition ignites instantly. zach knows you well enough to see it too. before he can say another word, you tug your goggles down, lean forward, and launch yourself down the slope, your speed kicking up a flurry of snow in your wake.

“cheater!” zach yells after you, his voice echoing through the mountain air.

your laughter rings out, light and carefree, as you pull your face cover up to shield yourself from the biting cold. with a determined grin, zach pulls down his goggles and takes off after you, the race already on.

the descent starts smoothly, the rush of cold air whipping past your face as you carve through the snow, the thrill of the slope igniting your competitive streak. you glance over your shoulder, spotting zach gaining on you. he’s fast—faster than you expected—and his determined grin sends a surge of adrenaline through you.

you try to pick up speed, leaning into the next turn, but your edge catches an icy patch. it happens so quickly—a sharp jolt, your balance slipping, and suddenly, you’re tumbling. the world tilts, snow sprays into the air, and before you can even react, you collide with something solid.

or rather, someone.

zach.

the two of you go down in a tangled heap, his snowboard slicing awkwardly into the snow as he tries (and fails) to stop in time. his arms instinctively wrap around you as you both slide a few more feet before finally coming to a stop in a soft bank of powder.

for a moment, everything is still.

you blink up at him, stunned and breathless, your goggles slightly askew. zach’s face hovers inches above yours, his cheeks flushed—not just from the cold.

“you good?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his lips twitch into a small smile.

you can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the moment catching up to you. “yeah… i think so. you?”

he nods, chuckling now too. “well, i wasn’t planning on eating snow, but at least i cushioned your fall.”

you roll your eyes, shoving at his chest lightly as he helps you sit up. “cushioned my fall? you practically tackled me.”

“only because you fell first,” he counters, his grin widening.

despite the snow seeping into your clothes and the ache of your tumble, you find yourself laughing again. zach stands, brushing snow off himself before offering you his hand. as he pulls you up, you notice his gaze lingering just a little longer than usual, his smile softer now.

just as the rush of laughter and adrenaline starts to fade, a sharp, sudden pain slices through your side, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp, instinctively clutching your side. “ouch.”

zach’s smile vanishes, his brows knitting together in concern. “what? what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know, i—” another sharp pang makes you wince, doubling over slightly as you shuffle off to the side of the slope, out of the way of other snowboarders. your hands fumble to tug off your gloves, urgency overriding the cold.

you shove the gloves into zach’s hands without a word and begin unzipping your snow jacket, pulling up your thermal layer to investigate. you crane your neck to look, but the angle makes it impossible to see what’s wrong. the pain is sharp and unrelenting, leaving you wincing as you try to figure it out.

“can you see anything?” you ask, your voice tight.

but zach’s expression answers before he says a word. his eyes widen, his face draining of color as he steps closer, urgency in every movement.

“oh shit,” he mutters, already crouching down to get a better look.

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“intercostal muscle strain,” the doctor says, her tone calm but firm as you sit up with a wince. “you’re very lucky—it could’ve been a fractured or broken rib, and that would’ve been far more painful than what you’re feeling now.”

you nod slowly, wincing again as you pull your clothes back down over your bare torso.

“it’s nothing serious, thankfully,” she continues, scribbling something onto a notepad. “but you’ll need to take it easy—no snowboarding for at least a week.”

you groan dramatically, throwing your arm over your eyes in exasperation, only to regret it instantly as the ache in your side flares. you hiss through your teeth, lowering your arm gingerly.

the doctor hides a small smile at your frustration. “get plenty of rest, and take two 500mg Tylenol every 4–6 hours to help with the pain,” she advises. “for the bruising, you can pick up some arnica gel or aloe vera at a pharmacy—it’ll help with the inflammation.”

zach, who’s been quietly standing at your side the whole time, finally speaks up. “so no snowboarding at all?”

“none,” the doctor confirms, looking at you pointedly.

zach lets out a quiet sigh of relief, grateful nothing was broken, though the guilt still gnaws at him. that tumble had cost you a week of your vacation, and the thought that he played a part in it made his chest ache.

his hand rests idly on the edge of your pillow, his mind clouded with regret, when he suddenly feels your fingers brush against his. his gaze shifts to yours, and he knows immediately that you’ve read him like a book.

the doctor steps out, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. she’s seen the unspoken bond between the two of you—something that everyone else seems to notice, even if you and zach haven’t admitted it to yourselves.

“i’m so sorry—” zach starts, his voice heavy with remorse, but you cut him off with a gentle shake of your head.

“it wasn’t your fault, zach,” you say firmly, your voice soft yet steady. your fingers trace small patterns on the back of his hand, grounding him. “there was no way to stop that fall from happening, or for you to avoid crashing into me. it was just… one of those things.”

zach looks down at your intertwined fingers, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

you smile, swinging your legs carefully over the edge of the bed to stand. “though i do wish you hadn’t elbowed me so hard in the process.”

your playful jab makes him groan, dropping his head into his hand. “you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“not a chance,” you tease, grinning as you test your balance on your feet.

his guilty expression softens into something lighter, his lips quirking into a small smile as he watches you. “fair enough,” he murmurs, his tone filled with a mix of relief and something deeper he doesn’t quite let himself say.

as per the doctor’s advice, you and zach stopped at a nearby pharmacy on the way back to the cabin, picking up some arnica gel for the swelling and a bottle of tylenol. zach had insisted on carrying everything, even as you rolled your eyes and tried to insist you were fine.

back at the cabin, he’d gone into full caretaker mode. now, you were nestled on the couch in your favorite pajamas, surrounded by fluffed pillows, a warm blanket, and fuzzy socks. zach had even turned on your favorite comfort show, leaving no detail overlooked.

in the kitchen, you could hear him speaking quietly with your parents on the phone. the tone of his voice was calm and reassuring, though you caught a few words here and there about “keeping an eye on her” and “following doctor’s orders.”

“yeah, I will. alright—yeah, sounds good, I’ll let her know. oh- okay. bye.”

zach ended the call, setting his phone down on the kitchen island before heading over to you with a water bottle, a couple of tylenol pills, and a snack bowl balanced in his hands. he plopped onto the couch next to you, a small laugh escaping as he handed you the items.

“let me guess,” you started, mockingly, “make sure she’s actually taking the pain meds and don’t let her go snowboarding no matter how much she begs.”

zach laughed, shaking his head. “pretty much. they’re just worried about you. it took a lot of convincing to stop them from dropping everything at work and driving straight to the hospital.”

you took the water bottle and pills, rolling your eyes as you scanned the label. “this is bullshit. i feel fine. it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.”

zach raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “don’t lie. i can hear you cursing under your breath every time you move too fast.”

he twisted open the water bottle and popped open the tylenol, handing them back to you with an air of exaggerated patience.

“i can open my own stuff, you know,” you grumbled, though you took both from him.

“sure, you can,” he said, leaning back against the couch with a smirk. “but this way, i get to feel useful. so, humor me.”

you roll your eyes but oblige, popping the pills into your mouth and washing them down with a gulp of water. for the rest of the afternoon, you and zach fully embraced the art of laziness. you binged several episodes of your comfort show, made your way through the entire snack bowl, and eventually ordered pizza, which arrived just as the last crumbs of chips were devoured—all within four hours.

the warmth of the blanket, the soft hum of the TV, and the exhaustion from the day caught up with you. before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut, the drowsiness overpowering. when you woke, it was to the gentle sensation of zach’s fingers absentmindedly scratching your scalp, the rhythm soothing and familiar.

blinking groggily, you realized your head was resting on his chest. you froze for a split second, then relaxed as the memory of shifting there for comfort came back to you. his chest was sturdy, warm, and—well—perfectly positioned to avoid putting pressure on your sore side. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“hi,” you croaked, voice raspy with sleep.

“hey,” zach replied softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. his hand paused in your hair briefly before he added, “you need to put the arnica gel on your bruise.”

you groaned in protest, burying your face further into his chest like a stubborn child. the vibration of his laugh rumbled beneath you, warm and familiar.

“c’mon,” he coaxed, leaning forward carefully so you weren’t jostled, reaching for the small container of arnica on the coffee table. his other arm stayed around you, steadying you as he sat back.

with a reluctant sigh, you pushed yourself off him, grumbling as you lifted your pajama shirt just enough to expose the bruised area. even with the pain dulled from the meds, the stretch made you wince, and you let the shirt drop again with a frustrated groan.

“can you help me put it on?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

zach hesitated for a beat, the question catching him off guard. you didn’t notice, but his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the proximity and intimacy of the request making his pulse quicken.

“yeah, of course,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his heart raced. he unscrewed the lid, squeezing a small amount of the gel onto his fingers before looking at you. when you nodded, he shifted closer, his movements gentle and deliberate as he applied the gel to your side.

his touch was careful, almost hesitant, as if afraid of hurting you. “let me know if it stings,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

“it’s fine,” you replied softly, your eyes closing again as the soothing coolness of the gel and his careful touch eased the ache.

zach’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he worked the now-warmed gel into your skin. the rhythmic motion of his fingers was steady, but inside, his composure was unraveling. there was something undeniably intimate about this moment—your quiet, fluttering reactions every time his fingers brushed a new spot, the way your breath hitched when he applied just the right amount of pressure.

his fingers moved instinctively, lifting your shirt a little higher to cover the edges of the bruise, and that’s when he saw it. the small, delicate tattoo just below the curve of your breast.

divine feminine.

the words seemed to stare back at him, burning into his mind as his breath hitched. he swallowed hard, his hand pausing briefly before continuing, slower this time. zach could feel his body reacting in ways he knew it shouldn’t. his chest tightened, and he bit down on his bottom lip, trying to keep himself grounded as warmth pooled low in his stomach.

then you let out a soft, unintentional moan—a mix of pain and relief as his fingers brushed over a particularly tender spot. the sound, quiet and fleeting, sent a chill through him. he froze, inhaling sharply, his hands momentarily still against your side.

your eyes fluttered open, hazy with the remnants of drowsiness. “i’m sorry,” zach murmured, his voice tight.

concern crosses your features as you began to sit up. “zach, it’s fine,” you said, misinterpreting his sudden apology. “it didn’t hurt. i promise.”

but that wasn’t it. not at all.

no, zach wasn’t thinking about the gel, the bruise, or even the fact that he might’ve applied too much pressure. his thoughts had plunged into dangerous territory, spiraling with images he couldn’t suppress.

he was imagining you making that sound again—but for entirely different reasons. how your breathless moans might sound against his ear as you writhed beneath him, your body arching into his as you begged for him to let you cum.

how you might look with your face pressed into the pillows, gripping the sheets, gasping his name in broken cries as he pounded relentlessly inside you from behind, squeezing tightly around him, his hands gripping your hips firmly but gently, guiding you to him.

zach blinked, forcing himself back to the present, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. he dragged a hand through his hair, quickly standing up and mumbling something about needing a drink of water, leaving you puzzled and slightly concerned as he practically fled to the kitchen.

you stood up, muttering a low curse under your breath as the ache in your side flared. despite the pain, you followed him into the kitchen, determined to figure out what was wrong.

“zach,” you called softly, your voice breaking the quiet. he didn’t turn, his back to you, shoulders tense as he stared down at the empty glass in his hands.

stepping closer, you positioned yourself in front of him, standing just beneath his gaze. even then, he refused to look at you, his jaw clenched tightly.

“zach,” you repeated, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, cupping it to force his eyes to meet yours. the warmth of your touch was almost unbearable for him.

“don’t—” he mumbled, voice low and strained, his gaze flickering to the side as if avoiding yours could somehow mask the turmoil written all over his face.

but you saw it anyway—guilt. raw and unfiltered, pooling in his dark eyes and spilling over in the form of unshed tears.

“zach, what is it?” you asked, your voice soft, barely above a whisper in the still air.

he blinked hard, his breathing uneven as he struggled to hold himself together. the weight of his thoughts pressed heavily on his chest. you trusted him, leaned on him when you were in pain, and here he was, betraying that trust in the worst way—fantasizing about you.

the images haunted him. he couldn’t stop the shameful loop of memories from late nights in his dorm, where he would close his eyes and imagine you in ways he couldn’t admit aloud. he would picture you on top of him, trying to adjust to his size, your brows furrowed and lips parted in quiet gasps. how you might bite your lip to stifle your moans, only to collapse onto his chest when you came undone, breathless and trembling.

but those were just fantasies, fleeting and far removed from reality. they weren’t supposed to bleed into a moment like this—when you were hurt, vulnerable, and looking at him with those wide, concerned eyes.

he squeezed his eyes shut, his voice barely audible. “you were hurt because of me, and i—i can’t stop thinking about…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to physically dispel the thoughts. “it’s not right. i’m not right.”

you frowned, your thumb brushing against his cheek in a soothing gesture. “zach, talk to me. what’s going on?”

he hesitated, his chest rising and falling as he wrestled with himself, unsure if he could say the words that would change everything.

“hey.” your voice was firm yet gentle, cutting through the silence. zach’s eyes opened, hesitantly meeting yours.

“it’s me,” you said, your tone softening. “you can tell me anything, zach. you know that.”

he chewed the inside of his cheek, his jaw tightening as he tried to muster the courage to speak. “i’m so sorry, y/n,” he began, voice heavy with guilt. “i feel awful about what happened today—about you getting hurt. and then you’re here, trusting me to help you, and i’m…” he trailed off, sighing deeply as he covered his eyes with his hand. “i’m trying so hard to control myself, and it’s not okay.”

your brows furrowed as you processed his words, trying to piece together what he meant. the hesitation in his voice, the way he avoided your gaze—it all felt so unlike him.

then, as your eyes flickered downward, you noticed it. the unmistakable bulge in the fabric of his sweats. your breath hitched in realization, a soft gasp escaping your lips before you could stop it.

zach’s hand remained firmly over his eyes, his posture rigid as if bracing himself for your reaction. the room felt impossibly still, the weight of the unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

you reached up, your fingers wrapping gently around his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. zach resisted for a moment, but when he finally let you guide him, his eyes met yours—hesitant, filled with embarrassment.

you offered him a small, reassuring smile, one that melted the tension in his features ever so slightly. without a word, you leaned in, your lips brushing softly against his in a kiss that was both hesitant and deliberate.

his brows furrowed, his body frozen for a split second, caught off guard by your sudden boldness. but then, as if a switch flipped, he responded, his hands instinctively finding your face. his touch was firm yet gentle, cradling you as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

it was tender and charged all at once, a silent confession spilling between you both without the need for words. the kitchen, the guilt, the tension—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in the moment you hadn’t realized both been waiting for.

your small hands gripped the sides of his sweater near his waist, anchoring yourself to him as his tongue slipped into your mouth without warning. the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a soft gasp escaping your lips. every movement—every stroke of his tongue against yours, every firm tug of your hair—set your senses on fire, unraveling emotions you’d worked so hard to bury.

of course you liked zach.

you always had.

the realization hit you like a flood, overwhelming and undeniable. you had tucked those feelings deep into the corners of your heart, afraid of what would happen if zach ever found out. you couldn’t bear the thought of ruining what you had. but the truth was simple: your heart had always been his.

you loved him.

zach pulled back suddenly, breaking the kiss as both of you panted for air. his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and ragged. “wait, wait—” he murmured, his voice low and unsteady.

you whimpered softly, a needy sound you didn’t mean to let out and his cock twitched at it. “zach, please,” you whispered, desperate to feel his lips on yours again, the taste of him still lingering.

he smiled softly, brushing a quick kiss against your lips that left you craving more. “i know, m’sorry, baby,” he murmured.

the nickname made your stomach flutter, sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the cozy cabin. you sighed, tilting your head to look up at him, waiting for the words that you knew were coming.

zach’s face was conflicted, his brows drawn together as he avoided your gaze for a moment. “i can’t believe i’m saying this… but we can’t tonight,” he admitted, chewing on his bottom lip in that pained way he did when he was struggling with something.

you groaned softly, the disappointment evident in your expression. your eyes softened as you saw the genuine concern etched into his face.

“i don’t want to hurt you even more,” he continued, his hand brushing lightly against your side. “and it could make your injury worse.”

“zach,” you whined, leaning your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. “we’ll be careful,” you pleaded, your voice soft and hopeful.

you tilted your head back up, your big, pleading eyes locking with his. you knew exactly the effect they had on him, and for a second, you saw him falter. his jaw tightened as he exhaled a shaky breath, clearly battling with himself.

zach let out a defeated sigh, his resolve crumbling as he crouched down and effortlessly lifted your legs around his waist. the sudden motion made you giggle, clinging to him instinctively. “i win,” you teased breathlessly, a triumphant grin spreading across your lips.

his only response was a sly smirk before pinching your ass, making you squeal in surprise. “careful, or i might change my mind,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he carried you to the bed.

the soft mattress welcomed you as he laid you down gently, the warm glow of the electric fireplace casting flickering shadows across the room. the heat of the moment mirrored the cozy warmth surrounding you both.

zach slid between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he settled there, his aching length pressing against you in a way that made your heart race. neither of you hesitated—your lips collided in a fervent kiss, all hunger and passion, as if this moment had been years in the making. which it was.

your fingers found their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer. his lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, each kiss deeper, more intoxicating, than the last. it felt as if the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you in the crackling warmth of the cabin.

“god, you have no idea how much i’ve wanted this,” zach murmurs against your lips, his voice a mix of hunger and longing. your response is a soft moan, quiet but fervent, that makes him press even closer.

he trails a series of slow, teasing kisses down your neck, each nip and suck prompting a sweet, aching arch from your body—until a sudden twinge in your side makes you wince. zach notices immediately, pulling back, concern flooding his eyes. “you okay?”

you nod, forcing a soft smile while trying to mask the lingering pain. you’ve waited too long for this moment and the last thing you want is for him to stop.

he studies you for a second, as if assessing whether you’re truly good, then sits back on his legs. “alright,” he says, voice calm but resolute, “this is how it’s gonna go, then. you can’t move. at all.”

your brows draw together, half-expecting him to crack a grin. but he doesn’t. he’s serious, his gaze unwavering.

“if you move,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, “or try to, i’ll stop.”

you swallow, the weight of his words and the gentle authority in his tone sending a surge of arousal low into your belly. you bite the inside of your cheek, eyes fixed on him, already imagining how you’ll manage to keep still under his touch.

“okay,” you whisper, voice steady but laced with anticipation.

zach’s fingertips skimmed over the outside of your closed thighs, his touch feather-light yet deliberate, as if savoring the moment before taking it further. you watched him through half-lidded eyes, heart thrumming in your chest. with patient care, he began to slide your pajama pants down, revealing your baby blue lace underwear.

his throat worked over a hard swallow as he took you in, jaw clenching and pulse thrumming hot beneath his skin. he could feel himself respond immediately—his cock straining against the softness of his sweats. you saw the way his eyes darkened, how that gentle composure threatened to unravel.

without a word, he eased the lace down as well, leaving you bare before him. instinctively, you kept your thighs pressed together, a final barrier of modesty even as your cheeks warmed. he paused, taking in the sight—the subtle flush on your skin—letting the tension in the air stretch taut.

his gaze flickered up to yours, intense and wordless, the warm glow of the fireplace painting both of you in golden hues that made everything feel dreamy and far removed from the outside world.

“perfect,” he whispered, the single word washing over you, making your skin prickle with a delicious heat. it was as if he saw you in a new light—something delicate and cherished. you felt the flush rise all the way from your chest to your cheeks.

he worked on the buttons of your top with gentle care, careful not to brush too roughly near your bruise. his eyes softened the moment the fabric parted, revealing the tender, discolored skin along your ribs. it was more than just concern written in his features—there was affection, regret, and a silent promise to be gentle.

before you could protest or reassure him, his head dipped down, pressing a series of soft, reverent kisses to the bruise as he eased the top off you, leaving you bare. you shivered under the weight of his tenderness, the careful attention making you feel impossibly close to him.

his fingers drifted lower along your navel, the sensitive skin prickling under his touch. he nuzzled his head beneath your jaw, encouraging you to tilt your head and grant him better access as he breathed slowly, evenly, his warm breath fanning over your throat. just as you began to surrender to the sensation of his lips on your neck, he slipped his hand further down, exploring the softness between your legs.

the first gentle slide of his fingertips through your slick folds made your jaw slacken, a quiet gasp escaping. gathering your wetness, he began to trace slow, deliberate shapes over your clit, drawing you into a heady rhythm that set every nerve alight. your body instinctively wanted to rise to meet his touch, but each time your hips started to rock forward, he’d slow his pace, lifting his gaze to give you a knowing, pointed look—reminding you of your earlier agreement.

the unspoken rule was clear: no moving. you had to let him lead, to trust him completely. caught between sweet frustration and delicious anticipation, you let out a shaky breath and let him guide your pleasure, your heart pounding in your ears.

“shit—you’re soaking,” zach groaned, voice low and strained as he picked up the pace of his fingers. each curl and slide drew out soft, breathy whimpers that spilled from your parted lips. he wore a look of intense concentration, as though memorizing every sound you made.

without warning, his middle finger pressed at your entrance before slowly sinking in, earning a strangled moan that made him nuzzle deeper into your neck. “god,” he breathed, voice muffled against your skin, “you feel so good.” you tightened around him reflexively, and he groaned, the vibration of his voice sending sparks along your spine.

straightening up, he shifted to sit back on his legs, changing the angle and giving himself a better view. he guided your knee down flat against the mattress, not just for his eyes but to ensure you couldn’t easily arch into his touch. a high, keening moan tore from your throat as he curled his finger inside you, hitting that perfect spot that sent tremors through your thighs.

you fought the urge to lift your hips, remembering his warning. still, your body trembled with the need to move, to push deeper into that intoxicating sensation. zach noticed—how could he not?—and it fueled the dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. he knew you were on the edge, knew how badly you wanted to give in.

meanwhile, his own restraint was wearing thin. he was hard—achingly so—and the slow, deliberate way you clenched around his finger nearly did him in. but he held back and added a second finger, pulling a sharp moan from you. if you couldn’t keep still now, how could you handle all of him inside you? this was a test of sorts, a delicious torment, and he was savoring every second.

he felt the way you clenched around his fingers, each flutter and squeeze like a plea for release. your hand gripped his wrist, desperate and trembling, but his pace never wavered. “gonna cum for me, angel?” he asked, voice heavy with anticipation.

you nodded frantically, wordless cries tumbling past your lips as he kept hitting that perfect spot inside you. the pressure built swiftly, stealing your breath, until you shattered around him. your vision went white, the world narrowing down to nothing but the pleasure he wrung from your body.

he guided you through it, not stopping until your muscles started to twitch with the first hints of overstimulation. finally, he slowed, easing you down until your body relaxed beneath him, trembling and sated.

with deliberate slowness, he withdrew his fingers, eyes locked on yours. you watched as he brought them to his mouth, his gaze never leaving your face. he sucked on the digits, tasting you the way he’d imagined a thousand times, letting out a deep, appreciative groan. the warmth of his breath on your skin, the soft glow around you both—everything felt charged and intimate, humming with the understanding that nothing would be the same between you again.

zach tugged his sweatshirt off in one smooth, hurried motion, the fabric barely brushing his skin before it landed somewhere on the floor. the urgency in his movements was unmistakable—he was desperate to feel you against him again. every nerve in his body was alight, the ache of wanting you growing more intense by the second.

with a quick push, he lowered his sweatpants and boxers together, freeing himself in one swift motion. the sight of him made your pulse stumble. he was huge—imposingly so—and the thought of taking him in had your breath catching in your throat. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but the widening of your eyes gave you away.

zach noticed. a hint of a smirk ghosted his lips as he settled himself between your thighs, his length resting hot and heavy against your abdomen. leaning down, he caught your mouth in a kiss that was both tender and all-consuming, as if he needed to show you how much he wanted you, how badly he craved this moment with you.

“it’s okay, baby,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and reassuring. “we’ll make it fit.” he pulled back slightly, just enough to watch your face as he guided his tip to your entrance. he gave himself a few slow pumps, as though trying to ease the ache and calm the racing of his own heartbeat.

your breath caught again, excitement and nervous anticipation mingling as he hovered there, every second swelling with tension and promise.

he pressed forward slowly, a careful, deliberate push that drew a ragged gasp from both of you. his forehead hovered just above yours, the soft brush of your lips more an exchange of breath than a kiss, and you tangled your fingers into his hair, gripping gently as he eased himself deeper. small, shallow strokes let you stretch around him, adjusting inch by inch.

your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the dull ache that signaled your body opening to him. he paused when he was fully sheathed, giving you time to accommodate his size. your breath caught as his pelvis brushed against your clit, sparking a low moan from your chest. then he pulled back just enough, pushing forward again to repeat the motion, sending soft ripples of pleasure through you. each gentle thrust replaced pain with gathering warmth, and you felt your body relaxing, welcoming him fully as a quiet whimper escaped your throat.

soon, the discomfort faded entirely, leaving only the sweet, humming pleasure of his movements. once he sensed the tension melt from your muscles, he began a steady, more confident rhythm. a subtle shift in angle, and before long, he had your legs wrapped around his waist, granting him deeper access. the pace picked up, each thrust punctuated by the soft slap of skin and echoed moans that drifted through the room.

you couldn’t hold back a curse at the intensity of it all—his body pressed to yours, filling you so completely, his breathing mixing with yours in frantic, needy staccato. it was raw and intoxicating, the two of you lost in the moment, in each other.

“mm, s’ so deep,” you whimpered, voice catching as you glanced down between your bodies. the sight of him disappearing into you with each thrust made your stomach flutter, your walls gripping him tightly.

zach’s breathing turned ragged, trying to maintain enough control to keep you safe and comfortable. but the temptation was too strong, and he gave a particularly sharp thrust, testing your reaction. you yelped, not in pain but in startled pleasure, and he felt you clench around him in response. encouraged, he repeated it until you were left hiccuping between sobs of bliss, every stroke drawing you closer to that sweet oblivion.

“i know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with need. leaning down, he braced himself and brought his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. he stroked firm, fast circles, determined to send you over the edge first. your nails raked along his shoulders, your breath hitching with each spiral of sensation. the coil in your belly tightened, ready to snap, as he coaxed you closer and closer toward that shattering release.

“—zach,” you warned, voice thin and strained. his response was a low, desperate moan, fingers and hips working in tandem, never giving you a moment’s respite. every thrust felt deeper than the last, his fingertips circling that swollen, sensitive spot until you were on the verge of unraveling completely.

“c’mon, baby,” he coaxed, voice rough and urgent. “soak me. i wanna feel it.” his pace quickened, hips snapping forward, and you gasped as a wave of pleasure hit you hard and fast. your walls clamped down around him, body arching, a silent scream caught in your throat as you were hurled headfirst into bliss.

zach kept moving, guiding you through the aftershocks, his cock dragging through your pulsing muscles as you trembled beneath him. your moans tumbled into whimpers, every nerve still singing with overstimulation. your fingers curled into his shoulders, breath coming in ragged gasps. “please cum inside me,” you begged, voice shaky and raw, desperate to feel him follow you into that world of sensation.

you felt him stiffen, his rhythm faltering as he pressed closer, every breath hot against your ear. with a low, guttural moan, he finally let go, hips rolling gently as he filled you, warmth spreading with each soft pulse. you could feel it, the tension draining from his body, leaving both of you weightless and sated.

his forehead dipped into the crook of your neck, lips pressing languid, grateful kisses against your skin. he was careful with his weight, mindful of your injury and the tenderness in your body, as both of you lingered in the lingering glow. your breaths intermingled, still coming in soft, uneven gasps as you drifted down from that blissful high.

after a moment, he slowly pulled out, making you both hiss quietly at the sensitivity. he rolled onto his side, immediately reaching for you and covering both of your cooling bodies with the duvet. you shifted to face him, still a little breathless, your eyes meeting as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“hi,” you managed, voice husky and soft, a small, contented smile curving your lips.

a quiet laugh escaped him, his arm moving soothingly up and down your back. “hey,” he replied, voice deep and warm, as if speaking in a secret language only the two of you understood.

“i don’t think i told you this earlier but…” you begin, voice soft and cautious as you search for the right words. “i’m all in, zach.” your heart is pounding in your ears, and you’re pretty sure he can feel it where he’s pressed close to you under the duvet.

zach’s eyes soften, a gentle smile curving his lips. the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes gives away his relief. you draw a shaky breath, forging ahead. “i feel like you know you’ve always been it for me. or even if you didn’t, i did. you’re my endgame.”

you’re watching him carefully, looking for any flicker of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is the same warmth and affection you’ve been craving for years.

he doesn’t say a word at first, just leans in and kisses you—slow and deliberate, a silent promise pressed softly into your lips. then he moves along your cheek, brushing your skin with tender pecks, and keeps going until you’re giggling, trying to squirm away from his playful assault of affection.

when he finally pulls back, both of you breathless with laughter, he meets your gaze head-on. “i’ve always loved you, y/n,” he says, voice steady and sure. “you’re it for me.”

your heart swells, and you think you’ve never been happier than in this very moment, wrapped up in his arms, secure in the certainty of what comes next.

for the rest of the night, you and zach drifted in and out of conversation—those familiar, meandering chats that never really needed a point—punctuated by soft laughter and sweet nothings murmured into the darkness. in the quiet spaces, you made love again and again, as if making up for all the time lost.

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the next morning, you woke to find the bed empty. you stretched, the slight ache in your side a warm reminder of the day before. slipping into zach’s sweater and a pair of sleep shorts, you followed the glow of holiday lights out of the bedroom. as you reached the upstairs landing, your eyes widened at the transformation: the entire cabin, from the top floor down, was strung with festive garlands, sparkling ornaments, and twinkling lights.

a fond smile curved on your lips as you descended the stairs, drawn toward the kitchen by soft clinks and muffled curses. rounding the corner, you spotted zach at the stove, his back to you, clearly wrestling with some culinary experiment. “morning,” you said, leaning your elbows on the island.

he turned quickly, an anxious frown on his face. “did i wake you?” he asked, only to relax when you shook your head. you slipped behind the island to join him, his arms sliding around your waist as you took in the sight of eggs and batter, a haphazard attempt at breakfast. “wanted to surprise you,” he murmured into your hair. you giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

“good morning, baby,” zach said softly, smiling down at you.

just then, the front door swung open. in came both sets of parents and a handful of siblings, chatter and laughter echoing off the wood-paneled walls. “hello, hello!” your mom’s voice rang out. before you and zach could step apart or even explain yourselves, she rounded the corner into the kitchen. the scene she found: zach nuzzling your neck, you murmuring about how sweet he was being, both of you bathed in the soft glow of holiday lights.

you froze, cheeks flushing, while zach’s arms tightened protectively around you. your families, already grinning from the doorway, seemed more than pleased to discover the truth you’d both been too shy to admit—until now.

“alright, i called it! everyone cough it up!” avery, zach’s little sister, crowed triumphantly. your families groaned in unison, each one reluctantly digging into their pockets to hand over five dollars. avery quickly amassed thirty bucks in her palm, grinning from ear to ear.

you and zach exchanged a look, trying and failing to stifle your laughter before pulling apart and greeting everyone properly. you embraced each of them in turn, still a bit stunned to see them all here a day early. the cabin brimmed with the scent of pine, hot chocolate, and something baking in the oven—warmth and comfort encapsulated in one cozy scene.

for the remainder of your winter break, you and zach reveled in that feeling of family and togetherness. your days filled with laughter echoing off the wooden walls, good-natured bickering with siblings over board games, and playful teasing from your parents that had both of you blushing more than once. above all, there was the gentle thrill of reaching for zach’s hand under the table, catching his eye across the room, and feeling love wrapped around you like a warm blanket against the cold outside.

#⋆ ˚𝐚𝐫𝐢𝜗𝜚writes #drew starkey #zach maclaren #rafe cameron #zach maclaren x reader #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x y/n #zach maclaren x y/n #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey smut #Spotify

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willowed-wisp · 27 days ago

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ghost as a dad ( part two ) [ simon riley ]

part one | part three

- Definitely takes your eldest to base when she can walk small distances with him on occasion.

- He literally crouches down and holds her little hands. Her doe eyes wandering everywhere, a pinch of awe and a little bit of fear but when she looks at her dad she gains the courage to continue.

- Definitely calls her, ‘pumpkin’, ‘princess’, and other things that has uncle Soap like a puppy dog.

- Johnny is the only person he trusts with her on base- he is your kids’ god father, along with Simon’s brother, Tommy.

- When Simon notices her getting sluggish, “Come on, sweet pea,” holding her with caution as she has the nerve to bonk him on the nose when talking to his superiors, “what has mummy been teachin’ ya, huh?” Not mad at all, impressed even- she had an impressive right hook for such tiny hands.

- Her head shook, “Not mama, dada,” her finger pointed over to someone, “It was Soapy…” Simon had been on the verge of hysterical laughter but contained himself- remembering the encounter later that day. Even telling you over dinner.

- He has two personalities when your son is born, maybe it was because of his abusive childhood that drove him to leave home but he had a mental block after learning the baby was a boy.

- All of his worry melted away in the delivery room- Simon was the first to hold his baby boy. Something he’d missed with your daughter.

- He decided to be a better father figure to his son than his dad. The BEST father figure even if it fucking killed him.

- Simon’s mother was watching your little girl at home. It was the afternoon that you went into labour. 6 hours down the line it was over and you were hell bent on getting back home.

- Simon takes care of the nitty gritty for the first fortnight, while you get proper rest.

- He rarely sleeps while deployed so he’s used to taking the night shift on. Until your stubborn ass gets him to allow you to take it and that he doesn’t need to do that every night of the week.

- Simon gets his best sleep when your daughter crawls between you in the middle of the night.

- His heart breaks when he sees this little blonde haired figure swaddled in a fluffy blanket waddle through the door he leaves ajar for this exact reason. “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

- She shuffles over to him, blanket falling at her feet as she jumps into his open arms, “Couldn’t sweep, dada,” Clung to him like a koala bear.

- He gives a gentle boop onto her nose, making her giggle, “Guess you’re gonna have to sleep ‘ere then…” Plopping her down in the middle and giving her one of his pillows.

- She’s such a deep sleeper- good when the baby cries but a nightmare trying to wake her up without getting kicked. She was her dad through and through. Down to the brown eyes, to the little mannerisms she has.

- When she starts nursery, Simon is on school duty. He loves making sure his little girl gets there safe and sound. Ditching the car parked near the packed nursery before walking hand in hand with his pumpkin.

- You wait in the car on the first day, with your boy in his car seat in the back of the Land Rover. In tears watching this 6’5” man crouching down to hold his four-year-old’s daughter’s hand.

- When he returned to the car, his hand at the back of your head dragging you into a breathtaking kiss. You were taken aback, “What was that for?” Said between laughs.

- Tears trapped in his gentle eyes, “You gave me the best kids,” your fingers brushed by his lips before he held them in his, “Thank you…”

- Definitely hangs whatever artwork your girl does on the fridge, praising her macaroni art pieces.

- Gets a call while on base, “Mr Riley?” He acknowledges it’s him. “Hiya, it’s the nursery… there’s been a situation. Y/D/N has gotten into a scuffle with one of the boys…”

- “Is she okay? She hurt?” He blurted out and did the maths on how quickly he could get to his daughter. Not caring how this looked to the other guys.

- “No, Y/D/N punched one of the boys in the face. They were picking on her, when’s the soonest you can pick her up?” He had to hold that laughter, reign it back in a cough.

- “I’ll be there in ten…” He hung up the phone, now giving a small chuckle.

- Price is the first to speak up, “What’s got you so happy, Riley?”

- “Y/D/N just punched a bully in the face…”

- Gaz raised a brow, “That’s a good thing?”

- “I’ve never so proud in my life…”

- He goes to the nursery, doing an act in front of the staff before they get to the car, “Don’t be mad at me, dada…” His heart crushed as she said that, as if he would ever be mad at her.

- “No more punchin’, okay? Call ‘em a prick instead, alright?” Then he turned to her fully. Fist outstretched to her, instead of bumping it she slapped his knuckles. He’d have to teach how to fist bump, “Don’t let people pick on ya… I’m always here…”

- The next day, you received a call. From the nursery… telling both you and Simon to come in.

- Simon carried your son, sound asleep on his dad’s arms. You could tell the staff were maybe a little intimidated by your husband. You were before you discovered he was such a kid under that tough exterior.

- His eyes softer than they had ever been looking at his children, “What’ve you done now, missy?” You studied her features, so much of you in her but that look was all Simon. Determined and a slight scowl, yeah that was Si alright.

- “Y/D/N called one of the other children, something beginning with ‘P’ and ending in ‘Rick’,” Something told you she had some influence from her father.

- He fist-bumped your daughter when you were walking back to the car. You’d have a word with Simon later that day but for that moment. To see him so at peace and her little smile… you wouldn’t spoil that for the world.

- When your son was four years old, you saw the difference with how Simon treated the pair. He instilled kindness in him, took him to football games with the members of 141.

- It affects Simon to be away from them during deployments but you’re the best mother to them. He couldn’t ask for a better partner.

- He lets the kids colour in his tattoos… a pink skull on his arm… green fire… they used sharpie/permanent markers. During deployment it breaks his heart to see the colours fade, he contemplates filling them back in but he says to himself, “Gotta get home so the kiddos can do it…”

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taglist:

@thychuvaluswife @foxygirl-4287

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mwf2 #cod mw2 #dad!ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader

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no-144444 · 1 month ago

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guilt tripping- o.piastri

summary: oscar asks something of you that you know you can't do. you do it anyway and it ends in you two almost breaking up. almost.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! chronic illness! reader

a/n: hey yall, I just broke two ribs (lol) and got diagnosed with a chronic illness (lmao) so I might not be posting as frequently- just dealing with it physically and mentally so yah 😹

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“I don’t know if I can go,” you sighed, feeling even worse.

“That’s alright,” he assured you, but you could hear the way his excitement depleted and his mood lowered.

“M-maybe I can work something out, I don’t want to leave you alone,” your guilt grew everyday, this wasn’t healthy for either of you.

“I don’t want you over-exerting yourself,” he spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll just ask mum if she has any friends that want to go or something. She always brings a million people with her.”

“I don’t want to leave you hanging Oscar. Melbourne is a big race. I’d be happy to come over like a week before, and then come to the race once I’ve had a few days to heal,” you bargained. A 22 hour connecting flight was not something you’d ever wanted to do. You couldn’t do it. You knew the pain would be too bad, yet you still stood there, offering it anyway. “And then I’d come for the race on Sunday, or just small bits on all the days.”

“Really?” his voice picked up, excited now. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure Osc, I love seeing you race,” your smile was more of a grimace than anything, but still, the guilt in your chest lessened as you listened to Oscar speak animatedly about the race weekend, while your anxiety ran through the roof. You couldn’t do all the things he wanted you to do, you never could. This had been a problem at the beginning of your relationship, every time he’d plan a date that wasn’t dinner or a movie, you’d have to break the news that a 15 kilometre hike wasn’t something you’d be able to do on a whim. Things like that took planning, physio, and preparation. Your chronic illness was no joke, and had limited you since you were a teenager. In the past few years he’d gotten much better at everything, from helping you with your physio exercises, attending pilates classes with you, knowing what to do on bad pain days, and always looking out for you in public. You knew he was just getting away with himself, and you didn't want to disappoint, so you agreed to it all, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be a bad week of pain or flare-ups wise.

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You got into Melbourne and sobbed when you got in the car. Thankfully, it was Hattie picking you up, so she just held your hand as you silently cried, the joint and too much to bear. You went straight to bed as Hattie explained to the rest of the house that you were exhausted, and Oscar took it at face value. You usually get extremely tired after long days, and you’d just had a 22-hour day of travel.

“I’ll go check on her-” he started, desperate to see you but Hattie cut him off.

“NO!” she squeaked, trying to not sound suspicious. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She’s really tired and she’s already gone to sleep.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired so I’m going to bed,” he explained, stretching then yawning.

“Osc,” Hattie sighed, knowing she had to tell him. “She’s not… alright. She can’t do 22 hour travel days like you or I can. She has Lupus and she’s still trying to figure out her medication, so it hurts all the time. She cried from the airport to here, all to support you because you asked her to, and she feels guilty every single time she can’t say yes. She’s done real damage to herself by coming here. I want you to understand that, do you understand that?”

Oscar nodded, because the other option was breaking down into tears. Yes, he’d felt guilty that he couldn’t be there to take care of you while travelling, and he knew he was asking a lot of you when he asked. The guilt settled deep in his stomach and made him nauseous, but still he continued on to his bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. He could see the puffy eyes, the red nose, the open bottles of medication on the nightstand. He wrapped an arm around your waist, another in your hair and pulled you as close as possible, whispering teary sorrys into your ear.

When you woke up the next morning, you knew what you had to do. This wasn’t fair on either of you, and you needed to make a change. You quickly (but silently) got up, and started to leave the room, but Oscar grabbed ahold of your hand before you could leave.

“Please don’t sneak out on me,” he begged, sitting up. He looked wrecked, puffy eyes, red rose- had he been crying? God, had you made him cry?

“Osc, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern clear as day on your face as you cupped his face with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I knew I was asking too much when I asked you to come here, I’m so sorry.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. “Osc, I’m alright, I was just tired last night and-”

“Hattie told me,” his voice was deep, deeper than usual, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your hand. “And I’m so sorry.”

“Osc, I could’ve said no if I didn’t think I was able for it,” you tried to reassure him but he shook his head.

“Y/n, you did say no and I didn’t take it as an answer,” he scoffed.

You were stunned into silence. “I think we need to have a talk about us, Osc.”

He nodded, taking your hands in his.

“This isn’t fair on you. I know I can't control my illness, and neither can you. It sucks, but it’s a fact. I wish I could be there for every single race and cheer you on with the other girls, but I can’t. It’s not in the cards for me right now, and I don’t know when it will be. Oscar, I love you so much, and you’ve been with me through everything and I know you deserve someone who can always be there for you, and I’m not that person right now. I love you but I know it’s not enough,” You finally looked at him and he was biting his lip as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and stood up, dropping your hands as he paced his bedroom. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asked and you nodded as you held back more tears. “So you know that I still feel your support even when we’re in different time zones or on different continents, right? You know that I value you being in as little pain as possible more than being at the barricade after a race, right? You know that I fucking love you more than I love racing, right? Y/n, I’ve been here the entire time, since we were 14 years old. You’re the reason I get in the car, you make me better, all the time it’s just you. I plan on being with you for my whole life, Y/n. I want to be there for everything. I plan to sit there through every appointment about medication until you find the one that actually helps you, I plan on being there for every day where you don’t feel up to it, I plan on being there for you, always. I never want to let go of you, and yeah, it is nice to be able to see you after a race, and I know that because fucking facetime exists. If you still want to break up because I fucked up by asking you to come here, go ahead, but don’t ever think that I’m without because I’m with you. I am so in love with you, Y/n. I mean it. I want to marry you one day, I want a family with you, I want to be old with you so we get to reminisce on the good ol’ days and make some more while we have time. ‘The good ol’ days’ will be the days I spend with you. More than any race win, more than any trophy, or than anything. My favourite part about a race weekend is coming home because I know no matter what my result was, you’ll be there with open arms, loving me anyways. You’re more than enough for me.”

You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him, crying into his hoodie as he held you. “I love you too.”

After a few moments of both of you calming down, he finally spoke. “Can you forgive me for being such an asshole?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile on your face. “I can, can you forgive me for being such an idiot?”

He chuckled. “You’re no idiot,” he picked you up and gently placed you back on the bed lying beside you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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skzdarlings · 9 months ago

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the ride ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by @rosequartsz : chan with the prompt ❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ like the reader is the same age as jeongin so chan kinda feels bad but at the same time he wants to corrupt the reader so bad cushsisjsis

original ask: requested by anonymous : Chan and ❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜ ❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: friends to lovers, chan is a little older than reader, reader is not actually that innocent but pretends to be and they both get off on it lol. some not very safe driving lol keep ur eyes on the road. car sex, dirty talk, teasing, corruption play, puuuuure smut. word count: 2400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

“That’s not fair,” Jeongin says. “I called dibs.”

“Too bad.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Learn to run faster, loser.”

Jeongin scowls, once more relegated to the backseat of Chan’s car. You are sitting pretty in the passenger seat for the fourth day in a row and Jeongin is playfully annoyed about it.

You and your twin brother have been racing into Chan’s car since high school. You are both at university now, but Chan still offers the occasional lift. With storm season making public transit a bigger hassle than it’s worth, Chan has been offering more rides.

Just because of the weather. Not any other reason. Of course.

You smirk, casting a side-glance into the driver’s seat. Chan is smiling at Jeongin through the rearview mirror, looking less like Channie, the boy of your teenage fantasies, and more like Bang Chan, the man of your adult dreams. He is wearing a baseball cap and leather jacket, his whole demeanour oozing an effortless masculinity, the bearing of a competent man who knows he can do anything.

And still, despite his well-earned cockiness, he has an undoubtedly shy side. When he looks at you, the tips of his ears flame an embarrassed, fiery red, and his dimpled smile is almost boyish in its sweetness.

“Right then,” he says. Then, like the endearingly cheesy goofball he is, he adds, “All aboard, ready for takeoff!”

“Jeongin,” you say, blinking innocently at your twin through the mirror. “You have your presentation notes, right? You don’t want to forget them.”

Jeongin double-checks his bag but you already know he won’t find them. You deliberately took them out and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“Damn,” he says, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt. “I thought I put them in here. Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

Jeongin practically flies out of the car and up the driveway, leaving you and Chan. It happens quickly, before Chan can even compute it. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you are faster, sighing melodramatically while gathering the hem of your skirt.

“Silly boy,” you say. “What should we do while he’s gone?” You draw your skirt up your thighs just enough to tease the skin of your upper thighs.

Chan is staring there with his mouth open, his words evaporating on his tongue. He clears his throat after a second, ripping his gaze away. He looks across the dashboard and laughs, a shy, awkward laugh.

“Your brother will be back in a second,” Chan says. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”

He is white-knuckling the steering wheel, like all his restraint is being poured into that physical grip. Even so, it is not hard to pry his hand off the wheel. You know a stronger, more belligerent shove could not bend a determined Bang Chan, but the softest touch from your gentle hands will have him breaking in seconds.

You are slow, casual despite your racing heart, guiding his hand onto your knee. He makes a little noise that turns your whole body to pure, liquid heat. You make a similar sound, a faint whimper in the back of your throat, as you slide his hand up your thigh.

“Channie,” you say, your too-sweet, too-innocent voice part of your acting, but your breathlessness undoubtedly real.

“Don’t—” His voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Don’t say my name like that. You know—”

“What do I know, Channie?” you ask, blinking at him with wide eyes while you curl his fingers around your thigh. You bring your legs together, holding his hand between them.

He visibly swallows, throat bobbing. The redness has spread from his ears down his neck.

“We’ve talked about this, baby girl,” he says, his tone stricter, taking on that darker edge that makes your heart – and everything else – gush. “We’ve been good so far, okay?” If stolen kisses, open zippers, and groping touches count as good. “You’re my – you’re my friend. You should be like a little sister or something to me… yeah? Yeah… Yeah!” He shakes his head, pulling himself out of the distraction caused by you unzipping your jacket. He squeezes your thigh, a firm, warning grip. “Don’t make this so hard,” he says.

“What’s hard for you, Channie?” you ask, reaching into his lap and touching his thigh, then higher, finding the evidence of his words. A shiver moves across his shoulders, his breath catching as you cup your palm around the bulge in his jeans. “Is it something I can help you with?” You lick your bottom lip then smile.

“Oh,” he says. His eyes crinkle with amusement but there is a score of different emotions on his face, all of them smoldering. “You really wanna play that game, huh?”

There is no chance for an answer because Jeongin returns, hopping into the car with his notes. You and Chan separate, looking out the dashboard window. You pat your hot skin and try to slow your racing heart.

Sensing the oddly silent tension, Jeongin narrows his eyes and looks between you. Eventually, his expression sours like he smells something bad.

“Oh my god,” he says, then punches Chan in the shoulder. “Are you fucking my sister!”

“What!” Chan says, getting redder by the second. “Jeongin, how could— I wouldn’t— I don’t—”

“What, you don’t fuck?” Jeongin asks, then laughs until he is wheezing. “You can do better, man.”

“Jeongin, shut up!” You reach back to smack at him, rubbing your hand all over his stupid face and messing up his hair while he wails in protest.

“All right, all right!” Chan says, breaking you up. “Let’s just… let’s just go, okay? Okay.”

“Yes, daddy,” you say, mostly out of spite.

Chan squeaks.

Jeongin pretends to gag then slumps against his window.

“I’m gonna need to start taking the bus,” he says, morose.

Fortunately, thanks to the impromptu revelation of your shenanigans, it does not take much convincing for Jeongin to find another ride home. When Chan pulls into the campus parking lot to pick you up, you approach his vehicle with a grin and a wink.

You slide into the passenger seat, smoothing down your skirt while he sighs. It sounds more amused than frustrated.

“Where’s your brother?” he asks.

You shrug with theatrical exaggeration.

“Right,” Chan says, starting the car. “Got it.”

He puts a hand on your headrest to leverage himself, looking out the rear window as he reverses the car. That proximity alone gets you hot, the temptation to grab him already strong. You play a patient game, as always, stealing glances and suggestive smiles while he drives.

Halfway home, you put a hand on his knee. At first your touch is innocent, tracing slow circles on the denim, then you get a little more brazen, fingertips brushing up his thigh.

“Baby,” he says in that warning voice, eyes on the road. Holding the wheel with one hand, he uses the other to stop your wandering ascent.

“Yes?” you ask with all that faux-innocence. Rather than fight his touch, you guide his hand to your lap, placing it on your knee.

Unlike this morning, he does not play nice. You make a startled, high-pitched sound when he immediately dives under your skirt, his rough palm pressing down where you are already aching. Your thighs slam shut out of instinct but his hand is where it wants to be, his fingers curled around your pussy in a proprietary touch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice playfully mean. He grinds the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit. He never takes his eyes off the road. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, though you cannot help but rock yourself against his hand.

“Mmm,” he says, patting your pussy then stroking your thigh, guiding your legs open again. “We’ll see about that.”

You keep your eyes ahead too, pretending not to notice when he glances at you. Then you gasp because he reaches out and tugs the zipper on your hoodie. You instinctively clutch it, wearing nothing but a bra underneath, having taken off your other layers to surprise him. He is the one surprising you, a secret sexy menace under all that shy sweetness. He unzips the hoodie halfway then reaches past the material to squeeze a handful. Your body practically sings under his touch.

“Channie,” you say, breathless again.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “Channie’s gonna take care of you, yeah? Always.”

“Take care of me how?” Your question toys with that false innocence, the little game that gets you both hot, but there is genuine curiosity there too. This game has been escalating slowly over time. You want more and you are starting to get desperate.

Chan looks at you. His gaze moves over your mouth then your body, your skirt rucked up and breasts practically spilling out of your hoodie. He swears, looking back at the road with that red blush on his ears again.

“Fuck,” he says. “I want to fuck you so badly. You have no idea.”

His words have a raw, honest edge. He swallows, hard. You feel like one tightly coiled ball of tension, ready to snap apart.

“Please,” you say in that breathy voice. “Make me feel good. No one else can like you.”

You do not make it all the way home. There is a nearby lookout point at the park, a shrouded parking area that has undoubtedly seen its fair share of hook-ups. Chan parks there and you dive at each other like randy teenagers. You climb into his lap, bumping everything on the console on your way, the honking the horn with your backside for good measure. It makes you both giggle.

Then your laughter is swallowed by hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mmm,” you hum against his lips. You push his hat off his head and sink your fingers in his curly hair. “Channie, please,” you say.

He cups the back of your neck, holding your head where he wants it so he can kiss you thoroughly. His ravishing touch leaves you shaking with need, rocking against him to no relief.

“Poor baby,” he says with a little laugh, squeezing your neck then drawing his hand down the curve of your chest. He unzips the rest of your hoodie. His mouth follows the same path as his hands, down your chest and back up again.

He is working you up, deftly and swiftly, using just a few well-placed throat kisses, a few flicks of his fingertips across the sensitive peaks of your breasts. He seems so composed under you, other than the flush to his complexion, the heat to his skin that has him shedding his leather jacket. You feel completely undone, half-naked and writhing in his lap. Your hands tangle together, fumbling around his belt.

“Let me,” he says. He gets his belt open and his fly undone, then his hands are on you. He doesn’t just tug your panties to the side but rips them apart, snapping the seams like they’re nothing. Then those strong fingers are inside you, finding just how wet and ready you are for him. He makes a low, guttural sound, thumping his head against the headrest. “Fuck, baby girl,” he says. “You know what you do to me?” he asks.

“I dunno, Channie.” You pout and bat your eyelashes. “You better show me.”

He laughs. He holds your hips and moves you, positions you where he wants you. You are pressed so close together, chest-to-chest, so you cannot see when he finally enters you. But you feel it, hot and hard and filling you, stretching you, almost painful but burning so good. You slap a hand to the roof of the car, eyes closing as you moan.

“S-so much,” you say, because it feels like you have been sinking forever and he is still not all the way inside.

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says. His thumb is expertly circling your clit while your whole body seems to soften, changing to fit him, like you were made for this moment. “That’s it,” he says. “Have a little trust in yourself. I know you can take it.”

His thrusts are small, his hands guiding your hips over him, grinding him deep inside you. Then you are clutching his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he fucks you slowly and steadily. It is everything you needed and not enough, only spurring more desire. You know you will need him again, the way he needs you. Just the way he says your name as he holds you, as he fucks you, as he takes you apart and puts you together again. It feels like that when you come, when he fucks you through it, saying your name and praising you.

“Good girl,” he says, barely above a breath. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

When he gets close, he pushes the seat back. You get on your knees between his legs and take him in your mouth. He comes with a low groan and another breathless slur of your name. Then you are back in his lap and his hands are everywhere, clutching you possessively to his chest. You are both breathing hard, riding the slow come-down of your frantic desperation.

“Fuck,” he eventually says. He seems shy again, giggling as he looks at you with a blush on his face. “We, uh, we just did that, in the car, uh wow, yeah, I, uh—”

“Channie,” you say with a laugh of your own, grabbing his face and kissing him. He smiles into the kiss, returning it with the same tender softness.

You kiss for a long time, ignoring the world around you. Eventually you have to crawl back into your seat and mostly redress yourselves, still smiling and giggling at each other the whole time. Your phone was buzzing in your bag so you finally check it, rolling your eyes at the message there.

You show it to Chan who laughs, blushing again, but nods.

“Right,” he says, “We should probably go get him.”

You laugh too, sending an emoji with its tongue sticking out in response to Jeongin’s message that reads: My ride fell through. When you are done not-fucking each other, can you come back and get me? Thanks. Sluts.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #valentinesdaystories

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domjaehyun · 5 months ago

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the boy is mine (l.dh) — part one

PAIRING. haechan x fem!reader (also jeno x reader) GENRES. smut, angst WORD COUNT. 19k CONTENTS. infidelity, alcohol & weed consumption (MC is a non-smoker if that matters to you), explicit smut (dirty talk, fingering, finger sucking, oral (receiving), rimming (receiving), groping/frottage, marking, spit play, (brief) ear play, breast play, creampies/unprotected sex (if you explicitly need me, a stranger on the internet, to tell you not to fuck raw, you are not responsible enough to be reading this. move along now), snowballing, public sex, car sex, riding, bratty dom-leaning switch!haechan, bratty sub-leaning switch!reader, sweet dom!jeno, face riding, handjob, overstimulation (receiving), praise kink (receiving), light degradation kink (giving), mating press, morning sex) NOTES. welcome back to meeeeeeee!!! i hope you enjoy this fic because i worked very hard on it!! please leave feedback if you liked it :) i would also greatly appreciate tips if you really liked it :3 THANK YOU LIKE THE HUUUUUGEST THANK YOU TO BRI (@jalitepng) FOR BETA READING THIS BIG OL FIC :D PLAYLIST. the boy is mine - ariana grande // fantasize - ariana grande (unreleased) // lowkey (feat. erykah badu) - teyana taylor // agora hills - doja cat // pussy is mine - miguel // softest touch - khalid // cut - tori kelly // seatbelt - josh levi // often - doja cat // surrender - nbdy

how can it be you and me? might be meant to be, can’t unsee it but i don’t wanna cause no scene i’m usually so unproblematic, so independent, tell me why ‘cause the boy is mine.

You suppose your fate was sealed from the beginning.

Even as you’re riding in the passenger seat of Yunjin’s car as she speeds down the freeway, your heart filled with a relief and fulfillment you haven’t had for the past six months, you can’t help but feel like something’s… lacking.

“So, spill,” you hear Seulgi pipe up from the backseat. “How many little British boy hearts did you break on your little Oxford trip?”

“Who says I broke any hearts?!” you exclaim with an incredulous laugh, and everyone in the car turns and gives you the same unimpressed look. “Oh, that was creepy. Did y’all plan that?”

“You were gone for six whole months and you want us to believe you got up to no romantic shenanigans? Hm?” Seulgi asks, narrowing her eyes at you, and you narrow yours right back.

“I didn’t break any hearts!” you defend yourself, and Chaewon sighs.

“Did you stow away a cute British boy in your carry-on?” she asks, and you make a face.

“Certainly not.”

“Then there’s a broken heart floating around in Oxford as we speak!” Chaewon insists, and you scowl.

“Let me out right here.” you mutter, turning to open the door on the freeway, laughing as the other inhabitants of the car gasp and shriek in alarm. “I’m joking!”

“You’re crazy, that's what you are.” Yunjin clarifies, and you giggle.

“I was having a laugh.” you say unapologetically. “Anyway, I didn’t really get up to too much in Oxford, really. I was focused on studying, I guess.”

“Oh, lame!” Seulgi boos, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m here now, though, so the hot girl spring and summer can commence!” you say happily, and your friends cheer.

“Winter just texted asking if we got you off the plane okay,” Chaewon announces, and you shake your head.

“Tell her my seatbelt got stuck and wouldn’t let me out and so they took me back to England.” you suggest, and Yunjin snickers.

“Tell her the pilot got confused and took her to the wrong New York. If she asks what other New York, just be like, ‘the other one?’” she adds on, and Chaewon snorts.

“You’re both terrible.” she laughs as she types in a response.

“What’d you tell her?” Seulgi asks.

“That she got held back for getting her bag searched and they found five kilos of cocaine. So they took her out back and made her snort all of it as punishment and now she’s running amok in the city like Cocaine Bear. She’ll beat us back to the house.”

“And we’re terrible?!” you exclaim indignantly.

“Well, yes.” Chaewon replies calmly. “Mine is obviously a lie.”

“Wh— My seatbelt getting stuck isn’t an obvious lie?” you splutter.

“Well, that could actually happen!” she defends, and you blink at her incredulously.

“I didn’t expect the lesbian to forget that scissors exist.”

Chaewon’s jaw drops and she jabs a finger in your direction. “Homophobe!” She turns to Seulgi for support, but Seulgi just shakes her head.

“You’re alone in this one, Chae,” Seulgi giggles. “I laughed, I’m sorry.”

“Man, this is some bullshit.” Chaewon grumbles. “You’re supposed to have my back! We’re… we’re sapphic sistren!”

“You actually did not just say that.” Seulgi marvels. “Sapphic sistren is crazy.”

“I had to pull the gay card to win.” Chaewon says with a shrug. “I’m not sorry.”

“Can we get back on topic, please?” Yunjin laughs incredulously. “Jesus, it’s like if you put squirrels on a podcast.”

“We should make a podcast, actually.” Seulgi suggests, and you nod.

“We could call it ‘That’s Nuts,’” you say excitedly.

Chaewon snorts. “I’m in.”

Yunjin beeps her horn loudly, garnering all of your attention as you all jump in surprise. “We’re outside all spring and summer, right?”

“Well, after work, yeah.” you agree, and she smiles, nodding.

“I don’t want to hear you missed out on a fun fling or opportunity because you were busy working.” Yunjin jabs her finger at you accusingly, and your hands fly up defensively.

“In my defense, doing my job is way less risky than taking chances romantically.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Yunjin complains. “Live, girl!”

“There are gonna be cute guys at the party, obviously. So I will live!” you insist, and Yunjin nods.

“That’s more like it.”

Returning to your thoughts for a moment, it dawns on you that romantic excitement is exactly what you’re lacking. You want to love; you want to love someone and be loved by that someone and for that love to be something beautiful and consuming, and you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to have to wait.

You’re in the middle of making a mental pact with yourself to be just a bit more daring, a tad more forward and bold when it comes to love, when Seulgi and Chaewon laugh loudly at something on one of their phones, snapping you out of your internal monologue, and you shift in your seat, turning to face them.

“I can’t believe you guys left your whole apartment unattended during a house party just to welcome me home,” you sniff dramatically, and Seulgi snorts.

“Anything for you, my friend.” she replies with a playful crinkle of her nose, and you reach out to pinch it lightly.

“Besides, it’s not like it’s completely unattended! Winter’s there.” Chaewon points out, and you raise your eyebrows skeptically.

“Right… what is her non-confrontational ass gonna do if something goes wrong?” you ask, and Seulgi winces.

“Good point. Maybe step on it, Yunjin.”

“I’m already going twenty over the speed limit!” she exclaims defensively.

“You’re not even exaggerating,” Chaewon half-gasps, half-laughs as she leans forward to look at the speedometer. “We might make it there quicker, but we might not make it there safely.”

“We are here for a good time!” Yunjin yells, whipping her hair around excitedly. “Not a long time!”

“Deeply concerning words coming from our driver.” Seulgi snickers quietly, and you nod, turning back to sit in your seat properly. “So…”

You peer at her through the rearview mirror curiously. “So?”

“I’m just imagining Jeno’s reaction when he sees you again for the first time.” She shrugs with a faint teasing smile, and you can feel your cheeks warming as a small smile starts to tug at your lips.

Jeno’s had a thing for you for the past… year and a half—at least, that you’re aware of—and you won’t lie, he’s definitely easy on the eyes and a sweetheart to top it all off. Before you went away to Oxford, you two had built up a bit of a flirtationship that neither of you tried to push further because of your study abroad trip you had planned.

Now, however, you’re back, and you’re admittedly excited to see if it leads to something worthwhile.

“He’ll probably do that little crescent-eyed smile he always does when you spare him a crumb of attention.” Chaewon supplies as you’re lost in thought, and you roll your eyes as Yunjin nods knowingly.

“I’m willing to bet he’s gonna try to be glued to your side all night.” she adds, and you sigh loudly and dramatically.

“You guys are really something else, you know that?”

“You love it!” Chaewon says confidently, and you can’t help but smile fondly, nodding in agreement.

“I kinda do.”

Yunjin spares you a sideways glance that lingers for suspiciously long on your frame, and you raise an eyebrow.

“My eyes are up here.” you joke, waving a hand in her line of sight, “and, more importantly, the road is over there.” She chuckles and relents, refocusing her attention on the road, but she has that telltale look on her face that usually means she has something on her mind. “What are you thinking about?”

“Well—not that I’m judging at all, because, you know… live your life, girl.” Yunjin pipes up, and you turn to look at her, curiously awaiting the rest of her thought. “But are you gonna wear that to the party?”

You look down at your comfortable sweats and hoodie, perfect airport attire, and look back up at Yunjin with a playful frown. “What, is this not cute enough?”

“Well…” she trails off, and Seulgi pops her head forward between the front two car seats.

“No! It’s not a good enough outfit! You’re the guest of honor at your own welcome home party, and you have to come harder than some cozy gray sweats with a hole by the ankle.” Seulgi scolds, and you roll your eyes with an amused smile.

“Obviously I’m not going to wear this to the party, girl.” you laugh, and Seulgi sighs in relief. “I was just messing with you.”

“Well, cut it out! You know I’m gullible.” She frowns, and you reach into the backseat to pat her hand comfortingly.

“All the more reason to mess with you, my love.” you reply with a deceptively innocent smile. “Anyway, when we get back home, I have to shower and freshen up and change into my actual outfit. I also have to sort out the presents I brought back for everyone and make sure Jeno’s cake is still in good shape.”

“I still can’t believe you baked him a cake,” Chaewon marvels. “It’s giving domestic. Housewife, even.”

“Martha Stewart found jobless,” Seulgi adds, and you snort.

“I know this is his favorite type of cake, so I just… thought I’d make it for him.” you mumble quietly with a small, dismissive shrug.

“That is very cute to me,” Yunjin says reassuringly before punching the horn roughly and making the rest of the three of you jump in surprise. “Stupid fucker doesn’t know how to use his turn signal?!”

“Yunjin, calm down,” you advise, patting her knee gently.

“I am calm,” she replies, her tone level, and you pull your hand back, still eying her suspiciously. Sure enough, as she drives by the driver that failed to use his turn signal, she rolls her window down and yells out a string of expletives that makes Chaewon gasp in horror.

As Yunjin rolls her window back up and turns the radio up, you sit back and smile, thinking about how happy you are to be back at home.

You get home an entire eight minutes before your initial ETA, making Yunjin grin proudly when you make the announcement.

After your friends help you bring your luggage up to your apartment, you go into the bathroom to freshen up. After the extensive process that was showering, brushing your teeth, reapplying your skincare and makeup, and applying lotion and getting dressed, you emerge, fresh-faced and victorious, into your living room where your friends lie sprawled on your couch as they wait for you. The only eyesore about your appearance is the large sack you’re carrying of presents you brought back for your friends.

“I’m ready!” you chirp happily, and Yunjin is the first to look up from her phone at you, eyes taking in your casual and comfortable yet cute attire before she nods appreciatively.

“It’s giving Santa Claus,” Seulgi chuckles, gesturing at your large bag slung over your shoulder.

“Ho, ho, ho,” you drawl with an amused roll of your eyes.

“Stop it, Seulgi,” Chaewon scolds before focusing her gaze on you. “You look cute! Bet you-know-who’s gonna be all over you.” she says with a teasing grin, and you roll your eyes despite smiling before you set the bag down and set about getting out your gifts for your friends that are present.

You hand Yunjin a wrapped box of gorgeous shoes from an England-exclusive boutique and she sets about unwrapping it, her eyes widening with excitement as she reveals the present inside.

“Holy shit?” she gasps, gaping at the shoes. “These are perfect!”

“They’re so you,” you agree with a proud nod. “I saw them one day through a window while I was walking down the street and had to stop in and get them for you.”

“My turn, my turn!” Chaewon exclaims eagerly, bouncing in place as you root through your large sack and pull out a small wrapped box, which you hand to Chaewon carefully. She squeals in excitement once she’s opened the present, leaping up and engulfing you in a tight hug. “My perfume! I thought they discontinued it!”

“They stopped selling it in the States, but I managed to track down a store that still had some in stock, so I got you a couple—y’know, so you wouldn’t run out.” you say, smiling, and she beams at you.

“You’re the best.” she says seriously, looking you directly in the eyes to drive home her sincerity.

“I try,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug before reaching into the bag once more and pulling out one last present for Seulgi, wiggling the box at her invitingly.

“For moi?” she asks with feigned surprise, a hand to her chest.

“Indeed,” you confirm with a grin, and she sits forward, taking the gift from your hand and opening it up.

“Oh, my God.” she exhales in shock, staring down at the designer earrings and bracelet set. “These look expensive as fuck.”

“They kinda were,” you admit sheepishly. “All of your gifts were a pretty penny, actually, but you guys definitely deserve them. Those really spoke to me, and I thought they’d look gorgeous on you.”

“Thank you, my love,” Seulgi coos affectionately, standing up to engulf you in a hug. Yunjin and Chaewon join in a brief moment after, the four of you hugging tightly for a lingering, blissful moment.

“You’re all very welcome. Are we ready to go now?” you say, changing the subject with ease even as your voice is muffled into Seulgi’s shoulder, and Seulgi pulls back immediately with an emphatic nod.

“Ready as ever! Our fridge has snacks that are calling to me from over here.”

“You’re such a drama queen.” you scoff in amusement as you all head to your front door and file out after each other.

“Must have gotten it from hanging out around you.” she replies with playfully narrowed eyes in your direction.

“Oh, really?” you challenge, biting back a laugh, and she nods, puffing out her chest comically as she chest-bumps you on purpose. “Assaulting me in the middle of my apartment complex is actually wild and unheard of, and you will be hearing from my attorney.”

“Bring it on, baby!” she urges, and Yunjin rolls her eyes in poorly concealed amusement as you two start to giggle at your antics, the sounds of mirth ringing out in the lobby as you exit the elevator.

“You two are so strange,” she remarks in wonder. “But later for that. Onto more pressing matters!”

“Such as?” you question, holding the door open for Chaewon to follow behind you into the street.

“How long will it take us to get from our house to yours?” Yunjin asks, pulling out her phone to search for it, but Chaewon seems to be one step ahead, already focused on her phone screen.

“The travel time from here to our house,” she announces loudly, squinting at her phone momentarily, “is roughly twenty minutes.” You all stand around Yunjin’s car at your respective doors, waiting for Yunjin to unlock the car so you can get in.

“Hm, yeah? Why so long?” Yunjin asks curiously as she moves to look over Chaewon’s shoulder. “Traffic, huh? …I bet I can shave that time down to fifteen minutes.” Her eyes glint with excitement as she presses her car door remote, the sudden and loud beep-beep of the doors unlocking making you and Seulgi flinch for a moment.

“Dear Lord, help us all,” Seulgi mumbles as you all climb into Yunjin’s car, strapping in before she peels out of her parking space and zooms into the night.

True to her word, Yunjin precariously shaves six minutes off your travel time and you pull up to Chaewon’s and Seulgi’s apartment earlier than anticipated, exhilarated and pumped full of adrenaline.

“Are you excited to be back at La Casa Payasa?” Seulgi asks with a smile, and you nod with a relieved sigh.

“It’s just like I remember it.” you hum fondly as you head up to their door and bring your fist to the door, only getting to knock once before the door swings open and Mark throws himself at you for a hug.

You catch him with a surprised laugh, stumbling back from the impact slightly but returning the tight hug nonetheless. He tucks his face into your neck and mumbles something that you can’t hear, prompting you to pull back slightly.

“I didn’t hear a word you said,” you chuckle, and he pulls back as well so you can see his bright smile.

“I missed you so much,” he repeats, and you coo fondly, pulling him back into the hug.

“I missed you, too!” you chirp warmly, squeezing him in the hug for good measure. When you two pull apart, Chenle’s standing beside Mark and grinning at you. “Hey, Chenle!”

“Hey, stranger,” he teases, pulling you into a hug of his own. “Long time, huh? Let’s hear that British accent you developed over there.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you reply in your best British impression, and he bursts out laughing.

“Man, that’s good stuff,” he chuckles with a shake of his head. “We missed you over here!” he complains, moving to swat you on the arm. “Don’t leave again.”

“I’ll do my best to stick around.” you assure him, and he smiles and nods, content.

“Now what’s with this big ass bag you’re carrying, huh? Did you stow away some British goodies for us?” Chenle asks curiously, pinching the fabric of the sack over your shoulder.

“Something like that,” you say slowly before you set it down and reach inside, handing Chenle and Mark their respective gifts. As they open them, Mark being considerably more careful than Chenle, you wait, hands clasped behind your back and rocking back and forth on your heels.

“How the hell did you get a signed Steph Curry jersey?” Chenle questions, baffled and thrilled, and you shrug with a secretive smile.

“I have my ways.”

“Never mind that—how did you get Frank Ocean himself to sign this album?” Mark asks, downright bewildered, and you shrug again.

“Ways that I have… that are mine.”

“You’re so silly, but this is amazing,” Chenle laughs, hugging you. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” you lilt sweetly, and Mark looks up from the Frank Ocean vinyl again to meet your inquisitive gaze with wide, awestruck eyes.

“You’re incredible. Genuinely.” he stammers, and you smile widely as he pulls you into a hug as well once Chenle’s released you.

“I do my best,” you reply happily.

“Wait, also, how was your flight? Anything crazy happen?” Chenle asks curiously, and you pause as you think back.

“Actually, yeah; these two guys got into a verbal argument and then one of ‘em was like, ‘I’ll beat everyone’s ass right now!’ Which, objectively, is a crazy thing to say, but crazier to insist when you’re in a metal contraption thousands of feet in the air.” you start explaining, and Chenle’s eyes widen.

“No way,” he mumbles. “Then what?”

“Then he started threatening the flight crew, and I’m pretty sure he got placed on the no-fly list.” you finish with a solemn nod, and Mark gasps.

“I could never imagine never being able to fly again.” he mutters in awe, and you nod in agreement.

“I know, right? He had it coming, though.” you say, and they shrug, nodding in agreement.

“I guess so,” Mark agrees before his face lights up as he seems to remember something. “Hey, where’s Jeno? He’s been waiting for you to show up.”

“I think he’s with Winter and Haechan right now,” Chenle answers, and you scrunch your face up in confusion.

“Who’s Haechan?” you ask, baffled, before it dawns on you. “Oh, wait, that’s Winter’s new boyfriend?” you ask, and they nod. “I see… well, can’t wait to meet him, I guess.” You shrug indifferently, now craning your head to look around for Jeno.

You spot him before he spots you, the male standing alone texting on his phone by the couch. As if he can sense you looking, he looks up and his eyes lock on yours a moment later, his entire face brightening up as he starts to make his way over to where you’re standing.

By the time he’s where you are, you’re both sporting excited yet shy smiles as he opens his arms for a hug and you step into it. His arms drop to your waist and you wrap yours around his middle as he squeezes you gently.

“Hey,” he mumbles into the embrace, a smile audible in his voice.

“Hey, there.” you greet.

“Welcome back.”

“Good to be back,” you reply with a little grin.

“Did you have a good flight?” he asks curiously, and you nod.

“Minus a crazy guy on the plane, but it all ended fine,” you assure him, and he looks momentarily bewildered but manages to rein in his reaction.

“That’s good, I think… what seat did you get?” he questions, leaving you somewhat touched by his thoughtful questions.

“I got a window seat,” you answer with a smile, and he nods in approval.

“I love a good window seat,” he hums. “Did you watch a movie or nap or something?”

“I napped for a bit, yeah,” you chuckle, suddenly remembering how you’d had a bit of drool dried on your cheek earlier. Subconsciously wiping at the spot, you smile up at him casually. “I’m still a little tired, though.”

He frowns sympathetically before a little hopeful smile appears on his face. “Well, I hope you’re not too tired, because I wanted to give you something.”

Your eyes widen. “You got me something?”

He nods shyly. “I got you something. It’s in my car, though, and I parked kinda far, so I have to go get it. Come find me later when I come back so I can give it to you.”

“You got it,” you say with a smile. “I’ll come find you for sure. I actually have something for you, too, so we can trade.”

“Oh, no way! You’re the best.” He beams, squeezing your waist, at which point you realize you two never let go from the hug. Your cheeks on fire, you withdraw your arms from his middle and he does the same to you with an amused chuckle.

“I’m actually gonna go grab something from the kitchen,” you say, jerking a thumb in the direction of the hallway. “You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m gonna run to the bathroom, actually.” he answers, and you nod before you two go your separate ways. You turn back at the sound of your name to see Jeno looking at you with a soft gaze and an even softer smile that makes you feel like you’re a giggly school girl all over again.

“It’s really good to have you back. It really wasn’t the same without you. Seeing all your Instagram stories gave me a crazy sense of FOMO, and our little phone calls here and there really made me miss you even more,” he says sincerely, and you place a hand over your heart, touched.

“I’m really happy to be back,” you assure him. “I missed you.” His brows flick upwards in surprise at your somewhat bold admission, and you blink twice in mild alarm before continuing in a slight rush with, “I—well, like, I missed you, and Yunjin, and Chae—I missed you all, y’know? The story posts were so you wouldn’t forget about little ol’ me. I loved our phone calls, but it’s so much better getting to talk to you in person.”

He laughs lightheartedly and nods, waving you off reassuringly. “I get you. Go get yourself some snacks! We didn’t stock up on your favorites for some random people to eat it all up before you get any.”

“Copy that,” you say with an emphatic nod, saluting him jokingly before heading to the kitchen.

As you’re making your way to the snacks, you catch the eye of a very handsome stranger leaning against the wall in your hallway talking to one of your friends from work. To your surprise, he doesn’t look away from you as you approach, even going so far as to turn his head as you walk by to keep staring at you.

You’re not sure if you’re more intrigued by him than by the challenge he’s posed, but you keep eye contact until you get to your kitchen and round the corner to find yourself a snack.

Moments after you’ve entered the room, you feel someone enter behind you, a smile coming to your lips as you realize who it most likely is.

When you turn to face the newcomer, he’s standing surprisingly close to you, his eyes scanning your face with an intrigue and intensity that leaves both of you a little breathless.

“Hi.” the handsome stranger says as his lips curl into a grin.

“Hi, there,” you echo, smiling back at him. ”Did you follow me in here?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was fate?”

You pretend to think about it. “By the way you watched me walk in here… no.”

He chuckles. “Fair. I had to ask you a question.”

“Luckily for you, I love questions.” you hum, placing both hands on the counter behind you and leaning against it in a silent invitation not only to ask his question, but also to approach.

Thankfully for you, he does both, stepping closer with a small chuckle and asking, “I was wondering if you believe in love at first sight.”

“Oh, brother—” you start to laugh, and he joins you before waving his hands to get you to stop.

“Hear me out!”

“My listening ears are on,” you reply with a smile and coy tilt of your head that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed, based on the way his already probing gaze intensifies.

“Do you?” he asks again, and you think about it for a moment.

“Not really,” you admit, letting out a small giggle at the disapproving look he gives you. “But maybe I can be convinced.”

He smiles widely, looking so bright that it truly dazzles you before continuing on to say, “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Why?” you ask. “Do you?”

“I don’t think I did,” he answers carefully, “until I saw you just now.”

“Oh, brother!” you burst out laughing—half from surprise and half from being flustered by how surprisingly sincere he sounded. In your attempt to recover from your outburst, you catch a glimpse of him to see that he’s gazing at you openly with a fond look in his eyes. “You are really something, you know that?”

He steps closer to you with a heat in his eyes, a glowing ember of intensity burning as he asks, “Something good or something bad?”

You shrug playfully and lean closer, wanting him nearer to you. “Jury’s still out on that part.”

He chuckles and wets his lips before his gaze drops to yours. “Can I present some new evidence?” he murmurs, and you tilt your head to the side as you pretend to think it over. “Has anyone ever told you that it’s really cute when you do that?”

“Of course,” you snicker. “Why do you think I do it?”

“So you’re turning up the charm right now, but you don’t believe in love at first sight?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Is it love at first sight or attraction, sir?”

He grins and steps even closer, dangerously close to touching you. “So you’re attracted to me.”

You look around, confused. “Now who said all that?”

“You just did.”

”I most certainly did not.”

He half-scoffs, half-laughs in disbelief and points at you accusingly. “I heard you.”

“You heard wrong, I guess,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug before patting his chest twice. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and you both hesitate, neither of you wanting to exit the intimate moment. However, when it buzzes a second time, then a third, you decide to give up and pull your phone from your pocket to check it.

jeno [23:04] hey i’m back

jeno [23:04] i have your surprise :)

jeno [23:05] let me know where to find you

You lock your phone and look up at the handsome stranger with a small frown. “Anyway, this was great, but I have to go find someone.”

He frowns deeply and catches your hand as it leaves his chest, lacing his fingers with yours and looking up at you. “Do you actually have to leave or am I making you nervous?”

“I told my friend I’d find him later, and it’s officially later,” you explain truthfully, and he seems to hear the sincerity in your voice, because he relaxes visibly. “Maybe I’ll find you after?” you offer, and he perks up, gently squeezing your hand.

“I’d like that.”

“Can I get a name? So I know who I’m looking for later?” you ask.

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you when you find me later.”

You pout, and he smiles fondly at you. “I guess.” you relent, grabbing the soda and snacks you came to get off of the counter and heading towards the kitchen exit. “See you later?”

He nods resolutely. “See you later.”

You exit the kitchen with a small smile that threatens to take over your whole face if you don’t calm your spirits as you begin your second search of the night for Jeno.

After grabbing the presents you got for him from where you’d stashed them in Chaewon’s room, it doesn’t take you long at all to find him, the male still lingering by the entrance when you spot him. You sneak around a small group of people and pop up beside him, making him jolt in surprise and clutch his chest.

“Hi,” you giggle, and Jeno slumps with relief when his eyes lock on you, a warm smile coming to his face.

“Hey,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“So… how do you want to do this?” you ask curiously. “I can go first if you want?”

“No, I want to go first for sure,” he replies with a sureness in his voice that leaves you a little surprised and mildly impressed.

You gesture for him to start, still holding your present for him behind your back, and he retrieves two small, rectangular boxes from inside his jacket pocket.

“That looks expensive,” you say worriedly, and he chuckles fondly before waving a hand dismissively.

“It wasn’t too bad, don’t worry.” he replies reassuringly as he hands you the small boxes.

You gesture awkwardly with your hands still behind your back, trying your best to indicate that your hands are currently out of commission, and his eyes light up with understanding before he’s gingerly opening one of the navy blue boxes.

You gasp once you’ve peered into the box, your eyes wide as you look up at him in surprise. ”Jeno.”

“Is it too much? Oh, God, you hate it. I’m sorry–” he starts to worry aloud.

“Wait—Jeno—”

“I can take it back, maybe, and you can pick out something you’d like more—”

“Jeno?”

“I should have thought it through more carefully—”

”Jeno!” your voice is gentle in tone but loud enough to catch his attention, his worried eyes locking in on yours. “Please relax.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles embarrassedly, looking down at the floor.

“I was going to say that I genuinely love them. The necklace and the earrings are stunning, and they’re exactly my style.” you say sincerely, in awe as you stare down at the beautiful pieces of jewelry Jeno bought you. The necklace is a silver choker, a paperclip-like link type chain with a diamond-encrusted butterfly in the center. The earrings are matching silver hoops with butterflies adorned along the rings of metal, and your jaw drops slightly as you take in the beauty of Jeno’s present.

“You really like it?” he asks excitedly, a hint of worry still in his voice, but when you nod, his brows unfurrow and he smiles widely, relieved. “I saw the set and it reminded me of you. It’s beautiful, classy, and fun.”

You can’t help but smile. “You think I’m classy and fun?”

“Of course,” he answers instantly, and your smile widens as you step closer to him curiously.

“You think I’m beautiful?” you ask with your eyebrows raised, and Jeno visibly swallows.

“I do,” he bashfully agrees, and you coo fondly, wanting nothing more than to set his present down and wrap him in a tight hug. “I really do.”

“Jeno,” you tease playfully, “I’m kinda dying to know what’s in the other box.”

“Oh, yeah!” he exclaims, closing the first box and opening the second as he explains, “I just got them in gold and silver because I know you tend to wear both depending on your mood and your outfit, so I gave you options.”

“Jeno, that is so thoughtful.” you gush appreciatively, and he blushes immediately, cheeks pinking along with the tips of his ears. “I absolutely love them,” you say gratefully, a warm smile curling your lips.

“Thank God,” he sighs with a laugh that you join him in.

“Okay, so… don’t know how I’m gonna top that,” you joke, “but it’s my turn now.”

“You have my undivided attention,” he assures you, and you can’t help but bat your lashes at him slightly.

“I like the idea of that.” you say flirtatiously, and he chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “Okay, here, we’ll trade and you’ll open.”

“Deal,” he agrees, swapping presents with you. You watch nervously as he unties the ribbon on the white box and lifts the lid. “This looks delicious, holy shit.”

“I made it myself,” you say carefully.

He looks up at you in surprise. “From scratch?”

You nod. “From scratch.”

“That’s amazing,” Jeno marvels. “Isn’t Victoria sponge cake hard to make?”

“Baking is only hard if you can’t follow instructions.” you say with a resolute nod, and Jeno snickers.

“I never thought of you as a rule-follower, if I’m being honest,” he admits.

You shrug. “Rules and instructions are very different to me, but I can be very obedient when I want to be.”

Jeno pauses at that, eyeing you suspiciously. “Oh, yeah? Like when?”

“In the bedroom.” you answer without hesitation, smiling in amusement as Jeno’s eyes widen slightly.

“You never gave off ‘obedient,’ y’know.” Jeno informs you.

“If I can tell you know what you’re doing, I’ll listen to you.” you reply with a nonchalant shrug.

“Yeah? Would you listen to me?” Jeno asks, voice quieter and, if you’re not mistaken, lower than before. There’s a suggestive edge to his voice, playful and flirtatious, but in the way that very much indicates that he’d stop joking in a minute if you were into it.

“Depends,” you answer, smiling up at him. “Do you know what you’re doing in there?”

His responding chuckle is significantly deeper than the ones before it, the sound undeniably attractive as he regards you carefully. “Absolutely.”

“Is that so?” you muse softly, watching him intently. “And I’m supposed to go off of your word?”

“You don’t trust me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you shrug.

“I just tend to learn better from experience.” you reply with a small flirtatious smile that threatens to overtake your whole face.

“Maybe we can arrange that.” he says with a playful grin.

“I’ll keep my schedule open.” you say with a curt nod, and he snorts in amusement.

“Perfect.” he agrees before focusing his attention on the smaller box in his arms. He sets the cake box down on the table by the entryway and unwraps the other, cube-shaped box, his eyes widening with excitement when its contents are revealed to him.

“No way!” he gasps, turning the Big Ben snow globe this way and that.

“I remembered you have a snow globe collection and I thought I could help you add to it.” you explain, and Jeno looks up at you, eyes bright.

“You’re amazing. Thank you so much.” he gushes happily, and you beam at him before waving him off.

“Of course, Jeno. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you while I was gone.” you say sweetly, and he grins before opening his arms for a hug,

You step into his embrace readily and wrap your arms around his middle, the two of you squeezing each other tightly. When you pull back slightly, you realize Jeno still hasn’t let you go, his arms still securely wrapped around your waist.

“I really missed you, y’know.” Jeno says softly, and your heart warms.

“I missed you too, Jeno. It’s good to be back.” you echo, and he smiles before gently releasing you, his reluctance apparent in the way his fingers linger as they pull away from you. “Oh!” you say, remembering something out of nowhere. “I actually still have to give Winter her present, so I’m gonna track her down and do that.”

“Oh, of course, yeah, go for it. Thank you again—I’m gonna demolish this cake later.” Jeno says, finishing his sentence in a conspiratorial whisper, and you giggle.

“I’m glad. I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” You reach up and pinch his chin gently, smiling wider when his blush from earlier returns in full force.

Jeno nods shyly, and you release him before venturing further into the party in search of Winter.

Finally spotting Winter across the room on her phone, you cross the living room and tap her shoulder from behind, smiling widely when she turns around.

“Hey!” she greets excitedly, wrapping you in a hug. You two rock from side to side for a moment, hearts full, before you release each other. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to give you your present,” you say with a small shrug and a smile, and her eyes widen. “It’s nothing crazy!” you warn her, waving your hands dismissively, and she shrugs, reaching out for the gift bag in your hand with opening and closing fists.

“I wanna see! Can I see, please?” Winter pleads, and you give in with a fond laugh, handing over the gift bag.

You wait with bated breath as she opens the present, her eyes softening fondly as she gazes down at the stuffed plushie in her hand.

“It’s so cute! How’d you even find a desert fox plushie?” she asks, in awe as she turns it this way and that.

“I had it commissioned from a toy store boutique only in England,” you explain, and she smiles widely, wrapping you in another tight hug.

“Thank you so much,” she gushes, pulling back from the embrace to clutch her plushie to her chest tightly. “I gotta come up with a name for you, little guy!”

“You do that,” you laugh, moving a stray curl out of her face. “I’m gonna keep making my way through the party.”

“Okay,” she sing-songs. “See you later!”

“See you, babe!” you chirp, waving goodbye before heading back the way you came, deciding to take a detour into the kitchen for more snacks.

You’re barely in there for five minutes, munching happily on salty and sweet snacks alike, before you exit and run almost directly into the chest of someone; the only thing stopping the collision are their quick reflexes as they steady you in place.

“Sorry!” you apologize, stepping back and looking up to your victim before you stop short and a pleased smile curls your lips.

“Hey, you. Was wondering where you’d run off to.” the handsome stranger from earlier says, smiling at you.

“Oh, y’know. Making the rounds, saying hi to everyone. It is my party, after all.” you reply with a secretive smile, and he steps closer with raised eyebrows of intrigue.

“Is that so?” he asks, and you nod, stepping a bit closer to hear him better.

“Mm, yeah,” you hum. “You know what’s weird?”

“What is it?”

“This party is for me, and yet there are people here I’ve never met before,” you muse. “Like you.”

“Maybe it’s a sign you're meant to get to know me.” he suggests with a wry grin, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Good one.” you reply playfully. “So what should we do to get to know each other?” you ask with a playful lilt and feigned curiosity.

“Mm, you could start by telling me more about yourself.” he replies, and you raise your brows.

“‘Myself’ is a very broad topic,” you point out, and he snorts. “Be more specific.”

“Fair, fair.” he agrees with a chuckle. “What are…” he trails off thoughtfully before he perks up again, “your love languages?”

“I feel like this is an unfair advantage sort of question,” you reply with a small pout. (You do not miss the way his gaze softens fondly. Or the way it drops to your lips.) “So, I’ll only answer if you do, too.”

“That’s fair,” he agrees with a smile. “You first, though.”

“Mine are,” you say as you try to recall what the quiz results said the last time you took it, “acts of service, physical touch, and quality time. What about you?”

“Wait, let’s unpack yours first—”

“No, you say yours, then we’ll unpack mine. Fess up, bucko.” you press, poking him gently in the chest.

He laughs at your poke and mini outburst before obliging. “Physical touch,” he murmurs, leaning into your space and smirking slightly when you half-step, half-stumble back, “words of affirmation,” he straightens up and gestures between the two of you casually with a cheeky grin before finishing with, “and quality time.”

“You’re so smooth,” you gush sarcastically, and he snickers.

“Why, thank you. I’d say I try, but then I’d be lying.”

You shoot him a look. “Don’t push it.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, he shrugs. “My bad.”

“As long as you know.” you reply with a sweet smile, and his gaze softens. “What?”

“You’ve got a beautiful smile, you know that?” he murmurs, and your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you mumble bashfully, and he coos fondly at you.

“So cute,” he fawns.

You glower at him. “I’m out of here,” you mutter, undeniably flustered and embarrassed about it.

“Aw, come back, cutie—” he slips his fingers around your wrist gently and tugs you closer, smiling when there’s virtually no resistance from your end. “I didn’t mean to make you all nervous,” he apologizes with a playful, teasing lilt that tells you he might not actually be all that sorry.

Turning your nose up, you look away from him even as his hand slips down to let his thumb stroke gently at the back of your hand. At your small intake of breath, he smiles and tugs you even closer—dangerously close, actually—before moving to wrap his hand around the small of your back.

It’s almost as if the Fates themselves decided to intervene, the divine timing is that impeccable.

His phone pings, and he frowns before pulling it out of his back pocket and checking the screen. His face falls visibly and so drastically that it actually hurts you to see for a moment, leading you to avert your gaze politely.

His hand slowly retreats from its original path, and you’re shocked to find that you’re a bit disappointed.

“Do me a small favor? Schedule some time for me later before your busy, busy party ends? I’ll be back.” he says hopefully, squeezing your hand gently before shooting you an apologetic smile and turning to weave between a couple of people before disappearing into the hallway.

You try not to look as disappointed as you feel, but apparently you fail because Seulgi’s by your side moments later from out of virtually nowhere.

“I saw you pouting from all the way across the room,” she chuckles fondly as she strokes your back gently. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not pouting,” you mumble, and Seulgi raises an eyebrow.

“Tell that to your bottom lip,” she points out, and you tuck it back in with an air of defeat. “Exactly. Now what’s wrong?”

“I was talking to this really cute guy earlier,” you admit with a slowly deepening frown, “but he had to leave really suddenly.”

Seulgi makes a sympathetic hum. “Did you get his name?”

“No!” you complain, and she nods in understanding.

“Well, even if he had to leave, he might come to another party in the future—because he clearly knows someone here, you know?”

“What’s wrong?” Chaewon asks, a tipsy Winter in tow.

“How do you know something’s wrong?” you ask, confused.

“You’re pouting,” Chaewon points out, and you splutter, bewildered.

“I’m not!” you exclaim defensively, and Winter winces sympathetically.

“You are.” she confirms, reaching out and unceremoniously poking your bottom lip before giggling to herself.

“She’s mad her party crush pulled a Cinderella and dipped on her,” Seulgi explains.

“Ah,” Chaewon and Winter both say sympathetically.

“That sucks,” Winter sighs. “Speaking of cute guys disappearing—has anyone seen my boyfriend anywhere?”

“What’s he wearing?” you ask, and Winter moves to answer before Chaewon unknowingly cuts her off.

“It’s so weird that you and Haechan have been at this party for so long and have yet to run into each other.” Chaewon marvels aloud, and you shrug casually.

“I probably walked by him or something and just didn’t know,” you brush it off, and Chaewon nods thoughtfully.

“Walked by who and didn’t know?” Yunjin asks from behind you, and when you turn to face her, she frowns. “Why are you pouting?”

“Mother of God—” you huff, crossing your arms, and Yunjin winces.

“Jeez, tough crowd.” she chuckles. “Walked by who and didn’t know?” she presses.

“Haechan,” you explain, and her brows furrow together in confusion, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Oh,” is all she says after a moment. “Wait, can you, um, come help me with something in the bathroom?” she asks you, eyes concerningly piercing.

“Sure,” you mumble, definitely confused but picking up on her sense of urgency.

“We’ll be right back,” Yunjin explains, tugging you away. “Roommate problems!” she calls over her shoulder, and you grimace to really sell the direness of the situation.

You let her tug you into the bathroom towards the back of the apartment by Seulgi’s and Chaewon’s bedrooms, and she sits you down on the toilet before taking a deep breath.

“I don’t exactly know how to tell you this, but I was trying to find you earlier before this spiraled out of control.” she starts.

“You’re scaring me,” you complain, and she shushes you as she unlocks her phone and starts searching for something.

“You did meet Haechan, actually, but I have a feeling no one told you that you met Haechan.” Yunjin says finally, and you think back to the very small amount of people you met for the first time today, pondering over who it might be before Yunjin turns her phone to show you the screen, and—

“Fuck.” you mumble hoarsely, and Yunjin nods slightly before closing her phone on the screen she’s just showed you of a photo of your friend group, presumably from when you were abroad, where Winter is sitting happily on the lap of— “that’s the stranger I was talking to.” you say sadly. “My party crush.”

“Did he ever say his name?” she asks, and you think back, growing increasingly more irritated when you realize—

“No,” you mutter bitterly, “he must have conveniently forgotten to share that part.”

“Can I say something?” Yunjin says carefully, and you nod solemnly. “I saw you two staring at each other before he followed you into the kitchen.” Your blood runs cold, and it must show on your face, because she quickly adds, “I’m not mad at you, and I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m just gonna warn you, because that staring contest was intense, and I don’t know what happened in that kitchen—I don’t want to!” she says suddenly, putting her hand up to silence you as you move to speak before slowly continuing with, “I just know none of that can happen in front of Winter, so it shouldn’t happen at all.”

“Agreed.” you sigh sadly. “Yeah. I mean, I’m pissed as hell, and I might maim him the next time I see him, but other than that, I guess I’m fine.”

“I mean. yeah. Definitely agree with maiming him, actually.” she agrees after a moment of thought. “Just do something subtle and easy to explain away.”

You smile at her, your spirits lifted slightly. “You’re the best.”

“Love you, girl.” she says sincerely, bending down to hug you before helping you to your feet. “I got your back.”

You head back out there with no pout in sight, only a deceptive smile as you plan your revenge.

It’s not long before the not-so-mysterious stranger comes back around, by which time you’ve fully worked yourself up into a huff about the situation once more, crossing your arms, leaning against the wall, and eyeing him disapprovingly as he approaches.

“Why so serious?” he jokes, and you raise an eyebrow.

“At what point were you going to tell me you’re dating Winter?” you ask, deciding to get right to the point, and he freezes, shock on his face. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately.

“For what?” you test him, and he frowns deeply.

“For hiding that from you.” he sighs, and you huff as he continues, “I just really wanted to get to know you, and I felt like I had to hide that because you knowing would ruin it!”

You look at him with an eyebrow raised pointedly. “And what would you call this?”

His frown turns to a petulant pout. “Ruined?” he asks.

“Ding, ding, ding,” you say sarcastically before turning to leave.

“Wait, I’m— I’m really sorry,” he pleads, catching your hand before you can slip away. “Can we start over a little bit?”

“How are we gonna start over a little bit?” you ask skeptically, and he stands up straighter, tugging you a bit closer before smiling hopefully and releasing your hand to wave in greeting.

“Hi, I’m Haechan, Winter’s boyfriend,” he introduces himself as he offers his hand to shake. As you take it, he gently urges you closer with a testing tug before adding, “and I think you’re beautiful.”

“Haechan!” you whisper, half-laughing in surprise, and he shrugs with a sheepish grin.

“Figured I’d lay all my cards out on the table this time.”

“Kinda ballsy, no?” you raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms, and he chuckles.

“I’m a pretty ballsy guy.”

You eye him up and down before tilting your head to the side and saying, “I’m sure.”

“So am I forgiven?” he asks hopefully.

“For now,” you reply after a moment of thinking, and continue at the sight of his excited smile, “but I’m watching you.”

“I’d be upset if you weren’t.” he murmurs, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

It doesn’t take long for your one-sided animosity to dissipate as you and Haechan manage to fall into a normal enough conversation about your activities in Oxford. At one point, the familiar but unpleasant smell of weed filters into your senses, making you subconsciously wrinkle your nose in distaste.

Haechan raises an eyebrow, amused. “You alright?”

“You don’t smell that?” you ask, and he sniffs the air before he chuckles.

“I’m guessing you’re not much of a smoker?” he speculates.

You shake your head, tipping your head back to swallow the rest of your drink. “Definitely not.” You lick your lips to clean up the remnants of your drink, and barely stifle the laugh that bubbles up when you notice Haechan watching your mouth with both entirely rapt attention and a slightly dazed expression. “See something you like?”

“Sure do,” he breathes, and you yelp, swatting his arm lightly. “You asked!”

“As a joke!”

“Well, sorry for failing to read the room properly. I was a little, um, distracted.”

“Haechan.”

“Hm?”

“Stop staring at my lips.”

“What if I don’t?” he asks, stepping closer to you slowly. “Hm?”

“You’re awfully bold for a guy who’s dating one of my friends.” you murmur back, and he shrugs, smiling flirtatiously.

“I know what I want.” he answers casually, and the resolve in his voice takes you by surprise, leaving you to swallow a growing lump in your throat.

“I’m, uh,” you stammer, looking around for something, anything, that can save you from his intense attention. “I’m gonna go see if they want snacks,” you finally answer pathetically, and he doesn’t buy it for a minute, a smug grin curling his lips before he nods, seemingly complying.

He waits for you to move past him, staying perfectly still and therefore forcing you to squeeze between him and the counter, and head towards the living room before he’s so close behind you that he’s practically on you and only then does he reply, a smile audible in his voice as he murmurs, “Let’s go, then.”

“Hi, my dear friends. Are we having a good time?” you ask as you re-enter the living room and scan over each of your friends, all sitting in a circle with Yunjin’s infamous hot pink bong placed carefully in her lap. The party continues on around them, people only sparing cursory glances at the very occupied couch and nearby seating of Seulgi’s and Chaewon’s living room, but you couldn’t care less about the other guests, instead focusing your attention on your seven cross-faded friends.

Yunjin, ever the lightweight, looks up at you with red-rimmed, half-lidded eyes and a dopey smile. “Never better.”

“I actually just want to say that I missed you so much,” Chaewon sniffles, hurriedly wiping away a tear before looking up at you earnestly. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

“I missed you, too!” you reply, touched, and she sniffles loudly, the tip of her nose pinking in that signature way that lets you know more tears are en route whether she likes it or not.

“I’m not gonna lie, yo,” Mark mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face and looking over at you. “I’m about to be starving.”

“‘About to be starving’ is crazy, actually.” you snicker, and Mark joins in your laughter, his laugh bubbling up inside of him almost uncontrollably.

“Well, you know how it goes; we smoke, we get high, we get the munchies.” Mark explains, and you nod in understanding.

“Mark… I went to England for a study abroad program… not to get a lobotomy.” you say slowly, and he snorts loudly in surprise and amusement. “I remember what happens when y’all get high.” you remind him, and he lifts his hands up in surrender, nodding back at you with a grin. “Do you guys want food from the deli down the block?”

“Yes!” The resounding chorus of assent from all your high friends actually takes you by surprise, sending you stepping back in shock only to stumble directly into Haechan’s chest. He steadies you instantly, hands gripping your shoulders securely, and quietly double-checks with you to make sure you’re actually sturdy before releasing you.

You hate that you found his touch comforting for even a second, trying your best internally to squash the initial attraction you had to him as you attempt to focus on the task at hand.

“Okay, sounds good to me. Can y’all just type your names and what you want in my Notes app?” you ask, unlocking your phone, opening the Notes app, and passing your phone to Yunjin. As your phone makes its way around the circle, you turn slightly to face Haechan, who’s already watching you with an unnerving level of intensity.

“Haechan, why don’t you go with her?” Seulgi suggests, completely missing the warning glare you send her way. “She can’t carry all of that by herself.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” he agrees easily, and you purse your lips for a moment, breathing in deeply before turning fully so you’re face-to-face with Haechan. “Looks like we’re gonna spend some more one-on-one time together.” he says with a secretive smile, and you swallow hard, not knowing what to expect from this little excursion.

Your phone eventually makes its way back to you and you look over the orders before putting your phone in your back pocket and heading to grab your coat, Haechan following diligently behind you.

“Okay, we’ll be back soon! Try to hang in there, guys.” you announce, stepping out of the apartment and holding the door open for Haechan, who exits and shuts it behind himself.

As you two make your way down the hall to the elevator, he speeds up slightly so he’s walking in front of you before turning fully around to face you, taking smooth backwards strides down the hall.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, confused, and he shakes his head with a smile.

“Don’t mind me.” he replies, and you snort in amusement.

“Kinda hard not to mind you when you seem hellbent on staring holes into my face.” you mutter as you press the elevator button.

“Not my fault you’re nice to look at.” he defends himself, and you look over at him instantly, shock written all over your face. “What’s wrong? Surely you’ve heard that about yourself before.”

“I sure have,” you agree readily, sighing in relief when the elevator door opens. Stepping in, you add, “I just haven’t heard it from the mouth of my friend’s boyfriend.”

“Ah, well.” He follows you into the elevator and shrugs with a “what can you do?” type of smile, making you narrow your eyes. “First time for everything, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you reply slowly, regarding him suspiciously. “Let’s try and make that first time the last time, okay?”

“No promises.” he murmurs, a smile audible in his voice. When you look over at him, he winks at you so quickly you almost think you imagined it, and you jolt, making a noise of bewilderment that sounds embarrassingly close to a mix of a squawk or squeak before turning to face forward again.

The weather actually feels quite nice, you realize when you both get outside, a light, cool breeze filtering through the trees, and you and Haechan walk alongside each other for the first two, maybe three minutes in silence before he breaks it.

“Can I ask you a question?” Haechan asks, looking over at you as you two walk to the deli.

“Depends… is it weird?” you return his question with another question, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Don’t think so.”

“Okay, then shoot.”

“I noticed your reaction to the smell of the weed smoke earlier,” he recalls, and you hum in acknowledgement. “Do you not smoke?”

“Not at all,” you reply, and he nods in understanding. “I don’t do any drugs.”

“Me either,” he replies, and a mildly surprised smile makes its way to your lips. “Can I ask if you have a reason for never wanting to try anything?”

You’re silent for a moment as you attempt to find the right words to explain yourself and Haechan waits patiently, the two of you walking in a comfortable silence before you break it. “I don’t like the feeling of not being in control of myself.” you say carefully, and he gives you an emphatic nod that piques your curiosity. “You too?”

“Somewhat, yeah, but I was mainly nodding because I completely get it. For me, I don’t like moving any slower than usual or feeling restricted in any way.”

“That makes perfect sense, too.” you say, giving him a firm, approving nod of your own, and he chuckles quietly. “I’ve always wondered about what it might be like to just… mellow out and calm down, y’know?”

“Definitely,” he agrees. “They usually get so… happy.”

“Exactly! Well, except for when Chaewon starts crying out of nowhere.” you add.

Haechan laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know what that’s about.”

“That’s another thing, too.” you say, starting to feel more comfortable talking about it to someone who understands. “I feel like some drugs—especially, like, weed, LSD, acid, shrooms, and stuff like that—they tend to bring out, like, parts of your subconscious that are typically hidden away.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that and I’ve definitely seen it happen,” Haechan says, sounding surprisingly solemn.

“Yeah, so… whatever’s going on under the surface in here,” you say, tapping your temple, “is none of my business.” you finish with a resolute nod, making Haechan snicker. “I will simply continue raw-dogging life on this bitch of an earth.”

“That’s so real.” Haechan says through his laughter, making you smile.

“Thank you!” you chirp. “Also, when you say you don’t like moving slower or feeling restricted, do you mean in a physical or mental sense? Or is it both?”

“Hmm,” Haechan hums thoughtfully. “Definitely both. I just feel like… I would describe myself and my lifestyle as somewhat fast-paced, y’know? Like, not really very sedentary, I’m always on the move, and if I’m high off of, like, weed or something, I feel like all I’d be able to do is… vegetate… and I hate the thought of that.”

“That’s so real,” you say, echoing Haechan’s earlier statement. “Well, you know, if you want to move faster, there’s always cocaine,” you joke, and he snorts loudly, clearly not expecting your comment.

“I definitely wouldn’t try cocaine,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I can just imagine my poor mom if I came to visit her one day and I was all strung out and tweaking.”

“Aw, are you a mama’s boy?” you ask teasingly, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Maybe a little bit, yeah,” he admits with a shy smile, and you grin.

“That’s sweet.” you assure him, and he visibly relaxes, laughing with an air of bashfulness. “We’re here, by the way!” you point out, gesturing to the deli less than thirty feet away at the end of the block.

Haechan jogs slightly ahead of you, opening the door and holding it for you to enter.

“Thank you,” you say with a grateful smile as you step inside. The smell of the deli is delicious, the scents of various foods being cooked wafting through the air, and for a moment you half-expect to start floating involuntarily towards the tastiest smelling dish.

“Okay, let’s get these orders in,” you mutter to yourself before making your way over to where the grill cooks are stationed. “Hi, how are you feeling tonight?” you greet politely, exchanging brief pleasantries before continuing on with, “I actually have a pretty big order I’d like to place with sandwiches and sides, but I don’t mind waiting if I have to!”

“Go ahead, miss,” one of the cooks says, and you look down at your phone before starting to read off the orders.

Haechan stands off to the side and watches on as you rattle off the nine different sandwich and side order combos to the cooks, who nod and start to prepare them. When you’re finished, you turn to face Haechan and smile sweetly before leading him towards the drinks and snacks.

“Okay, can you help me carry these to the front?” you ask Haechan.

“Of course, yeah,” he answers, and you start to hand him various drinks and snacks off of the note everyone wrote in.

“Okay, a raspberry peach Snapple for me… a Redbull for you—wait, Haechan, you like Redbull but you won’t try cocaine…? Seems fake,” you comment, and Haechan lets out a shocked laugh before raising his hands—well, he’s holding a drink in each hand, so fists—in surrender.

“Take it easy on me!” he begs jokingly, and you pretend to think about it before relenting with a smile and continuing to collect the drinks.

“Mountain Dew for Seulgi… Sprite for Jeno… oop, and a Sprite for Chenle, too… root beer for Winter�� blue Gatorade for Mark… Arizona raspberry iced tea for Yunjin, and finally, that XXX Vitamin Water that Chaewon’s always raving about.” You close the refrigerator door with your hip, the two of you carefully carrying your armfuls of beverages to the counter.

“I never got the Vitamin Water hype.” Haechan admits.

“It’s essentially juice, but like water with a splash of juice, maybe two if you’re lucky.” you say. “At least, that’s what I think, but some of them do actually taste pretty good, too.”

“Hm,” he remarks thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I just never got into it.”

“You got into that Redbull pretty easily though, huh?” you tease, and he laughs, his cheeks pinking ever so slightly, and you’re glad he’s looking away so he can’t see how blatantly you paused to look at him.

“Miss, some of your order is ready!” One of the cooks calls out to you, and you shoot them a thumbs up as they bring two sandwiches and a couple of trays to the counter for you. “Do you want to pay now or when we’re finished preparing everything?”

“Oh, I can pay now! Just let me go get the chips and stuff.” you say before whizzing off to where the snacks are, returning shortly after with Seulgi’s Takis and Chenle’s red Doritos and placing them on the counter triumphantly.

The worker manning the register rings your stuff up and reads you out the total, to which you respond by pulling out your phone to tap the card reader, but Haechan calls your name before you can complete the transaction, making you look over at him in confusion.

“I got it,” he offers, reaching for the card reader with his own phone only for you to shoot him a funny look and nudge his phone out of the way to finish paying with your own phone.

“You didn’t have to pay for it, Haechan,” you assure him. “Think of it as the small fee I had to pay for disappearing from the country for about half of a year.”

“Yeah, but I was being a gentleman.” he protests with a frown.

“It’s okay! Be a gentleman to your girlfriend—not me.” you say with expectantly raised brows.

“I’m trying to impress you, though,” he points out, and you roll your eyes.

“Read the room, maybe?” you chuckle, and he scrunches his nose up in distaste. “Something wrong?”

“I’m not much of a reader.” he replies with a dismissive shrug, and you raise your eyebrows.

“I’m a librarian.” you remind him. “My job is literally all about reading.”

“On second thought,” Haechan blurts out, “I literally read every day, all the time.” When you snicker in amusement, he grins and continues with, “I’m being so serious. I’ve read every bottle of shampoo and body wash in my shower front to back!” he presses, and you burst into laughter.

“You’re ridiculous.” you giggle as you recover from your laughing fit, and he grins shamelessly.

“I made you laugh, though,” he points out with a smug little grin. “So you kinda like it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie with a sniff, looking away.

“You think I’m funny,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he gets closer. “And if earlier was any indication, you think I’m attractive.”

“Where are you going with this?” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“You like me.” he replies simply, and you choke on your spit.

“Two fairly objective observations are not an indication of me liking you.” you splutter indignantly, and Haechan raises his brow.

“Being attractive is objective now?” he asks skeptically, and you glare at him, turning to the row of deli cooks pretending not to be watching your conversation intently.

“Is he a handsome guy?” you ask them, and they all look between each other with confusion and mild discomfort. “Literally no homo. Please relax. Is he a handsome guy or is he an uggo?” you emphasize, and one of them snorts.

“He’s definitely not ugly, no,” one of the cooks pipes up, and they all nod in agreement. “Handsome guy, actually.”

“Good bone structure,” the cook beside him adds, and you could swear Haechan starts to blush. “Yeah, he’s a good looking dude.”

“Sí, muy guapo.” A cook you can’t even see chimes in, and you and Haechan look at each other, bewildered.

“How many of you are back there?” Haechan asks as he chuckles nervously.

“No te preocupes, amigo.” the same cook says, still concealed from view. “Eres guapísimo.”

“Thank you, guys.” you reply gratefully before turning to stick your tongue out at Haechan triumphantly.

To your surprise, his gaze darkens. “Do that again.”

“No, I’m good.” you reply immediately, fixing your face and turning away from him. “Little freak.”

“Mm, maybe a little bit.” he hums, and you grimace.

“Yuck.” you mutter, narrowing your eyes in his direction. “Get a grip. As I was saying, me finding you funny or attractive has nothing to do with liking you.”

“Why wouldn’t you, though?” he presses, and you let out an exasperated sigh before turning fully to face him.

“You have a girlfriend!” you whisper-shout, confused even further by the way he looks at you, smug and unimpressed.

“So that’s the only thing stopping you?” he says slowly, and you pause as you realize what you’ve admitted to.

“It’s the only thing that matters.” you huff with an air of finality, and Haechan just chuckles, stepping closer.

“Not this? Hm? Not how good—no—how right this feels?” he murmurs suggestively, and you shake your head firmly.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” you mutter, and he scoffs in disbelief.

“Are you really gonna keep playing dumb?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sing-song, and he rolls his eyes.

“Sure.” he murmurs, amused.

Desperate to change the topic, you look around, your eyes landing on the bags of food on the countertop.

“Man, those fries smell so good,” you groan, staring enviously at the bag containing Winter’s order of curly fries.

“Mm, yeah?” Haechan hums, looking from the bag to you. He puts a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture and pops open the plastic container. He pulls out a small handful of Winter’s curly fries, about as much as he can fit between his thumb and forefinger, and grins at you, winking before popping one in his mouth.

He reaches his hand out, offering you one of his stolen goods, and you hesitate for a second before deciding to reach forward and take the proffered curly fry. As you chew it, your eyes roll back into your head in ecstasy, the fried good the perfect amount of salty, crunchy, and warm.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully, and he waves you off dismissively.

“You’re welcome,” he replies. “It’s our little secret, okay?”

“Jeez, I just met you tonight and you’re already trusting me with secrets?” you chuckle, and he shrugs.

“Well, should I not trust you?” he asks curiously, and you shake your head instantly in disagreement.

“You can trust me, don’t worry.” you assure him, and he smiles widely, nodding slowly in understanding.

“Great.”

“The real question is if I can trust you,” you continue, and he chuckles.

“You can,” he says confidently, and you raise your eyebrows skeptically.

“How do I know I can trust that?” you ask, and he laughs, rolling his eyes slightly as he leans closer to you conspiratorially.

“That’s just a risk you’re gonna have to take.”

“No, thanks. I’m not big on risks.” you admit.

Haechan tilts his head to the side curiously. “You don’t take any risks?”

You pause to think about it, thoughts racing back to earlier when you made the mental pact with yourself to be more daring and take more risks. “Not really, no. Unless you count letting Yunjin drive.”

He snorts. “I’m talking big risks.”

You stare at him blankly. “Have you ever been in the car with Yunjin?”

Chuckling and shaking his head slightly, he says, “I have.”

“It’s pretty risky.”

“I’m talking about different risks, though. Think harder.” he presses.

You sigh loudly but oblige, thinking about it again. “I guess studying abroad in Oxford felt pretty risky… I was essentially all alone on the other side of the world.”

He shakes his head. “Bigger,” he explains. “I’m talking about something that,” his gaze slowly falls to your lips and he continues, “could go really wrong.”

It feels like he’s hinting at something, and you’re not sure you want to find out.

“Truthfully, I don’t get why I would take risks like those.” you say with a pensive frown, and he smiles, eyes still trained on your mouth with an unmistakable fascination as he steps closer to you, practically cornering you against the snack rack behind you, and if he hears your squeak of alarm, he chooses not to comment.

“It’s about the reward,” he murmurs, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips slowly. “People take risks because they think that the reward is worth it in comparison to what could go wrong.”

“Well, I don’t think most risks I can think of off of the top of my head are worth it,” you say with a stumped pout.

“I can think of one I wanna take right now,” he hums softly, reaching up to rest one hand on the rack behind you, and you balk, finally starting to understand what he’s been hinting at.

“I, um, think that might be too risky.” you reply cautiously, and he chuckles quietly.

“I disagree,” he says plainly. “I think it’d be so worth it.” he breathes out, his gentle breath fanning over your lips, the minty scent tempting you more than you’d like to admit.

“If you try and kiss me right now,” you say quietly, “I will bite your lip until it bleeds.”

He snickers and nods in understanding. “Understood.”

“Is that risk worth it now?” you ask wryly, and he bites back a laugh.

“I don’t know, let me find out.” he says, leaning in closer, and you yelp, pushing his chest reflexively and, when he barely budges, clapping a hand over your mouth and glaring at him as he laughs loudly. “Man, you’re cute.”

“Shut up,” you mutter contritely, moving your hand away when he relents and steps back. “Let’s not ask why I don’t feel comfortable taking risks and ask, instead, why you—” you poke his chest accusingly, “feel so comfortable being so reckless.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, explaining, “I don’t think it’s that I’m reckless—”

“Yeah, right.” you mutter.

He ignores you. “I think it’s that I want to know what it feels like to truly live.” he finishes, and you pause at that, genuinely taking in his words. “Life is too short to be scared to indulge, you know?”

“Well,” you say slowly, thoughtfully, “I guess that makes sense.”

His eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe I could stand to live a little more,” you ponder, noticing the way his eyes drift down to your lips once more and quickly adding, “but that doesn’t mean you can kiss me. I’ll still bite you.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks softly, teasingly, and you nod. “What if I said I kinda like it a little rough?”

“I’d say you’re in the wrong relationship.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, and Haechan’s eyes widen as he points at you with a bright, triumphant grin. “I’m joking! I’m joking.”

“I don’t think you are.” he replies smugly.

“Oh, brother.”

“You think I’m in the wrong relationship?” he presses, and you shake your head vehemently, desperately trying to cover your tracks.

“Only because Winter is not a ‘likes it a little rough’ kind of girl,” you explain quickly.

He nods in agreement. “This is true.” he admits, and you relax slightly, glad he gets your point. “So, who would be the right relationship for me, hm?” he teases, and you groan loudly, tipping your head back in exasperation. “Got any ideas?”

“Nope.” you answer flatly.

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, leaning closer. “You sure about that?”

“Miss, the rest of your order is ready!” One of the cooks calls out, and you pounce on the interruption eagerly.

“Thank you!” you call back to the cooks before turning to Haechan with a relieved smile. “You know what? We’d better go back before they put out a Missing Persons report for us.” you dodge his taunting question from earlier and carefully remove yourself from your very compromising position, walking towards the counter of the bodega to collect the bags of food. “Are you coming or what?” you huff, attempting to conceal how flustered his previous line of questioning has left you by placing a hand on your hip impatiently.

He shakes his head with a chuckle, but meets you by the door, slipping his fingers in the loops of the numerous bags weighing down your index and middle fingers to relieve you of the burden. He leans forward, opening the door for you and gesturing for you to exit first. “You’re lucky I don’t want to hear any of them complain about their food being cold, because I could do this—” he gestures between the two of you, “all night and then some.”

“That’s great, Casanova,” you drawl, pointing ahead of you down the street towards where you’re heading. “Now walk.”

As you two walk back from the bodega, you can’t help but notice that Haechan’s path keeps veering slightly off-course, the male repeatedly bumping into you as you two walk.

“You good?” you ask finally after what must be the eighth mini-collision, and Haechan chuckles, albeit somewhat sheepishly as he brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Is there a reason why you keep bumping into me? Are the bags throwing you off-balance or something?”

“Would you, uh, believe me if I said that I just like you and want to be close to you?” he answers, and you stop short, blinking at him impassively which causes him to stop walking as well.

“Bold words for someone with a whole girlfriend back at the party.” you reply with a dismissive snort, and he shrugs.

“I don’t know what it is,” he says as you two slowly fall back into a comfortable pace. “I think we’d be good together.”

“Haechan,” you warn.

“You fascinate me,” he admits plainly, staring at your face openly. “I wanna get to know you better.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that,” you say apprehensively.

“I’m gonna learn about you eventually, because I’m not going anywhere.” he replies confidently. “I’m gonna learn everything about you—your hopes, your dreams, your fears—” he leans closer so his breath hits your cheek and continues, “what makes you tick.”

“Well, you wanna know something?” you offer, and he nods instantly, leaning towards you in anticipation. “Something that makes me tick is when guys with girlfriends hit on me very blatantly.”

“Ah, I see,” Haechan remarks thoughtfully. “So I should be more subtle.”

“I—well—no, that’s not really what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean?”

“Stop saying flirtatious things!”

“So you want me to stop saying flirtatious things—”

”Yes, that’s quite literally what I just said—”

“—and start doing flirtatious things.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you stare at him incredulously. “Not even remotely what I meant.”

“No, I think that’s what you were hinting at.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’d better believe it, baby.”

“Calling me ‘baby’ when you have a whole girlfriend is crazy, by the way.”

“Maybe I’m crazy. Did you think about that?”

“Clearly. I’ll let Winter know her boyfriend is actually an escapee from the insane asylum and she’ll just dump you.”

“So you can have me all to yourself… I like it.” He grins, and you open and close your mouth repeatedly, at a loss for words.

“Where are you hearing these things? Haechan, do you often hear things other people don’t?” you ask with patronizing concern, and he bursts out laughing. “It’s not funny, actually! Maybe I will tell Winter after all.”

“She won’t do anything,” he replies through his laughter.

“You’re right.” you agree in disappointment. “Poor girl. She’d probably think she can fix you.”

“I know what could fix me,” he says, fixing you in place with a serious stare.

“Haechan, you’re kinda scaring me.”

“Relax, it’s nothing crazy.”

“You’re not exactly what I’d consider a good judge of what’s crazy or not.”

“I just want your number, God.”

“Oh!” you reply, relieved, and an equally relieved smile appears on his face. “You’re not getting that.”

“Aw, come on!” he whines, leaning on you dramatically. “How am I supposed to get to know you?”

“Through speaking to me in person?”

“So you wanna see me… in person…” he trails off with a suggestive lilt to his voice, wiggling his eyebrows, and you suck your teeth. “If you like me, you can just say that, you know. I won’t tell.”

“You really are crazy.” you marvel, and he grins over at you.

“Is that… intrigue I detect in your voice?” he teases, and you balk.

“No?” you reply a bit too quickly, and his eyes light up.

“You’re intrigued by me!”

“I just wanna know how and where Winter found your crazy ass!”

“So you can go there and get yourself another me?” he replies, and you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Hate to break it to you, princess, but there’s only one of me.”

“Thank God for that.” you mutter under your breath. “So, do you have, like, a mute button or something?”

“I’ll shut up for the rest of the walk back if you give me your number.” he says with a mischievous smile, and you roll your eyes, Haechan’s ever-so-keen eyes noticing your hesitation. “You’re totally thinking about it.”

“I really want you to stop before you get one or both of us in trouble.”

“I will be as quiet as a street rat if you give me your number and don’t block me before I can text you.”

“Damn, how’d you know I was gonna do that?”

“I know the signs of someone playing hard to get.” he says proudly, and you snort.

“I’m not playing hard to get, Haechan. You’re playing hard to get rid of.”

“And I’m gonna play until I win. Now—your number, please.” He smiles dazzlingly at you, pulling out his phone from his back pocket and handing it to you.

You stare at his unlocked phone then at his twinkling, hopeful eyes before sighing in defeat and taking the phone from his hand to enter your number.

“Hell yeah!” Haechan cheers, and you shoot him a judgmental stare.

“Ground rules.” you say plainly, and he nods, instantly attentive. He is cute, you think reluctantly, especially like this as he hangs on your every word like a puppy. “No texting me suggestive photos.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Keep the texts harmless.” you warn him, and he nods in agreement.

“You got it.”

“And don’t call or FaceTime unless it’s an absolute emergency.” you finish, and he scrunches his face up in confusion.

“What if the emergency is that I want to see you or hear your voice?”

“Absolutely bonkers thing to say with a girlfriend, by the way.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I have Instagram… just look at my pictures or something, I don’t know.”

“What if I want to see you right then exactly how you are?”

“That’s too bad.”

“Fine,” he huffs, and you already know this is going to be a bad decision. “What exactly constitutes an emergency?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. If you were injured or in danger or something and no one else was picking up?”

“Okay…” he trails off skeptically.

“Even then, though, I think you should just call emergency services.”

“You’re brutal,” Haechan remarks in awe. “I like it.”

“Watch it!”

“Watching,” he replies smoothly, grinning in your direction, and you turn to face forward quickly, hoping he didn’t catch your smile. “I saw that.”

“You saw nothing.”

“You smiled. You like me—at least a little bit!”

“First you’re hearing things, and now you’re seeing things? Maybe we should get you checked out.”

“…We?” he points out with a sly smirk, and you roll your eyes as you trudge ahead and up to the apartment building, repeatedly (and with an air of impatience) buzzing the intercom to be let in.

“Thank God we’re back.”

“Since when was the museum so damn expensive?” Chenle mutters in awe as he forks over the thirty dollars for the admission fee.

“It’s the price of knowledge,” Yunjin sighs with a shrug as she takes Chenle’s place at the ticket till and hands the attendant three $10 bills.

“Psst,” Haechan whispers to get your attention, and you turn your head slightly to see he’s leaning towards you. “This is enough to radicalize me,” Haechan huffs bitterly before releasing Winter’s hand and stepping forward to pay. You notice with a curious tilt of your head that he’s taken longer than the rest of your friends so far, despite using Apple Pay, but you don’t think much of it until he’s walked away with Winter and it’s your turn at the register, where the attendant hands you a ticket with a smile.

“Oh, I didn’t pay yet—”

“The gentleman before you paid for your ticket,” she explains with a small nod, and you pause, mentally buffering before smiling at the attendant, taking the ticket, and walking to join your group.

When you meet up with them, Haechan already has his eyes trained in your direction, his left eyelid dropping down into a secretive wink before he grins at you.

“You’re too much,” you mouth at him, walking up beside him to nudge him with your shoulder surreptitiously. He lets out a small chuckle and shrugs as casually as he can before he tickles the palm of your hand with his fingers in a gesture that has you wondering if he plans to hold both your hand and his girlfriend’s. Before the thought can gain much traction, however, the tour guide for your group appears and introduces herself as she passes out museum maps to everyone in your party.

After introducing herself, she takes you through a corridor to the Egyptian art section, walking you by a preserved tomb and detailing funeral processions and Egyptian customs. The guide herself is very engaging and the artwork is fascinating, but you actually came on a mission to see certain wings of the museum. As she walks you through the Egyptian art wing, you consult your map, trying to see if there’s a point coming up where you can casually separate from the group.

Initially, you were following after the tour guide, but now you’re admittedly starting to fall towards the back of the group due to your lack of interest in this particular time period, when the exhibit at the end of the hallway you just passed catches your eye.

You look around you to see if anyone in your tour group is around, observing that the coast is clear before you attempt to break off from your group and do your own thing.

“And where are you sneaking off to?” Haechan’s voice appears out of seemingly nowhere, making you gasp as you whip your head around to look at him.

“Why?” you ask, furrowing your brows. “Are you gonna snitch on me for leaving?”

“I’m not snitching,” he promises you, and you relax slightly before he continues with, “I’m coming.”

You stop short and look at him like he’s grown a second head. “You seem to be mistaken.”

“Definitely not that,” Haechan assures you, and you roll your eyes before quickly turning to leave. He catches up with you easily, making you huff quietly in frustration, and continues to attempt to persuade you, saying, “You need someone with you in case you get lost.”

“Haechan, if I’m with someone and I’m lost, then I’m pretty sure they’re as good as lost too.” you explain slowly, and Haechan pauses to think, leaving you the open opportunity to slip away from him yet again.

He manages to find you yet again, grinning triumphantly when he does, and argues, “I think you should travel with someone—like me—who has a map.”

“Haechan, I am quite literally holding the map they just gave me.” you remind him, and he seems to buffer in real-time, lips parting to form a shocked little “O” shape that is, for all its silliness, stupidly attractive on him.

You’ll give it to him; he’s definitely not lacking in the looks department.

“Well—haven’t you ever heard of the buddy system? There’s safety in numbers, y’know.” Haechan catches up with you once more as you speed walk down a mostly empty hallway.

“Oh, my God, fine.” you whisper-yell exasperatedly. “Fine, you can come with me.”

He perks up immediately, smiling brightly and you can see his body relax as you gradually slow your pace into a comfortable stroll so he can fall into stride with you.

“Great,” he says happily. “Where are we going first?”

“Well, I really want to see the Greek sculptures…” you half-say, half-suggest hopefully.

“Okay, sounds great; let’s go!”

“Haechan.”

“Mhm?”

“Can you walk faster, please? I’m not trying to lose a whole person in the Met.” you complain, stopping in your tracks and turning around to let Haechan catch up to you. The section you’re passing through is packed, the room filled with the din of various animated conversations all overlapping one another.

“Sorry, I’m just taking in all the art in front of me,” he replies, and your expression softens as you remember that this is, in fact, a museum exhibit you’re standing in and not merely a hallway to where you want to go.

“Yeah, the paintings are beautiful,” you agree, and he looks over at you with a confused look.

“Oh—yeah, the paintings are cool, too.” he answers unconvincingly, and you stare at him expressionlessly.

“What were you looking at if not the paintings?” you ask, confused, and he looks you up and down pointedly as if to answer your question. “You’re ridiculous,” you groan, turning to walk away.

“Oh, come on, you can’t blame me! You in that outfit is a goddamn masterpiece.” he defends himself, and you just sigh loudly as you keep walking.

“Keep up!” you quip, and he catches up to you, leaning down slightly so his lips are by your ear.

“Don’t even get me started on this cute little skirt you’ve got on,” he murmurs suggestively, and an involuntary shudder travels down your spine from the ticklish sensation of his breath on the hair on the back of your neck. “Kinda driving me crazy,” he half-mumbles, half-chuckles.

“It can’t be that hard to drive you crazy,” you point out. “You already live on the corner of Bonkers Boulevard and Delulu Drive.”

“Wow, and you call me a menace?” he snorts in amusement, reaching over to pinch your side in retaliation and laughing when you dance away with a giggle. “Come back, I thought we had to stick together,” he complains.

You roll your eyes but stop just ahead of him, hands placed on your hips as you wait for him to catch up.

“That’s better,” he finally says when he’s beside you once more. “You know, maybe we should hold hands.” he suggests, smiling wider and nodding vigorously in an attempt to convince you when you look over at him with a “no” already on the tip of your tongue.

“And why would we do that?” you ask, tilting your head to the side in a patronizing act of confusion.

“It’s crowded. What if someone walks between us and you turn to enter an exhibit but I don’t see where you went?” He frowns petulantly, and you scoff dismissively.

“You can hold my purse,” you offer, holding it out to him.

“How is that gonna help me stay close to you?” he asks with a frown, and you shoot him a look.

“It’ll help me stay close to you,” you clarify. “All my stuff is in there, so I’m not going anywhere that bag’s not going.”

“Hm. I’d rather hold your hand but I guess this will do.” he sighs dramatically, and you snicker.

“Keep wishing.” you reply casually.

“Oh, I will. Got any loose eyelashes I can wish on and blow away?”

“No.”

“Lucky pennies?”

“I don’t have change. Does the universe take Apple Pay?” you reply in a bored tone, and he snorts loudly in amusement.

“Man, gorgeous and funny,” he sighs contentedly, and it’s your turn to exhale in amusement. “Fine. I’ll wait until 11:11 to make the wish.”

“You know that because you told me what you’re gonna wish for, it’s not gonna come true now, right?” you remind him with a teasing smile, and his eyes widen comically.

“I’ll wish for something different.” he relents, and you can’t help but frown slightly at the crestfallen look on his face. You look around to see if anyone you know is nearby and, seeing no one, let out a defeated yet amused sigh before reaching out and linking your fingers with his. “I knew you liked me,” he remarks with an air of smug satisfaction, and you scowl at him before ripping your fingers from his.

“...And you’re done.”

“Nope, too late,” he replies with a wide grin as he links his fingers with yours again, either oblivious to the fight you’re putting up or simply unfazed. “We’re locked in now.” he teases, and you raise your brows in a silent challenge.

“Oh, yeah? Should I call you something cutesy like—oh,” you say, stopping mid-sentence and turning to look at him with a slowly growing mischievous smile. “What was that name Winter called you on the way here?”

“Oh, please don’t.”

“Was it Snookums?” you think aloud, and he groans, tossing his head back dramatically.

“Please?”

“Cuddlebug?”

“No—”

“Oh!” you exclaim, snapping your fingers and pointing at him. “Pookie Bear.” you say triumphantly, and the grimace on his face is beyond rewarding.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Haechan says hurriedly. “In fact, I’d rather you not—”

“But I love calling you Pookie Bear, Pookie Bear.” you coo affectionately, putting extra emphasis on the embarrassing pet name to leave it dripping with saccharine sweetness.

“You know what’s kind of crazy?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Besides you? No.”

“Ha, ha.” he drawls. “What’s crazy is that it’s kinda hot the way you say it.” he points out, and you whine loudly in protest.

“I can’t have anything, man! I get to torment you back for less than two minutes, and your freaky little self likes it?” you gripe under your breath as you pull him towards the large sign indicating the doorway to the beginning of the Greek sculptures exhibit. “We’re here!” you announce happily.

“Anything I should know before we enter this section?” he asks curiously, and you think for a moment before nodding.

“Most, if not all, of these statues have micropenises.” you warn him, and roll your eyes instantly at the immediate amusement on his face. “Keep the dick jokes to a minimum.”

“You got it, princess.” he agrees, nodding cooperatively, and you whirl around to look at him.

“Princess?!”

“You call me Pookie Bear, I call you princess.” he says with a nonchalant shrug, and you narrow your eyes at him in a silent staredown. “It’ll grow on you,” he says confidently as he starts walking into the exhibit.

And as you’re tugged along after him, protesting all the while that “it most certainly will not,” you can’t help but feel like it already has—that is, if the sensation you’re feeling of a lone butterfly fluttering around your stomach has anything to do with it.

“Haechan,” you whisper urgently, shaking your linked hands to get his attention.

He looks over at you curiously, eyebrows raised expectantly, and you point towards a sign in the corridor. “What is it?” he asks. “The café?”

You nod. “I’m hungry.”

“Honestly, I could eat,” he agrees, and you beam up at him, tugging him towards the entrance to the café.

The café is lovely, with a fairly large selection of ready-to-eat foods, and you and Haechan walk around the tables of food before you spot one in the distance and slip your hand out of his to go check it out.

No less than a moment after you’ve let go of Haechan, he practically snatches your hand back up, stubbornly linking his fingers with yours once more.

When you shoot him a look, he just stares at you with a challenge in his eyes, daring you to let go again.

“You’re something else.” you laugh, and he shrugs.

“Give a guy a warning next time,” he replies. “I wasn’t ready to let go.”

“Warning: I’m about to let go,” you say patronizingly, and he just shakes his head. “Wh—no? What do you mean, no?”

”No, you’re not.” he says simply.

“I literally am,” you let out a laugh of disbelief before attempting to tug your fingers from his again. “Haechan, quit being a brat!”

“It’s in my DNA,” he replies with a dismissive shrug. “I like holding hands.”

“Hold your own hand, then.” you snicker, and he shakes his head decisively.

“Like holding your hand better.” he coos fondly, and you roll your eyes. “Just take me with you to check out the food, princess.”

“I’m ignoring that,” you huff, but lead him to the sushi rolls you were staring at nonetheless. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” he confirms as he smiles over at you, and you bite down on your lip to hide the smile that threatens to greet him. “What are you gonna get?”

“Nothing crazy,” you muse, picking up a tray and inspecting the rolls inside. “Maybe just this and a drink.”

“Which one’s that?” Haechan asks curiously, peering over your shoulder.

“California roll,�� you answer with a smile before reaching into the refrigerated drink section and grabbing an organic peach soda.

Haechan follows your lead, picking up a sushi roll container and snagging a Dr. Pepper from the drink area before you two make your way to the cashier to pay.

The cashier greets you both with a friendly smile and rings you up first. When you’re about to pay, Haechan grips the back of your cardigan and firmly but gently pulls you away from the counter before tapping his phone to the payment screen.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you huff with a frown, and he just smiles as the receipt comes out.

“I’m a gentleman,” he replies simply as the cashier rings him up, and you snort in amusement.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” you ask dryly, and he narrows his eyes at you. When it’s his turn to pay, you inch closer to the payment screen in the hopes to return the favor, but Haechan is one step ahead of you, plucking your phone from your hand with ease and pocketing it before tapping his phone to the screen again.

“Yeah, it is,” he replies with a cheery grin, smugness laced in his voice. “Come on, let’s eat.”

You two thank the cashier before heading towards the back of the café, where you sit at the corner table, Haechan sliding in beside you.

“You couldn’t sit over there?” you ask flatly, gesturing to the empty spot in front of you, and he shakes his head with a teasing smile. “Of course not.” you sigh in defeat, instead opening your California roll tray and breaking the wooden chopsticks to start eating. “What’d you get?”

Haechan pauses to look at the label on his container before opening it. “Seaside salmon roll,” he replies, snapping his chopsticks neatly into two before picking up a piece of sushi from the carefully composed roll.

“Ooh, yum,” you say before placing a piece of your own roll into your mouth and chewing, your eyes sliding shut in bliss. “God, that’s good.”

“This sushi tastes like heaven,” Haechan groans happily, and you giggle, your mood lifting with some good food entering your system.

“Hey,” you say as you pick up your next piece, “I just realized; what if they want to get food after this?” you ask, and he shrugs.

“Either we’re not hungry, or we get something small.” he suggests, and you nod in agreement before eating the next piece of sushi.

“Are you gonna be sneaky and pay for that, too?” you ask, unamused, and he nods proudly. “I can pay for my own food, you know; my librarian job makes decent pay.”

“Yeah, well, I can pay, too. My job definitely pays decently.” Haechan replies stubbornly.

“Oh, yeah? And what do you do?” you question.

“I’m a wine sommelier for a high-end restaurant downtown.” he answers proudly, and you purse your lips in quiet defeat.

“That actually does sound like a decent-paying job.” you admit, and he nods confidently. “Well, hey, did you know they sell wine here?”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, looking around for the wine menu and relaxing once you point it out to him.

“Yep. So tell me, Mr. Sommelier, which wine would go best with my California roll?” you quiz him, and his lips quirk up into a smile.

“What’s the taste like?” he asks, and you pick up a piece and put it on his tray, signaling for him to try it. “Without tasting it, I’d say a nice… light, fruity wine would be good for this.” he suggests before placing the piece of sushi in his mouth. As he chews, his smile widens and he nods in confirmation, adding, “I’d definitely say a nice Pinot Grigio would go great with this. The sweet and light notes of the Pinot Grigio would go really well with the flavors here.”

You’re not going to lie to yourself; it’s a little attractive to see him talk about something he knows so much about.

“Yeah?” you hum. “What about yours?”

“Oh, Pinot Noir, for sure. It’s sharp enough to match the heaviness of the salmon, but not too sweet where it takes away from the overall flavor.”

You nod, taking in the information and secretly composing yourself as your insides squeal girlishly at his confident explanation.

“That’s pretty cool, Haechan,” you remark, impressed, and he smiles in satisfaction.

“Isn’t it? You know, we should go on a wine tasting date some time.” he suggests, and you shoot him a suspicious side glance.

“A wine tasting what?” you press.

“Did I say date?” Haechan asks with a chuckle, and you nod slowly, still regarding him carefully. “I meant outing. A wine tasting outing.”

“Nice save,” you snort, and he huffs petulantly.

“It’s not my fault,” he defends himself. ‘I was distracted.”

You raise an eyebrow skeptically. “Distracted?” you ask, and he nods firmly.

“Yeah, your little skirt is messing with my head.” Haechan grunts, and you look down at your lap with a bewildered questioning noise.

To be fair, it is a cute skirt; your beige and black plaid pleated skirt was carefully selected from your closet earlier and clearly must have been a flattering choice, given that Haechan literally can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“Then look up and not at my legs, silly.”

“But if I look up, I see—” he starts to complain but stops as he does just that, looking up from his—well, your—lap and trailing off slowly as he gazes at you.

You’re pretty sure you don’t need to hear what he was going to say, because his face reads loud and clear; there’s desire swimming clearly in his gaze and his lips are parted ever so slightly as he spaces out staring back and forth from your lips to your eyes.

“If you look up, you see… my face?” you supply in an attempt to help him regain his sensibility, and his lips part more as he struggles to find the right words. “I mean, yeah, and my shirt? Well, it’s a white tank—like, yeah, it’s a little short, but—and this is just a beige cardigan, so it’s not as distracting if you look up instead—”

“If I look up,” Haechan says carefully, “I see you.”

For a moment, you’re rendered speechless as the implications of his words sink in.

Looking at him again, you realize there’s an awe in his eyes as he watches you, an adoration almost, and the context of him seeing you sets in. His eyes rove over your face with an almost greed, darting around rapidly as he frantically takes in every detail he can manage to commit to memory.

He’s not looking at you like he’s undressing you, like he’s groping you with a glance; he’s looking at you like you’re one of the seven wonders of the world—like he can’t quite contemplate everything he’s seeing, but he’s damn sure going to try. His gaze caresses you like you’re an antique artifact at the museum that could break if you so much as stare at it too hard.

Observing the way he looks at you is the closest you’ve come yet to understanding how and why the eyes have been referred to as the windows to the soul. His gaze is so open, so vulnerable and wondrous that you have to ponder, for a moment, if this is what it looks like to fall in love.

You push the thought from your head as soon as it emerges, not willing to give it any space in your mind, but you can’t shake the way his gaze completely unravels you.

He watches you like he can see every complexity of your personality in your pores; like he can see your unspoken words reflected in the gloss on your lips—like your eyes hold the manuscript of your hopes and dreams and he’s about to pore over it, memorizing it down to the letter.

He looks at you like he’s dangerously close to seeing you; you, past your barriers and caution tape; you, with all your intricacies and contradictions; and you, with all the hope and yearning and vulnerability you’ve had since your youth that you’ve been trying to convince everyone is no longer around.

You’re utterly overwhelmed with all the thoughts swimming in your brain at the moment, and one thought swims up to the forefront, displaying itself loud and clear and unignorable.

He looks at you like he’s falling in love.

“Haechan, please stop looking at me like that,” you beg in a whisper, scared to speak any louder in case your voice trembles. Something about the intensity of his gaze is beautiful and terrifying all at once, and you’re not ready for him to see you unraveled like this.

Haechan must be able to sense the panic in your voice, your underlying fear of being truly seen and known undoubtedly ringing out in the silence between you two, because he smiles reassuringly and relents, softening the intensity of his gaze until he’s displaying nothing more than mild curiosity and fascination.

“Thanks.” you mutter shyly, averting your gaze to inspect your cuticles in a feeble attempt to act natural.

“No problem. Can I say something, though?” he asks, and you nod, internally bracing yourself. “Have you heard of twin flames?”

“Yeah, isn’t that like soulmates, kinda?” you reply.

something about him was made for somebody like me baby, come over, come over and god knows i’m trying, but there’s just no use in denying

“Kinda,” he says slowly. “Some people call them ‘mirror souls,’” he explains. “Essentially, they’re two people with an intense soul connection that makes them complete when they’re together.”

You pout thoughtfully. “Like two halves of a whole?”

“Something like that, yeah,” he agrees. “The term ‘mirror souls’ is a bit more fitting, because they complement each other; they’re opposites in crucial ways, but in ways that could either ruin things or make them work really well together.”

”Okay,” you say carefully. “Well, thanks for the mini lesson. Why’d you bring that up?”

“I feel drawn to you.” he explains in a rush, almost like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to say it. “Like, I can’t explain it, but when I first met you, I felt—I don’t know—something.”

“I’d wager that the something you felt was just the blood rushing down to your d—” you remark dryly, but he cuts you off, shaking his head.

“It wasn’t.” he insists. “I felt a connection. And you felt it too—remember?”

“No,” you lie. You remember all too well, actually.

“You flirted with me.” he reminds you with a triumphant grin, and you frown.

“That was before I found out you were dating my friend!”

“So the connection magically went away? Hm? The initial attraction you had to me just vanished into thin air?” he presses.

“I locked it in a closet.” you admit. “It can’t come out.”

“Well, unlock it.”

“I have swallowed the key.” you reply stubbornly.

“Well, I’m picking the lock.” he counters, and you gape at him indignantly.

“You can’t do that!”

“And why not?”

“You have a girlfriend.” you remind him, and he has the audacity to scoff and roll his eyes, making you gasp in horror. “Ooh, I’m telling.”

“Who cares about that?” he asks, waving a hand dismissively.

“Um, gee, I would wager that your girlfriend does.” you reply sarcastically. “And you should care, too.”

“All that yapping—”

“I know this boy did not just say I’m yapping—”

“—and you still didn’t say that you care.” he finishes, and you stop short, blinking at him in surprise. “Gotcha.”

“Oh, shut up,” you groan. “I’m not your girlfriend, you know—I don’t have to put up with this.”

“Do you want to be her?” he asks, and you freeze, staring at him incredulously.

“No? I barely know you, and from what I do know, you like stepping out on your girlfriend.”

“False. I don’t like to step out on my girlfriend,” he corrects you, and you roll your eyes. “I just like you.”

“Stop saying that.” you warn.

“I mean it.” he says simply.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble if you keep talking like that.” you reply nervously.

“The risk is so worth it though, don’t you think?” he murmurs conspiratorially, and you stare at him blankly.

”No.” you reply flatly, entirely unamused.

Haechan pouts—somehow handsomely—and nudges you with his shoulder, saying, “Come on… try living a little.”

“No.”

”You know you want to.” he coaxes, and you grumble unintelligibly under your breath.

”What I want is for you to drop the subject,” you say, batting your lashes at him for the effect. “Pretty please?”

His gaze darkens slightly. “Beg again.”

“I didn’t beg!” you splutter, both indignant and flustered by the shift in the air. “I requested politely.”

“Well, request politely again. You’re really cute when you do that, you know.”

”And on that note, this conversation is over. Now,” you say slowly, patting your lap and nudging him with your shoulder. “I think we should probably get back. Y’know… before they notice we went missing.”

“I guess you’re right,” Haechan agrees with a reluctant sigh, gathering your and his food containers and standing up. “Lead the way, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper loudly, and he grins cheekily as you two make your way to exit the museum café.

“Stop liking it and I’ll stop doing it.” He retorts, stopping in front of you suddenly so you bump into him.

“Haechan!” you can’t help but laugh at his refreshingly playful nature, and he looks over at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of a brat?”

“Yes, actually.” he replies thoughtfully. “But it takes one to know one.”

You stop short and he turns back to look at you curiously. “Are you calling me a brat?”

“Yes,” he replies easily with a smile. “Yes, I am.” And before you can retaliate, he’s speed walking towards the garbage to throw out your waste, stopping just in front of the exit to wait for you. When you get closer, still staring at him with narrowed eyes, he shoots you a dazzling smile and opens the door, holding it for you.

”Ladies first.”

“Oh, now you’re a gentleman.”

“What do you mean, ‘now?’” Haechan replies, shocked. “I let you sit first, I held the door for you, I threw out your garbage for you and paid—”

“Which you definitely shouldn’t have done, by the way.” you interject, and he stares blankly at you. “Don’t get me wrong, my wallet and I appreciate you greatly, but I was more than capable of paying for myself.”

“It’s okay,” he muses lightheartedly, shrugging. “You can just make it up to me sometime.”

You pause, staring at him suspiciously. “And how would I do that?”

“I’ll come up with something,” he replies with a small secretive smile.

“I don’t like the sound of that.” you say slowly, and he laughs, throwing his arm around your shoulders goodnaturedly.

“It won’t be anything drastic,” he assures you. “Just something like… a kiss.”

“A kiss?” you splutter, and he grins, nodding. “You’d better be joking.”

He turns his head towards you, tightening his grip around your neck not enough to be overbearing but just enough to prevent you from turning your face away. “And what if I’m not?” His voice softens as he continues, “Hm?”

A long silence passes between you two—far longer than socially acceptable—during which Haechan stares pointedly at your mouth and you attempt to avoid doing the same. After what feels like ages, you break the tension-laden quiet by clearing your throat and walking forward and out of his embrace.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” you say over your shoulder, and Haechan chuckles as he catches up to you.

“I do.” he replies simply, and you snort. He leans over, bringing his lips to your ear, and murmurs, “And I think you like it.”

TA DA!!!!! i hope you enjoyed your read! the second part will be up in exactly two weeks! reminder that (only if you’re able) tips are very much appreciated, as is positive feedback! if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just shoot me an ask and please make sure your privacy settings are updated accordingly!

ORRRRRR you could sub to my patreon, where the whole fic is already posted in full!! (

LINKS: KO-FI // VENMO // CASHAPP // AMAZON WISHLIST // (if you’d like to support via paypal, let me know off anon!!)

#haechan smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #lee haechan smut #donghyuck smut #lee donghyuck smut #will be making a masterlist !!!!!!!! and tagging ppl in the reblog!!#haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader

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amirasainz · 3 months ago

Note

Can you do one where there was a large breed dog in the track that’s a stray and everyone is trying to catch it, but then driver reader started talking to it in a baby voice and she begs to keep the dog once she caught it.

Of course I can. That is such a sweet request. 🥰

Enjoy reading and send some requests

- xoxo, Babygirl💋

Just Ken

It was a bright and sunny afternoon at the Brazilian Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the paddock was electric. The teams were getting ready for the final practice session before qualifying, and the tension was rising. Everything was running smoothly until, out of nowhere, a large dog—a stray by the looks of it—ran onto the track during the break between practice runs.

"Is that... a dog?" Lando squinted from the McLaren garage, pulling his visor up and pointing toward the track.

Charles laughed nervously, leaning on the pit wall next to him. "How did a dog get in here?"

The dog, a huge, scruffy breed that looked like a German Shepherd, darted across the track with a sense of urgency, weaving between the garages and cars. The engineers and staff tried to shoo it away, but it was too fast, dodging everyone and barking wildly whenever anyone got close.

The Red Bull garage, on the other hand, was a bit calmer—until Y/N, the youngest driver on the grid and currently Red Bull’s rising star, noticed the commotion.

"What's going on?" she asked, standing up in the car she had just parked in the garage.

Max shrugged while watching the chaos. "Apparently, there’s a stray dog running around the track. Everyone’s trying to catch it, but... it's not going well."

Y/N’s eyes widened, a glimmer of excitement flickering across her face. "A dog?!" She hopped out of her car faster than anyone expected.

"Wait, you’re not seriously going to go after it, are you?" Max raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-concerned.

But Y/N was already gone, heading toward the pit lane with a bounce in her step, her Red Bull racing suit fluttering behind her.

♡♡♡♡♡

On the track, engineers were stumbling over each other, trying to catch the stray with nets, ropes, and even pieces of food. The dog growled low and deep, showing its teeth whenever anyone got too close, sending them scrambling back.

Lewis was the next to try his luck, cautiously walking toward the dog with a water bottle in hand. "Hey, buddy, come on... let's not make this difficult, okay?"

The dog barked sharply, making Lewis back off. "Yeah, no. That's not happening." He quickly retreated, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Y/N, standing a few meters away, observed the situation with a thoughtful look. She pursed her lips and bent down, resting her hands on her knees.

"Who's a good boy?" she called out, her voice soft and high-pitched, almost like she was speaking to a baby.

The dog’s ears perked up immediately, and it stopped barking. Slowly, its head turned toward Y/N, who was still crouched down, wiggling her fingers in the dog’s direction.

"Come here, buddy! It's okay!" Y/N cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness. She gave an exaggerated pout and made soft kissing noises, as if she was calling a puppy.

The dog—who moments ago had been terrorizing a group of terrified pit crew members—calmly turned and padded toward her, tail wagging slightly. It stopped a foot away from her, tilting its head.

Everyone was frozen in disbelief.

"Is she... talking to it in a baby voice?" George whispered to Carlos, who stood beside him, equally shocked.

"Mate, I think she is," Carlos replied, eyes wide. "And it's working!"

Y/N extended her hand slowly toward the dog. "Hi, sweetheart! You're such a handsome boy, aren’t you?"

The dog, much to everyone’s amazement, gently sniffed her hand, then leaned in to nuzzle her palm, tail wagging now in full force.

Y/N grinned brightly. "Oh, you’re just a big teddy bear!" She wrapped her arms around the dog’s massive neck and started scratching behind its ears. The dog licked her face in return.

The entire pit lane was silent, the drivers and crews staring in stunned silence. No one could believe what they were seeing.

"Is this real?" Oscar muttered, blinking as if he expected the scene to dissolve like a dream.

Even Christian, who had been watching from a distance, couldn’t help but chuckle in disbelief. "I’ve seen a lot in Formula 1, but this... this takes the cake."

♡♡♡♡

After a few minutes of cuddles and praise, Y/N stood up, still holding the dog's collar. "What’s your name, buddy?" she asked, looking into its eyes as if it might answer her.

The dog barked softly, wagging its tail even harder.

"I think I’ll call you... Ken!" she announced, looking around at the crowd with a proud smile on her face. "He looks like a Ken, don’t you think?"

The dog barked again, as if in agreement, making Y/N laugh.

At that point, a track official hesitantly approached, clearly unsure of how to handle the situation. "Uh, Y/N, we’ll need to call animal control or find the owner. It’s probably a stray."

Y/N immediately pouted, pulling Ken closer to her side. "Noooo, but he’s so sweet! Look at him!" She scratched behind his ears again, and Ken looked up at her with adoring eyes.

"Ken doesn’t like anyone else, see? He chose me!" she continued, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Max, who had wandered over with a bemused smile on his face, crossed his arms. "I mean, she’s got a point. Ken’s not exactly warming up to anyone else."

As if on cue, Ken snarled at the track official when he took a step forward, causing the man to back off immediately.

"Whoa!" the official exclaimed. "Okay, maybe he’s... protective of you."

Y/N beamed and looked down at Ken. "See, he’s just being a good boy!"

Christian walked over, clearly weighing his options. "Y/N, you can’t just adopt a dog from the track," he said, though his tone was far more amused than strict.

"But why not?" Y/N asked, giving him her best puppy eyes. "I’ll take good care of him! Look at him, he’s perfect for the team. We can put a little Red Bull jacket on him!"

"Ken, the official Red Bull dog?" Max smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos.

At this point, even the other drivers were gathering around, fascinated by Y/N’s new friend.

"Can’t believe it," Charles muttered, shaking his head. "She’s like the dog whisperer or something."

"Yeah, and he’s only nice to her," Pierre added, eyeing Ken warily as he stood close to Y/N but growled whenever someone else got too close.

Y/N grinned as she stroked Ken’s fur. "See? He loves me! He’s just a big softie."

Christian sighed, rubbing his temples, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Fine, you can keep him... for now. But he’s your responsibility."

"YES!" Y/N cheered, pumping her fist in the air. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Ken barked happily, as if sensing her excitement, and gave her another slobbery lick on the cheek.

The drivers watched in disbelief as Y/N led Ken back toward the Red Bull garage, already making plans for his new life in the F1 paddock.

Max clapped Christian on the back as they both watched her go. "Well, looks like Red Bull’s got a new mascot."

Christian just chuckled. "I suppose we do. Let’s hope Ken likes the noise of the cars, or we’re in for some trouble."

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #max verstappen x reader #ken #f1 #formula 1 x female reader #driver!reader #xoxo babygirl 💋

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cherry-hulu · 2 months ago

Text

— soft bf!mingyu headcanons

warnings: just pure soft and fluff 🖤

BF!MINGYU despite having a buff and muscular build is actually the softest and warmest teddy bear there is.

BF!MINGYU who craddles your head in his arms, gently laying it on his shoulder when he notices you getting sleepy.

BF!MINGYU who always opens your drinks for you no matter the situation; in the middle of a conversation with someone he'd take the bottle from you and open it for you without breaking talk with his friends.

BF!MINGYU who knows your favourite drink is in a juice box so he always makes sures to open it for you and hold the straw for you when you take a sip from it.

BF!MINGYU who always lets you have the first taste of his cooking no matter what. spoon feeding you with his food, patiently waiting for your reaction while you chew on it.

BF!MINGYU who loves serving you breakfast in bed especially after those nights. he'd wake up early and cook for you even with his busy schedule just to make sure you eat.

BF!MINGYU who loves showering you in kisses and giving you back-hugs, loving the way his build can swallow your whole body.

BF!MINGYU who loves spoiling you, always buying you a souvenir from every place he visits.

BF!MINGYU who always sends pictures and videos to you as updates because sometimes he'd be too busy to type.

BF!MINGYU who sends you a voice message telling you about his day when he's in a different country for you to listen when you wake up, not letting the time difference hinder your communication.

BF!MINGYU who exchanges camcorders with you when he's on tour for you two to watch each others videos like a movie when he gets home. cuddling in the couch, blankets hugging the two of you, with your favourite foods in hand.

BF!MINGYU who never hesitates to carry you in his arms whenever your mood sombers or you fall asleep, always giving you a kiss on your forehead.

BF!MINGYU who sits you down on his lap, essentially trapping you in, whenever you two have a problem or after an argument, not letting you go until you're both feeling okay.

BF!MINGYU who's always so protective of you. making you keep your location on when you go out, sending him pictures of the licence plate of the cars you get in, shielding you and putting you behind his back when he sees you're uncomfortable with someone.

BF!MINGYU who's always so attentive to you. watching your every step when your walking on the ledge of something with a tight grip on your wrist, adjusting things to your liking, remembering everything of your favourites and buying them whenever you feel sad, or mentioning the things you love to brighten up your mood.

BF!MINGYU who loves watching you talk or watch things you love. admiring the way your smile reach your twinkling eyes, the change in the tone of your voice when you're excited, or even the little happy dances that you do.

BF!MINGYU who finds solace with you. in amidst the chaos and the screams, every ache, and problem, they all disappear at the mere presence of you.

BF!MINGYU who never thought love could feel this way until he'd met you. who's more than assured that true love exists, because you do.

BF!MINGYU who has everyone's eyes on him, but his eyes only focusing on you. never once leaving since the day it met yours.

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comatosebunny09 · 4 months ago

Text

misunderstanding | sylus

summary: it was all because the shopkeep got a little handsy. a little too comfortable, purring his name like that. he shrugged her off; did you not see that part? genre(s): romance, angst warning(s): alcohol, drunk reader, self-esteem issues, insecurities, language, short and sweet notes: inspired by that one scene from fifty shades of grey.

Imagine calling Sylus while you’re drunk off your ass.

When you’ve thrown back one too many long islands, and while your friends are all inside, shacked up with their significant others and happy. You toddle outside for some fresh air and a break from your own head.

His voice breaks through the static, all heavy with sleep. But he answers so quickly because you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder. Been brief with your texts, ignoring his phone calls, and going out of your way to avoid running into him. He’s given you your space—minus Mephisto perched outside your window each night, watching you like a hawk.

“Hello?” Sylus husks, bed sheets rustling in the background as he maneuvers himself to sit up.

Somewhere far off, you feel bad for waking him. He already sleeps like shit. But you have liquid encouragement on your side, so you shove that guilt down, down, down in favor of poking the proverbial bear.

Your words are all blurred together, and you can barely keep your eyes open as you prop yourself up on a safety bollard, holding your phone to your ear with two hands.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“I—What?”

You swallow thick. Feel the world swirling and your body teetering, but you press on.

“Why don’t you like me, Sylus? Am I not your type? Is it ‘cause I’m not rich? Not skinny?”

He laughs, all incredulous on the other end. You imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in the stillness of his bedroom, disbelieving of the shit spilling from your mouth. And so early in the evening, too.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Me. I mean, am I annoying? I kinda am. I talk a lot. But that lady—the one from before. That shopkeeper chick. She was really hot. Like, supermodel hot.”

Your name comes out in an exasperated sigh. “That’s what this is about?”

You confirmed his suspicions. Why you’ve been playing keep-away. Ever since you accompanied him a few weeks back to gather some intel from a verified source, you’ve been acting distant. All because the shopkeep got a little handsy. A little too comfortable, purring his name like that. He shrugged her off. Wordlessly put her in her place. Did you not see that part?

Sylus doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

“No, no, wait. Lemme finish. She seemed more your type. Like the kinda chick you’d be into, ya know? You two’d be like Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

He groans, and this time, you picture him hanging his head low. His long fingers splayed over his face in exhaustion.

“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”

“Mind your business,” you say around a hiccup.

And you’re catching yourself on the bollard, giggling stupidly at how pathetic you must look. Trying to catch your footing like a baby fawn.

“Only had one or two. Maybe three or six. I’m a big girl. A big, un-pretty girl, according to Mr. Sylus.”

A car honks in the distance. You barely stir from it, eyes shuttering as your head falls onto your arm roosted on the bollard.

“Where are you?” Sylus prods again.

There’s a little more urgency this time. A little more concern lurking beneath the tenor of his voice, and the sleep’s almost completely vanished from it.

“Out.”

You burn hot. Sway as the alcohol thickens in your veins. Something of a smile twitches your lips. For a second, you’re convinced he actually gives a shit about you.

“Sweetie, please. I don’t have the patience to entertain your mind games today. And stop putting words into my mouth. Not once have I ever referred to you as ‘un-pretty.’”

You snort. Stumble away from the bollard to lean against a brick wall. It’s cold and raw against your bare back. The world’s a pretty bokeh of light around. Maybe you did have a little too much to drink.

His voice drops an octave. Skates between sincerity and something dulcet; doting.

“You’re anything but. You’re gorgeous. Breathtaking. Incredibly resourceful and infuriatingly kind. You’re tough. And you don’t talk too much. In fact, I wish you would spend more time talking about yourself.”

Your lips crook with a smile. Your eyes begin to water. Your cheeks are warmer now, and you’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the words spuming so effortlessly from the other end of your phone.

You hear fabric rustling. Hear his mattress creaking and things being jostled about in the background. Drawers. Clothes. Shoes clicking against marbled tiles.

“Tell me where you are,” he asserts. “I’m coming to get you.”

“No, no, no!”

You wave your hand dismissively like he can see. You feel bad enough having dragged him down with you. Having dredged up your insecurities and projected them onto him like that. No reason to make him leave the sanctity of his bed to entertain your foolishness.

“It’s cool, Syl. I’ll catch a cab.”

“I’m not asking,” he clips in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

You swallow, suddenly feeling cold sobriety creep in. Metal jangles through the static. Keys. Car keys. A door shuts, followed by an engine stuttering and drawing a breath in. He taps a few buttons on his console. Releases a sigh.

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are. Don’t go running off with any strangers, alright, sweetheart?”

Something warm spills into your tummy. You slide down the wall onto your ass, holding your head in your hands with your phone propped to your ear using your shoulder.

“Sylus, really. You don’t have to do that. I’ll be good—”

“I want to,” he insists. Already peeling out of his driveway and zooming through the streets of the N109 Zone. “Stay on the line. Don’t hang up. I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

You sigh at your own stupidity. At your own pitifulness. Making him come play knight in shining armor like that. All because you couldn’t hold your liquor. Your tongue. Though, you can’t stifle the tiny ping of hope resounding in your head.

“Okay. I’ll wait. But can we get ice cream when you get here?”

He chuckles, the sound of it brassy yet comforting through the drunken slurry of your brain.

“Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

masterlist

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus romance #sylus drabble #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus qin #sylus fic #love and deepspace fic #lnds x you #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus fluff #sylus imagine #l&ds imagine

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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months ago

Note

His teammates call you because he isn't handling the break up well.

I'm gonna be honest, Anon. I went a more humorous route with this (but some angst in there too because why not!) I'm just imagining all of them being completely pathetic and the one calling is on the phone like "come get your man please." So, with that being said, I hope you enjoy this!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, some angst, established relationship, breakups. brief humor

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You have two minutes,” you say immediately after answering your phone.

“You need to call him,” comes Simon’s gruff voice on the other end.

You’ve only met Simon a handful of times, but he’s always been your favorite of John’s team. He has consistently treated you with kindness and respect, and he never oversteps boundaries.

“Why?” you ask, glancing at your nails, pretending you don’t care.

“He fucking misses you.”

“That’s not enough of a reason,” you reply.

It isn’t. Not really. Even if your heart aches and your stomach flips from hearing it.

“Captain isn’t taking the breakup well.”

You want to say that you aren’t either, even though you’re the one who ended things. In reality, you miss John. It’s agonizing.

“And?” you ask, trying to hide the slight crack in your voice.

“He has us running laps around the fucking track, love. Haven’t done that since I was a grunt who couldn’t properly tie his boot laces.”

You sigh. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“Yes.” Simon’s response is immediate.

Rubbing your temple, you decide to take a leap. It wouldn’t hurt to talk. Not really. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank fuck,” he breathes.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“This is absurd,” you mutter, rubbing the middle of your brow, irritation building in the back of your head.

“Just give us a few minutes,” comes Captain Price’s voice. It’s Kyle’s boss, but he’s not the only one on the phone.

“Oh, aye. Hear us out.” Soap is there, too.

For all you know, Ghost is lingering on the call, a silent entity listening in but not saying anything.

“Why? Give me a reason?”

“Kyle misses you,” says Price.

“He loves you, lass.”

This isn’t new information. You’re aware of how Kyle feels but that doesn’t change things. The two of you are not together anymore. He needs to move on.

“He’s not handling the breakup well.” This time it’s Ghost. The silent man speaks.

“What do you want me to do,” you sigh.

“Talk to him,” says Price.

“No.”

Your phone buzzes and you hold it away from your ear. It’s a text from Price. You click on it, revealing a photo.

It’s Kyle. He’s curled up in his bed in the barracks, clutching a teddy bear he won you at a carnival on your first date.

“We can come get you,” says Price.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’m sorry, John. But you shouldn’t have called. I don’t want to hear it.”

There is a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. You respect Captain John Price. The few times you’ve met him, he’d been pleasant, and he was always the first one to greet you whenever you visited Johnny on base.

“I understand that you broke it off with him.”

“John—”

“Listen. Please.”

He genuinely sounds concerned, and that gives you pause.

It’s not like you and Johnny ended things on bad terms. His life is busy. It’s dangerous. You just don’t fit in it, and the stress of never knowing when or if he’s going to come home is something far to difficult a thing to carry with you.

“He’s been struggling. Had to corner him in my office to get him to talk. He’s really hurting.”

You swallow. Lick your lips. “Why are you calling me, John?”

“I want you to talk to him.”

“John—”

“Soap is currently facedown in his bed in the barracks. Sulking.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“In person,” says John. It sounds like a command. Not an ask.

“Fine, John,” you reply, grabbing your car keys.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You need to talk to him. Simon is a bloody mess.”

“He’s fine, Johnny. He’ll get over. There was no reason for you to call me.”

Johnny snorts on the other end. “You don’t think so? I thought he was going to crush a new recruit’s skull in this morning.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not interested in talking with Simon right now.”

Is it really a breakup? No. Not really. More like a separation. Simon has your whole heart, but he’s stubborn and cold. His shell is difficult to crack.

“That’s too bad. Because I’m here.”

“You’re—what?”

“Aye. Walking up to your front door right now.”

You blink. Aghast. “John MacTavish you better not—”

There is a sharp series of knocks at your front door. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter.

Growling, you storm to the front door, phone still pressed to your ear. You unlatch the deadbolt and yank the door open. Johnny is standing on the other side, his phone also held to his ear. He gives you his biggest grin.

You want to smack it right off his face.

“What are you doing?”

Johnny ends the call. “I’m taking you to Simon.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @greeniegreengreen @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@whisperwispxx @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @arrozyfrijoles23

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burning-omen · 5 months ago

Note

OKAY. LET ME COOK. Can I request abo with Omega Wolverine (💀) and he is going into heat. And he needs his alpha to come take care of him and leads to wolverine and reader taking care of him to make sure his omega is okay.am fucking dying 💀 -😉

Logan Howlett x Male Reader

Word count: 5,841

Warnings: Smut, A/B/O/ Omegaverse, !!Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers!!, mentions of Wade and Logan figting (Logan repetedly breaking Wade's jaw, Logan has a knife in his shoulder, Ect..), Bottom! Logan, Omega! Logan, Top!Male!Reader, Alpha!Male!Reader, Marking, scenting, regular A/B/O stuff, Breeding, heat inducing wet dreams, breaking and entering.

(A/N: First fic back Hooray! I haven't written for Wolvie in years so bear with me)

Finding a man passed out drunk in your living room wasn’t something you planned for. You were actually planning to use your day off to catch up on some sleep, but this man- you recognized him as your neighbor, Logan, after taking a closer look- was really preventing that from happening. Your unexpected guest had taken over your couch and smelled very heavily of alcohol, you pushed him onto the floor so the smell wouldn't soak into your couch. You knew Logan was tough, and that he slept like a fucking 300 pound brick according to Wade, pushing him off the couch felt like you were trying to push a car with a dead battery but you were able to move the man onto the floor in an unceremonious heap after a couple of minutes of trying. A heavy thud followed his fall, but he didn’t so much as grunt when he hit the floor, and for a moment you wondered if he was actually dead, but the slight twitch in his hand told you he was fine, probably.

You weren’t going to let this ruin your day off, taking another look at the man, you did feel a little bad leaving him on the floor, not enough to put him back on your couch- no you paid way to much for it to do that- but bad enough for you to grab a spare pillow and blanket for the man. It felt a little weird, tucking in your intruder rather than calling the police on him, but you knew Logan well enough to know that he almost definitely meant to break into his own apartment and got a little mixed up. Being drunk will do that.

Moving away from him and into the kitchen, you decided to make breakfast, as your plans of sleeping had been completely ruined at- you looked at the clock on your stove- 6:37 in the morning. You just wanted to get some water before you went back to sleep, but no, now your making breakfast because even though you knew that Logan was relatively friendly- in his own way- waking up to him in your living room was fucking nerve wrecking and you falling back asleep wasn’t likely.

Opening your refrigerator, you took out a couple of eggs, then remembered that Logan was an absolutely massive man and promptly took out a couple more. You figured that eggs and bacon was an ok impromptu breakfast. Pans clinging together as you try to find the right one in the cabinet, trying to light your shitty gas stove without starting a fire, finally beginning to cook the bacon in the pan.

When Logan walked in a couple minutes later, seemingly still asleep as he nearly reached into the pan to grab the bacon that wasn’t even done cooking yet, you grabbed his wrist, nearly dropping your spatula as you yanked the man's hand away from the pan.

“Dammit, be careful!”

Your voice seemingly woke him up, eyes opening wide as he stared at you, then his face morphed into one of confusion as he looked around, realizing that he definitely wasn’t in his own apartment.

“Good morning, could you please get out of my kitchen, you smell like beer.”

He blinked, “How the hell did I get here?”

Releasing his wrist and turning back to the stove, flipping the bacon as you said, “You broke in.”

You heard him groan, probably in embarrassment or annoyance, you’d be pretty embarrassed if you broke into your super nice neighbor’s apartment too.

“Fuck..” He muttered under his breath.

“It’s fine, Logan, just let me finish cooking- and don’t sit on my couch!”

He left the kitchen almost immediately, but slowly. You figured he was hungover- you weren’t sure if that could happen with a healing factor like his but with the way he held his head in his hand, you figured something had to be happening.

Wade had pretty much filled you in on his little multidimensional adventure. He also had a tendency to break into your apartment, (which is probably why you had a relatively calm reaction to Logan) he basically just declared that you were friends one day, it was pretty unceremonious actually. He told you everything, usually things you didn’t want to know, but you didn’t mind his company.

A couple more minutes passed and you finished cooking, making plates and grabbing forks before leaving the kitchen to find Logan. It took you a second, but you found him back in the living room, sitting on the floor, in front of the TV, cover draped over his shoulders. You sat down next to him, silently handing him a plate- he looked a little surprised, but took it with a quick, “Thanks.”

You ate quietly, you could tell Logan appreciated his sizable plate. When he was finished he sat it on the ground next to him. Hesitating for a moment before speaking,

“Sorry about breaking in,”

You hummed, “It’s fine, really, you’re not the first person to break in.”

He grunted, “I know Wade comes over sometimes.”

“Yeah, he’s bought me at least five new doorknobs in the past year, he acts like knocking will kill him.”

The irony made Logan snort, “Yeah, I wish.”

You sat your now empty plate on top of his.

“No you don't, you think Al will let you stay with her if he dies?”

“I’ll get my own place”

“Uh Huh,” you hummed, “With what money?”

That made him laugh, even if it was a small one.

A moment passed and neither of you spoke, the house grew quiet and the space between the two of you became awkward.

Another moment passed and he pushed himself up off the floor, “I better get going.”

You followed behind him, to the front door where your door was left slightly open and what remains of the handle laid on the floor. You both paused at the sight, Logan glanced over at you, a bit of worry on his face.

You let out a sigh, “I'll get Wade to pay for it.”

The soft, humorous smile on your face made Logan relax as you kicked the sliced metal that used to be your doorknob to the side.

“Thank you- for breakfast..and not calling the police.”

You laughed before saying, “Anytime, really. Just..call next time.”

He smiled as he left, deciding, deep in his subconscious, that he liked you.

~~~~~~~

You didn’t see him for another month after that, you’ve caught glances of him in passing, but nothing quite as friendly as your first meeting. Until one day, at about two in the morning, you could hear fighting next door. It woke you up out of your sleep as something was thrown against the wall over and over and over, then there was the yelling and growling and snarling. You knew Logan and Wade fought a lot in a mostly unserious way, but it was way to fucking early for DIY WWE. You knew better than to get involved in one of their fights. They were mutants, you weren’t, and you were not about to get in the middle of whatever they had going on. It’s kinda funny, considering what you’ve been told your whole life- the typical Alpha propaganda, being the strongest, the fastest, the leader. Your sure it worked on some people, but you were very fortunate to not fall down the aggressive uber dominate typical male alpha rabbit hole- you knew you wouldn’t always be the fastest, the strongest, or the most eligible leader just because you were an alpha (which most alphas should have figured out by now, considering that, like, half of the fucking Avenger are omegas- it was really funny trying to see people grabble with that fact when it came out.)

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you realized that the fighting had stopped, and now it was eerily quiet. You decided that it wasn’t your problem and rolled over to finally get some sleep. Your eyes were closed for maybe thirty seconds when a rapid banging on your door forced you out of bed.

Your door had long since been fixed, unlocking the door and swinging it open, a deeply tired look on your face.

Logan stood in front of you, covered in more blood that you’ve seen on a person in your entire life. A large gash on his face sealing itself right before your eyes.

“Are you two done?” You asked tiredly.

He nodded, you stepped aside to let him in, only to look down and notice the trail of blood left by his boots. You grabbed him by the back of his shirt like you’d grab an unruly cat by its scruff.

“Take your shoes off, go shower.” He paused, turning around with a questioning look on his face, but he obeyed anyway.

Taking off his bloodied boots and tossing them out the door. You could smell something different in the air, but you were too tired to care- it wasn’t smoke or gas, so you weren’t worried about it, but it was something- something distinctly sweet.

You pointed Logan to the bathroom, flicking the light on with him trailing behind you. You could feel the energy practically draining out of your body every second you were conscious.

Muttering, “All the towels in the cabinet are clean-” you paused for a moment, really taking in the state of the man clothes, torn and bloodied- you noticed the small knife sticking out of his shoulder and didn’t even bother panicking, “You can leave you clothes on the counter, put the knife in the sink though. I’ll bring you something to wear.”

He listened well, you figured he must be tired too, his half-lidded expression and general obedience was surprising, but welcome at 2 in the morning.

You walked past him, turning the shower on before leaving without saying a word, closing the door behind you.

You left out a spare pillow and cover for the man, the same ones as last time, washed, of course, because Logan left them smelling like alcohol and you really didn’t want that stinking up your apartment. You moved on to half heartedly cleaning the blood off the floor with a couple of paper towels- cleaning may have been too strong a phrase, you really just threw them over the bloody footprints and moved on for the night.

Finding Logan some clothes was really a guessing game, you couldn't really ask the man what size he wore, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to find something you thought would fit him.

~~~~~~~

A sudden waft of cold air that filled the bathroom when you swung the door open, Logan could hear you moving around. Hot water cascaded down his body, washing away any evidence of the fight he’d had with Wade- really he needed to learn to shut the fuck up sometimes, that clearly wasn’t happening anytime soon, so Logan would settle for breaking his jaw over and over again until he got the point. It never stuck through, not with Wade, even after breaking his spine at least twice the man kept talking. The fight ended when Al woke up, not that Wade really cared, because even then he wouldn’t leave Logan alone. Because he likes Al, and to prove Wade wrong, he headed over to your house.

Despite what Wade had heavily insisted, he’s not avoiding you, and he’s not suppressing any feelings for you because there weren’t any to be had in the first place.

“‘Left you some clothes, i'm gonna wash yours, I’ll try and fix them in the morning but they’re pretty beat up.” He could hear how tired you were, and if he was anybody else he might have felt guilty for keeping you up this late. Surprisingly, he was enjoying the attention.

You were gone before he could respond, by the time he got out of the shower he couldn’t hear any movement around your apartment, so he figured you went to bed. Cracking the bathroom door to let some of the steam out and wiping his hand on the fogged over mirror, his body had healed completely, no longer bruised or caked with blood. Rubbing his hand over his face, suddenly feeling just as tired as you had looked, looking down at the neatly folded pile of clothes replacing his old ones. A large black Superman t-shirt and a gray hoodie, long, red checkered pajama pants, and navy blue underwear, folded right on top. The clothes smelled like you, and not just like the detergent you used, no, they had your natural scent on them. Logan wasn’t going to not wear them, considering he had nothing else to wear and he really didn’t want to walk over to his place to get clothes. He thought back to what happened last time he was here- when he broke in. He doesn’t really remember much of that night, but he does remember his dream. It started off as nothing, the usual black void that kept him calm as he slept, then an unfamiliar scent changed that- he had what he considered an under-active imagination, but that scent kicked it into hyperdrive. He dreamed of being held and loved, but most prominently of getting fucked. Logan would be the first to say that it’s been a long time for him, and that was partially his own fault, chronic self isolation did that, and partially because the only people he’d ever wanted to fuck him were dead. Not all of them, apparently, because whoever scent it was driving him insane. He’s been called feral before, along with other things, but it made him feel like his heat was about to start at that very second. It was miracle he didn’t wake up covered in his own slick that moring- or worse, start his heat in your fucking living room- and that was just from having a cover on him, actually wearing your clothes might put him in a coma.

He figured the strong scent of alcohol covered any of his lingering arousal, or maybe you were too nice to say anything. And you cooked for him- he broke into your house, damaged your property and you fucking cooked for him.

Wade swore he has a crush on you- which led to them fighting, of course, but they fought most days over any little thing. This wasn’t anything new.

He put on the clothes more hesitantly than he’d ever admit- and it was almost overwhelming, but he pushed through it, cutting off the light in the bathroom and navigating through your dark apartment. The light in the living room was on, as well as the TV, the remote was sat on top of the folded cover you left out for him. He quickly settled, he didn’t usually watch TV when he went to sleep, but he needed something to distract from your scent right now. Finding some shitty home improvement show and settling on the couch, keeping his mind as blank as he could, he had Jean to thank for that skill because it was really useful right now. Couldn’t think of sex if he wasn’t thinking at all. Letting the mind numbingly boring show be the white noise as he drifts off.

Logan, however, could not control his thoughts while he was asleep. His subconscious was working overtime, now, with a face and a voice to put to the alpha whose scent had effortlessly disarmed him and brought him to his knees.

It was such an easy image to conjure, you sitting in front of him as he rested his head on your thigh, running your hands through his hair as he stared up at you with pleading eyes, you smiled down at him, a small, warm smile, swearing lightly as he slowly unzipped your pants, already hard and waiting for him, you’d grab him by the hair and he’d let out a slow purr as you pulled him closer. Taking the tip of your cock in his mouth, sliding his tongue over it a few times, finally getting a taste of what he so desperately craves. He took as much as he could in his mouth, feeling it hit the back of his throat. Looking up at you again, a string of moans fell from your open mouth, your eyes just barely open, staring down at him. Your grip on his hair tightened for a moment, the shot of pain coursing through his scalp for a short moment, a muffled moan left him, before settling as you released him. Using his tongue to feel every little vein in your cock, moving slowly as you ran your fingers through his hair again. Feeling no need to rush as the heat in his chest and in his stomach grew hotter and hotter.

His own cock throbbed between his legs but he didn’t touch it, even as it leaked and mixed with the mess of slick in the boxer you gave him, he had no doubt that you would handle it. Letting your cock prod his throat and push past the barrier. Almost all his airflow was blocked but he didn’t pull back, trying to take you as deep as he could only to be yanked back by his hair. Pulled completely off your cock, he looked up at you, confused.

“What?” He said, his voice rough and deep.

You didn’t respond, instead, you stood, still holding onto him- and practically dragged him to your bedroom. He tried to keep up on all fours, panting and moaning at the pain and at how much this turned him on.

He was practically purring in your hand as you guided him onto your bed.

“You look so good like this,”

Your voice was sweet and genuine, quiet praises fell from your mouth as you slowly removed his clothes piece by piece. He only got hotter the more you revealed of him, the burning under his skin reaching an all time high. Once he was completely bare in front of you, you ran your hands across his body, starting at his chest, moving all the way down to his stomach and the thick trail of hair leading down to his cock, then back up again.

“Tell me what you want sweetheart.” You muttered, leaning down and pressing a kiss on his collar.

“I-” he breathed out, vision slightly blurred, “I want you.”

You smiled, kissing his neck, his jaw, his lips, “I want you, too.”

~~~~~~~

The almost overbearing smell of burning oak and honey pulled you out of your sleep, checking your phone, you saw that it’s been less that three hours since you let Logan in, and his scent, which was usually calm and almost unnoticeable, was filling your bedroom, even with him nowhere in sight. Running your hand over your face with a tired groan, then you took a deep breath, and any irritation you felt rising at being woken up again melted away. You enjoyed the scent longer than you should have- it made you feel warm on an otherwise cold night.

For a second you considered opening the window- you were practically drowning in his scent and you aren’t even in the same room- but a sudden and overwhelming feeling of possessiveness kept you from doing it. Logan was vulnerable right now, what kind of friend would you be if you let just anyone encounter him like this- god, what if Wade of all people found out, you nor Logan would ever hear the end of it. A small part of your brain that wasn’t completely clouded by Logan’s utterly intoxicating scent wondered why he suddenly decided to present so strongly, a louder, more primal part of your brain screamed “Heat!” until it's all you could think of. The thought made a shiver shoot through your spine as blood pooled straight downward.

You tried to think of what could have started his heat so suddenly, but any detective work would have to wait until you didn’t feel like breeding him anymore. That quiet, logical part of your brain was telling you to stay in your room- but it was too quiet and you ended up leaving your room and heading into the pitch black darkness that was the rest of your house. You moved completely out of muscle memory, heading straight to the living room. You could feel the heat radiating off the man the second you entered, reaching for the light on the wall, missing it twice before flipping the switch. The room lit up immediately. Logan was truly something out of your wildest fantasies, face buried in a pillow, cover completely discarded on the floor, his shirt rode up while his pants were riding down in an attempt to relieve the heat burning in his skin. Hips rolling against the couch cushion as soft, almost inaudible moans escaped the man. You just stared for a long moment, frozen in shock at the sight.

You were fully aware you shouldn’t be watching this, your heart was pounding it your chest, and your dick was throbbing in your pants.

Your breath caught in your throat when he stopped, a long groan emitting from him as he rolled onto his back.

Fully hard and straining against the pajama pants you gave him, taking a deep breath in through his nose, then his body tensed, a second later his eyes snapped open and he stared you down, just a few feet away from him, just as flustered, heart pounding just as hard as his, pants just as tight and straining. He pushed himself up, swinging his legs over so he was sitting upright. He gave you a small challenging look. That’s all it took for any bit of resolve you had to be thrown out the window.

It was a messy, desperate first kiss, your hands practically clawing at each other's bodies as you pressed your lip to his- Logan decided that you were definitely a better kisser in real life than you were in his dream. It left both of you hot and gasping for air. Pushing Logan back down onto the couch, pushing his legs open and slotting yourself between them. He pulled back with a winded laugh and a smirk.

“Mhh, what’s so funny?” you asked, not waiting for him to answer before you continued kissing any exposed bit of skin you could find, leaving a hickey on his collar bone- only to watch it disappear seconds later.

He craned his neck back almost instinctively, giving you as much space as he could.

“Didn’t think I’d actually ever want an alpha,’ thought that was a bunch of bullshit.”

You hummed, your hands finding their way under his shirt, feeling his skin against yours, the searing heat of it. Feeling what Wade had called on numerous occasions ‘fucking massive tits’. You had to say he was right, watching as a shudder ran through Logan's body.

“And now?” You asked, a small smirk on your face.

He hissed quietly, rolling his hips against yours, “I’m fucking burning for you.”

You felt the nearly unsuppressable urge to mark him rise. He wanted you, he was burning for you.

Not any other alpha out there- He could have gone anywhere tonight, you're sure he knew every late night bar in a 50 mile radius, and he still came to you.

You pulled back, nearly ripping his pants in a desperate attempt to get them off- your frantic, ecstatic state made a small laugh rise in Logan’s chest, he didn’t even consider helping you. He let you do all the work, if you were that desperate for him then you wouldn’t complain- and you didn’t. (He was a considerable amount more desperate than you were, considering he was just humping your couch like a damn dog 5 minutes ago and he just started what was more than likely going to be a very, very bad heat.)

When you were finally able to get his pants off, you could feel just how wet he was. The navy boxer you gave him were drenched in slick, clinging to him, showing off the hard outline of his cock. Logan sunk farther into the couch, a low purr emitting from deep in his chest.

“Don’t just look.” he panted.

His body reacted so strongly every time you took your hands off of him, even if it was just for a moment, his body would ache and writhe the second they were away from him. He let out a low breath when you finally touched him again, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other holding his face as you kissed him. He moaned unapologetically, loud, but muffled by your lips as you kissed him. His hips bucked up into your hands as you rubbed him through his boxer. Logan's head fell back against the cushions, eyes squeezed shut as a babble of swears fell from his lips, almost indistinguishable from his moans and low growls.

You tease him for what, to Logan, felt like hours. Sensitive and so pent up, he clung to you, holding your body against his, his face buried in your neck, taking in as much of your scent as he could. The burning in his skin didn’t stop, but it felt a lot cooler with you against him.

Logan was scenting you- you realized that the two of you would be smelling like each other and sex for at least a week- a part of you wished it was longer. That he’d walk around and have everyone in his vicinity know he was yours.

Your hand slipped under his boxers, pulling them down until they were about mid thigh. Moving past his hard, twitching cock and straight down to his hole. Soaking wet, you barely touched it before he squirted more slick onto your hand. Still with your face pressed to his neck, you chuckled.

“I barely even touched you..” you muttered.

With a growl, he said, “fuck off.”

You kissed his neck, right over the scent gland, making it flare up again.

“Make me, cowboy.”

You didn't give him time to respond, pushing two fingers into his hole, feeling him clench around them. His hips shifted against yours as you massaged his walls, listening to him grunt, and purr, and moan. Rubbing his cock against your still clothed one. Little sits of pre-cum beading at the tip and smearing on your pants.

He could feel pressure building in his stomach, it was sudden and unstoppable- not like he’d want it to- with little warning to you, his body tensed hard, his legs closing around your body and his arms holding you in an almost crushing grip. He whined, bucking hard and fast against you- trying to fuck your fingers deeper into him as cum short from his cock, staining your pants and both your shirts.

Fuck, that only made things worse. Once his arms were loose enough around you, you pulled back, sitting up and looking at the mess between the two of you. His legs were wide open, one hooked on the back of the couch, the other hanging off the side. He stared at you, pupils blown wide, thrusting his hips against nothing in a desperate attempt to feel something.

“More.” He growled out.

“You want more?” You asked in a teasing tone, moving your hands to rest on his thighs.

He nodded.

You hummed softly, leaning down and kissing his cheek, “Ok sweetheart, I’ll give you more.”

He purred at the nickname. Letting his eyes close he listened to you move, hearing each article of clothes hit the floor, your scent got stronger and he breathed it in as deeply as he could.

Logan gasped when you pressed the tip of your cock against his hole, trying to press against it only for you to pull back.

“Relax.” You said, running your hands over his thighs I what he figured was supposed to be a soothing motion be it only made things worse

-you were right there, just a little bit more, please-

“You’d think after being alive for 200 years you’d learn some patients.” You pushed in slowly, watching as his mouth fell open in a silent moan. Pushing in inch by inch, feeling how hot he was around you, squeezing you tight. Finally, you were fully pushed inside him. His hands grinned the couch cushions so tight you thought they might tear.

Teeth clenched hard and chest heaving, he nearly shouted, “fucking move!”, after a second, “please.”

You abided, pulling half way out, giving him a shallow thrust. Over and over, pulling out farther and farther, then burying your cock back into his hole until you were slamming into him burying you cock deep inside him every time.

Shame seemed to stop existing for him as he moaned your name loud and clear, then,

“More Alpha, come on- please.”

He said it so easily that he almost didn’t realize it until you paused, looking down at him, a nearly unreadable expression in your face.

Panting, you said, “say that again.”

So gone, so beyond horny that his mind had slipped away from him, catching up moments later.

“More, y/n-“ you pinched his side, a wide grin on your face.

“That’s not what you said.”

He huffed, “fuck you.”

You gave him a slow, soft thrust, “come on, you already said it, it just wanna hear it again.”.

He glared up at you, resisting the urge to tell you to get to hell.

“Please..Alpha.”

The look on your face made it worth it, you pulled back until just the tip of your cock remained inside. Logan knew you weren’t going to pull out now, so he braces himself for the hard pounding he knew was inevitable. When it did come he put a couple claw shaped holes in your couch.

His body bounced hard with every thrust. Listening to you growl and pant as you hammered into him. This was miles better than any dream or fantasy. Holding on to the couch for dear life.

Minutes passed and you showed no sign of slowing down, even as another orgasm shot through Logan’s body, you didn’t stop, looking down at the cum splattered across his chest.

“My pretty omega-“ you panted, you felt Logan tighten around you, “want me to fill you with my cum, huh?”

Logan, covered in his own sweat, slick, and cum, barely able to think, nodded.

He could feel your knot starting to swell, it took more and more force to push into him- it made you slower, but you still slammed into him just as hard. Your pre-cum leaked into his hole, your own orgasm moments away and Logan could tell.

A little dizzy, he put his hands on your shoulder, trying to guide you down but you wouldn't go- even though he was dazed and ,for the most part, satiated, there was still something he wanted.

“Y/n, mhhm- Alpha- mark me-”

It wasn't a request, it was an order, and you couldn't find it in yourself to deny him.

You couldn't think of the repercussions, what this would mean for either of your futures, what it would do to your still extremely new relationship, not because you didn't want to, but you physically couldn't, the idea of making him yours was too strong.

You leaned down and pressed your teeth into his bare skin. You could only taste his blood for a short moment, the skin healed as fast as it broke- instead of perfectly clear skin being left there was a scar. Before you could even begin to wonder how that could happen you came hard, knot swelling, keeping you locked deep inside of Logan as you finished inside of him.

You pressed a kiss on his cheek, he blinked tiredly, a small grin on his face.

“What?” you yawned, feeling exhausted.

“I owe Wade an apology..”

You groaned, flopping down onto his chest.

“Don't bring him up now,”

He laughed, “‘ thought you liked him?”

“Yeah, just not while my dick is still in you, you can talk all you want about Wade in 30 to 40 minutes when my knot goes down.” you said, wrapping your arms around you to the best of your ability.

He did the same, “Fine.”

~~~~~~~

Logan’s heat lasted about a week, he stayed with you the whole time, partially because he really didn’t want to deal with Wade, but mostly because the two of you could not stop fucking. He was your mate after all, what were you supposed to do, let him suffer? In the past 6 days you and Logan have fucked a total of 9 times-

-10 if he didn’t stop kissing you neck right fucking down.

“Logan, I have to go to work,” You said in a stern tone that only made him want you more.

“Call off.”

“I’ve already been off for six days because of you.”

He really didn’t care- you could feel him leave a hickey on your neck- as though you weren’t already covered in hundreds of bites and bruises because of him.

“I’m going to lose my job-”

“Come on, please?” He said quietly.

You took a deep breath in-

“What the fuck, I leave for a couple of days and you house break my roommate!”

Oh god, it's entirely too early for this.

You don’t know where Wade came from, but now he’s in your kitchen with you and Logan.

“Kidding, I’ve been listening to you two fuck all week. You-” He puts a finger in your chest, “-are a real freak. And I thought I was a dirty dog, you are really something else.”

“Fuck off, Wade.” Logan said, seems like the mere presence of Wade turned him off.

“And you, I don’t even know what to say to you- You think you know a guy, live with him for a year and he just doesn’t tell you he’s an omega, that's considered extremely rude in most places. You don’t have to worry about anyone else being surprised, I’m pretty sure they heard you begging for Y/n sweet, succulent dick all the way in Europe.”

You stood, grabbing your keys off the counter- you were not staying and watching Wade get torn to shreds.

You turned to Logan to see that he was thoroughly pissed off.

“Don't get blood on my floor.” You kissed his cheek, knowing it was very likely that he was going to get blood on every surface. “Have fun.”

You walked away, hearing a loud thump behind you and deciding that you weren’t going to pay it any attention, even as Wade’s high pitched screams met your ears. Reaching the front door you saw it in pieces again. That was a problem for later, for now you needed to get to work and attempt to explain to your manager why you’ve been MIA.

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